Art of the Veil

[Selerian]

11 – An uninvited visitor

We're the voice of the voiceless,
the shield of the defenseless,
the sword of the powerless .​

• Creed of the Faceless Army​

Coming back from the broken dome, high as a kite and deep into the night, turns out to be much, much worse than going there. At one point I fall on the street side saying that I want to be left here to die, but Daravoi forces me to get up and keep walking.

I have to concede he has a point. You can literally die if you sleep rough in Rakavdon this close to winter, and while someone may call medical services for us, that could end just as badly if ThauCon gets notified. So I keep walking, even if it's so cold and boring.

Next morning, we sleep in, and waste most of the day nursing multiple hangovers. I hope we won't regret the decision taken under the moon as much as we regret the substances involved.

One other night of sleep and we wake up feeling much better. Outside it's snowing fiercely, and it looks like the perfect day to commit capital crimes.

"So, taking important decisions is best done high," I say to Dara, "but sobriety is good for detail. Like. Do we actually have any way to find that book before ThauCon catches us? And before we run out of money and freeze to death?"

"We have enough cash to rent cheap rooms and eat junk food for three weeks," Daravoi answers. "We have a shot at getting the book, as long as you don't try more of your great ideas. Especially if they involve Bliss. It makes me talk too much."

"So, what's your plan?"

"I know a guy," he says.

"Well, if you're back to talking as little as possible, I'll have to talk for both of us. Did I tell you about that time…"

***​

I end up waiting all day in the rental room, bored out of my mind, while Daravoi visits his most disreputable contacts. I try to watch some vids, but I miss my full-body sim station at home. Looking at flat images on my tablet seems stupid. Daravoi absolutely forbade me from spending our small stash of money on a gaming feed, and I'm too anxious to enjoy reading comics. I don't dare touch the Council book - reading about magic without doing magic is like watching pictures of rivers while you're thirsty.

I end up doodling. I had missed this, I realize - I used to like drawing at home, but Mom kept muttering it was a waste of time, Mama kept peeping at my drawings, Big Sis tried to enlist me in a fancy art school, and Big Bro kept suggesting I set up an ArtFeed account with a sexy profile pic 'so no one cares if your art is shit'.

In the end, I simply said I was bored of drawing, and everyone bought it because I'm oh-so-quirky and inconsistent. In reality, I kept sketching in my room from time to time, late at night, and then threw out the result. Also, when I tried to actually study proper drawing techniques like Big Sis suggested, my mind wandered and I found myself playing games and feeling like a failure.

So, it's a refreshing novelty to have an afternoon all to myself, with nothing to do but sketch, and no family nosing around. Knowing that I literally can't go out, and there's pretty much nothing else I could do, or should be doing, is strangely calming. The part of my mind that always worries I should be doing something else, or I could play games, for once, is shutting up. It's almost as good as being on meth.

First I draw Daravoi. I try to remember all his piercings and the tattoos he's currently wearing - he scrubbed them clean and changed them after the subway thing, hoping it helps fool face recognition software. Then I look at the result, tear it from the notebook and crumple it up.

To work off my frustration, I make quick sketches of people I met. It's easier when I don't know them well - it's like it doesn't matter if I draw them wrong. I draw the Uncle, his features burned into my memory by fear. The jeweler, trying to capture his frown, and I'm ok-ish with the result. Then I catch myself doodling a girl with dark skin, braided hair and a flat nose - where did I meet her? I'm sure I saw her recently, but can't recall where. Maybe we passed her by on the streets, she's pretty striking.

More confident, I try Daravo again, and as my hands ease back into the motions, I find myself relaxing. I have the physical details of Daravoi's face firmer in my mind, now -- his slightly crooked nose, his thin lips, his perpetually-furrowed brow.

I focus more on who he is. His I'm-oh-so-tough face. The hint of nervousness, the fact he's secretly a softie, and calls me a friend.

I look at the result, and it's shit, but it's shit that sort of looks like Dara. I move to crumple the sketch but…would he like it, if I showed him? No, I won't do that, it's creepy. But maybe I'll keep this drawing in my notebook. Can I set up a ward to prevent anyone else from opening it? Finally, some motivation to learn wards. Pity I can't practice now.

Could I cover the drawing with an illusion? Or… make a Lie that makes a drawing look better?

The idea is strangely wrong. Specifically, it feels… backwards.

Taken by a sudden idea, I start drawing myself. But not regular myself, I hate drawing myself.

During high school classes, I used to doodle myself and my classmates as knights, or Thaumocracy nobles, or sim heroes. Some kids in my class loved that and pestered me for more, so I stopped doing it. But I remember that it felt so right, drawing people as they could be.

And so I draw myself as the confident, out-of-touch super-rich kid who bought an outrageously expensive aquamarine necklace. Oh, I need to buy some quality markers, I need that perfect shade of blue.

Velisys Anderen. Sort of looks like me, but with different eyes and brown skin. Xe's from a rich family in… Five Peaks? I've a vague notion that it's full of people who got rich from lithium mines. I had a classmate from Harmony Peak, and her ID chip never worked at the first pass, because it wasn't standard or something like that.

So, rich family, xe never meant to work a single day in xir life, but unlike me, xe's been able to just embrace that and have fun. Xe enlisted into Rakavdon University, Precursor Studies, but doesn't care about the subject - xe means to have fun at university and eke out a degree so xir parents won't grumble. Xe's a bit boring, but xe's good with people, has tons of boring friends, a boring boyfriend with beautiful eyes that xe wants to impress with a gift. Xe doesn't think it's strange or creepy to make such an expensive gift, because xe spent most of xir life with super-rich people and everyone rolls with what xe does anyway. Xe can't wait for xir current tattoos to wear off so xe can try the stylish, colorful ones that are fashionable in Landfall, now that xir parents are out of the way.

Something clicks in place in my mind as I finish the sketch. It's like the feeling when I pull a specific Lie from the Else, and for a while, it becomes more real. I'm sure that if I wanted to, I could make a Lie where I'm Velysis in a snap second, now. I itch to try that, actually, but I promised Daravoi that I wouldn't do any of my usual shit.

Is this how Lies work? Should I draw all my illusions in advance? I wish the Council Book taught the Path of Lies instead of preaching how bad it is - even the basics would help so much. Does drawing lies work for every liar, or for me specifically?

I'm still looking at Velysis drawing, excited by the implications, when someone knocks on the door.

I freeze. Daravoi doesn't knock, he has the key. There's no cleaning service – it's a shitty rental that probably sets the room on fire after every guest and adds new plastic blankets.

There's an external camera I could check, if I still had access to Stemlink, but I couldn't make it connect to my phone.

"Err, who's there?" I ask.

"Cleaning service," a voice answers.

"We didn't request any cleaning service," I answer – maybe they do a round of cleaning on Capday? Or more likely, it's a robber who's shamelessly lying. Lost Stars, I so want to check the Else.

"Oh, I don't have time for this," the voice says, and with a strange, reluctant clunk of metal, the door slides open.

The person through the door definitely isn't cleaning service. They're dressed all in gray – a gray tunic over gray thermal pants and shirt, even a gray scarf and gloves. I look at their face and-

"What the fuck?" I ask, and I start taking steps backward, till my legs push against the bed, since the room is tiny. I find myself gasping for breath, heart hammering - is this a nightmare?

The intruder's face looks perfectly normal. I look at it, and I know it is a face, I know it's normal, unremarkable, but for my life I couldn't describe anything about it – I can't tell the stranger's age, or the color of their hair, their eyes, their skin. I've no idea whether or not they have face tattoos.

"Hm," they say, "this is why everyone hates liars. You fuck everything up. Most people don't notice anything wrong, you know."

"Who are you? What are you?" I ask, and the words come out in a high-pitched whine.

"Chill, kid. I'm not here to kill you," they say, as if that was reassuring. "And I don't have much time. As for what I am, I'm a mage. Duh."

Mage. Of course, this is magic. Probably some weird kind of Lie, actually.

Fuck, I'm a mage, too. I look into the Else, and-

"Don't," they say. "If you see my face, I'll have to kill you. I'm not joking at all. And since you're a decent lie-mage, you could even manage it. So, just don't, ok? For real, I'm not here to harm you. You're what, twelve years old? I'd feel bad about it."

"I'm twenty," I croak, even if that really isn't the point here.

The figure shrugs. "Same thing. So, can we talk? I don't have much time. Deal with your shock quickly."

"Who… who are you?" I ask.

"Come on," they snort, "take a wild guess."

This is like every oral quiz at school, ever.

"How in the Abyss should I know?" I ask, throwing up my arms. "You just broke into my room and I can't see your face!"

"You can't process it, technically," they say, "and anyway, that should give you your answer."

A moment of pause. I look at them, and I flash them a wide smile, which is what I did at school when teachers asked a question and I had no fucking idea about the answer.

"May the Navigator guide you," the intruder snorts, "you really don't know shit. I'm a soldier of the Faceless Army."

"Uh. Like, the terrorists?" I say. It's so ridiculous, having a terrorist mage coming into my room for a chat, that I feel weirdly disconnected, but I'm not even properly afraid anymore.

"The resistance group," the person corrects me, "try not to spout ThauCon propaganda."

"Sorry. And, uh. I guess you know I'm a mage," I say, smooth as ever, "what are you doing here?"

They look at something around their wrist, like a leather band holding a glass circle, with a dial and moving indicators.

"I don't have much time," they say. "So I'll make it quick. I stumbled upon your trail. You've no idea how to hide your signature, do you? Anyway, I found you with embarrassing ease, ThauCon should seriously give up and go make cheese, if they haven't caught you yet. So, here's your chance. Join the Faceless Army. Help us fight for a better world. Or keep doing your thing until they hang you in Memorial Square. Just choose quickly."

My head spins.

"Wait, wait," I say. "Join you? Would you… teach us magic?"

"Of course," they say. "Not me in person. I'm not going to play kindergarten teacher. But I can take you and your friend to one of our havens. You'll be taught magic, and you'll be as safe as we can make you."

I scramble to remember whatever I know about the Faceless Army. They're supposed to be Very Bad. Of course, that's what the Alliance says, and the Alliance thinks I'm Very Bad, too. But the Alliance also says the Syndicates are Very Bad, and Daravoi agrees.

Lost Stars, I'm way too ignorant and stupid for this. I'd cut my arm off for five minutes of consultation with my sister, right now.

"And we'd have to help you with…what you do?" I say.

"We aren't a charity," the person says, curt. "If you're one of us, we'll train and protect you. But if you join us, you'll fight to force the Alliance to stop its pointless repression of mages."

Ok, I had that right – they're the faction which is really, really into terrorism. And they're here to… recruit me?

I don't think I ever felt so confused. A mentor willing to teach magic is exactly what I wanted. I hoped to learn about the hidden factions, but I didn't expect that to happen right now.

"I, err, I think I should ask my friend?" I say, feeling more stupid at every word. "Can I think about it for a while?"

"Do you think this is a game?" they ask. It's hard to tell even what tone they're using, it slips from my mind like water. "I'm not here on a lark. This city is dangerous, and getting more dangerous by the minute. The chance I'm giving you is already a risk I shouldn't take. May the Gunner shoot you, what do you need to think about? We fight for the right of mages to exist. Without silver chains, without tattoos, without handlers."

"I…" I say. "I'm just trying to survive."

"We all are," the person says. "The difference is that we are also trying to help other mages survive."

Fuck, fuck. I don't know anything about them. But they offer safety, and magic. Can I afford to turn them down?

"I don't want to kill people," I blurt, before my brain connects to my mouth.

The person laughs.

"Cute of you," they say. "But if you truly care about that, you'd turn yourself in, right now. The path you're following, or stumbling along, leads to blood. Yours, or theirs. We don't kill people at random, don't believe ThauCon shit. But we kill when we need to. And there's no peaceful way to gain our rights."

I can't picture myself willingly choosing to kill people.

Worse. I can't now. But I know Daravoi is right. The Else changes us.

"Know what?" I say. "Fuck off. Everyone says I'll end up squashing kittens and killing people, if I want to use my powers. Maybe you're right. But while I'm sort of sane, I'm not going to say well then, I might as well start now, gimme a kitten. I'll find my own way."

As usual, I fucked up. I flinch by instinct, expecting the mage to attack me, or at least shout at me.

They laugh.

"You're clueless, and naïve," they say. "I don't think you'll last long. And if you do, you'll change. The path I offer you is far, far from the darkest a mage can walk."

I'm ready to protest, but they raise one hand.

"But I won't force you," they say. "Honestly, I respect your decision, in the way I respect a drunk man who tries to arm-wrestle a bear. I wish I had more time – we're really not as nefarious as you think - our more bloody days are in the past. But we do kill people, and not only in self-defense. I can't lie about it, and it's not a choice I'll force anyone to follow."

Weirdly, this admission makes me more ambivalent about the whole thing.

"Look," I say, "you're a real mage, right? Can you just tell me how to hide my signature? I'll keep thinking about it. And I'll consider joining the Faceless, once I know more."

They snort.

"You have balls to make demands, kid," they say, looking again at the wrist thingie. "But, honestly, I'd teach you if I could. Mages should help each other. But even if I were a good teacher, and I'm not, it would take far too long. I must be gone in minutes, and if I took you with me, you'd have to stay with me. You picked a really shitty time and place to discover your powers."

"Well then…" I say. "Look, I'm sorry, maybe I'm being incredibly stupid. But I can't join your war on the spot. I think."

They snort.

"I had to try. It was for your sake, believe it or not. Well, you're young and ridiculous, but I almost like you. In the unlikely chance you survive, and even more unlikely chance you seek and find the Faceless, tell whomever you speak that you have an invitation from Agent Eighty, of the Midnight Brigate. That will save you some of the trouble, if you join us."

"I… thanks?" I say.

"Don't thank me," they say, and for a moment, I get a glimpse of a man in his thirties, dark-skinned, but with white hair. And I can tell their tone is gloomy. "I… Fuck, I must go. Six decades to prepare, and still so little time."

They turn to leave the room, then stop, still not facing me.

"Korentis," they say. "Be careful. Be wary of bounty hunters. Stay away from the University. And whatever you do with your life, don't deal with the Lady in White."

Before I can answer, they're no longer there – it's not like they disappear, it's like I lose a moment of time, and after that, the door is closed, and my room empty.

"And what the fuck did that mean?" I say. Now that the Faceless isn't here anymore, the fear is catching up with me – my heart pumps faster, my legs feel like jelly. "Daravoi won't ever, ever believe this shit."

