ã€ŠFate&#x27;s Handã€‹


 Part One: Game

    Part One:

    Game

    Dark storm clouds hover heavily above a collection of dilapidated buildings; at least that is what they once were. These ruins were once mystic structures of white marble. Evidence of a great civilization that passed into forgotten memory. Columns that once held these buildings in stoic grandeur now stand cracked and crumbling. Stains of age and reclaiming nature are all that remain within the once glorious place.

    A flash of orange light erupts from within the ruins without notice or fanfare. A brief distance away a flash of green light emits for just a moment, but with the same lack of warning. The once silent ruin now has two intruders. One is a large serpentine creature. Its body is thick as the nearby pillars and its true length is difficult to determine as it winds through several buildings. The large serpent has black scales with orange accented the ends of each. A flick of its forked tongue tastes the air. As the serpent catches the scent of something else, it twists its body to gaze at its quarry.

    The serpent scented a being that was casually floating above the ruins surrounding the pair. The floating entity was vaguely humanoid. All the right parts in the right places, that sort of thing, but there was an addition: a pair of lustrous white feather wings adorned the creature¡¯s back. Long green hair fell across the back and framed its face. The wings made no effort to keep the creature aloft. It was as if they were for the aesthetic rather than the function.

    Serpent and seraph stared at each other within the forgotten ruins. The only sound came from the gentle scrape of scale against stone as the serpent coiled its length beneath itself. The eyes of the two never left the other. The serpent¡¯s body continued coiling as the tension grew. There was a flash of green lightning from the clouds above and a spear made of that very lightning appeared in the seraph¡¯s hand. The serpent lunged a moment after with a swiftness unlikely of a creature that size. With that, the fight began.

    ¡°An elemental armament!¡± cried an onlooker staring at the tabletop screen, ¡°those were only released last week. How did you find one so quickly?¡± The question was directed towards one of the two occupants of the game table. The woman whom the query was directed at watched the screen with interest as her seraph used the lightning spear to score a nasty gash along the body of the serpent. Scales were ripped asunder with blood and sinew as the strike fell.

    ¡°Got lucky mostly,¡± she replied without looking up, ¡°bought three packs of the Therin¡¯Duel¡¯s Quest series when it was released and finally snagged a worthwhile armament for my Lesser Seraphim.¡± The small crowd nodded empathically to the statement and the good fortune of the player. She looked away from the screen and at her opponent before saying, ¡°Well Terry, give up? You know the meta favors a humanoid/armament deck. A monster deck just isn¡¯t what it used to be.¡± A playful smile crossed her lips as she observed her competitor look up from his cards.

    Terry ran a hand through his short black hair and gave a sigh. ¡°Priss, you know those be fightin¡¯ words, ya?¡±he asked with a poorly feigned Irish accent, a smile of his own mirroring Priss¡¯. ¡°My Naga can at least tear the wings off your seraphim before kicking it.¡± With that statement Terry laid a card on the table for his turn. Priss and the onlookers leaned over to see the counter used.

    Mutation: Camouflage

    Rarity: Common (Enchantment)

    An alteration to the constitution of beast or monster familiars that allows for an increase in inconspicuous action.

    ¡°What¡¯s that common card going to do?¡± asked one of the spectators.

    ¡°It¡¯s clever is what that is,¡± said another.

    ¡°How so?¡±

    Priss answered the question as her gaze returned to the screen, ¡°it¡¯s clever because ¡®Mutation: Camouflage¡¯ increases a monster¡¯s natural stealth and Nagas are ambush predators by design,¡± As Priss said this the Naga flashed a dull orange and disappeared within the ruins. No trace of the large serpent to be found. ¡°And my Lesser Seraphim cannot hit what it cannot find.¡±

    Terry looked up from the screen and said, ¡°it is a stall tactic, nothing more. My Naga is outclassed by a rare class familiar.¡±

    ¡°Then why did you play an outdated and out-classed deck against a meta one?¡± asked an onlooker.

    ¡°Because,¡± Terry replied as he watched the game screen, ¡°I wanted to show you all that even though the humanoid/armament deck is powerful, it is not untouchable.¡± As Terry said this the Naga erupted from the ruins behind the seraphim with its maw open. The winged creature began to spin in hope of blocking the impeding serpent¡¯s strike. It was too slow to stop the attack, but swift enough to save its life. The Naga bite engulfed one of its wings and tore it off with terrible force. The seraphim¡¯s spear plunged into the skull of the Naga, its lightning charring scale and flesh.

    Both creatures fell into the ruins below. Loud cracks cried from the stone as the ancient structures were destroyed further. Once the dust settled the seraphim stood unsteadily on its feet. The lightning spear fizzled out from existence and the victor looked at its fallen foe. A charred hole was in the Naga¡¯s skull from where the spear struck. Nasty slashes were evident across its body as well. The Seraphim stood with blood pouring down its right side, below where a wing used to be. If the Naga had been a little faster, this powerful entity would have been felled by a monster of lesser class.

    The game¡¯s screen image froze on the half beaten seraphim standing over the Naga¡¯s corpse and cut to the game¡¯s outro sequence. It was a constant at the end of every match. It showed the name and mantra of the game. Long time players found it annoying, but Terry watched it every time regardless:

    Fate¡¯s Hand

    We are all but cards in the games of Fate

    ¡°What exactly did that accomplish?¡± asked one of the spectators. It was a fair question that the majority of the small crowd could agree with. The entire match was one-sided. An uncommon class familiar with a common class mutation versus a rare class familiar with a rare class armament. The quality of each side was disproportionate. A Lesser Seraphim is one of the strongest and rarest familiars, the creatures used by players of Fate¡¯s Hand, in the current state of the game, or meta. While a Naga is an uncommon class familiar, or just under average in availability and slightly above average in strength.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know the strength of a monster deck?¡± Priss asked the inquirer as she collected her cards from the table.

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± the increasingly annoying onlooker replied, ¡°monster decks allow the player multiple, lower class fa¡­¡± his statement dying on his tongue as dots began to connect. Looking at Terry now, who just finished collecting his cards into his deck box that went into his jacket pocket, the spectator asked, ¡°why didn¡¯t you use more familiars? Horde rushing is what made monster decks so powerful for two years.¡±

    ¡°Because I agreed to only use one familiar against Priss,¡± Terry answered with nonchalance, ¡°it was a bet of ours. One monster versus one seraphim.¡±

    ¡°And you played me!¡± chided Priss as she walked around the table and lightly punched Terry¡¯s arm. Even a light punch by Priss hurt quite a bit, she was a physically fit and powerful person after all, ¡°you didn¡¯t even use a rare class monster. Nagas are uncommon at best, even if yours is a variant.¡± Terry smiled genuinely at Priss and he returned a light tap to her arm.

    ¡°Call me overconfident, I thought my Naga would be all I¡¯d need to prove my point.¡± Priss narrowed her eyes with a look that crossed between indignation and pouting. It was a cute look on her, and she knew Terry would get a rise out of her just to see it from time to time. Before she could say anything the bell at the front of the building rang; announcing someone entering the premise. ¡°Gotta go take care of that!¡± Terry said with mock enthusiasm. ¡°If any of you are interested in developing your monster decks there are some great cards at the desk. Packs for the new series are in the usual place!¡± With that farewell and shameless upsell Terry jogged through an open doorway to the front of the building.

