For some moments, Arran remained silent, trying to get his head around the task thaty before him. Finally, he repeated, "You want me to spy on the Hunters."


    "I do," Brightde said once more. "The Valley is in desperate need of information, and nobody in the Valley is better suited to the task of getting it than you."


    "You told me the Valley has sent other spies," Arran said, brow creased in a deep frown. "I assume these were among the Valley’s best scouts — Masters, if not stronger. Did any of them return?"


    "Some," Brightde said. "But only those who didn’t stray far into the Hunters’nds. You, however, will venture deep into theirnds — further than any mages before you."


    Once, her words would have sent Arran into a panic. But now, he understood that Brightde would not simply send him to his death. If she wanted him to enter the Hunters’nds, she believed he could handle the task. And if that was the case, he would listen to her before deciding whether he would do as she asked.


    He gave her a serious look, then said, "Tell me your ns."


    She responded with a small nod. "Getting into theirnds will be easy — easier than you might think. The Hunters capture or kill any mages who enter theirnds, butmoners are allowed to enter as they wish. And while they have means to detect even sealed Realms, those seals of yours are no ordinary ones. If my suspicions are correct, they should suffice to fool even the Hunters’ methods."


    Arran raised an eyebrow. "What if your suspicions are wrong?"


    "Then you will have to flee," Brightde replied. "So I would suggest putting my suspicions to the test near the bordends. If I’m wrong, I trust you will be able to escape a small patrol of Hunters."


    A wry smile crossed Arran’s lips. While Brightde might not simply send him to his death, she clearly had no qualms about sending him into danger.


    Just then, however, a thought urred to him. "If the Hunters allowmoners to enter theirnds unharmed, why not sendmoners to spy on them? The Valley has plenty of people without any magical skills."


    "They allowmoners to enter," Brightde said. "But they do not allow them to leave — or, if they do, none choose to do so. Plenty ofmoners enter theirnds, but none ever return."


    This hardly sounded encouraging, as Arran could think of several other exnations for why nobody returned. And none of those exnations filled him with confidence.


    Yet that there would be risks involved was to be expected, and he continued, "Even if I can enter theirnds unharmed, how would I gather information? I can’t imagine they’ll simply let me walk into their camps to take notes on their activities."


    "You will visit their cities," Brightde replied. "Travel theirnds as a merchant or craftsman, and learn what you can from themoners."


    "Cities?" Arran frowned as he looked at Brightde. "They have cities? And you know about those?"


    Sheughed, then said, "Of course they have cities. Look at their numbers. They have millions of warriors. And to supply an army of millions, they need tens of millions ofmoners — farmers, merchants, craftsmen, shopkeepers. An army like theirs needs a nation to support it, and arge one at that."


    This was something Arran hadn’t yet considered, but as she exined it, he realized it made sense. While he had thought of the Hunters as a mysterious band of unusually powerful brigands, no brigands could maintain such numbers for centuries.


    And, he realized, if there was an entire society behind the Hunters, then they would have no small amount of knowledge — training techniques andbat methods developed over thousands of years, strong enough to allow them to rival even powerful mages.


    "I could learn from them," he said quietly, more to himself than to Brightde.


    Yet she replied, "That is another reason I’m sending you. With powers so close to yours, their knowledge could be invaluable to you — orpletely useless. Either way, it’s an opportunity worth exploring."


    Arran thought for some moments, but in truth, he had already made his decision. Any information he could find would be crucial in the war toe, and although he had few friends in the Ninth Valley, he would dly face danger if it increased their chances of surviving the conflict.


    "All right," he finally said. "I’ll do it."


    "Of course you will," Brightde replied, though her eyes held a hint of approval. "Now, before you leave, there are several things you will need."


    She walked over to a corner of the chamber, where she picked up a stack of books and a bag, both of which she brought over and handed to Arran.


    "These books detail various Shadow seals and wards," she exined. "You will need to study them carefully before you venture into the Hunters’nds, since Shadow is the only type of Essence you’ll be able to use. And you will need to hide not just your Realms, but also your void ring and your Shadowme mark."


    Arran nced at the inside of his left wrist, which held a mark shaped like a ck me, still moving as if it were alive.


    He had gained the mark when he took the oath to join the Shadowme Society, and although he had mostly ignored it since then, it was a subtle yet undeniable reminder that he was a mage and a member of the Shadowme Society.


    And in the Hunters’nds, it would be a death sentence.


    "What about the bag?" he asked. It wasn’t a void bag. Rather, it was the type of thing amoner would use for travel,rge and unwieldy.


    "You can’t enter the Hunters’nds dressed like a mage," Brightde said. "So I have gathered clothes for you — the kind of outfits amoner might wear."


    Arran stored both the books and the bag in his void ring, then asked, "So when do I leave?"


    "We will leave now," she said. "I intended to keep you here for some days, but the demonstration you gave today will have drawn enough attention. There’s no point in wasting any more time."


    Without offering any further exnation, she stood up and headed out of the chamber, Arran following close behind her.


    To his surprise, when they left the stronghold, she had several dozens of guards apany them. Moreover, instead of heading in the direction of the inner Valley’s gates, Arran soon realized that they were traveling toward her estate.


    With dozens of guards surrounding them, he could not ask her about this, but he spent most of the journey with a deep frown on his forehead, his confused expression only hidden by the dark of night.


    It was early morning when they arrived near the mountain path that led to the estate, and there, in the shadow of the mountains, Brightde announced, "I will apany Lord Ghostde to my estate. The rest of you are to wait here. I will return within two weeks."


    Without any further words, she left the guards behind and guided Arran up the narrow mountain path. Even knowing where it was, Arran found it difficult to recognize, and as they traveled up the mountain, he noticed that several new wards had appeared along the path.


    They traveled in silence, but when they reached the small valley that held Brightde’s estate — which, to Arran’s eyes, still more resembled a fortress than a mansion — he turned to face her. "I thought you wanted me to travel to the bordends?"


    "I do, and you will," she said. "But as far as the rest of the Valley is concerned, you will spend the next few years in secluded training at my estate."


    "But how—" Arran began, yet he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes turned to the small path at the far end of the Valley.


    Brightde smiled at him, then said, "We’re taking a different route into the Bordends. One slightly more dangerous, but far less conspicuous."


    Arran did not return the smile. He remembered well what she had told him and Snowcloud about the path. For the two of them, she had said, the path only led to death. And not just that — in her own words, even she could not take the dangers it held lightly.