***​

"It does sound like a bad trip," Daravoi says, "and you took, like, three different drugs at once, two days ago."

Before I can protest, he stops me with a gesture.

"But I believe you," he says. "First, because I mean, it figures. We just needed more shit. That's how my life is.

"Second, I knew you can't see the face of the Faceless. And since you obviously didn't know, you couldn't have hallucinated that. And some of the other stuff. Bounty Hunters are people who catch rogues and turn them to ThauCon for a reward. I thought you didn't have them in Vorok, though. Keeping away from the University sounds like good sense. And I've heard about the Lady in White."

"Is she Kalestran?" I ask.

He snorts. "Because of course, if I know something, it must be because it's from my exotic, faraway land. No, you racist goat, I know of her because unlike you, I traveled a lot. She's popular in some countries. Mostly in South Zelenia, I'm told, but I've never been across the ocean. Anyway she's… sort of a folk hero?

"Some say she's a ghost, some say a mage. She helps poor people, fights the Alliance when they do their oppressin'. Kalestran clans don't like the story, because they hate mages in general. I thought she was just an urban legend, honestly."

"She's probably a rival brand of terrorist mage," I say. "Anyway. Did I fuck up, in telling them no?"

Daravoi lets himself fall on the mattress, next to me. He looks exhausted.

"Moonbreaker's tits, Kore, it's not like I'm an expert on good decisions," he says. "I don't know. It might have been our best shot to avoid re-ed, or the noose. But… I know something about the Faceless. They're not the fucking Syndicates, but they're bloody. They kill soldiers, government officials, random people who cross their way. I… I'm not sure I'd have sent them away. But to be honest, I'm happy you did."

***​

I dream of the moon, perfect and round and blue, like a jewel. I could reach with my hands and take it, steal it, make a necklace of it. But that would be a bad idea. Bad things happen when you steal jewels. Bad things happen when you touch the moon.

"Do you remember me, this time?" A voice asks, patient. I met her already. But I don't remember, memory is squishy and treacherous, here.

There's a flower around the moon. A flower, a spiral, a gate. There are things beyond. They're beautiful.

"Will you stop doing that, you'll attract a demon sooner or later…"

Demon. Danger. I must be careful. Of what? The hunters. The University. The Lady in White. Dark hands reach for me from the darkness…

Wait, this is a dream. Just a dream. I can't see the moon – my eyes are closed.

"This is becoming truly annoying…"

I wake up, nervous and jumpy – but I don't really remember why.

Above me, there's only the low ceiling of the rental room. But as if through smoked glass, I see the shape of the Moon.

 

[Selerian]

12 - A magical threat

There's a direction, in the Else, that shouldn't exist. It doesn't map to any axis in the Material World, but most mages describe it as down, or deeper.

Most mages skim the surface of the Else. Only with time and training they learn how to go deeper - and most do so only rarely, with great caution. For there's great power in the deep Else, but also terrible risks.

Some unlucky few, however, have an instinctive ability to go deeper into the Else.

Any mage manifesting this power must be immediately taught control by a specialist, before they endanger their lives, and everyone else's.​

- from 'the Mentor's book on magic', by Archmage Irillion​

We're still waiting for any sign of Korentis or xir friend, when we get our first real emergency. A siren blares through the whole base, and red notifications fill the edges of my sight. I blink to open the highest priority one.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CODE ORANGE - ONGOING MAGICAL EVENT - POTENTIAL HARM TO PERSONS
Event origin: single human mage - unknown signature
Intensity: level 0.8 - 1.5
Modulation: unstable
Information: highly fluctuating signal. Suspected risk of catastrophic loss of control.
------------------------------------------------------------------

We stand still for a moment as we read the notification. Catastrophic loss of control. Or like most people call it, going nova. One of the most dangerous situations ThauCon agents can face – all my instructors spoke with horror of nova risk management.

"Holy Navigator, show us the way," Sorivel mumbles.

"Well, it's on our watch," Kaelich says, without any trace of his usual cheer. "Let's go."

We put on our helmets and rush to the hangar.

"Althea, are you ready?" Kaelich asks.

"I'm already at the hangar," she answers, unusually curt. "Hurry up."

We run along the snowy walkway, Sorivel's drones buz around us, and get into the quad-copter as it's warming its engines. Aeniki's voice reaches while we're securing the harnesses.

"Mission control here." she says. "We have intel from a man who claims to be the mage's father. Apparently, they had a minor argument at home, the son - aged seventeen - got very angry, and suddenly stuff started floating all around him. Apparently, the boy was as surprised as the father, but couldn't stop the magic. He got scared, and some stuff exploded. Now he's shut in his room, screaming at the parents to stay out."

Sareas joins the channel. "LT here. Corporal Kaelich, Team Green will be geared up in five minutes. Do you need their backup?"

We don't. There's no need for more firepower, or greater numbers, to deal with an unstable mage.

What is needed is a rifleman willing to shoot. And that's what Sareas is asking.

Kaelich waits a short time.

"Nova risk is time critical," he says. "We deploy now."

A pause. Sareas could overrule xem, of course, but after asking, it wouldn't be great etiquette.

"Good luck, Team Blue," he says, somber. "Corporal Kaelich has field command. Specialist Corporal Aeniki has mission control. I'll coordinate the evacuation efforts."

I finish my equipment checklist, then close my eyes and summon a city map. The signal comes from a middle-class residential neighborhood. We'll be there in three minutes.

"I know there's a way to drag mages out from the Else," Sorivel says, reluctantly. "Can you do that, Althea?"

"No," she answers, "that shit is for Folders. I'm a Juggler and Maker - meaning I can float stuff, move stuff, and create Else-glass. I'm great at those things, but that's about it."

A moment of pause, then she adds. "I'm sorry. I'd do it if I could."

"Let's go over the operating procedure," Kaelich says.

"We know the operating procedure, ser" Sorivel answers.

"Let's do it anyway," Kaelich repeats, tense. It's strange to see xem so serious and focused - but it's good to know xe can take xir job seriously. "Cerical and Althea will approach the mage. You'll try to calm him, try to make him leave the Else and follow us willingly. Sorivel and I will set up in the best position we find to shoot him, if necessary."

"You should know I'm… not always the best at talking to people," I say.

Kaelich doesn't acknowledge, but xe doesn't contradict me, either.

"I'll try to do the talking," Althea says. I'm not sure how much better that is, since she's impatient and loves making threats. But on the other hand, she's living proof that mages can turn themselves in and stay alive.

"I'm sending you the building's plans," Aeniki says, unusually helpful. "The mage is still active. There are reports of vibrations, fire alarms and vivid hallucinations throughout the building. He's in an internal room, with no windows and no walls facing outside."

I blink and accept the file. It's a three-room apartment: a common room facing the outside, the parent's bedroom, and the boy's. His room has no window.

"I'll take position on the opposite roof, but it's a very bad setup," Kaelich says, "the only possible line of fire I can get is through the door. Try to make the boy move into the living room as soon as possible."

"Maybe I can send Determination in his room through the ventilation system," Sorivel adds. "I can't tell for sure from this map."

"Negative," Kaelich answers, "Your combat drone would terrify the boy, and can't do anything useful except stab him. Just position your sniper drone outside, maybe you can get a firing line. Cerical wll go in."

I know the truth, and so do they - if I can get the mage to the living room, it will mean the mage is cooperating anyway. So, Kaelich will be basically useless. If the mage doesn't cooperate, or can't, it will fall to me and Althea to… deal with him.

"The room is small," I say. "I'll stand by the door and talk to him. If his magic goes into spiraling loss of control, I can cross in under a second and kill him."

"That's probably our best chance," Kaelich agrees. "But if he calms down a bit, you can just slap silver shackles on him."

"Remember, no theta grenades, for any reason," Sareas says, even if he was supposed to leave the mission to Kaelich and Aeniki. "They can trigger sudden LOC. And keep in mind that your first duty is to stop him from going nova. We can't evacuate the whole building, and even if we did - he's on the fifth floor. Your armor won't protect you if the building collapses."

"Acknowledged, LT. I'll do my duty," I say, irrationally annoyed that Sareas felt the need to remind us of things every first year cadet already knows. "Until the war is won, and the sky is mended."

***​

"Blue leader here," Kaelich's voice buzzes in the channel. "I've taken position on the roof. Full view on the apartment's living room. Partial view on the closed door. No line of fire on target."

"Mission control here," Aeniki follows right after. "I confirm the apartment's been evacuated. We convinced the mage's parents to leave. We're trying to evacuate the whole building, but we don't have a reliable headcount yet. Magical activity is still unstable, rising in intensity, but not yet critical."

"Blademaster here," I say, "I'm standing by the apartment's door with Mage Althea. I Confirm the door is open. Awaiting order to proceed."

"Drone here," Sorivel checks in, at last., "I've taken position in the nearby alley. I have recon drones outside the building. Jus… sorry, sniper drone has a view on the living room. Articulated combat drone is trying to reach the subject's room through ventilation ducts, just in case. ETA six minutes."

Six minutes - too much, and we all know. I look at Althea and we nod. We're alone, for every purpose.

She raises her hands, entirely disincarnated into light, and small, glowing green blocks form all around her, combining into something like blocky glass armor.

"Team leader to blademaster and mage," Kaelich says. "Proceed and be careful. Mission Control, stay alert for any sign of critical instability, and give immediate warning."

Althea nods and flicks her hand. There's an emerald flash, and the apartment door opens violently, as if kicked by a giant. It stops soundlessly instead of crashing against the wall.

Past the door, we find ourselves in a clean, cozy living room - a wide sofa, a VR gaming station, a wide windowed terrace, a stuffed dog bed.

I never lived in a house anywhere this nice. No one does, in Zelenia. I feel a vicious, bitter stab of envy and resentment at the boy who had this much and is now throwing a tantrum which could collapse the building.

It doesn't matter, and I'm being unfair. It couldn't be less of his fault, that he got upset, tried to sulk like every teenager ever, and the Else started pouring into the world through him. And yet, these people are so rich, but they don't even notice.

We walk through the closed door. Warnings flash into my visor - bursts of theta activity. Orange sparkles glint around the door, and colors have a strange tinge. Despite the silver in the suit, my weight shifts subtly and Althea's hair stands up.

I hear noises coming from the boy's room, like furniture being tussled about, and strangled crying.

"I see him," Althea whispers, her tone urgent. "This isn't good. He's attracting… things. He must calm down."

If we were raiding a normal rogue mage, my path of action would be clear - countdown, kick the door open, theta grenade, slap manacles on the target. Surprise is our most effective weapon, along with silver.

It goes against all of my training to announce myself and talk, knowing there's an active mage past the door.

At least I should prepare myself. Let's see what information Aeniki could dredge up about the boy. I subvocalize a Stemlink command.

---

Query: target data

Response: Vakris Sevelet - 17 yo male - born Rakavdon - attending Deikivar high school, art curriculum. No criminal record. No known medical condition. Recent breakup. Argument with family was about his art college enrollment.

---

"Vakris," I call through the door, "are you there?"

No answer from the inside, but the whimpering stops for a moment.

"Who is there?" A whiny voice asks. "Are you real?"

"I'm here to help you," I say, trying to smooth the edges of my usual tone. "Can I come in?"

"No! Don't come!" the mage screams. "Go away! All of you go away!"

I look at Althea. A fleck of green light burns in her pupils, and she pulls back from the door, mouth agape. She looks scared.

"There's only two of us," I say, trying to be reassuring. I noticed that animals and small children run away from me when I do that, but he's a teenager, so he'll be reasonable, right?

"We can help you," I press. "We have silver. It will keep you safe from the Else."

"Are you ThauCon?" He asks, even more scared. "I didn't want this! Shit, I don't know what happened! I don't want to go to the camps!"

"You won't go to the camps!" Althea interjects. "Don't worry, we can help you! But you must let us in!"

There's a strange edge to her voice - I'd say she's as scared as the boy. Lord of Pains, what is happening?

"We'll come in, and help you," Althea goes on, talking too fast. "You'll get your tattoos, and you'll be free by this evening."

I look at her - she lied. Even in the best possible case, the tattooing process takes several days, and an unstable mage usually needs to learn basic control first, or he could burn his own arms. Althea isn't one to sugarcoat anything - what's wrong? Aeniki would tell us if he were going nova right this moment, right?

"I don't want tattoos!" Vakris screams. "I just want to go to college, and they'll never pick me if I have the silver tats! I'll never use magic, I swear! Never again! I hate it! Can't you just stop it?"

Althea raises a hand, moves a finger in midair, leaving an Else-light trail. At first I think she's making the glyphs for a spell, but no, she's writing.

She spells a single word in midair:

'DEMONS'

"Don't worry," I say, keeping my voice calm, even if I feel like I've been plunged into icy water. "You can get into whatever college, even with tattoos. You can do anything, really. But you're in danger now. I'll open the door."

"No! If I open the door, they'll get out! They're looking at me! Send them away!" he begs. Theta alarms blare as he pronounces the word away. The whole apartment rattles, cracks form on the windows.

"Peaks of instability are getting larger and more frequent," Aenik informs us. "He'll go nova soon."

"Vakris, I'm a Council mage," Althea says, without any attempt at being soothing, now. "It's not the end of the world, but something really bad is happening now. Don't listen to the voices. Take deep breaths. Keep your fists balled and don't move your arms. They can't hurt you if you ignore them."

"I… they're closer, they watch me, I…" Vakris says, his voice breaking.

"I'm coming in," Althea says.

She pushes her hand forward, palm open, and then jerks it back, as if pulling something. A hook of green light blinks into existence, and it yanks the wooden door off its hinges. I flinch as the door flies over our heads and crashes against the opposite window, shattering it.

The kid's room is small and messy, bathed in orange light, as if lit by an invisible fire.

It's not the regular tidy up your room kind of messy. It looks as if a typhoon has blown inside. A desk lies broken in half, torn books and gutted pillows are scattered all over the room, even floating in midair. Posters and clothes and notebooks have been torn to shreds and cast in every direction.

There's a boy sitting on the bed, curled in a ball, with his head pressed against his knees, and hands over his ears. His t-shirt has been cut to ribbons, and he looks like he's been slashed by a dozen invisible knives, except no blood comes from the cuts - only burning orange light.

His hands have no flesh left, they're made of orange Else-glass. It looks like we're underwater - everything floats, everything is bathed in warm light coming from nowhere.

Having seen Althea while she uses magic, I can tell something is very, very wrong here. The light from the boy's fingers flickers, and as I watch, new slashes open along his neck and arms, bleeding light.