    The room Terry entered was one he had great familiarity with. It was a showroom floor for a game shop. Creaky wooden floorboards were covered with display-place islands showing new and popular tabletop games, from old school to new era. Old dice towers sat next to vid-tables, boxed board games shared space with immersion programs, and aging cardboard cut-outs of fantastical heroes remained still as neighboring projections shuffled about and waved in a friendly manner occasionally.

    Terry surveyed the showroom as he searched for the newcomer. She wasn¡¯t hard to find. A middle-aged woman with red hair spilling out from under a winter cap stood in front of the door to the shop with wide eyes of surprise. Walking up to her Terry put on a professional smile and said, ¡°Good afternoon ma¡¯am, welcome to Cardstock, is there anything I can help you find today?¡± Quiet snickering could be heard behind Terry, but he ignored it, mostly, and focused on helping the potential customer.

    After another look around the showroom she brought her gaze to Tery and asked, ¡°this isn¡¯t a craft supply store, is it?¡± Terry sighed internally and swore he heard the inaudible laughter that Priss must be having at his expense. The question had an obvious answer, but it was asked more often that it should; as if magic was real and what was before you was illusionary.

    ¡°You are correct ma¡¯am,¡± Terry answered without his annoyance showing through, well, maybe a little, ¡°Cardstock is a tabletop game store that supplies old and new game needs.¡± That was standard nonsense that Dave, the store owner, wanted said during interactions with new customers. Suspicion remained in the woman¡¯s eyes as she surveyed the showroom once more.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothin¡¯¡­¡± she paused, as if deciding if her question was safe to speak aloud, ¡°nothin¡¯ satanic goin¡¯ on here, ya?¡± the last part at nearly a whisper, so quiet Terry had to strain his ear to catch it all. He almost sighed in exasperation after understanding what this woman was asking. That was a question was tied to the satanic panic connected with tabletop games nearly a hundred years ago. He thought those fears died out almost as long ago. Apparently, Terry was wrong. A cough that sounded dangerously close to a laugh sounded behind him. A quick glance revealed Priss covering her mouth as if she were coughing, walking behind the register counter to his seat. Terry knew a big, shit-eating grin was hidden behind her hand. He found it astounding that she could have heard the woman¡¯s whisper. Then again, Priss seemed to be more than human at times. So par for the course regarding her.

    The spectators of their match filed into the showroom after Priss. The red-headed woman let out a small gasp, as if the crowd confirmed her fears of insidious rituals being performed here. Terry raised his hands in a placating gesture hoping to do so with the woman. ¡°No ma¡¯am, nothing of the sort here at Cardstock. All we provide is access to entertainment through realms of the imaginary.¡± Terry put extra emphasis on ¡®imaginary¡¯ in hope of reassuring the woman.

    ¡°Alright,¡± the woman replied while expanding the word to cover more time to think, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t happen to know where a craft store is nearby, would ya?¡± She inched towards the door ever so slightly as she asked.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    ¡°yeah,¡± Terry said with a sigh, ¡°go left for two blocks and you¡¯ll see Matt¡¯s Crafts.¡± He didn¡¯t go to the store, but the misunderstanding of Cardstock¡¯s name happened often enough He figured out the answer. A quick thanks and a swift exit saw the woman out of the store. Terry turned and saw everyone from the other room milling about, looking at various items for sale, or just gossiping. This was usual for a Friday night. Everyone was waiting for the annual Friday night tournament of Fate¡¯s Hand. With the opportunity to win a free pack of the new series, Therin¡¯Duel¡¯s Quest, more people were here than usual.

    Terry walked up to the register counter, crossed his arms and interrogated the intruder of his throne, ¡°and what gives you the right to be behind the counter, in my seat no less, Priscilla Daniels?¡± Priss had begun undoing the braid of her long brunette hair during his conversation with the older lady and was trying to undo knots with her fingers.

    With a smirk at Terry Priss replied, ¡°my braid was coming loose, so I wanted to redo it before tonight begins.¡± Terry narrowed his eyes at her, showing he knew a non-sequitur when he heard one and his question was not answered. She smiled wider and said, ¡°plus, my face is prettier than yours. More people will walk in if they see me rather than you with those scraggly whiskers you call a beard.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Terry yelped defensively as a hand unconsciously ran across the thin veneer of facial hair coating his cheeks and around his mouth, ¡°it just grows slowly. Give it time to mature into a proper beard, worthy of praise.¡± He puffed up his chest in a show masculine bravado, but the excuse sounded weak, and they both knew it. He just had to defend his failing beard and pride somehow.

    ¡°Ya, ya,¡± Priss chanted in a noncommittal reply as she stuck out her hand, ¡°give it to me. I won so its mine until you win.¡± Terry glanced at the expecting hand and begun to unfastening an orange and green ribbon from his wrist. The two colors moved back and forth across the length and blended together at their point of contact like a sea-scape horizon at dawn. Terry handed the unbound ribbon to Priss. She smiled joyfully and said, ¡°You are going to wait a while before getting this trinket back.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Terry challenged with an equally playful tone, ¡°what makes you think that you¡¯ll win without the handicap you had today?¡±

    ¡°Feeling lucky about what I¡¯ll win in tonight¡¯s tournament for starters. Other than that, I¡¯m just a better player than you,¡± she jabbed with feigned mockery curving her lips.

    ¡°Awful confident, overconfident I should say, in yourself to think you have already won tonight¡¯s games.¡±

    ¡°Since employees can¡¯t participate my chances of winning are more of a certainty,¡± Priss said with genuine confidence, ¡°pretty sure that¡¯s why Dave hired you in the first place. Cheaper to pay you a wage that to keep awarding you rare packs of Fate¡¯s Hand.¡±

    Terry huffed as he leaned against the wall behind the register counter, ¡°probably true. You know he is going to make you the same offer, right?¡± he asked while looking at the woman beside him, ¡°you¡¯re here as often as I am and know just as much.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± Priss answered distractedly as she began twirling her hair into a fresh braid, ¡°but I don¡¯t really need the money and tournaments are easy packs.¡± Terry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the more inquisitive of their former spectators from the game prior.

    ¡°Hey, Terry, I was wondering if you had any recommendations for primary familiars in a monster deck,¡± inquired the guy. He quickly added, ¡°preferably rare class or above,¡± to his question. That was quite a tall order. Rare class card were available in the store, but they were rare for a reason. There weren¡¯t many available and they were much stronger than their common and uncommon counterparts. The difference in strength made a known rare familiar expensive; well, expensive in the realm of trading cards.

    Terry, however, nodded and gestured to the glass counter containing a slowly rotating showcase of single playing cards. ¡°Yeah, we do have a few of what you are looking for. People have been selling their monster familiars since armaments have gained popularity and only humanoid familiars can wield those.¡± As he said this he retrieved a single Fate¡¯s Hand card and placed it on top of the glass counter. The card had a gold border indicating a rare class Fate¡¯s Hand card.

    Fate¡¯s Hand trading cards had a rarity system that has its roots in dungeon-crawling games of the early 21<sup>st</sup> Century. Five categories separated classes of cards and a color corresponded with each color: common class cards are indicated with a bronze border, uncommon class cards have a silver border, rare class cards are outlined with a gold border, ancient class cards have orange as their color, and mythic class cards are said to have blue or green as their color. No one Terry knew is certain on that, even Dave, the owner of Cardstock doesn¡¯t know for a fact. Mythic cards are said to have only a single copy and are released randomly during a series. Terry saw a couple of ancient cards during large scale competitions, but those are almost legends in the game¡¯s circles as is.