"Team leader here, I've still no line of fire," Kaelich says, xir voice surprisingly calm. "Bind him in silver or kill him, Ceri - but quick".

"Take a deep breath," I command, and my hands reach for my sword, but my stomach knots up, and I take the silver handcuffs instead. I can do it. I'm sure. "Now I'll walk to you, and I'll…"

"There's a storm," the mage says, and he raises his head, looking at me - his face is a mess of regular skin and glowing orange stripes. "A storm. Don't you see it? It's everywhere!"

Ah, fuck it. I subvocalize the command Rush, and the suit injects me with a dose of adrenaline. I lunge toward Vakris, manacles ready. His eyes go wide, he puts his arms in front of himself, as if to push me away. Orange lightning explodes from his fingers--no, not lightning. It's like the air between us is tearing apart.

A green flash, a sharp pop, and a barrier of Else-glass cuts the space between me and the mage. The orange light clashes against it, and the barrier cracks, but doesn't break.

"Don't fight, fucking idiot!" Althea screams. It sounds distant, unreal. "We're trying to help!"

The boy pushes his back against the wall, looking at his own hand, horrified. "I… what…"

The green wall disappears, and the world still feels like it's underwater. Is time slowing down, or is it my brain into overdrive?

I run to the boy, adrenaline pushing me forward despite my confusion, and grab his left arm. I twist so to force him face down on his bed, and after a moment of struggling, I snap the silver handcuffs over his wrists.

He screams, and while the orange light fades from his arms, criss-crossing burns form where silver touched him.

The fucker attacked me. My heart is still hammering, I feel the urge to fight - or at least insult him. But the boy is whimpering now, obviously no longer a threat.

I take a deep breath.

"Blademaster here. Target subdued. We're unharmed. He's not seriously hurt."

"Mission control here," Aeniki says, a hint of the usual boredom creeping back in her tone. "I confirm that the theta signal is sharply decreasing. Hurray for the Agency. That will teach him. No one goes to art school on our watch."

***​

 

[Selerian]

***​

"Is this really necessary?" Kaelich asks, wincing, as we chain the terrified boy to the silver Y-frame in the interrogation room. His hand is bandaged where my suit's silver burnt it.

"If we don't take his deposition, it's a kidnapping, not an arrest," Sareas says, obviously annoyed. "And if you don't think we need the silver frame, go through Cerical's camera recording and think again, this time better."

"I'm sorry," Vakris says. "I didn't want to use magic. I won't use it again. I swear."

He's been pretty much repeating that no stop since we caught him, and I'd probably be more sympathetic if he hadn't thrown Elsefire at me.

"We just need to ask you some questions," Kaelich says, and I almost laugh at xir warm, reassuring smile - somewhat undermined by the fact Vakris is tied to a silver post in an underground, concrete room full of armed people.

"Silver bracers would have been enough," Jaeleri mumbles. He joined us, not that anyone asked, and has been complaining about everything since the moment he entered the room.

Althea glares at him. "The silver frame is a better suppressor, which is good for everyone. Some mages are actually powerful, and they need proper suppression, you know."

Jaeleri rolls his eyes. "To use significant magic with silver bracers he should be fourth level, or a trained mind-mage. He's very obviously not that. But don't let reason get into the way of torturing some random kid."

"It's not torture. It's standard procedure," Kaelich says, sounding genuinely hurt.

"It's standard procedure, and guess what, it's torture, too," Jaeleri adds, venom in his words. "Take my word on that."

He's exaggerating, of course. Yes, a long interrogation is unpleasant. But this will be short, and touching silver doesn't hurt mages unless they use their magic.

"Don't listen to the idiot there," Kaelich says, looking at Vakris. "We need you to answer only a few questions, and then we can take you to a high suppression cell. You won't be able to use magic there, even by accident. Then the Council will take you and teach you control, in a few days at most."

"I didn't want to!" The boy repeats, his voice catching. He's crying - oh, come on, he's being asked routine questions by the nicest person on Refuge. "I was just angry and… everything broke down!"

Kaelich sighs, and takes a notepad, then xe scans the boy's wrist.

"Corporal Kaelich Anur, beginning debriefing. Do you confirm you're Vakris Sevelet, aged seventeen?" Xe asks, his tone becoming more formal.

Vakris nods.

Kaelich smiles apologetically. "Please answer aloud. We need it for the deposition."

"Why do you need this? I'm not a criminal!" Vakris' voice is breaking.

"You almost exploded in a crowded building, so you'll have to deal with some inconvenience," Sareas answers, straining to stay calm. "Answer the corporal's questions, or I'll do the asking."

The boy, at least, is smart enough to know what's good for him and nods.

"I'm Vakris Sevelet," he mumbles.

"Did you know you were a mage, before today?" Kaelich asks.

"No! Of course not!" Vakris shouts. "I had some weird nightmares. And I could see orange, closing my eyes. But I thought that was stress?"

"What kind of nightmares?" Althea interrupts, her voice sharp.

"A storm," he answers, "tearing through the whole city. Voices talking to me."

Text lines appear at the bottom of my vision – the team's Stemlink chat.

Kaelich, to team: "Do you know if that kind of stuff is normal?"

Sorivel, to team: "It sure never happened to me."

"Did the voice form coherent words?" Althea presses on. She can't read our silent conversation. I really wish Althea could have Stemlink, in situations like this.

"I… I don't remember," Vakris says, and I don't need Sorivel's talent, to know he's lying.

"Mage Althea, this is not relevant," Sareas says. "And corporal Kaelich is doing the debriefing anyway."

Jaeleri snickers. Althea looks at Sareas with such open contempt, I fear they'll fight on the spot, but thankfully Kaelich resumes asking questions right away.

"Can you describe the events of today?" Xe asks.

"I… I was angry," Vakris says. "I'm sorry. I must tell da' I'm sorry. We had a stupid argument over art college, he said I should get a useful degree first, and I was so angry. Then the world… broke. Everything looked like watercolor being washed away, and anything I looked at, anything I thought about, went flying, and then broke into bits."

The boy takes a breath, his eyes wide with fear.

"I ran into my room," he goes on, "because I was afraid of hurting da', or pancake - my dog. But I kept breaking stuff, and I got more and more scared, and then… I started seeing this orange fog, and there were things moving inside it." He raises his eyes for the first time since the interrogation started, looking at Althea.

"That's the Else, right? It's… it's terrifying. I could see the inside of things, and a glance was all it took me to break them. And that orange place was… deep, in a way that doesn't make sense. It was everywhere around me, but also below, like deep water, and there are things beneath. I thought I was drowning. I was on my bed, I knew it, but I was also sinking. And something was getting closer and closer to me. And then… you came."

There's silence in the interrogation room.

"Those things were just visions," Kaelich says. "Don't worry. They weren't real."

"That's… not correct," Althea says, her voice low. With a hand held behind xir back, Kaelich gestures at her to shut up.

"I think it all matches our observations," Kaelich says. "Thank you, Vakris. I'm submitting our report as a case of first use of magic, involuntary, and mark the subject as cooperative. Cerical, Sorivel, are you in favor? And, uh, Althea, too. You don't sign our report, of course. But still let me know if you disagree."

Send message, team: "Cooperative might be a bit of an overstatement, the little fucker tried to kill me."

Kaelich, to team: "He wasn't in his right mind, and with a compliance report it will go better for him. It's not like he wanted to go nova."

I sigh. Kaelich's heart might be too soft, but xe's not wrong - we've nothing to gain by being harsh, Vakris isn't a threat to anyone.

"In favor," I say.

"Fine by me," Althea adds.

"Me too," Sorivel says. "You were lucky today, Vakris, believe it or not. I know this is not what you wanted, but the Navigator will show you a way."

"What will happen to me?" Vakris asks.

"That's for the Alliance judge to decide," Kaelich answers. "But if you want silver tattoos, I'm pretty sure there will be no problem. You'll learn control and be free by the time winter term begins."

Vakris sniffs."Of course I want the tattoos, I don't want to see that place ever again."

"Wait, Corporal," Sareas interjects, grim. "The log must be amended to include attempted magical violence to persons. That's not something you can leave out."

"Uhm, respectfully, sir," Kaelich says, looking down. "There was obviously no intent to fight on the mage's side. And Cerical countersigned the report as it stands."

"That doesn't matter," Sareas says. "Mage Vakris, do you deny that you attacked the agent who tried to subdue you, with magic?"

"I didn't mean to!" Vakris squeals, despite Jaeleri's frantic gestures to shut up. "I just… she scared me, she had the sword, and the magic did it on its own!"

Idiot. We could have described it as an uncontrolled discharge of power - even if it would have been a stretch of the truth. But he confessed to attacking me. Don't people read the Alliance's charter?

"Intent doesn't matter," Sareas says, sounding weary. "That's the problem with magic. It uses you. You attacked the Blademaster, a crime under article 7.2 of the OWA charter. That must be logged."

Everyone looks at me, and I realize I must say something.

I also realize that Sareas is right about the law. It's not my choice, his confession eliminated any wiggle room. This is a report, our duty is just to state the truth. I open my mouth to say that.

Kaelich looks at me, and I know xe'll be disappointed if I agree with Sareas. I really don't want to disappoint Kaelich, but that's a really stupid reason to do anything. But I look at Vakris, too. He's terrified and confused, and if we log his attempted attack, he'll have to go through re-education. It's hard to believe that would be a net gain for society, annoyed as that makes me.

"I believe the subject was heavily confused," I say, "and he was obviously suffering from hallucinations. His summoning of Elsefire can't meaningfully be considered an attempt at violence."

"We can't leave out whatever we like on those reports, you know," Sareas says. He sounds disappointed. "The attempted violence must be logged. We'll include the mitigating circumstances."

My heart sinks a bit - but in the end, he's correct, which is more important than right.

I don't like the way Sareas said that, though. I appreciate respect for the rules. But there's something disturbing in the way he relishes enforcing rules, when they'll be harsh toward someone. I can't do much about it, but for what it's worth, I make a mental note to add that on the personnel report for Quicksilver.

Vakris looks at us, confused, and no one seems willing to spell out the implications. Weattend in silence, while Kaelich finishes the prescribed questions and takes the boy back to a suppressed cell.

***

​

It's a weekday afternoon, it's already dark, and no one feels like drinking. So, by unspoken agreement, we go bathe in the hot pool.

Some teams bathe together as a social activity - it's more of a Karesian thing, for some reason this whole continent is crazy about it. Kaelich suggested it a couple of times, but Sorivel and I turned xem down – we didn't grow up with the habit, we don't waste water that way, in Zelenia.

With the ridiculous water abundance here, I'm learning to enjoy soaking in warm water, but like most good things in life, I like it best alone. However, it's the perfect place to relax while avoiding the other teams.

Kaelich and Althea fail to suppress a little smile as I come in wearing a one-piece swimsuit - all the others are naked, but they have the good sense not to comment on my attire. I know modesty is seen as provincial, since the world is run by fucking Landfallers who live naked in a swamp, or something like that. I notice Sorivel takes off his boxers and very quickly slides into the pool, though. I wonder how long it took him to get comfortable doing even that.

I relax once I'm into the water, though – it's wonderfully warm, and between the surface and the steam, I don't feel too exposed.

Four people make the small pool almost cramped - we can sit on the submerged ledge without touching each other, but just barely. Sorivel is so tall the water doesn't even reach his shoulders, while Althea, after some cursing, ends up crouching on the ledge, she's too short to sit while keeping her nose above water.

What a waste. I finally get to bathe with Althea, and we're in a sad mood. Still, the warm water does wonders for my knotted muscles after the day's action, and I do manage to get a glimpse of Althea's breasts while she shifts to get into a comfortable position. I wonder if she's looking at me in the same way.

"What's the deal with Sareas?" Althea blurts out, when she finally settles in the right position. "That was just pointless assholery."

"Sareas is… very keen on rules and procedures," Kaelich says. I finally get a good look at all xir tattoos - xe has tons of them, most brightly colored, going down xir collarbone, arms, and chest. I wonder why not stick to the face, when I realize they'd be perfectly visible, if we were in Landfall.

"Sareas thinks the law is a stick to beat people with," Sorivel says, poison in his voice. "Especially mages. He hates them."

Althea scoffs. "Unlike you?"

I'd expect an argument to erupt, but I learned that most people assume there's some kind of truce while soaking in hot water. Maybe it's just harder to summon the will to argue, while naked and relaxed.

"I don't hate mages," Sorivel sounds honestly surprised. "I think the choice of using magic is sinful. Did that kid look like he had any choice?"

He's keeping his arm on the pool's edge, and his silver tattoos glint in the neon light. They're ugly silver circles, unevenly drawn. Why don't they make them a little nicer? They would work the same. It does seem…well, unnecessarily cruel.

"I had a choice. I still chose magic." Althea points out.

"And for that, you're a sinner," Sorivel says, sounding weary. "So are Kaelich and Cerical, in other ways. So am I. What else do you want me to say?"

Althea opens her mouth, but then closes it, looking mollified.

"You're really a faithful one," she says, and it sounds like an insult and a compliment at once. "It's not just a way to be an asshole. Sorry, I… misjudged you a bit on that."

Without our uniforms and her robes, without our silver and her magic, it's easier to see her as one of us, just a normal girl. With cute dimples, and cheeks flustered by the hot water. Her hair is wet, too, with loose strands curling on her bare shoulders. I get the irrational urge to run my hand through it, and fix those loose strands. And running my fingers on her delicate collarbone….

Lady of Light, I should really focus on something that is not her body.

"Thanks, I guess," Sorivel's saying. "I… can't fault you too much. I wish I didn't know how some Students of the Officers behave. But I try to be better than that, Althea."

Something changes between them. Sorivel shoulders relax a bit, Althea's mouth softens.

I get irrationally jealous, and feel the stupid impulse to say something nice to her, too.

"Your magic protected me today," I say, a little bit too earnestly. "Possibly saved my life. Thanks."

She shrugs, but there's a small smile on her face after that. "Definitely not your life. Even with the Else instability, that attack was barely above level one. Your armor would have protected you."

"What about the voices the boy heard?" Kaelich asks. "You seemed worried about those."

Althea's usually very quick with answers, but she frowns, and Sorivel speaks before she does.

"Speak not of the evils beyond the Veil," he says, solemn, "for they always listen."

I expect Althea to scoff or roll her eyes, but she doesn't. And I remember the word she's scribbled with light - demons.

"Vakris had attracted… something from the deep Else," she says, careful, like a lawyer picking every word exactly. "That's very strange. It usually happens only with very powerful magic. I caught a glimpse of the things he attracted, and… it's good that we arrived in time. Let's just say that."