    The rare class card that Terry was showing the inquisitive guy had an image of a large, four-legged creature on its face. It had the head and front half of a lion, the rear and legs of a goat, the tail of a snake, and the wings of a bat. Overall, it was a grotesque and terrifying amalgamation of creatures. ¡°Oh wow!¡± the prospective buyer exclaimed, ¡°a named monster card! Gerant the Chimera¡­¡± he mumbled as he further inspected the card. Terry decided to full in some gaps with a brief summary of the card.

    ¡°Yep, Gerant is one of the four rare class named monsters. Most named monsters are ancient or, supposedly, mythic class. That mean Gerant here is stronger than most rare class monsters. He has tons of attack power and utility due to his hybridization without mutations, but lacks any real defensive traits in regards to his class.¡±

    ¡°and it¡¯s a foil too!¡± the more and more likely customer shouted as if not hearing a word Terry just spoke. Indeed, the card had the reflective, holographic qualities a unique card would have to give it a desirable appearance to collectors and players. It makes one wonder what the developers thought of its player base. Are we simply attracted to shiny things like fish? Well, that is the case with this guy it seems.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± began Terry, ¡°that does jack up the price a bit, but it is a strong card for a monster deck nonetheless.¡± Hopefully, that price wouldn¡¯t impede the sale.

    ¡°I want it!¡± the guy announced. Yep, definitely like a fish. ¡°I¡¯ll use it to win the tournament tonight,¡± he said with a smirk. A small yelp erupted from Priss as Terry kicked her foot for underneath the register counter. He knew she was about to say something and didn¡¯t want her to get in the way here. She wasn¡¯t a Cardstock employee anyways. Soon after Terry completed the sale, thanked the customer, and wished him luck in his future games. As this came to a close Priss spoke up.

    ¡°Ok, first off, you¡¯re an ass. I was just going to offer some friendly, competitive words to get him in the proper mindset for the tournament tonight,¡± she said this with a predatory grin. As joyful as that hunter¡¯s look was on her, as she continued speaking her face turned serious, ¡°You know, I¡¯ve only seen three Gerants, total, since I started playing Fate¡¯s Hand,¡± a cold, accusatory tone entering her voice, ¡°and I¡¯ve only seen one foil of it in two years. I was there when you opened that pack. Why didn¡¯t you use your Gerant in our match I wonder?¡± With an angry grunt she tied off her new braid with the orange and green ribbon. Terry did not look at her or answer the question. Standing from her chair she stormed towards Terry in short, heavy steps. Once she was in front of him she spoke in an infuriated whisper, ¡°why, pray tell, did you sell your rarest card?!¡±

    Terry look at Priss¡¯ glare for a moment and then looked down in shame as he whispered, ¡°Sean moved out last week, something about his boyfriend and an ultimatum of some kind, and rent went up. I can¡¯t afford the late charges and Sean hadn¡¯t paid this month before leaving.¡± He scratched his nose before continuing, ¡°it¡¯s just a trading card anyways Priss. It¡¯s meant to change hands.¡± It was a confident, logical statement, but the weak voice giving lack any confidence. Priss¡¯ gaze turned soft as she listened to Terry and finally understood his actions. She knew what Fate¡¯s Hand meant to Terry. She knew firsthand what Gerant had meant to Terry. That card allowed him to become a well-known monster deck player in competitive Fate¡¯s Hand circles. He basically pioneered the humanoid/armament deck playstyle of loading upgrades and add-ons onto a powerful familiar, but with monsters and mutations. He wasn¡¯t the strongest or even nationally ranked, but he was good enough to make any fight a good one to watch.

    Priss looked around to see if anyone was looking their direction and saw one person browsing the board games in their general vicinity. Deciding that she didn¡¯t care if people saw, Priss stepped forward and hugged Terry. He stiffened and drew in a breath to say something, but she squeezed tighter to stop nonsense from spilling out his lips. ¡°Hush, Dave won¡¯t fire you for this,¡± she gently chided, ¡°I didn¡¯t know about Sean, I¡¯m sorry. A brother should have more decency that that. Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±

    Terry looked sideways at Priss. She was hugging him rather snuggly and rested her head on his shoulder while she faced his neck. Were both standing, Priss was a few inches taller than Terry. So Priss had to lean a bit to rest her head as she did, but she knew Terry could handle her weight. After studying her face for a moment Terry spoke, ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to worry Priss. Knowing you, you¡¯d offer some money or to move in,¡± he hugged her back fiercely, then moved her back an arm¡¯s length, but still held her. ¡°Neither would work,¡± he continued, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t accept your money and you worked too hard to get into the Scholastic Dorm at school. My shitty apartment is not worth that act of kindness.¡±

    ¡°If you stayed in school you¡¯d be in the Scholastic Dorm too, you know?¡± Priss said as she gently removed Terry¡¯s arms, ¡°If you had applied for scholarships you would have gotten them.¡±

    ¡°Not many full-ride scholarships for creative writing,¡± Terry dryly remarked.

    ¡°That¡¯s why you apply for dozens of smaller ones! They add up¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, as always, I know that, but that is a lot of work for something I am not certain I even want.¡±

    Priss sighed as she spoke, ¡°you¡¯re not wrong either, but! You know I¡¯m going to help you whether you like it or not.¡± Terry weakly smiled at Priss, a silent acknowledgement to her statement. To go against Priss in such matters was an inevitable failure. Terry learned that during the two years he had known her.

    ~

    They met during their freshman orientation at Fallsbender University. There were stands throughout the halls and public squares of campus advertising clubs, greek life, and other interest groups. Terry had stood in front of the Trading Card Club at the time. It was a club of college students that gathered to play Fate¡¯s Hand or older card games of the 20th and early 21<sup>st</sup> centuries. He was having an increasingly interesting discussion on the finer points between old school painted card artwork and the seeming alive images on modern cards when he was tapped on his shoulder.

    Turning around Terry saw a girl standing behind him. She was a bit taller with long brunette hair done up in a braid that fell over her right shoulder; green eyes with specks of gold in the irises; and an athletic body hugged by a graphic t-shirt depicting a soldier with green, modular plated armor, holding an assault rifle straight ahead and capris. Stunned that someone as beautiful as this girl was even near him, let alone trying to get his attention, he just stood there mouth slightly, ok, probably widely, agape.

    The girl tilted her head to the side quizzically and blinked before saying, ¡°this is when you¡¯d introduce yourself, I¡¯d introduce myself, and I¡¯d say ¡®charmed I¡¯m sure;¡¯ but I¡¯m pretty sure you just skipped straight to charmed.¡±

    Terry blinked, sputtered a bit, coughed in attempt to hide his embarrassment, and then tried speaking, ¡°uhh,¡± was all that came out of his mouth at first. Another cough to cover his increasing embarrassment and he tried his voice again, ¡°uh, yeah, hi, I¡¯m Terence, but only my mom calls me that when she¡¯s angry, everyone calls me Terry. Nice to meet you Charming.¡± Terry almost died of embarrassment when he mentioned his mom and decided to go for broke with a terrible, and weak, joke.

    Charming smiled back and said, ¡°Hi Terry, my name is Priscilla, everyone calls me that except my friends, they call me Priss; that¡¯s what you¡¯ll call me because we are friends now.¡± Terry opened his mouth to say something, but Priscilla put a single finger between them and made a ¡®shh¡¯ sound. ¡°Alright Terry,¡± she continued, ¡°that lot over there,¡± she gestured towards a stand for a sorority, Terry wasn¡¯t sure which, ¡°are a bunch of witches and said I had to kiss a nerd to have a serious conversation with them. It is a boorish hazing tactic, but I do need to speak with them, so if I must endure, I am going to enjoy it at least.¡± And with that the cute girl kissed the befuddled and charmed Terry.

    After a moment longer than expected of contact Priscilla stepped back with a grin. ¡°And I was right, Thanks Terry! I¡¯ll talk to you later,¡± she said as she waved and trotted back to the sorority stand. Terry stood there, watching her go, his mind a chaotic soup of joy and confusion. The only concrete thought in his mind being that Priss tasted like apples.

    ~

    ¡°Hello? Earth to Terry. Are you there?¡± Priss walked toward Terry and began waving her hand in front of his eyes. After a moment he finally responded with a jump due to a hand quickly darting hand being quite close to his face.

    ¡°Waa.. what are you doing Priss?¡± he asked after suddenly jumping back and nearly falling over the chair behind him.

    ¡°That should be my question to you,¡± Priss retorted, ¡°we were talking about me helping you and you blanked on me. Where did you go?¡± The question did not have the same bite as the rest of her tirade had. Terry occasionally zoned out; happened since he was a child, and it sometimes took him to a dark place. He wasn¡¯t sure where or what it could be, but he always felt frightened and alone.

    ¡°Not there this time, thankfully,¡± he responded, ¡°I was in an orchard this time, and got to have the sweetest apple I¡¯ve ever tasted.¡± Terry said this with a genuine, gentle smile and Priss returned it. She was about to say something when Terry put a finger between them and said, ¡°tuh-tuh, you got a tournament to go fight.¡±

    ¡°And win,¡± Priss smiled back.

    ¡°And win,¡± Terry agreed.

    Part One End.

 Part Two: Veiled

    Part Two:

    Veiled

    Turns out Priss¡¯ confidence, crossing the border into overconfidence periodically, was well founded this Friday night. She swept through her bracket of the tournament and had a beautiful fight in the finale. Her Lesser Seraphim fought a Fallen Crusader, a variant rare-class familiar. The seraphim lost both its wings, but was able to blind the crusader with its spear of green lightning and finally pierce the armor with an uncommon class armament¡ªa stone ritual dagger. A ritual was imbued into that weapon that sacrificed an unfortunate victim on the rare occasion, or so said the flavor text. Sacrificed to who or what, Terry had no clue; Fate itself perhaps.

    Partly through research, partly through experience, Terry knew that the ritual was not just flavor text. It only had a one in eight chance of success. So Priss had thrown the di and gambled for her victory at the height of that fight. That gamble did pay off for her this time. Her winnings as victor of the annual Friday night Fate¡¯s Hand tournament was five card packs from the victor¡¯s chest. It was really just a gallon-sized bucket that Dave had thrown a handful of booster packs into, but Anne, Dave¡¯s girlfriend of six years, had dazzled it up with rhinestones and a colorful tag that read, ¡°Victor¡¯s Chest.¡± Someone, no one was certain who, had drawn a macho-muscle man, bare-chested, on the side of the bucket with an arrow pointing to it from the colorful tag. It was funny, so nothing was done about it. Terry did remember Priss smiling more often than usual that week, but he didn¡¯t put too much effort into investigating the matter.

    The winner of the weekly tournaments was awarded five card packs, so it was odd when Priss returned to Terry at the register counter with a beaming grin and three card packs. ¡°What¡¯s with the three packs? I saw your game in the final on the screen,¡± Terry asked as he gestured to the monitor next to the register. Since he knew Priss¡¯ Fate¡¯s Hand Mage Name, or username, Prissess (she thought she was clever and made a play on ¡®princess¡¯ with her name) he was notified when she had a match that allowed spectating. It was the same for him. His Mage Name, Deck Mage, was on her spectate list so she could also watch his matches. Terry remembered Priss throwing a bit of a fit when she was setting up the account. She ¡°didn¡¯t want a mage name,¡± she had said. Then went on to say something under her breath that Terry hadn¡¯t caught. Eventually she acquiesced when Terry told her to think of it as a username instead. Mage name was just the lore-friendly title for it.

    ¡°It was a great match, wasn¡¯t it?!¡± Priss answered with enthusiasm while she slide her winnings into her jacket pocket. ¡°I had so much fun watching James¡¯ face when he realized an uncommon armament, a mere stone knife, killed his precious variant crusader!¡± A nearly evil grin spread across Priss¡¯ face as she continued, ¡°he might not even show up next week due to embarrassment! Wouldn¡¯t that be a relief?¡±

    Terry could empathize with Priss¡¯ dislike for James. He was a bit older than the two of them, military cut blonde hair, and built like a hockey player¡ªa really mean one. Terry thought he saw James at the gym once, when Priss had dragged him there to start, ¡°putting on some muscle so you can at least fight me on a dance floor,¡± as she so kindly put it. If it had been James he saw, he had been deadlifting at least twice Terry¡¯s weight soaking wet. Had to hand it to James; the mean hockey player look took sincere effort. James had come into Cardstock about a year ago, bought just over seven hundred dollars in Fate¡¯s Hand cards, and became a regular figure on Friday nights. After a month or two he actually became pretty good at the game. He did have a penchant for humanoid familiars that rocked the same mean left wing visage that James himself did, like his Fallen Crusader.

    In the early days James tried to stick around Priss and push out anyone else near. Mean hockey players can have crushes on beautiful women, just like anyone else, but sometimes are poor sports about it. Terry is, for all his faults, persistent about his friends¡ªespecially Priss. So when James not so subtlety told Terry to scram he just said, ¡°nah,¡± and walked back to campus with her that evening. The next time it happened James grabbed Terry and pushed him against a brick wall outside of Cardstock¡¯s back entrance. He had a mean grip and ¡®patted¡¯ Terry down as he explained in small words why Terry should leave Priss alone.

    Priss saw what was happening and took matters into her own hands. She wrenched both of James¡¯ arms behind his back with a strength that should not belong to anyone in her weight class and dragged him out of sight from the bruising Terry. Couple minutes later, Priss came back alone and said it was taken care of. Terry had heard snippets of what was said around the corner, something like, ¡°toy veiled,¡± was mentioned but Terry was, understandably, in a bit of pain at the time and didn¡¯t think deeply on the matter. Terry didn¡¯t want to pursue the matter, and Priss said she handled it and he trusted her judgement. So nothing came of it. James started showing up on Fridays a couple weeks later and did not interact with the pair at all. Unless in a game of course.

    ¡°It was a rewarding game to watch,¡± Terry affirmed, ¡°though it was a pure RNG win with that stone dagger gamble.¡±

    ¡°Terence White,¡± Priss began, oh shit said the wrong thing, ¡°I did not leave my win over such a poor opponent to some random number generator.¡± Terry was in agreement about not liking James with Priss; mean hockey players go in the penalty box, but he was not a poor opponent from the game Terry had watched. Priss¡¯ seraphim had been in critical condition at the end of that fight. Best not remind her of that, her competitive nature tended to make her aggressive at times like this.