"So it was a demon," I say, ignoring Sorivel's flinch. "Was it really talking to the boy?"

This is one of those moments where I'm painfully aware of my incomplete training. In my final year of Intelligence School, I'd have studied everything we know about demons. But I never got there, and in basic training, we were told frustratingly little about those creatures - pretty much only how to kill them.

The topic makes me nervous, a deep instinct, ingrained by my childhood. I've never seen a Demonfall. But my parents, and everyone who lived through the Zelenian revolt, spoke of demons in terrified whispers.

"Look, I don't want to sound like the scripture-mumbler there," Althea says, splashing a little water in Sorivel's direction. "But there are things in the Else better not spoken about. I asked those questions only because the interrogation room is warded and full of silver. But that oaf Sareas stopped me, so now someone will have to ask them in less safe conditions."

This leaves me open-mouthed. Althea looks very comfortable about magic, to the point it's uncomfortable for everyone else. I didn't expect superstition from her.

Or is it superstition? For all my childhood worries, I thought don't speak of the evils beyond was like throw a pinch of sand behind you to ward off the evil eye, just one more piece of folk advice. Is it really dangerous to talk about demons? I make a mental note to inquire further. I'll wear a ton of silver, if necessary, but I have to ask Althea more about it.

The silence is broken by Kaelich. "Well, let's change topic, then!" Xe says, sounding once again xir cheerful, carefree self. Vakris' interrogation had put xem in a gloom, but bad mood doesn't stick to Kaelich.

"We did pretty well for our first engagement as a team!" Xe says, "you were amazing, Ceri. And Althea, I'm so happy we got you and not some useless lump like Jaeleri. I mean, I'm sorry that Vakris will get re-ed, but today we saved him, and probably everyone in his city block. That's what I signed up for."

"I thought you signed up because no one else wanted you," Sorivel says. "And the pay is pretty good, base freeze-ass or not."

"Yeah, there's that," Kaelich admits with a shrug. "My aptitude tests in high school basically said fuck off, you're useless, and I don't have enough discipline for professional athletics or gaming, which are the only things I'm good-ish at. But it's not just that. A girl in my high school went nova while I was in third year. They evacuated the building, but she still blew up three classrooms and hurt a dozen people. And well, she died," Xe stops, and xir smile fades a bit. "I knew her."

A somberness falls over me. I didn't even think about that – the disaster we averted, and the lives we saved. I care deeply about my duty, but as something abstract. I care about the war on magic, and the slow unraveling of the world. We didn't achieve anything meaningful on that count, today.

But we did save a boy's life, even if he'll have to spend one or two years in reeducation. And we saved anyone else who'd have been killed in the magical explosion.

Why do those things matter so little to me? Why can't I be more like Kaelich? Is something wrong with me?

But I decide I can simply be happy that we did a good job and that we survived. So I close my eyes, and let myself sink lower in the hot pool while my teammates keep chattering.

***​

 

[Selerian]

Any reader's request for a sunday special? Would you like to learn more about a faction, a path of magic, or anything Else?
Don't be shy, I love readers' suggestions, and unless this website lies through its teeth, a few people are actually reading !

 

[Selerian]

***



As we get back to our bunk room, relaxed and ready to sleep, we find Sareas waiting, leaning against Kaelich's bed, his arms crossed.

He's in full uniform, including the rather stiff black jacket no one wears off duty. Thin and tall, standing rigid, he looks like a very angry stick.

"Hi, LT," Kaelich says. "Waiting for us?"

"Yes. The three of you," Sareas says, even if we're four - Althea is with us.

"It's my room, too, you know," she says.

Sareas looks at her. He has a good poker face, but I can see the pure distaste that crosses his features for a second. Does he hate mages, or Althea? He's clearly a hardliner about magic, but I've seen him interact normally with Loannu, Team Yellow's mage. He can barely look at Althea without scowling, though.

"I can't give you any order," he says to Althea, "but I want to talk with the team. Your presence is not appreciated."

Althea's lips stretch into a venomous smile. "Isn't it?" she says, and turns to Kaelich.

Kaelich looks at her, and then moves xir gaze away.

Her smile evaporates, leaving icy disdain. She turns without speaking and stalks out of the room. After she's out, the door closes by itself, strong enough to rattle its frame.

Sareas relaxes a fraction, without Althea in the room.

"Your mage is trouble," he says. "And you like her way too much."

"She's competent and cooperative," Kaelich mumbles, looking down. Xe's basically unable to contradict someone while looking them in the eyes.

"Friendly relations with Council mages can make things… muddied," Sareas repeats. "You must always remember who they are, and what our mission is."

He pauses, then shrugs.

"This isn't why I wanted to talk to you anyway. First of all, congratulations for your first combat operation. You did very well. We'll make a strong squad together."

Kaelich smiles, but I don't, and neither does Sorivel. I can hear the but in the Lieutenant's words.

"But we must discuss your later behavior. Bending the truth in our reports isn't acceptable - even suggesting it is passing the line. Doing so to protect a mage from his lawful punishment is shameful. And you shouldn't argue with me in front of a suspect - or anyone external to the Agency - ever again, or there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

I clear my throat. "Technically we didn't disobey any order or violate any procedure. Disagreement is not against the Agency's code."

Sareas glares at me, his green eyes frightfully intense. I go for my favorite trick, and look at his nose instead of his eyes. Most people don't notice, and end up looking away first. That's how I got a useful reputation for having a death glare in basic training.

I feel Kaelich squirm, but finally Sareas looks away from me. His jaw tenses, though. Maybe I made a mistake.

"You're new here, Blademaster Cerical," the LT says, his voice lower now. "So, we must be clear. We're very far from Landfall. The Captain has… a light touch here. We don't really have superior officers willing to adjudicate cases. So, we do things less formally, and draw our own lines. Mine is that we will show a united front to the world. If you disagree with me, in the future, you can come discuss it in private at any time. But you won't contradict me in public."

"I understand," Kaelich says. "I'm sorry, sir."

Lord of Seas, xe's spineless. But I see no reason to escalate the situation, so I nod, even if all I want is to show Sareas how wrong he is.

But with my meekness, the LT seems to relax a bit.

"Well, talk's over," he says. "I didn't want to spoil your celebration, you deserved it. It's just that… there are strange things happening lately. I know this city is so calm it's boring, usually. But that's changing, I'm afraid. And I must know that we can rely on each other."



***



"So, what should we expect from Sareas?" Althea asks, as we stretch before a fighting bout. "Sternly worded letter? Stink bugs in the bed? A knife in the dark?"

She salutes me with a hand over her heart, then shifts into a fighting stance.

I hate people who talk while they spar. But Althea looks great in her white Zakren robe, and I get to spend time alone with her doing exercise with plenty of physical contact. So, I'll endure the chit chat.

"It depends on the base, and the officer, and how angry they are." I say. "In basic training, it was mostly joke punishments - kiss my ass and say you're sorry, frivolous stuff like that. Some places have a system of fines. Some have straight-up beatings. Kaelich says his old captain made people exercise in the snow. A lot depends on how much informal authority Sareas wields - depends on whether the senior teams back him."

I can't see Team Gold jumping to Sareas' orders, and arthritis would probably prevent them from delivering a beating anyway. Team Green members wouldn't get out of bed without a written order. I worry about Team Red, though.

"Lost Stars, your Agency sucks." Althea says, "The council is a pain in the ass, but discipline trials require so much effort, and punishments are so harsh, the common joke is you have to set a city on fire before they bother to start the bureaucracy. Which is why Jaeleri is still around."

"I can't believe no one killed him yet," I say.

"Make him agree to a friendly duel with me, and I see what I can do," she laughs. "Now show me what you can do, soldier girl."

Warmth spreads to my cheeks, and I wish my skin was as dark as Sorivel's, because I'm definitely blushing. But I shouldn't lower my guard because her bossing me around makes me feel a… certain kind of way. The first time we sparred, I expected an easy win, and she handed me my ass. This time, I take her very seriously. I have better reach and I'm a little stronger, but she's faster and much, much more expert than me in Zakren. I'm decent at unarmed combat, but most of my training is with a blade.

I approach cautiously, feign a grapple, then try to hook her ankle with my foot as she dodges. She shifts her balance, and when I try to pull her ankle, she doesn't budge. Next thing I know, she has my arm in a lock and throws me down, hard.

All breath leaves my lungs as I hit the mat with my back, about as gracefully as a dead camel. My head hits a split second later, and despite the mat, it hurts.

Althea looks down on me, a little smile quirking her lips. "So much for the ThauCon elites. I knew the fame was bullshit, what did you even do in three years of training?"

I groan, let my spinning head recover, and get back on my feet. My cheeks are burning, now, but I hope Althea reads it as shame and not as getting beaten and mocked by a hot girl makes me unbearably horny.

"Give me a sword and I'll show you what they taught us," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "If you get your sword, I get my magic, and with that I could just throw you through the wall, so let's keep it civilized. Fortunately, I don't need magic to beat your sorry ass. Ready for another bout?"

I gesture for her to wait as my dizziness fades. She raises her hand, and her water juggle levitates toward her. She takes a long sip, then sends it back into the bench with a flash of green light.

"You're… a bit casual, with magic," I say.

She rolls her eyes. "And you guys are too serious about it. Heating my coffee with Else-fire won't break the moon again, I promise. Ready for another bout?"

I nod, and she salutes again. We both fall into a fighting stance. There's still a green spark in her eyes, it seems to persist longer and longer after she uses magic.

It doesn't exactly unnerve me. But I really wish she didn't levitate things through the room instead of walking to take them.

"I assume you know what you're doing," I say, "But isn't using magic dangerous? I mean, even for mages?"

I know I should drop the subject and simply enjoy another round of Althea handing me my ass. But I was never able to simply drop a point I want to make, or something I want to understand. That's why everyone hated arguing with me, back at the academy.

Althea doesn't get annoyed, though. She laughs, gets closer and grabs my tunic. I let her, and try to lock her arm. I only partially succeed, and we both lose our balance, falling on the mat.

That's not too bad. I'm heavier, which is a major advantage once we're on the ground. Althea rolls, trying to pin me, but I grab her and force her down.

"Minor magic… isn't dangerous," she explains, even as I finally manage to push her on her back. She drags me through with the motion, though, and in a flip our positions are reversed. She's locking one of my arms with her knee, and my breath catches.

"The more magic I use," she adds, her face so close to mine I feel her breath on my cheek as she talks. "The less dangerous it is. It's about gradually pushing limits. Like strength training."

"I thought mages just used their powers as little as possible?" I ask – half because I'm honestly curious, half hoping she'll get distracted and give me an opening.

"Most do," she acknowledges. "It's called walking the Wide Road. The boring road, if you ask me. You learn magic very carefully, use it as little as you can, so you minimize risks. That's what most mages do. But if you have real affinity for a path, and are willing to risk, there's the Narrow Road. Pushing your power willingly, making control a habit. It's the way to real magical power."

"You talk too much," I say, and I roll on my back while pushing Althea up with my knees - something like a somersault, so now I'm pinning her down.

She tries to wiggle away, then to push me away, but I'm taller and heavier, so she's forced to give up and surrender, patting the mat twice.

"That was decent," she admits, getting up and smoothing her tunic. "But the first two bouts are warmups. Now it's time to get serious."

She raises her hand, her eyes flash green, summoning that Lady-forsaken bottle again. I try to focus on her criminal overuse of magic and not on the fact that I hadn't had this much physical contact with anyone since my last brief, regrettable relationship.

"Why do you even care about martial arts?" I ask, after drinking my own water. "For us, it's supposed to be good for stance, and can be useful in case we lose our weapons. But you're never unarmed. And I guess stance doesn't matter for magic."

Althea shrugs. "I was practicing Zakren years before I touched the Else. It's a good way to focus, and it's healthy. Also, it allows me to beat the shit out of people in a socially acceptable way."

"You seem really into it," I say.

She grins. "Beating people? Yeah." Then, she becomes more serious. "But jokes aside, yes, I love Zakren. To me it's… part of the way I use magic. And part of the discipline to keep magic from changing me."

"Wait, you mix magic with martial arts? Is that why you beat me?" I ask. On one hand, it would be great for my self-esteem. On the other hand, she really should have told me in advance.

"No, not like that," she says, sounding frustrated. "Magic and Zakren, they're the same thing. But only to me, and only in my mind."

I look at her, trying to understand if she's fucking with me.

She laughs. "I know, it sounds nonsense. But you should hear what other mages say. It's usually something about five-dimensional manifold or all possible worlds spiraling into a fractal or more philosophical bullshit. I guess it's true to them. But to me the Else is not really a place, it's more of… a way of moving. And it's green."

"I'm not sure I understand," I say. "But the gist is that martial arts training makes you better at magic?"

She doesn't answer at first, so I assume she got bored of explaining mage stuff to me. We salute and start a new round. She's breathing heavily - she's fit and well trained, but doesn't have a soldier's endurance. The longer this goes on, the better my chances will be.

"Training in magic would be better," she says suddenly, as if she kept thinking about the answer to my question all the while.. "But martial arts don't require Sareas' signature. And it's a good way to train in the long term. It forces me to grow my understanding of the Else, instead of just practicing spells."

There are about a million things I want to ask her about the Else - I never really wondered how using magic feels.

But I bite my tongue. Understanding magic matters only to the extent it helps me fight it.

Also, I don't want to leave her time to catch her breath.

We approach, I try an arm lock, but she twists away from me, and suddenly she's hooked my leg, and I'm falling down.

But I learned her tricks by now, so instead of trying to recover, I grab her shoulders - no sophisticated move, only a rough grab. Unusual move in the elegant Zakren fights, but not against the rules.

Althea didn't expect it - she's used to opponents as subtle as she is, I guess. She tries to wiggle away, but I'm already falling, and I take her down with me.

We hit the mat, and after a quick struggle, my greater strength tells, and I have her down in a lock.

"Told you you talk too much," I say, smiling in earnest for the first time since…I don't remember. I suppose I don't smile often. "I win the day."

As the excitement of the win wanes, I'm suddenly aware of how close our faces are. I fight the urge to mumble an apology and put a more proper distance between us - but this is how you win in Zekren, and I'm a serious adult who doesn't get distracted by long lashes and soft lips.

"I haven't lost yet, I still have my best trick," Althea says. She hasn't surrendered - she'll lose after ten seconds down, but I have a solid lock on her, it's a formality.

"Do your worst," I answer, bracing myself for any way she could try to roll or wiggle.