    ¡°The odds were in my favor by my design,¡± she continued saying with that same edge to her voice, oblivious to Terry¡¯s musings, ¡°I doubled the success rate by blinded the target; there is a boost if the target is in a critical state; and divine familiars, like my seraphim, get a reroll on rituals.¡± After getting that out in the open she looked rather proud of herself. In truth, it was a great strategy. She took one in eight odds and turned it into two chances at one in four odds. The set up for it was a lot of work and you had to draw the proper cards to begin with, but a solid strategy to create during the pressure of a match.

    As clever a strategy it was, Terry couldn¡¯t help but rain on her parade, just a bit. ¡°One in four, with a reroll, is still gambling away your certain victory,¡± Terry teased as he slowly inched away from Priss, ¡°I thought you always told me that the best way to win is to play a hand that is certain to overwhelm your opponent. A puny stone knife is the purest embodiment of overwhelming force your deck has I guess.¡± She viewed him with suspicion as she narrowed her eyes. A scowl of anger, mostly feigned, probably, covered her features.

    ¡°It was not a gamble,¡± Priss growled as she took a step towards Terry, ¡°now be still like a good boy, and accept your punishment for bring up such unnecessary things like the troublemaker you are.¡± Terry gave Priss a wink and then ducked beneath the side of the register counter and futilely hid between the display islands of the showroom floor. Priss made a very unlady-like sound, something between a growl and a joyful squeak, and dashed after her troublemaker. A game of cat and mouse began amongst the board games, dice towers, and cardboard cut-outs. Demands for stillness accompanied empty threats and rejections to those kind offers filled the air. These were soon replaced with laughter and empty threats.

    Eventually a cough interrupted the pair after Priss got Terry into a headlock. Both looked up at the source, grinning like idiots, and saw Dave, the owner of Cardstock, looking at them with a raised eyebrow. Dave was a man of his mid-thirties that never really grew out of his early twenties. Long, unbound brown hair with roots of gray patching in a few places, framed a clean-shaven face with blue eyes. He was a husky fellow that was wearing an oversized t-shirt that had a tower with a flaming eye printed on the front. One of his old shirts. Dave had started working out after he saw Terry actually showing results from Priss¡¯ training and now he was as well.

    Dave looked at the tangled pair for a moment and then spoke with a baritone, Southern voice, ¡°ya¡¯ll are lucky the store closed fifteen minutes ago. Wouldn¡¯ be proper if my employees were fiirtin¡¯ with each other during business hours.¡± A glint of mirth shown in his eyes as he spoke. Dave liked both Terry and Priss, and was more a friend than employer.

    ¡°Employees?¡± Terry asked, ¡°as in plural?¡± He tried to look towards Priss while speaking but the headlock he endured did not allow such freedom of movement.

    ¡°aww,¡± bemoaned Priss, ¡°Dave, I was going to figure out some surprise, and or, freak out to fill Terry in on that bit of news.¡±

    Dave ran a hand through his long hair as he chuckled a reply, ¡°knowing you Priss, you¡¯d do something unwarranted to poor Terry here.¡± He gestured to the still lightly struggling Terry, ¡°and I need both of ya to run this store proper.¡±

    ¡°Oh it¡¯d have been warranted,¡± Priss replied. She squeezed Terry a bit tighter and then released him with a light tap on his head. ¡°this troublemaker doesn¡¯t know when to keep his trap shut and allow me to  bask in the glory of my victories.¡±

    Terry huffed at Priss while rubbing the top of his head. He then looked at his boss and asked, ¡°so you hired Priss, why?¡±

    ¡°Same reasons as you basically, and a few others,¡± Dave answered, his accent coming in thicker than usual as a yawn escaped him. ¡°She costs me too much in tournament prizes,¡± he said with mock chagrin, ¡°but, really, she is just as knowledgeable as you about the general stuff here and knows more than you about armament decks. Plus, she has been doing the job already, helping people with their Fate¡¯s Hand decks and strategies; now, at least, she can get paid for it.¡±

    ¡°Yep!¡± Priss chimed, ¡°and I got a sweet signing bonus.¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± She got a signing bonus,¡± Terry cried incredulously, ¡°This is sexism in the workplace. I¡¯m telling your manager about this Dave.¡±

    ¡°Whoa, Whoa,¡± Dave said with a not so serious placating gesture, ¡°don¡¯t be bringin¡¯ Anne into this. She and Priss will run both of us outta here before we know it.¡± Light laughter from everyone in the room filled the air for a moment as the banter between them concluded.

    ¡°Dave!¡± a female voice sounded from the stairwell that led to the apartment upstairs, ¡°get up here and help me chop up these potatoes.¡± It was Anne, Dave¡¯s girlfriend. They had been living in the apartment above Cardstock since before Terry and Priss met them. ¡°Be right ther¡¯!¡± Dave called back up the stairs he was now standing next to. Before heading up he looked back at the duo, ¡°I don¡¯t have a spare set of keys for the place yet, so you love birds will have to share Terry¡¯s for now.¡±

    ¡°We are not love birds!¡± retorted Priss. She then nearly whispered, ¡°I refuse to be associated with fowl of any kind.¡±

    ¡°Alright, whatever you say Priss,¡± Dave replied, ¡°just take Terry¡¯s keys when you open for now. Now if ya¡¯ll will excuse me, my dear and darling Anne requests my presence.¡±

    ¡°Be careful Dave,¡± shouted Terry, ¡°she probably has a knife!¡±

    Dave chuckled as he started up the stairs, then stopped on the third step, turned, and stuck his head out the doorframe leading to the stairwell, ¡°Terry, why don¡¯t ya come early tomorrow. There is something Anne and I want to talk to ya about. Even make ya breakfast.¡±

    ¡°Can do Dave,¡± Terry answered, ¡°what about Priss? Could make it a regular business meeting.¡±

    ¡°Love to, but can¡¯t,¡± Priss interjected, ¡°got family business basically all day tomorrow. If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll be out by late afternoon and might swing by if Terry is still around.¡± With that said the duo offered their farewells and Dave told to try and stay warm on their walks home. After turning off the ¡®open¡¯ sign and locking the door to Cardstock, Priss and Terry bundled up in their winter garb and began walking to the other side of town over snow covered sidewalks.

    Terry¡¯s apartment was on the other side of town and took nearly an hour to walk there. Sean, Terry¡¯s brother and former roommate, would sometimes drive Terry to work, but that arrangement was no longer available so he had to walk the distance twice a day. It was a commute he grew to enjoy though. He was able to walk through Fallsbend¡¯s campus and the city park on his way to the apartment. This also allowed him to share half or so of the distance with Priss as she walked back to her dorm on campus. Even walks in winter, when the weather was below freezing by a fair margin, were pleasant with her.

    Priss wore a green scarf that wrapped around her face like a mask while Terry wore an orange-black ski jacket that was zipped up all the way for a similar effect. The pair traversed the snow covered sidewalks shoulder to shoulder in silence. The cold took away most will for playful jibes as the effort could be spent on more productive activities¡ªlike staying warm. Halfway to campus Terry did think of something to ask Priss. ¡°You know, you never explained why you only got three packs of cards for your prize,¡± he said through a cadence of chattering teeth. Priss looked over at him and he saw frost settled in her eyebrows and on the hem of her scarf.