She cranes her neck and kisses my mouth.

I freeze with shock, the feeling of her lips on mine sending jolts of electricity along my back. For an instant there is only me, and her, and the kiss we share, and what were we even doing on this stinky mat?

Then she moves, snake-fast. She frees an arm from my grasp, twists my shoulder and rolls over me. Before I even process it, she has me in a lock, and she's laughing.

"What the…" I ask, struggling to scrape coherent thoughts together.

"You think too much, soldier girl," Althea says. "Ten seconds. The day is mine."

She gets up, laughs again, and helps me on my feet as if nothing special had happened.

 

[Selerian]

13 - A narrow road

If the Council is useless, there's no reason for it to exist.
If the Council is useful, it means it has power, and thus it's too dangerous to exist.
This is the fine line we walk, since our organization regrouped after the Moonbreaking. Little more than a prison, at times. Little more than a graveyard, at others.
The Alliance will never trust us. The Agency hates us, because they need us. The magical factions hate us because they fear us.
We must accept endless humiliations and restrictions, just to survive. We're watched all the time, we have no allies and countless enemies.
For all that, the Glass Tower stands. And we watch out for each other, because no one else will.​

• Archmage Doruk, Secretary of the Council of Loyal mages, in an unofficial speech to the Inner Council.

{Althea}

These Thaucon agents are growing on me, for several reasons.

First, thanks to all their physical training, they're so much fitter than all the smart, sickly kids in the Council. I was afraid to break half the mages I dated, back there.

As for behavior, they aren't as bad as I expected. They're bigoted, but not more so than most people. They're pig-headed military guys, who love saluting and saying yes sir and bash their heads against walls to show how tough they are, but surprisingly, some of them can hold a decent conversation.

Frankly, they're friendlier to me than I expected. Well, my team is. Team Green looks like they'd tear my guts apart if they could, but given their mage is Jaeleri, I can't entirely blame them.

Kaelich has a pretty face, an amazing smile, and damn, xe has gorgeous abs. Pity for the total lack of brain.

I wish Cerical wasn't such a prude, I barely got a good glimpse of her in the bath, but she looked pretty amazing, with all that smooth muscle and graceful movements. Abyss, she'd be a ten out ten if she had facial expressions beside disgusted and glowering. She made a really funny face when I kissed her, though.

And, I got side-tracked. My point was – ThauCons aren't as bad as I expected, but that doesn't mean I should share everything with them. What they don't know won't hurt their small military brains.

Also, ignorance is the best defense, when demons are involved.

I check the time on my tablet. Half past midnight. My teammates are sleeping like good soldiers. Time to do a mage's work.

I'm not doing anything illegal. But I'll still be happier if no one asks me what I'm up to. Also, the less people are awake while I talk about demons, the better.

What will I tell Kaelich, though, if he finds traces of my activities on some log - or more likely, if xe gets up to pee and notices my bunk is empty? I'd hate lying to xem, and Sorivel is suspiciously good at spotting lies.

Well, that's a problem for tomorrow. And it won't be a problem at all, if I sneak out and come back unseen.

I fumble to wear a night robe and slippers in the gloom. It's hard to suppress the reflex to summon Else-light, but that would wake at least Sorivel – he's a light sleeper.

I cross the room, and since I'm a focused, serious person, I only steal a quick glance at Cerical's bunk. There would be room for two, if we squeezed, but it wouldn't be comfortable. Also, we'd be really fucking obvious, and I bet she wouldn't like that. I think South Zelenians only mate in secret caves in the desert, reachable only by camel.

Where do people get some privacy in this base? I mean, twenty-odd people live here, a good half of them young, with nothing to do but watch the snow and fuck – I won't believe for a second they rent a hotel room every time they need some privacy.

It doesn't matter, right now. I open the door, which tries to creak horrifically, because this whole base is crumbling. But sound is a bunch of green circles in the Else, like a stone thrown on a pond. It's easy to grab it and make it go away, so the door opens in perfect silence.

Our dorm has decent heating, but it's fucking cold outside. How can a base with its own nuclear reactor be so cold? One more piece of brilliant design from Landfall. In the Capital, they think a cold winter means you might want to wear a shirt.

As soon as I close the door, I reach into the Else, shape its essence into a fine, wonderfully warm powder, and spray it all over my skin. It took me a week of frantic trial and error to make this spell work – it's not really my path, but once I discovered I'd be sent to Vorok, I realized it was a matter of life or death. I'm not going to wear their stupid thermal pajamas, and I'm not going to suffer the cold like some mundane.

I don't meet anyone on the way to the prison cells – only cold, dilapidated concrete corridors which look desperate for some maintenance. The cells are underground, and the only way in or out is a long, narrow stair leading to a heavy steel door.

There are no guards by the door: it's in the Base Core, so external personnel can't come in, and the agents won't waste their limited personnel to guard it. No mage could ever breach it, after all.

As I go down the stairs, a pressure like a stiff breeze pushes against my heating spell. Soon, it becomes so unstable I must let it go, shivering and cursing at the sudden chill. It's the Theta Disruptor – I can see it in the Else, it looks like a maelstrom of chaotic white energy, stripping my magic away like a furious wind. I could keep up the heating spell, with a lot of effort, but it's not worth it, and it could trigger alarms.

I reach the huge steel door and swipe my wrist at the pad. After a moment, it flashes green – I don't have authorization to open the cells, but I can visit them.

Slowly, ponderously, the thick metal door retracts into the ceiling. It's made of steel and silver, kept open against gravity – it's designed to slam shut in case of tampering or power outage. Given the sorry state of this base, I hope it won't glitch and close while I'm crossing. If I died in such a stupid way, I'd have to cross back from the Else to haunt the maintenance teams.

The door closes back behind me, and I take a deep breath, fighting the feeling of oppression. I can leave at any time, I only need a quick swipe of my wrist.

It's hard to fight the feeling of being trapped, though. I'm not used to being in a place where I can't leave on my own terms, and I don't like it at all.

But still, I have a job to do. And in the end, it's a useful reminder: no matter how likable my teammates are, they're always one step away from being my jailors.

I forced myself to visit the prison before, but by the Abyss, I hate it. It's basically a single corridor, lined with silver-and-steel bars on both sides.

Beyond the bars are small, bare rooms, almost like cages. Those closer to the entrance are larger – by cells standard, so not large at all. They're two meters by three, enough for a bed, a toilet and some room to stretch.

Those are the low-suppression cells, used more often as disciplinary punishment for agents than for actual criminals. Only one is occupied, by a sleeping Team Red agent who took part in a drunk bar fight.

The high suppression cells are much smaller – partly to efficiently use the small region of maximum suppression, partly because ThauCon just likes treating mages like shit. None of the laws governing prisoner rights – or any other rights, really - apply to mages.

Vakris' cell is barely larger than his bed. He can lie on the thin mattress or stand, but not much else. Opposite the door, there's a sink and a squat toilet. There are rings on the wall, obviously for chains – at least they've not been used.

The teen is asleep, curled in a ball. He's wearing a sweater way too large for him – I'm pretty sure it's Kaelich's. They didn't even give him a bedsheet. The prison is cold enough that breath mists.

Fuck ThauCon in general, and Sareas in particular. Yeah, Vakris is technically a rogue. But he's obviously harmless, and he'll be punished enough in re-ed, why by the Abyss do ThauCon need to be as nasty as they can? They lash at kids and petty criminals, feel great and righteous about it, and forget that they walk side by side with someone who could strip the skin from their bodies with a gesture.

I take a deep breath. I knew what the Agency is. I knew of re-education camps and Memory Square. I still made my choice, for better or worse. But it's different, seeing the ugly truth in front of my eyes. All the more when I had a part in it.

"Vakris," I call.

The boy startles awake, jumping on his bed, and scrambles away from me.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'm here to help you."

It's almost true.

"Please, I…" he starts. "Will you let me go? I'll run away. I'll disappear. Never use magic again. I swear."

"Sorry. I can't do that," I say. It's easier to squash his hopes because I literally can't free him: only ThauCon agents can open the cell doors.

Not that I would do it anyway. I think.

"You're the mage, right?" He asks. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hit you, I…"

"I know," I say. Did I look that young at seventeen? Abyss, he looks like a terrified child. I definitely never looked that helpless, after age three.

"I'll go to re-ed, right?" He asks, his voice breaking, "That's why the officer wanted the aggression on record."

I grimace at the mention of that dick Sareas. "That was his intention, and it's the law. But I think you have a way out."

"I can't go to re-ed," he says, "I got punched even in my regular school. They'll kill me."

Yeah, the boy does look like a bully magnet. Maybe he'd seem less vulnerable if he weren't terrified and half-frozen, but I mean, he wanted to go to art college.

I catch myself thinking he should man up or go agender, but that's old people's bullshit, and hypocritical too, since I'm hardly the perfect, poised and emotionless lady.

"I can help you avoid re-ed," I say. If you help me answer a few questions, I should add.

Well, fuck that. I can't change ThauCon. But I won't use a terrified boy's future as a bargaining chip. I'll help first and ask later.

"Listen carefully," I say. "You'll go to trial. Don't bother explaining that you didn't mean to assault us, no one will care. Actually, it's better if you say it was a conscious decision – say you thought Cerical, the girl with the blade, would kill you, and you defended yourself. Then, say you've realized how dangerous your magic is, and you're deeply repented, and wish to pledge yourself to service with the Council."

"But I don't want to go to the Council," Vakris squeals. "And wouldn't I go to re-ed first anyway?"

I try to remind myself he's in a terrible situation, so he has a reason to be so whiny.

"In theory, yes," I explain, "on paper, it makes no difference whether you choose tattoos or Council service. But the Council is eager for recruits. They'll pressure the tribunal to allow you to serve immediately, so that you can be trained as young as possible. Since anyone with a brain can see you didn't mean to go rogue, the tribunal will give in. After Council training, you can still change your mind and get the tattoos. Council training isn't anything like the camps – honestly, it's a nicer place than most regular high schools."

The Council Academy is boring as fuck, and full of angsty, whiny teenagers. He'll love it.

Vakris nods, eyes full of frantic hope. Then he frowns.

"Why doesn't everyone do this, then?" He asks.

Abyss. A bad time for him to have intelligent thoughts.

"Well, it wouldn't work if you had actually meant to go rogue. Or if you had hurt anyone," I say. "It's much easier to salvage your case, given some leverage."

I could stop here. But we're fucking enough with him – I owe him the full truth, at least.

"Also," I add, "your power is strong, and unusual. The Council wants you, badly."

There's no Path of Calling, according to the books. Because most books were written before the Moonbreaking. And the Council isn't going to teach anyone how to summon demons.

But the power is there, talked about in whispers. And I'm pretty sure Vakris has it.

"I… ok," he says. "You know I don't want to be a mage, though? Will they really let me get my tattoos and leave?"

"The Council doesn't force anyone to be a mage. Morals aside, it would be monumentally stupid. After control training – you need that even with tattoos, for your safety – you'll be free to go."

He won't go, of course. Very, very few people reject magic, after they get a good taste of it. And that's twice as true for mages of real talent – like Vakris, or me.

"I… thank you," he says, looking dazed. "Don't the agents know you're here? Won't they hear this in some recording?"

I give him a little smile. "There's no recording in the cells. ThauCons might learn that I came here, but nothing else." I'm pretty sure that's because ThauCons don't like being recorded when they beat up prisoners, but no need to tell him that.

Vakris looks like he's about to burst into tears. Abyss, this one will be bullied even by the nerds in the Council Academy. "I… thank you. Really," he says.

"You can help me, too," I say, trying not to sound too eager. "Help us all. Can I ask you a few questions?"

He immediately goes rigid, his eyes wary.

"You don't have to answer me," I add, trying to sound reassuring, which I'm shit at. Well, I'm still better than Cerical, when she tried to be reassuring she sounded like a killer robot. "The strategy I told you will work anyway. But you could help me, and other people like you."

"What do you need to know?" He asks. He rubs his hands, blowing on them, then clasps them together inside the way-too-long sleeves of Kaelich's hoodie. His breath mists as he speaks. Abyss, I should have brought him a blanket. Except giving him any item without authorization would break several regulations and could have bad consequences for us both.

Right now, I truly hate the Agency.

"You've said you saw things in the Else, and heard their voices," I say. "Look – this place is safe. There's silver everywhere, and there's a Disruptor – a machine that fucks up the Else. You can speak about demons here."

He starts breathing faster, his shoulders tense.

"They… they…" his voice breaks, and I half-expect him to faint. But then he recovers, takes a deep breath, and looks into my eyes.

He might be a whiny loser, but he faced multiple demons, with no training and no guidance, and survived to tell the tale. I shouldn't judge him hastily.

"There were many. But three got close to me," he says, forcing out every word. "One was… I can't explain it in words. But it swam, circling me, like a shark. One flew, and its wings were… Lost Stars, it makes no sense, but they were made of silence. And the other one was like a person, but where its face should be, there were only stars. It didn't move, but it kept getting closer, and closer, and closer. It was next to me when you came in."

I shiver. I hate all the mystic, can't-explain-in-words babble about the Else, which some mages love so much.

But I can't entirely ignore it. Because sometimes, the mystic, unspeakable things come out of the Else and eat your face.

"They can't come here," I reassure him - really, really hoping that's true. "And with the Council, you'll be safe. The Glass Tower is a magical fortress. No human or demon can reach you there."

Well, except for the ThauCon division keeping an eye on us, with a nuclear weapon ready to annihilate the fortress in case a mage looks at them the wrong way.

"I couldn't get away from them," Vakris goes on, as if he didn't even hear me. "Whatever I did, they kept getting closer."

"Those things are giant, eldritch assholes," I say. "But… last question, I swear. You say they spoke. Did the words make sense? Do you remember any?"

He nods. "They made no sense at first. But then… they weren't really words. But I understood. The thing that swam kept telling me I had to call it, to call its name, it said it would help me, it said it would kill me, it said… it said its name, and it wasn't made of words, but I think I could say it if…"

"Lost Stars, don't fucking say it!" I yell, and barely stop myself from reaching through the bars and putting a hand over his mouth, "Abso-fucking-lutely don't say it, don't think about it, and change topic now. What did the other ones say? Unless it was on the same line, then just shake your head, and go back to sleep."

I'm babbling, and I know I scared the kid, but fuck, I'm breathing heavily now – this boy is a really talented Caller, if he could find an Unspeakable Name without even trying. And I must send an urgent note for the Council to immediately teach him control. At least, now I'm sure he won't go to any reeducation camp – silver tattoos or not, he's too fucking dangerous to go anywhere but straight to the Glass Tower.