    ¡°I would have,¡± she responded with absolutely no chattering to her teeth,¡± but someone had to scurry away and hide like a mouse.¡±  She paused as they stopped at a crosswalk and watched an antique gasoline truck, a monster of both size and sound, rumble past them amongst the comparatively silent electric vehicles before continuing. ¡°Then Dave interrupted, and it slipped my mind.¡±

    ¡°Soo,¡± Terry elongated the word turned sound, ¡°are you going to tell me about it now?¡±

    ¡°Hell no, too cold right now,¡± responded Priss not sounding cold at all. ¡°Tell you what, why don¡¯t you stay in my dorm tonight? I don¡¯t like the idea of you walking to your apartment alone in this cold.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Terry blustered through more teeth chattering, ¡°it¡¯s not like I¡¯ll be attacked by monsters or anything on my way through the park.¡±

    ¡°Ya,¡± Priss said with a weak chuckle, ¡°more likely for the cold to get to you than monsters.¡± A couple more minutes of silence went by as the pair continued their journey across town. As they forded another snowy crosswalk the main entrance to Fallsbend University came into view. Old brick buildings neighbored newer, block buildings to create a tapestry of edifices that revealed the history of the campus on a canvass of snow. Or it showed the administration¡¯s unwillingness to renovate existing buildings. Either or really. The main sign declaring you arrived on campus had an artificial waterfall next to it. It was not operational due to the season, but it did inspire the designed response in newcomers during the warmer months. Both Priss and Terry were beyond that point by now. It was just an oversized and expensive lawn ornament to them.

    Once they passed the derelict waterfall Priss spoke up again in hope of convincing Terry, ¡°Come¡¯on Terry, You are going to freeze your cute butt walking all the way to your apartment. Promise to keep you warm and the monsters away.¡±

    Terry sighed in exacerbation as he looked over at her, ¡°and what will your roommate have to say about a guy being there? You know how she thinks about those things. And how exactly do you know my butt is cute?¡±

    Priss laughed dryly, not wanting too much cold air to infiltrate her lungs, and then lean against him as she answered, ¡°Christie went home for the weekend, probably to do laundry or something, so she won¡¯t have anything in particular to say. And, I¡¯ve seen enough of you without most of your clothes on that I figure my imagination is pretty spot on.¡± Terry averted his eyes in embarrassment and then jumped with a small yelp and a light smack connected with the aforementioned region of his body. True laughter barked from beneath Priss¡¯ scarf mask as she curled both her arms around his and held him snuggly. She remembered the first time she had such a show. Terry had been adorably awkward back then. Well, more awkward than he was now.

    ~

    Two weeks had passed since Freshman Orientation at Fallsbend University. The early morning air hinted at an unbearable warmth that would invade the weekend. The closet dormitory that Priss shared with her new roommate, Christie, would be unlivable as far as she was concerned. Perhaps her father would take her somewhere temperate for the family business trip over the weekend. She had had packed a week¡¯s worth of clothes for each temperature range since she hadn¡¯t been told where they were going. Father was picking her up later that afternoon, so, in the meantime, Priss had long overdue plans for this morning.

    It had taken a bit of sleuthing, but Priss eventually figured out where her new friend lived. Elk¡¯s Lodge Dormitory, room 514. Apparently this part of campus, where all the old dorms were, was collectively referred to as ¡®The Camp¡¯ by the students. Something about the buildings¡¯ names being woodland creatures and hunting. She didn¡¯t really pay attention to the overeager, and hungry-eyed, upper classman who she got to explain it to her. She zoned out after she heard what she needed to know.

    As Priss approach The Camp, the thought on why she was off to pay a visit to this new friend¡ªTerry. Yeah, he was cute, but the lack of confidence he had certainly didn¡¯t offer much in the way of social charm. She had been warned to keep an eye on the veiled and unveiled ones while on campus. Then she met Terry. Terry had the presence of an unveiled, Priss could easily sense it, and so could the so called witches from the sorority stand. However, he didn¡¯t seem to have any idea of her approach, nor did he make any move to defend himself once he was aware of her presence. Any member of the Hidden World, martial, mage, or monster would have done that much at least.

    All he did was freeze up and stutter a bit. Ok, maybe that lack-of-confidence innocence helps him be a little cute. Like a puppy. The whole overfriendly act she put on then, which worked, was to throw off someone far more dangerous than Terry turned out to be. Someone as dangerous as Terry¡¯s presence, and the apparent nonchalance towards her own aura, led one to believe. Whatever Terry is, it isn¡¯t an unveiled. He is just an innocent and ignorant veiled, and a cute one. Priss did inform her father about Terry though. He would want to know about an unknown mage in the area. Her father made it a mission to keep a jailer¡¯s gaze on all of them after all.

    As Priss walked up the fifth and final flight of stairs a thin wave of mana washed over her. She had been trained to prepare for a fight when she felt that. Meant a mage or a monster was searching the area. Gathering energy from her qi pool, Priss leapt the final seven steps in a single bound. At the landing she crouched into a defensive stance and eyed the door in front of her. Pale green flickers of light surrounded her fists and her calves as she circulated her qi throughout her body. Before she finished preparing, a dark skinned young man burst through the door onto the landing. He wore blue basketball shorts, a white tank-top, and had a shaved head. His entire right arm was covered in a tattoo-sleeve. To Priss, that meant he was more than a little dangerous.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°I know for a fact no martials belong to this building,¡± the tattooed young man stated, ¡°declare yourself and your business then scram.¡± There was mistrust and even a little menace in his narrowed eyes. Priss swore she saw one of his tattoos quivering. Not good. Without a veil prepared she wasn¡¯t allowed to do much. Not that the guy in front of her had such rules of qualms. Most of the mages she met outside of her father¡¯s associates held the boundary of the Hidden World and the Veiled World loosely.

    With the intent of not starting a fight that would upset her father at best, and level the building at worst, Priss her palms up in a placating gesture and said, ¡°be at peace. I was unaware this was one of your kind¡¯s domain. I had no intention of intruding.¡±

    ¡°And what exactly do you mean by, ¡®your kind?¡¯¡± he asked with a hostile glare.

    ¡°huh,¡± a sigh left Priss as she slow gestured to his tattooed arm, ¡°you¡¯re manafested. Even trying to insinuate I was being racist is childish. I don¡¯t see a group mark on you, where do you belong?¡±

    ¡°You martial types are all the same; treat us mages like we are diseased,¡± spat out the mage, ¡°my mana is focused, not ¡®manafested,¡¯ That term is just as biased and narrow-minded as if you were making racist comments.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to debate semantics or the valid threat magic has to the veil between worlds when on this side with you,¡± Pris retorted, ¡°now answer my question.¡±

    ¡°I have no need to answer your question,¡± quipped the mage, ¡°you are acting as entitled and demanding as any martial I¡¯ve met or heard about.¡±

    ¡°Says the one who brought the powers of monsters to the Veiled World.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works! If you martials spent any time to study mana flow or even just fucking listen to a mage who has, you¡¯d know that¡¯s not how it works!¡± The mage took a deep breath after getting that off his chest and continued, ¡°but, I don¡¯t plan on harassing any and all martials I run across at school. It would be best to be known factors to each other at the least. Are you sure no veileds can hear us?¡±

    ¡°Bit late for that concern isn¡¯t it? No, I don¡¯t sense any within range. Don¡¯t you have a spell or something for this? You are mana¡­ a mage after all.¡±

    The glare Priss received from the mage proved he definitely caught her slip of the tongue there. His tattoos began quivering for a moment and Priss fortified her body, preparing for an attack. ¡°Relax,¡± the mage mockingly said, ¡°it is just what you asked for.¡± Soon a near invisible blue bubble erupted from his tattooed arm and surrounded them. He then stepped to the side, away from the front of the door to the fifth floor and said, ¡°we are now unheard and unseen by those outside the bubble.¡± His voice echoed quietly in the bubble. ¡°Please excuse the echo, I haven¡¯t quite figured out how to properly bend space and time to my whim.¡± This time he wore a nearly feral grin as he spoke. It was a statement made to poke at the concern Priss had voiced earlier. Worst part being she wasn¡¯t certain the mage was joking.