"I… uh," he says, looking more surprised than scared. "I thought the name thing was like a dream, not something that would work – ok, I'll change topic, don't be mad at me. The demon with wings, it spoke in silences. Sorry, I know it makes no sense, but that's how it was. It asked me who I was. It asked me where I was. What age of the world this was, and I had no clue what it meant – not that I answered it anyway. In the end it said… it said its lord would help me. Would make me great and powerful, if only I opened a way. Then it kept flying closer, and closer, and you arrived."

All the Officers help me, this is bad. Two verbal demons, from the deep Else.

"What about the third?" I ask.

"It spoke almost like a human," Vakris answers. "It… it said it was trying to help, but its words made no sense. It kept telling me to reverse the way-binding, but what does that even mean? Oh, and it asked a question, several times, before that. It asked if I was with the Lady in White."

 

[Selerian]

Sunday special: The Magical Factions (Part 1 - the Teraich Family)

extract from the Council's guide for field agents (agents assisting ThauCon teams)


INTRODUCTION:

The Agency for Thaumological control, in its operational doctrine, is focused on rogue mages, and tends to treat all organized magical factions in the same way, as if the difference between them were minor.

While the simplicity of this approach might be appropriate to the limited cognitive and tactical resources available to typical ThauCon agents, Council field agents should know better.

For a well trained mage, dealing with most rogues is trivial, and a good field agent should limit themselves in assisting their Mundane colleague. We actually suggest that a field agent should limit their intervention to what is strictly necessary, even when they could easily overpower the rogue.

This serves two purposes: first, it allows Mundane agents to feel like they achieved their mission by themselves, thus improving morale. Second, it minimizes the usage of the field agent's power. As previously discussed, this must always be a priority concern,for multiple important reasons.

However, all but the most incompetent ThauCon teams will occasionally cross the path of the Magical Faction - a label that includes every magical organization of significant numerical and magical strength. When that happens, Mundane agents can't be expected to hold their own, unless the encounter is part of the very rare ThauCon operation which actually succeeds in locating and attacking one of the Factions.

Field Agents must be ready for such a confrontation, and must be prepared to engage an enemy as powerful as they are, or more, and equally skilled in the use of magic.

It is therefore imperative than every field agent familiarizes themselves with the most important magical faction, so that they can rapidly understand who they are fighting against, and what kind of behavior can be expected.

It should always be kept in mind that numerous minor magical organization exist, such as local criminal cartels, or loose and ever-shifting association of rogue mages. Thus, a Field Agent should document themselves about the organized magical activity in their specific region.

However, the greatest danger is constituted by the emissaries of the few large, powerful magical organizations.

The first supergroup of magical factions we shall discussed is the most numerous, and the one most often coming in direct contact with the Agency:



THE SYNDICATES

It should be kept in mind that "the Syndicates" aren't in any way a monolithic group, and they don't consider themselves as being in any way part of a single organization. It's a label assigned from the outside to all the criminal groups which make use of magic to further their goals, and are motivated by simple accumulation of wealth and power, instead of more nefarious purposes.

The Syndicates typically compete with each other, and fight one other bitterly. However, they're all enemies of the Council and the Alliance, and have been known to forge temporary alliances against us. This is especially relevant since the formation of the Cartel, a formal alliance of the three most powerful Syndicates active in the continent of Karesia. This is an unprecedented fact, which might fundamentally change the dynamic of our long-standing fight with the Syndicates.

Overall, the Syndicates have access to a great number of low level mages, often with imperfect control and poor understanding of their path. However, Syndicate mages often specialize deeply in simple, but effective spells. Together with their typical lack of regard for morals and collateral damage, they can prove dangerous opponents in the field. While they usually try to avoid provoking the Council directly, they've been known to strike viciously and lethally at field agents, often attempting to surprise them when unprepared and wearing Limiter Bracers in their time off. A mage working on an active Syndicate investigation should be extraordinarily careful, not only during their work hours, but whenever outside the realty safety of a ThauCon base.

In this section, we shall briefly present the most powerful Syndicates, starting from the three which formed the Karesian Syndicate Cartel, presently the most powerful criminal organization on Refuge, and probably the largest group of organized magic users outside the Council's purview.



Clan Teraich:

A comparatively old Syndicate, and one of the three main members of the Cartel.

Clan Teraich started from a single family active in the Riverlands, which started aggressively recruiting rogue mages, offering protection in return for service.

The titular Teraich family lost their excl control of the organization, which is now ruled by a cadre of local bosses, known as The Commission. Remarkably, despite its heavy recruiting of rogue mages, most of the members in the Commission are mundane, making it the only major Syndicate run by mundanes.



Behavior: the Teraich Family acts as a typical criminal cartel, profiting from protection rackets, smuggling of people and goods, identity trafficking, and various form of magical manipulation of legitimate economical activities. Even for an organized criminal group, they're known for extreme and disproportionate use of violence - where their organization takes root, their enemies are tortured and gruesomly killed, often together with their families an associates. While they take pains to stay hidden where their power base is weak, in their core territories, they're often more powerful than the official local government, and their will is enforced by fear and constant threat of violence.

Regions of Activity: The Family is present, to some extent, in most of Karesia, with some branches in Northern Zelenia.

Its stronghold used to be in the Eastern Riverland, especially in the Green River Delta. While they're still present there, as the Riverland Police became more effective in contrasting them, they gradually shifter their activities to Andvor, especially in the northern half of the country. Andvorian authorities proved less effective in dealing with them, and the Family took root both in the many small town dotting the Andvorian Heights, where they reached a concerning degree of control of the economical and political life. From there, they spilled to Southern Vorok and Kalester. It appears they've been unable, so far, to establish a foothold in the Five Peaks.

Powers: Teraich mages specialize in combat magic, and developed their own, undeniably effective tradition for magical combat, with ample usage of wide-area Ruin spell which no responsible magic would employ.

A Field Agent expecting to fight the Teraich Family should be ready to protect themselves and their team from powerful Ruin and Motion attacks, with little or no notice. They must also be ready to fight in a populous area, or near delicate infrastructure, because Teraich Agents are known to force confrontation in places where ThauCon and Council agents are reluctant to make full use of their weapons.

Recommendations: The Family has access to a worryingly high number of rogue mages, and they're effective in training effective Novices and Initiates. Even Field Agents of Adept level or above should be wary of entering a battle against multiple Teraich initiates, given their mastery of highly destructive spells.

However, Teraich mages are often unstable, so the organization has few mages of level 3 and above, and not as effectively trained. Mundane ThauCon agents are quite proficient at dealing with low-level mages, so the Field Agent should focus on recon and protection, and let their Mundane colleagues confront Teraich Mages.

Once confronted by powerful forces, Teraich Clan either counterattacks aggressively, or temporarily retreats, hoping to return once the Agency's attention wanes. Given the Agency's limited ability to consistently police territory, this tactics is dishearteningly effective.

In dealing with Teraich Families, therefore, a Field Agent should both be extremely wary of surprise attack, including during off hours, and suggest to actively pressure the group, arresting as many of their members as possible before they have the chance to flee and disperse.

Overall threat: The Teraich Family is responsible for a disproportionate number of civilian deaths in magical confrontations, exceeding all other factions combined since the Faceless Army stopped its terror campaign. They're also the third most common cause of combat death for FIeld Agents, behind the Faceless Army and Sacred Song Society.

However, it should be remembered that the absolute number of Field Agents dying in battle against the faction is very low, especially compared to those caused by loss of control, or Incursion-related. The faction, while violent and ruthless, is a nuisance, and their low ceiling for magical ability prevents them from becoming anything more. The Council's strategical commission holds that it could fully defeated in less than a decade, if a large-scale task force involving both ThauCon and the Bureau A Police were put together, with proper funding and organization.

So far, every attempt from the OWA parliament to set up such a force has failed.



[TO BE CONTINUED]

 

[latacchi]

So far, every attempt from the OWA parliament to set up such a force has failed.

Click to shrink...

Reminds me of a certain government............

 

[Selerian]

The cold has seeped to my bones, and I need some privacy, so I walk past the dorm and head straight for the baths. My teammates are sleeping, so I have it for myself. I draw a thread of essence from the Else to weave a movement ward across the hallway, so I'll know if anyone comes.

I leave the lights off, walking by the glow of a small cube of Else-glass. Some types of magic are easier in the dark. Some mages use sensory deprivation tanks, but I find them too boring.

I strip by the pool and sink into the blessedly warm water. Where I grew up, on the Golden Coast, the sea was almost this warm in summer. I spent many lazy nights floating in rocky pools with my friends, watching the stars and the broken moon. My parents always got angry, they said it was dangerous, that a demon could fall on us.

It makes me laugh, now. If a demon fell into my sleepy village, what difference would it make, being on the beach or inside our flimsy wooden houses? There's only one real protection from the horrors of this world - power.

Enough for reveries. It's late, I'm tired, and once again, I've a job to do. I close my eyes in the half-darkness, and let myself float freely in the warm water.

The Council taught us a score of focusing rhymes, of mind tricks, of paradoxes which should ease the mind into the Else.

None works as well as the forbidden, whispered rhyme that most of us end up using. Keidesek's own words, or so it's said.

I claim the gift of magic,
I claim the Art of the Veil.
My eyes shall see the Else,
My hands shall tear the Veil.

Green light seeps into my vision, outlining the pool, the baths, my own body. I see the beautiful pattern of small waves bouncing against the pool's sides, I see the mesmerizing convection spirals of hot air above the water. Walls are harder to distinguish, they're too still, but soon I can make them out as faint, translucent outlines. The Moon is just below the horizon, a roaring, gaping red wound in the green infinity.

I expand my consciousness into the Else, and soon I see the flickering sparks of dozens of minds - the people living in the base. Most of them are dim, sleeping, but some give off the colorful motes of dreams.

I can't tell mundanes from each other, I was never good at it. But I recognize Sorivel's mind, faintly blue and bound by black chains. And the mages, of course – a yellow spark for Loannu, a fainter blue for Kadosh, and the blazing silver of Za Ruik. I never see Jaeleri, he's probably too weak – Forgotten Enemy, I'd doubt he's even a mage at all, if I hadn't seen him use minor spells.

I take long breaths, letting my perception expand more and more - trying to ignore the ice-cold black of all the silver in the base, and the confusing maelstrom of the theta suppressor. I begin to perceive things outside of this room, of this base, too. The tiny green streaks of snow falling, the small movements of birds and rodents scuttling in the dark.

I don't usually need all this preparation to enter the Else, of course. I can Reach in an instant - by now, it's second nature. But todayI must plunge deeper than usual, and it pays to do it properly.

I was one of the first in my class to be able to Reach the Else at will. But one of the last to learn how to dive into its depths. My representation of the Else is one of movement and shapes, not the mind-trippy shit so many mages try to describe. It's convenient, and reliable – but it's always hard to convince myself there's a Down which is not a simple direction.

The world is lies and shadows,
but I have seen the light.
past time and words and death,
I reach and claim my right.


Immediately, fatigue seeps into my bones, as if I'd been walking for hours. It's one of the reasons I make sure to keep fit – until I'll disincarnate, magic will drain my physical energies.

I repeat Keidesek's rhyme, again and again, focusing my perception on the deep currents of the world. The Else tinges a darker green, and the walls of the ThauCon base disappear – everything is now the vast, lazy currents in the sky and below the ground. And the Moon, of course, brighter than ever, surrounded by a host of multi-colored stars.

"I'm Althea Zoanni. I'm Althea, Initiate of the Council of Mages. I'm Althea, student of Master Reiel. I'm Althea, who walks the Hidden Roads. I'm Althea, who seeks Master Reiel."

I picture my mentor in my mind – tall and stern, her body long turned to golden light. With a piercing stare, always judging, but with a half-hidden smile.

There's a road in front of me now, a twisting ribbon of dark green glass. I'm floating in the hot pool, unmoving, but that's far away – in the Else, with bare feet of green essence, I touch the green road, and walk.

A wind is blowing, cold and angry. It carries voices, too, but I ignore them.

I never encountered a wind this strong, in the Else. It watches. With every step, I'm more tired, and I feel more exposed.

"I'm Althea Zoanni, Student of the Path of Motion, student of the Path of Glass. Initiate of the Council of Mages," I say, like a challenge now. "I walk the Hidden Roads. I seek Master Reiel."

If my teacher isn't sleeping, she might not sense me. I was never much good at Else-casting. And since it's technically mind-magic, the Council barely teaches it.

The wind blows stronger, and stronger. Cracks appear in the road in front of me, cube-shaped bits of glass break off and are carried away.

This is not a place for doubts.

"I'm Althea Zoanni," I repeat, "The world is lies and shadows, but I have seen the light. I walk the Hidden Roads, and they shall take me to my mentor."

Confident, sure of my power, I take a step forward, and the damn road has better hold me, or I'll be angry.

The winds quiets a little bit, cracks stop spreading along the glass road. I keep walking, and who cares if I'm getting tired and heavy, I can sleep in tomorrow.

There are emerald clouds above and below the road, now – it's normal to see them, deep in the Else, but these are dark and heavy, like storm cells. There are things inside, moving in and out from the mist.

Not my problem. I keep walking.

One of the clouds is closer now, though, its fuzzy border almost touches the road. And something inside it is pushing out, bristly tendrils reaching for the road. I feel its pressure against my mind, a whisper at the edge of my hearing. I collect my power, gather light into my hands…

"Go away, Nameless," a voice calls, calm and sure and vast as the sky. "Go back into the depths, or I'll draw you out and cast you beyond the Last Horizon."

A different road crosses mine, now. This one is golden, narrow and straight. A woman made of gold essence stands where our two paths meet.

The thing in the cloud shrieks with fear and anger, then its tendrils withdraw, and the wind abates. There's perfect stillness, now. Even the clouds are dissipating, as Master Reiel walks to meet me.

She made most of the effort, of course. I wouldn't be able to walk the Roads beyond the province of Rakavdon, let alone all the way to the Glass Tower. But after all, she's older and vastly more powerful than me - a Master of the Path of Folding.

We walk until we stand in front of each other. She's a statue of golden glass, glowing with power, and yet stable, perfectly controlled. It's like watching the sun given human form. She even wears a perfect copy of a Council dress uniform, buttons and all – the best I manage is a shapeless green tunic.

"Your coherence isn't very good, Althea," she says, looking critically at the cracks on my road. "I can tell you haven't practiced projection lately. Your power has grown. But your focus is still erratic."

"It's good to see you, Master Reiel," I say.

Her mouth tugs a tiny bit upward.

"Likewise, Althea. Even if I still think you should come back to the Tower."

"You don't mind getting my reports, though," I point out.

She sighs. "It's such a hard balance. Sending you into the world, where you can be useful. Or keeping you here, where you're safe and can grow your power. I'll use you where you are. But I'd have kept you here longer, if it were up to me."

She stops and gazes at the sky around us – now a mix of green and gold. She doesn't look happy.

"The Else is troubled," she says. "More so than I expected. I don't think it's safe for you to walk the Roads anymore, even in projection."

"Yeah," I say, "that thing was going to eat me raw, wasn't it?"

"You could probably have fought it off," she answers "But I'd rather not test that hypothesis. And next time, you could encounter something worse. Until the Else calms, we'll have to stick to Material communications, limiting as that is."

"Well, that's what I was going to report about, anyway," I say. "It looks like we have a problem with d-"

"Althea," she interrupts me, raising an eyebrow.

"With denizens of the else," I go on. Smooth.

I report what Vakris told me, almost word by word. I have a good memory for horrible stuff.

"Hm," Master Reiel says, thoughtful. "We'll definitely snatch the boy. He's both dangerous and useful. But even if he's clearly a natural Conjurer, he couldn't have called two demons by accident under normal conditions."

"Two? Not three?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. "Is your wit degrading already, far from our halls of learning?"

She's joking, but not completely. Master Reiel is convinced everywhere outside the Glass Tower is a wasteland of ignorance, populated by barbarians.

"The third one wasn't a demon at all, was it?" I say.

"That's very likely," she answers, pleased. "Some demons are verbal and can be, or appear, quite reasonable and humanlike. But it's much more likely that the kid's accidental Calling attracted an Else-walking mage. Probably one of the Faceless Army. It's even possible they were trying to be helpful."

"How close did the Faceless have to be, for that to happen? In the real world, I mean?" I ask.

She sighs. "It's the Material, Althea. This is the real world. And that question can't be answered in any meaningful way, because they were either projecting, possibly from very far, or physically walking the Roads, in which case they were there, and nowhere in the Material. But for the limited purpose you meant with your question – that mage was likely acting within the borders of Rakavdon."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My master could never give me a simple answer without lecturing me about the wording of the question.

"So, the Faceless Army is in the city," I say. "Any idea what they're doing here? They've no history of activity in Rakavdon, unless ThauCon is more wrong than usual."

"ThauCon is correct on that assessment," Master Reiel says, looking lost in thought. "As for what the Faceless were doing – even ThauCon should know it, by now. The Faceless Army and the Syndicate Cartel are fighting. Still covertly, but less and less subtly. We've confirmed fights in Valanes, Korasdon, River's End and Landfall itself."

"And what about the Lady in White? They were asking about it, after all." I ask.

"We have no sure report of her involvement," she says, "but we never do until it's too late. I wouldn't give it too much credit, though. The Faceless Army is obsessed with her, they'd swear she's hiding under their bed."

"So, what are the Faceless, or the Syndicates, doing here?" I press on.

"What anyone does in the dreary, frozen north," Reiel answers, with a condescending little smile. "Looking for precursor relics. Or less likely, Thaumocracy ruins."

I nod. Even ThauCon Realizes that - relics are the only special reason for magical factions to care about Rakavdon. "So are they fighting for some specific relic?"

Master Reiel doesn't answer at first. She looks around, slowly, then opens her arms. A ring of lively flames surrounds us. It looks like real fire, except for the perfect golden color.

"I'm not sure," she sighs, tired. "Whatever the two factions are doing, I think they're stirring the Else. ThauCon is investigating, but they'll share as little information as they can."

"We're not being exactly forthcoming, either," I point out.

She looks at me, cocking her head.

"Less than three months as a Supporting Agent," she says, "and already you take their side? Remember they're not your friends, Althea. It will save you pain later."

For a moment, I want to protest – it's not a matter of friendship, it's a matter of sharing vital information with allies. But whether I'm right or not, my master will never see the Agency as anything but an enemy.

"What about the other two entities?" I ask.

"The demon of silence," she considers, slowly, "is especially concerning. We've met such beings in the past. They're intelligent and dangerous. They serve some demon lord from the deep Else."

"Great. How do I kill one?"

She laughs. "Of course that's what you'd ask. The best I can tell you is that they get weaker in noisier, crowded places. They're made of the space between words and thoughts. But truly, should you encounter one in the Material, avoid it. You're not ready."

"I'm here because I was deemed ready for service," I say, a little annoyed.

Master Reiel raises an eyebrow. "You're ready for the occasional rogue and to deal with unstable teenagers," she says. I'm going to protest, but she stops me with a hand. "You're powerful and resourceful, Althea. But you're also twenty, and not even ad Adept yet. Any agent of the magical factions, or any demon structured enough to speak in words, will be more powerful than you, possibly by a wide margin, and more experienced. You must be aware of that. Don't cross the line between confidence and recklessness."

Maybe I should bite back my protest, but fuck it, I'm no longer in the Glass Tower. She can't give me detention.

"They may be stronger," I say, "but I have the guys with silver bullets on my side."

"And you should never, ever rely on them," Master Reiel says, cold. "Because you never know, in the end, who their bullets are meant for."

 

[Selerian]

14 - A mirage of power

Why don't mages turn themselves in, you ask? Why do they run and fight and join the factions, when they'd just need to accept tattoos, or the council's oversight?
You hunt children like dogs, beat them up when you catch them, and instead of teaching them control, you traumatize them into inability to use magic.
Then the Alliance offers its oh-so-generous choice. Leave your families, leave your friends, give your whole life to the Council, to serve a master that spites you.
Or have your arms tattooed, no matter how much it hurts, being severed from the Else, no matter if it cuts away a part of your mind – you're alive, you should be grateful.
Magic is well and truly dangerous. But pointless cruelty won't mend the sky, it will just swell the ranks of the Syndicates and the Faceless Army.
For too long we accepted the folly imposed by the Alliance. We sacrificed our own children to appease Landfall, hoping you would see reason.
This ends now.​

• Saevin's declaration of independence, beginning the Zelenian Uprising.

"Wow, Mom always told me to stay away from the airship port," I say, "she told me it's full of thieves and…" I stop, abruptly, as I realize what I was going to say.

"Yeah, and Kalestrans," Daravoi says, rolling his eyes. "And I heard there are mages, too. What's the world coming to?"

I never learned the trick to consider what I'm going to say before I start speaking. He doesn't look angry, though.

Also, I'd never really realized that Mom used Kalestran as a disparaging term. I never had anything against them, but I… kind of didn't think about Kalestrans at all before meeting Daravoi.

In the skyport, however, you hear more Kalestran than Vorokan or Fallish. At first, Kalestran sounded to me like people endlessly clearing their throat and chewing gravel, but after listening to it for a while, I realize I can sort of get the meaning if I focus.

We're in the far periphery of the city - we got ourselves bicycles, since we're not taking the metro anytime soon. I hadn't used a bicycle since I was a child, and with good reason – I froze halfway to death and my legs hurt like the Abyss. Some of my classmates rode bicycles for fun. There's something wrong with people. Especially sporty people.

The skyport is cool, though. Mama was being a snob as usual. It isn't anywhere as seedy as I expected, it's just a large, chaotic open air market. And the airships are cool, seen up close - I never realized they were so big. When one flies above us, it looks like the sky got a new roof.

Most of the port is made of temporary, brightly colored tents, half shops and half warehouses, with only a few, squat concrete buildings built around mooring towers, where airships do boarding and loading. It's a strange view – like the market is bristling with spires, and airships come and go like slow, wobbly flying whales.

The tents mostly sell weird, ill-assorted stuff that comes from abyss-forsaken villages: ugly wood-carved furniture, a thousand decorated glass devices to smoke vapors, clothes which look like they might be made of actua…l animal hair? Ew.

People bustòe about, scanning the merchandise and arguing over prices. It's… like a mall, just very chaotic and open-air.

I'd enjoy wandering the market for a while, gaping at the airships, except it's so fucking cold. Snow started falling as we arrived, and a horrible, icy wind is blowing, finding every weak spot in my second-hand thermal shirt.

"Could we take an airship without ThauCon spotting us?" I ask Dara, glancing at the huge, dark blue airship that's being moored to a building. I really want to fly on one, now.

"In theory, there's a custom check," he answers, "but it's a joke, I could get us on a ship with no problems. But I'm not kidding when I say they hate mages, they'd drop us mid-flight if they found out what we are. And anyway, where would we go? ThauCon is everywhere."

I shrug. "It's nice to know we have the option."

I never traveled on an airship - they're mostly for cargo, so they take winding routes through Officer-forsaken little villages. Mama used to say they were only for poor people and criminals, but Mom and Big Sis usually retorted something about an important economic function.

"So, where's the tent for super-illegal stuff?" I ask. "Also, why don't Kalestrans use concrete buildings? Is it a… cultural thing?"

Daravoi takes a deep breath. "Of course we have concrete buildings in Kalester, you idiot, but you can't load one on an airship. Anyway, we have an appointment. Follow me, and please don't speak. Everyone can tell you're Vorokan, pasty as you are, but if you shut up, they could think you're an okay Vorokan."

"Why am I even here, now that I think of it?" I ask. "Like, I'm happy to come, but I have a feeling you'd be better off without me."

Daravoi looks taken aback – I'm pretty sure he didn't even consider going alone. He doesn't like being alone. But in this case, it might have been better.

"Because if something happens, you can make a Lie and let us run away," he says, and it sounds a lot like he's rationalizing on the spot. "I… you know. My magic only does one thing."

That is true. Daravoi is good at fire and disintegration, while I'm ok at the former and shitty at the latter. But he tried the other spells in my book, and barely managed to move small objects or scry a room away. Fire and destruction seem the only things that are easy for him.

We move to a wide, low concrete building, with small tents all around it like colorful mushrooms. Electric carts, full of stacked metal crates, come in and out in a continuous stream. A few of the tents are shops, but most look more like impromptu offices, with people warming their hands on heat lamps and checking deliveries.

Daravoi checks his phone, takes a long pause, then walks to a smaller tent leaning against the buildings left side, its exterior striped blue and gold.

It doesn't look much of a smuggler den. It looks like a simple shop selling rare teas and herbs, the kind of stuff that grows in stupid places in the mountains.

"It doesn't look like the kind of shop that sells super-secret books of magic," I say out loud. "Not that I'm an expert on smugglers."

Daravoi clenches and unclenches his fists. He must be nervous. "Don't talk unless I ask you something," he whispers. "Really. If I say… moon it's time to use a Lie and go away."

We approach the tenth. A teenage girl is playing with a tablet behind the counter. She has her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off intricate tattoos, and has the same sandy hair as Dara.

Daravoi starts speaking Kalestran, and I can follow only in bits - something about a special mixture he had ordered. The girl doesn't seem surprised at all, and after something I can't follow, she gestures to us to come in.

On the back of the tent there's a door, wide enough for a cart, leading into the concrete warehouse. The girl dials a number on the door's pad, and it slides open. She calls someone, and gestures for us to come in.

Inside, it's a labyrinth of poorly lit, crisscrossing concrete corridors and numbered metal doors. Carts, some automatic and some human-driven, go in and out carrying crates. I don't like the place at all – it looks like something out of a horror sim. A cheap horror sim, where some monster kills horny teenagers in unnecessary bloody ways. Even worse, there's no heating, and it's barely warmer than the outside.

We follow the girl for three turns, until we meet an unsmiling person in their thirties who greets us, gives us a hard look, and has a short, terse conversation with Daravoi. I recognize Vorokan and stranger. Xe has tattoos in an unusual, flowing script - one is agender, but I can't parse the other.

Whatever Daravoi answers xem, xe must be satisfied, because xe guides us deeper into the maze of corridors, to a small room. Xe opens the metal door, and inside, instead of the stacks of boxes I've seen in the other rooms, is a plastic table and four chairs.

Most importantly, there's a heat lamp. The cold was seeping into my bones, but inside, the room is pleasantly warm. Two people, an old man and a younger woman, sit in the two chairs opposite ours. I guess this is their confy-room-for-super-secret-encounters.

"We're told you want something," the young woman says, in Vorokan. I can't place her accent, but it sounds fancy, like the foreigners who come to visit Big Sis from time to time. She and the old man have conveniently generic tattoos, marking gender and sexual orientation, but they're half-hidden below their collar, as it usually happens with foreigners.

Daravoi looks at a loss for a moment, he starts speaking Kalestran, then stops and switches to Vorokan too.

"We're looking for a book," he says.

"A strange thing to search for in the black market," she says, "have you tried the datasphere? Or a library?"

Daravoi looks straight at the woman. "Can we cut the bullshit? You know what book I'm looking for."

Wow, he told me not to speak, and then he acts like this? But the woman doesn't look offended. She nods.

"Do you know, though?" She asks. "That book is costly, and useless to most people."

"We have money," Daravoi says, sounding confident for a homeless kid three weeks away from starvation. "We'll find an arrangement. What's your price?"

We have about nine-hundred credits equivalent in gray accounts, plus a precious stone worth tens of thousands. Well, Daravoi has it.

But illegal or not, how much can a book possibly cost? I've never owned a paper book except for school, I've seen them for sale in heaps for a handful of credits, and they can't cost much more than comics.

"I don't think you know what you're asking for," the woman says, sounding annoyed. "And since you're not one for politeness - are you a mage, boy? If you aren't, forget about it, go home and have a nice life."

Is she a mage, I suddenly wonder?

I can't risk using magic. But I can still peek into the Else, as long as I stop there, without Reaching.

I let my eyes unfocus and my mind wander. At first I had to close my eyes to see the Else, but it's getting easier and easier. Beautiful blue light floods the world, and while I still see the people in front of me, now it's like watching a small, framed scene, just a small part of the web of things that could be.

Many other worlds spiral around us, realities that I could pull closer… but no, it's not a time for Lies, or for using magic at all.

I focus on the truth - except I look deeper than what my eyes can see, I look at the true world beyond the Veil. Minds are sparks, Daravoi's is brighter than most, even without using magic. I can see a small dark red ruby in his mind, and I see him as he is, but also what he could be, would like to be…

Cool, I'll have to try this again – but now it's not the time to get distracted. The woman and the old man don't have any color on them, just bright blue sparks for their minds.

There's something strange, though. There's something cold and black, near them, Like a black hole trying to suck my power. It burns with cold. Just looking at it, my vision of the Else wavers. What is that?