    Rather than focus on her growing concerns, Priss kept to the necessary details, ¡°who are you and what is your association?¡± Priss¡¯ voice also echoed within the bubble. ¡°I am Priscilla Daniels, member of the Crescent Dawn.¡± The last part was spoken with evident pride while she revealed a golden pin with a stylized rising sun next to a waning moon.

    ¡°Ahh,¡± the mage said, ¡°you¡¯re part of that martial guild with the leashed mages.¡± Priss bristled hearing that, but before she could say anything he continued, ¡°Priscilla Daniels¡­ ah ha! I thought I heard that name before! Daughter of the Sun is what you¡¯re called. Supposed to be rather skilled for a body builder should the grapevine be believed.¡±

    Priss couldn¡¯t let that comment slide, ¡°body builder!¡± she shrieked at almost not a whisper, ¡°using qi enhances the body¡¯s existing strengths, not build it up like an oversized bull!¡±

    The mage just smirked at her outburst and said, ¡°and now we¡¯re even for the ¡®manafested¡¯ comment. Name is Marcus Eldson. I¡¯m independent, no guild backing or politics.¡± Priss deflated just a bit with that; he had a point. A lot of associates in Crescent Dawn she and her father worked with called mages the ¡®manafested.¡¯ Well, behind their backs and at in the Sun Department of Crescent Dawn. Priss herself wasn¡¯t sure about it all, but apparently her work environment had rubbed off on her more than she knew.

    ¡°So what brings you here, oh daughter of the sun?¡± Marcus asked with feigned reverence.

    ¡°I¡¯m here to see a friend,¡± Priss answered vaguely.

    ¡°Like I said earlier, no martials belong to this dorm. I checked.¡±

    ¡°Am I not allowed to have friends outside the martials?¡±

    ¡°actions and policies I¡¯ve seen or heard about tend to drive one to that conclusion.¡±

    ¡°Well, contrary to your misinformed belief, I can, and do, have friends outside of my fellow martials. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me, I have to go collect one of those friends for breakfast,¡± and with that said Priss walked out of the spell and it popped like a soap bubble. Once on the fifth floor proper she followed the numbers on the doors as the numerically ascended.

    Marcus trotted behind her, muttering something about spell stability, and asked, ¡°who are you looking for? I can help find¡¯em and get you out of here that much faster.¡± He clearly was ready for Priss to leave and she was just fine with making him uncomfortable with her presence.

    ¡°No need, I know where I¡¯m going,¡± she replied without looking back. As she found room 514 she saw its door was cracked open and she heard humming from the other side. Perfect, Terry was awake. She reached for the door knob as Marcus realized too late what was about to happen.

    ¡°Hey that¡¯s my¡­ don¡¯t open tha¡­¡± of course, since he was late too realize what Priss intended, tragedy, or comedy, depending on time and perspective, followed.

    She swung the door open and spoke in an upbeat tone, ¡°Good morning Terry! Good thing you¡¯re already awake because we¡¯re getting breakfast!¡± As she said this the scene before her revealed itself. Terry was up, yes indeed. He stood in the middle of the dorm with his hair matted down by water and a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. He stood profile to the doorway, frozen and wide-eyed as he processed the intruder to his safe haven. No shirt clung to him, so Priss could see how thin and lanky Terry was. Yep, breakfast was a great idea. The boy need to add some weight to his frame.

    ¡°uhh,¡± Terry finally began to say but quickly shut his mouth and scrambled as his loose towel began to descend. He caught it before anything scandalous revealed itself, but enough for Priss¡¯ imagination to work with. She didn¡¯t mind the image. He didn¡¯t have the muscle and bulk that the men from the Sun Department and other martials had. That fact made Terry even more appealing to Priss. He wouldn¡¯t have delusions about having to protect her.

    ¡°Uhh¡­¡± Terry continued with a bewildered expression, ¡°Hi, Priss, what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Better question is,¡± Priss replied, ¡°why are you getting dressed yet? Breakfast won¡¯t last forever. Now get a move on, I have a hankering for bacon and cereal.¡±

    ¡°Are you always like this?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to find out in the future. I¡¯ll be around.¡± An audible groan sounded from the hallway and Priss grinned at it.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you get out so I can change then,¡± Terry said while gesturing beyond the doorway.

    ¡°Damn, was hoping to see more,¡± Priss teased with a scrunched up expression. After stepping out of the doorway and closing it, Priss looked over at Marcus who was standing nearby.

    His arms were crossed and his face was a mixture of frustration and caution. ¡°He¡¯s not a mage from what I can tell,¡± he said in a quiet tone.

    ¡°You tested him?¡± Priss inquired with curiosity shading her voice. ¡°The witches thought he was a full manafested and I did as well until I kissed him.¡± Marcus¡¯ face had been twisting into a scowl at the mention of witches and then blanched at the bomb drop from the tail-end of her statement.

    Marcus paused then said, ¡°and.. and why did you do that if you thought he was a full mage?¡±

    ¡°Because I am fully confident in defending myself against a ¡®mage¡¯ when I¡¯m standing right next to them,¡± Priss replied with sarcastic emphasis on ¡®mage¡¯. She then continued, ¡°plus I knew it would throw the witches off, and making them uncomfortable seemed fun.¡±

    ¡°Taunting a coven, even a young one, should not be done lightly. The backing of a guild like yours cannot protect you from every hex or curse,¡± Marcus warned. ¡°Regardless of your antics, you proved he is veiled. So why are you here now?¡±

    Priss shrugged as she answered, ¡°maybe he is just a good kisser. Could find out yourself if you want.¡± Marcus recoiled a bit.

    ¡°No. No thanks. Just don¡¯t get in the habit of being around here.¡± Priss just laughed quietly at that.

    ~

    Terry sighed and steam escaped from his mouth like flames from a dragon as it met the winter air. ¡°Alright, you got me. I wasn¡¯t looking forward to a cold walk alone anyways.¡± Priss only squeezed his arm in reply and the pair journeyed further onto campus.