I force myself to focus back on the conversation.

"… our time. So, do you have it or not?" Daravoi says.

How can I tell him something is wrong? We never managed the mind-communication spell described in my book.

The woman waves a hand. "It's not something you keep in storage. We can procure it, but it's costly."

No one reacted to me peeking into the Else, so I guess my eyes didn't glow blue. Even without Reaching or Summoning, the Else can give me useful information – I never realized that before.

"I should at least see proof, before giving you any money," Daravoi answers the woman.

Again, the world in front of me becomes one vignette out of many. This time, I look at the branching worlds – it's hard to see clearly what they show, they break and change and reform as I watch, and sometimes Daravoi is different, or we're in another place. In most of the worlds, the two smugglers talk to us. But I follow a line unfolding in the future, and I find more of that cold, dark nothingness.

In another line, I glimpse the woman standing on her feet. There's something in her hands, but I can't see it clearly, it's a hole in the Else, a void. It's dark and cold, and yet it burns.

This is really wrong. I must tell Daravoi.

"We're not asking for the moon," I say, even if I missed a few beats in the conversation. "We just want to make sure you can really find a magic book."

Daravoi freezes for a moment, then gives the smallest nod. Thanks the Forgotten Home – I'd never have caught the hint in his place, let's be honest.

I focus on the woman who did most of the talking. Her mind glows bright in the Else, a snarl of light and flashes of thought. There should be a way to read minds, but my useless book specifically avoided describing mind-magic.

"As I said," she speaks slowly, her voice cold, "you'll have to wait a while more."

"You're clearly wasting our time. We're leaving now," Daravoi says, getting up.

I look around, without moving. Walls are nothing in the Else, but the farther I look, the more confusing the branching possibilities become. Still, I can tell there are three people very close to us. They must be in a room nearby, or in the corridor outside. They all have that blackness with them.

"You really should wait here," the woman says, her tone openly menacing now. "See, that's the thing about the magic-related market. The real money isn't in books or other items."

"Really insightful!" I grin, even if I've no fucking clue what she's saying. "I'm sure we'll have the chance to do business in the future. But now we're leaving."

I reach for a different world - one where this really was a shady meeting between buyer and seller, and not… whatever the fuck it actually is. A world where the two people in front of us actually meant to let us go.

I can't find any. This was never about a book sale.

Sweat starts running down my back. I can still do this. It's not a world that can be, but one that could have been, one that makes sense. I look at the branching worlds from a different angle, one where the line connecting them are fuzzy and green, and possibilities are more malleable. I find, and at the same time make, the world I'm looking for – one where we all nod at each other politely, if a little tersely, and Dara and I leave. I Reach for it with my power, and Summon it into existence.

"Could you show us the way out?" I ask. "We wouldn't want to get lost."

She opens her mouth to speak, then frowns.

We just had a friendly business meeting. A powerful mage knows how to navigate the underworld, and wouldn't fall for a trap. We simply didn't reach an agreement yet.

Yes, I had a lot of meetings like this. Terse words in a secret place, some haggling. Then you go home, and no one tries anything strange, because in the shadow world reputation is worth more than credits.

I pull that Lie into the world, with all my will and my power. It could be, after all.

"Yes, of course," the woman says, sounding dazed. "Wait, I'll tell the guys…"

She frowns. At her side, the old man shakes his head, as if trying to clear it.

"As I was saying," she adds, speaking slowly and squinting at me. "The real money isn't in selling books."

"Really, I know the market is bad," I say. Understanding. She's just doing her job, and now she'll let us go. "No hard feelings."

She walks to the door, looking like someone desperate to remember something.

The old man turns to me, his gaze way too focused "The real money," he says, "is in the mage trade."

My mouth dries and sweat soaks my thermal vest as I finally understand: we're not clients, we're the goods. These people are bounty hunters.

The moment I realize that, my Lie flickers, and the woman turns to face me. She reaches into her pocket for the cold, dark thing I can't see in the Else.

"You are…" she says, furious, "fucking with my mind."

With a strangled sound, she gets a knife out of her pocket - the blade shines a bright gray. Silver.

I lose focus for a moment, the possible worlds slip through my fingers, and I forget everything but fear.

"Liar," the woman growls. "I'll cut your throat for this."

"No need," the old man says, putting his arm in front of her. "Xe'll be hanged, and we'll be paid handsomely for it." He's rummaging in his pocket, and I know things will go even worse, very soon.

Daravoi raises his hand, but hesitates, looking at me.

I'll die. Big Sis was right, as usual. I'm so going to die, and I had it coming. Lost Stars, I just want to curl into a ball and wait until they kill me, or hang me, or whatever.

But it's not time to be afraid. I must be someone who wouldn't be afraid.

A powerful mage would have no reason to be scared. So, I'll be that for a while.

And this, I realize, is also exactly what I should make them believe. I must scare them.

But I'm not scary at all. I'm at best annoying, magic or not.

Except… Daravoi didn't think that. He made me add that rule, don't be a mind-controlling Sim villain.

This looks like a good time to break that rule. What if I was a powerful mage - a dangerous mage?

"Do you truly think this will go your way?" I ask, smiling. I take a touch of Big Sis' I'm polite but very angry smile, and a bit from Prince Therones, the mind-controlling villain from The Hollow Court.

I raise my hand, reach into the Else, and reach for a world where I'm already powerful, where instead of blue light dancing on my fingers, my whole hand turns into blue glass in a split second.

My fear disappears, like a switch going off. How could I fear the two pitiful smugglers in front of me? Two mundanes with knives. Silver or not, how to they hope to stand against me?

"I don't want to make a mess," I say, self-assured, because there's nothing here to fear. "But a silver knife won't protect you, if I burn you alive. And even if your friends outside have better protection, how will that help, if the ceiling falls on their heads?"

The woman freezes, clutching the silver blade like a talisman.

"They wouldn't need the book if they were really powerful," the old man says, but he doesn't seem convinced.

I don't even need to fake my annoyance. A silver knife may cut through a magical shield, but they'd still be dead, if we hurled Elsefire at them.

Against every instinct, I take a step toward the woman and her mage-killing silver knife.

"Look, you say the big money in the business is in turning in mages. Maybe you've even done it yourselves," I say, and rage comes all too easily. I make both my arms and my whole face look like else-glass. "What kind of mage did you get? Some half-starved kid running from their family?"

They're getting afraid now. In the Else, their fear casts a shadow - one where I'm taller and less scrawny and my smile looks scary and not just weird. I pull it closer, and the woman with the knife walks back all the way to the wall. Blue light blazes from my hand, as I reveal my power - no, wait, it's just trickery, but it looks like the real thing.

"If you knew anything about the Art of the Veil, you'd know it's not the tool of a beginner," I say, dismissive. Who knows, it might even be true. "But I didn't come here to kill anyone. So, put that knife down, get out, tell your friends to stand down, and never pull this shit again, because once in a while, you could find a real mage. And the next one might be less forgiving than I."

Silence falls, and the woman looks at the old man. He looks at me, and I'm not sure he bought it. But he gives a small nod, and she puts down the knife, slowly.

"I'll go out and tell them we changed plans," she says. "You can follow me. But be careful, they could… misunderstand."

"If there's a fight, you'll die first, and they'll die a moment later," I say, still smiling. Ok, this was leaning a bit too much into the sim villain. But she nods, terrified, and doesn't seem to find it stupid at all.

I let the Lie slide away a bit, because if I collapse exhausted halfway to the exit, this will end badly. They don't even seem to notice, though - this was a good lie, not like the jewel shop bullshit. They keep believing it even without the magic, and I don't feel exhausted.

I even manage to keep up the creepy smile, until Dara and I are out of the warehouse and we can bolt like rabbits.


***

 

[Selerian]

***



Daravoi ends up vomiting a few fried bugs, and my own ration is so greasy it gives me stomach ache, but giving him a chance to appreciate true, deep fried Vorokan cuisine still counts as a good deed. I'm sure of it.

We rent the cheapest room we could find, since we've no idea how long our money could last. For a handful of credits, we get two bunks in a hostel dorm full of drunk teenagers. They're closed on both sides and stacked one atop the others, you basically have to crawl into your bed and hope you won't die of claustrophobia.

From the bunk next to mine, Daravoi starts snoring seconds after laying on the mattress.

I should sleep just as easily – today I walked more than I ever did in the last nineteen years, and still feel the strange, bone-deep exhaustion of using too much magic. But I can't.

I was in a strangely good mood, on the way back from the market, despite narrowly avoiding being handed to ThauCon at gunpoint. Before this week, I'd never even seen a gun, or a knife used as a weapon – those things happen in sims and comics. And now, in a few days, I've had both weapons pointed at me.

Shouldn't I be more scared? I remember those moments - the gang threatening us, the bounty hunter holding the silver knife - with crystal clarity, and I remember I was scared, both times.

But indecision, more than fear, paralyzed me with the gang. This time, I Lied all too easily, even if I risked my life and Dara's. But I don't even feel shaken. Is this some kind of weird reaction to shock?

Or am I brave? I'd never have guessed that. I never showed any particular qualities, but if I turned out to have any, I'd have guessed something like good at riverland interpretative dances or world champion at awkward staring. Definitely not bravery.

No, it can't be that. Maybe it's something like… I really like this new life. The mystery, the uncertainty. Yeah, being stabbed sucks. But I was looking for a forbidden book. And for once in my life, I came out on top, without my siblings swooping in to save my ass.

Am I being an entitled rich kid with no sense of reality? Possibly. But I've seen the Else, I know reality isn't as straightforward a concept as most people believe.

Maybe Ikejon the Unmaker knew there was a great risk, when she opened the doors of Selenopolis. But she didn't care - not that she could die, nor that she could break the sky and ruin the world, because she was too curious to see what was on the other side.

I drift to sleep thinking about the Moon.

In my dream, it's still there, a scythe of perfect blue against the dark sky. The crack is like a flower, blossoming in the vastness of space.

I'm standing on a shore of black sand, and in front of me is a vast blue ocean. It's night, but the water glows from within, the same blue as the moon, the same blue as the Else.

I take off my shoes, the black sand is smooth and cold under my feet. I walk to the water…

"I'm not sure you should," a voice says.

"It's my dream," I answer, "I'll do whatever I feel like doing, thank you very much."

"Are you often aware you are in a dream?" The person asks, amused.

I take a step forward, and let the water touch my feet. It isn't cold, it isn't even wet - it's warm and exhilarating, and…

…and I never had lucid dreams. I tried to have them for ages, but it never worked. What is happening?

I turn to see who's speaking. A young woman is sitting cross-legged next to me. She's quite striking – black skin, blond braids, tall and imposing, dressed all in black. Her eyes glow with golden light, so strong I can't see her pupils. She has glowing, golden tattoos on her face. They're not normal tattoos - one says mage, but it's beautifully drawn, not like those ugly marks ThauCon gives to the rogues they catch. The other, I've never seen, and it's hard to read the ornate script - it might be… Telepath?

"Is this real?" I ask her. "Where… where are we?"

I should probably be scared. But what's the point? This is a dream. And I'm safe, near the ocean.

"Real?" She laughs a cold, long laugh. Her hand reaches to pluck the moon from the sky, and she pins it to her earlobe.

"This is a dream," she says, "one you usually don't remember, I assume. But you're dreaming of the Else, which is very real. Be careful. You wouldn't want to dive in too deep. There are things inside the water."

It sounds perfectly reasonable, so I nod, and move back to sit next to her

"Who are you? How are you here?" I ask, my eyes fixed on the bright blue waves.

"My name is Iketek," she says, "and I've been looking for you for a while."

She speaks slowly, in a way that makes me think of refined. She must be from Landfall, or at least must have she studied there.

"A lot of people are looking for me," I say. "Well, mostly my moms. Maybe. And ThauCon, definitely."

"ThauCon can't find their own ass using both hands," the woman says.

The mild profanity is funny in her tone, she sounds as serious as a professor reading ancient poetry. "But you are remarkably easy to find," she goes on. "You have substantial magical power, and not much subtlety."

I frown. "Did you come to my dream to insult me?" It's hard to remember the waking world, it's like a faded memory, but I feel there's something important I should consider. Something bad happened today.

Not that it would matter, if I just jumped into the blue water and swam.

"I'm here to make you an offer," the woman says, "because I need a Liar, one new to the game. And you need a book."

A book. The book of magic, the Art of the Veil.

"Wait, how do you know?" I ask.

She quirks her lips in a knowing smile."As I said, this isn't the first time we talk in your dreams,Today you're more coherent than usual, though. Enjoy it while you can. Lucid dreaming is a side-effect of magic, at first. But soon, you'll dream only of the Else."

She sounds regretful.

"Can you give me the book?" I ask.

She considers my words. "If that's really what you want, I know someone who can. And we can come to… an arrangement. But we should discuss this in the waking world."

She glances at the sea, and sounds nervous. The glowing blue water is stirring, as if the wind was changing, but there's no wind at all.

I try to remember what happened today, and the sand becomes colder under my feet. The cliffs along the sea look more and more like knives.

Today… there was a trap. Is this another one?

"How can I trust you?" I ask. "What if you want to sell us to ThauCon?"

She laughs.

"I am a mage. But it's good that you're suspicious. It might help you survive in this line of work. We shall meet in a public place, one where it's easy to get lost in the crowd and escape, and I wouldn't dare use my own powers too openly."

"The University?" I suggest.

She cocks her head. "An unusual choice. But I would suggest a night club instead. My favorite one is called The Moonbreaker. It's fitting."

Taller and taller waves break against the shore. The not-water washes over my feet and ankles. It tingles on my skin, but where it touches my jeans, they turn to ash.

"The Moonbreaker? It… kind of sounds like a bad omen?"

"Superstition won't serve you," the woman says, still looking at the water. "Also, I should really go now. At what time shall we meet?"

"What's happening?" I ask, nodding at the taller and taller waves.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," she answers. "What time tomorrow?"

"Midnight? How will I find you?" I ask.

"Midnight is good. I'll find you," she says, curt. "Now for your own good, wake up."

I catch a last glimpse of something vast emerging from the waves, water cascading down its sides, before I wake up with a jolt, accidentally kicking the metal partition between bunks and attracting sleepy complaints from all over the room.

After a moment, the complaining subsides, and everything is silent. The dream seems distant, unreal.

I don't believe even for a second it was just a dream, though.

 

[Angus512]

Yoooo, this is incredible!!!! a masterfully crafted story, I'm delighted to have read it! : D