    Priss¡¯ apartment in the Scholastic Dorm was one of the finer student accommodations on campus. Getting in was a competition of the cumulative GPA among the applicants. Priss, and her roommate, Christie, wouldn¡¯t have gotten in if they were not stellar students. Priss was one of the best students in the physical therapy courses and Christie was an already published English Literature student. Priss had complained to Terry when she had been applying about the ¡®on campus involvement¡¯ section. It was expected that students from this dorm are doing extracurricular activities and being a part of the student life. She bemoaned this part because, in her words, ¡°it is utter nonsense that we are expected to have social lives, work, and complete all classwork perfectly just to live in acceptable rooms.¡± Her complaint made sense to Terry, but he thought that the school probably had a reason for its demands as well.

    The housing that Priss and Christie¡¯s hard work and overtaxed schedules earned them was indeed more apartment than dorm. Each had their own bedroom, a living room sat between the two, and a kitchen that had everything aside from an oven. That particular detail rather upset Christie. She enjoyed baking but the lack of an oven stifled that passion. Terry witnessed her attempt to make cookies on the stove when he visited once. The results were cookies burned on the bottom and raw on the top. An abject failure that encouraged Priss to go out and buy some for her depressed roommate.

    The apartment was dark and blessedly warm when Priss and Terry entered. Turning on the lights with a tap on her slate, a palm-sized piece of tempered glass that rested on the forearm, Priss entered further into her apartment and began taking off her jacket. ¡°So,¡± she said as she threw the jacket on a chair, ¡°ready to find out what my signing bonus and winnings from the tournament are?¡± Terry had taken off his jacket and threw it on top of her¡¯s. He moved into the living room as she asked the question.

    ¡°Ah ta-ta,¡± Priss tisked with a waggling finger, ¡°take your boots off you scoundrel.¡± Terry glanced and witnessed his boots covered in melting snow; which was soaking into the carpet.

    ¡°Yes dear,¡± Terry sighed with dejection. He stole a look at Priss¡¯ feet and saw that she wasn¡¯t wearing her boots. He hadn¡¯t seen her remove them, the sneaky punk. Once his boots were off and next to Priss¡¯, he joined her at the coffee table.

    ¡°Before you show the goods, I have to know why you took the job in the first place Priss,¡± Terry said once he settled in. ¡°Your schedule is already full with school, work, and your extracurriculars. You even said you don¡¯t need the money from it. So why?¡±

    ¡°No real reason,¡± Priss answered quickly, ¡°Dave made the point that I¡¯m already there more often than his other employees other than you. Might as well get paid to be there.¡±

    ¡°How are you going to find time for it though?¡± Terry pressed.

    ¡°Easy,¡± Priss replied, ¡°I¡¯m leaving the martial arts club. I¡¯m one of the better people in it and I really don¡¯t go to the meetings anyways. No fun for me there.¡± The answer did make sense. Terry liked to joke that Priss was a ninja, but the jest wasn¡¯t far off as far as he was concerned. Priss knew several martial arts that Terry didn¡¯t know the names of and had the physical prowess to put real authority behind the talent.

    ¡°That, makes sense I guess,¡± Terry said with hesitance, ¡°as long as you¡¯re ok with it I have nothing to say. It¡¯s your choice after all.¡±

    ¡°Yep, more than alright with it. Now can we move on?¡±

    ¡°Alright, spill it. What bribes did you take?¡± Terry demanded. Priss sat across from him, smiling as if his accusation was the finest of compliments. The tense discussion forgotten. She said nothing though. An eyebrow raise from Terry and a stifled laugh from Priss finally concluded the standoff.

    Taking a breath to recover from her halted humor, Priss spoke, ¡°I ended up getting two packs of Therin¡¯Duel¡¯s Quest.¡± She placed two sealed packs of Fate¡¯s Hand cards on the coffee table between them. ¡°These are mine,¡± she continued.

    ¡°Naturally,¡± Terry said with a hint of confusion, ¡°you won them.¡±  Priss forged forward without answering the unspoken question from Terry.

    ¡°I happened to draw a treasure of sorts from Victor¡¯s Chest that even Dave didn¡¯t known was there.¡± Terry waited for the reveal as Priss reached for the hinted, hidden prize. ¡°Now before I show you this,¡± Priss began to say as she halted her hand below the table, ¡°I want you to know I already decided to give it to you. No arguments. No charity. No refusal. I want none of that from you. It may be useful for you since you sold Gerand.¡± Priss waited for Terry to respond, refusing to move forward until she heard what she wanted.

    ¡°huhhh,¡± Terry sighed, ¡°alright. I will not do any of the above. Though, I go against my better judgement in this decision.¡± Priss smirked at that.

    ¡°By the way,¡± Priss said as she began to raise her hand with the prize, ¡°the door is locked. So you can¡¯t escape from my charity.¡± The door was locked from the inside, so it wasn¡¯t much of a barrier. The message was clear though: she wouldn¡¯t let Terry renege on the verbal contract between them. At least it was more in jest than in threat.

    ¡°Consider me trapped and bound,¡± Terry conceded and then immediately winced as his mind revealed other interpretations of what he just said. With a gleam in her eyes that promised to remind him of that verbal slip up later, Priss finally placed the final pack on the coffee table.

    Upon seeing the final card pack, Terry took in a sharp intake of breath. The pack was not much to look at in comparison to the others. The Therin¡¯Duel¡¯s Quest card packs had artwork that displayed a man in ragged, battle-worn metal armor amongst ruins of an unknown temple. No weapons could be seen around him and the man himself looked to be on death¡¯s door. If the art was hinting at anything regarding the new card set lore, it was that the quest was difficult and destructive.

    The third card pack was quite plain in comparison. A full black background with an open hand facing skyward. Hovering over the hand was a purple and blue vortex. Like one would think a spiral galaxy to look. At the top of the pack is simply read, ¡°Fate¡¯s Hand,¡± with no series name. It was an original card pack of Fate¡¯s Hand from when the game launched. An unopened, original pack of Fate¡¯s Hand could be sold for near a thousand dollars. There were really powerful cards in the progenitor series that haven¡¯t been made since. Terry sat stunned, silent as he stared at the treasure before him. He got into Fate¡¯s Hand just as the second card set was released and only bought two original packs before they were vaulted. The cards he got from them allowed him to start building the monster deck he became marginally known for.

    ¡°Priss, there¡¯s no wa¡­¡± Terry began, but Priss swiftly cut him off.

    ¡°Oh no you don¡¯t, the door is locked,¡± a stern look settled on her features as she glared at Terry. He knew that look. It was her, ¡®I¡¯m being stubborn and you should just accept it and move on,¡¯ look. So, instead of moving an unmovable object, Terry changed tactics.

    ¡°Why? You never got to open one of these. The cards are just as valuable to you as they are to me. You won them for goodness¡¯ sakes!¡± Terry was getting pretty revved up by the end of his tirade. Bare emotion might persuade Priss that she was letting a great opportunity slip away from her. Priss just smiled indulgently and sat there listening until Terry quieted.

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said, ¡°I won them and they would be great cards for anyone really. But, since I won them I get to decide what to do with them. My decision is to give them to you.¡± Conviction filled her voice as she spoke this last part.

    ¡°But, why?¡± Terry quietly asked as his rebellion began to falter.

    ¡°Because I want to. Because I care about you. Because this doesn¡¯t even come close to what you have given me,¡± Priss answered, voicing wavering as emotion began to color it. This was uncommon for Priss. She was in touch with her emotions, she was cheerful and devious most of the time, but hardly censored displays of other emotions rarely made it past her guard. Such an event of uncommon enough that Terry dropped the topic of the original Fate¡¯s Hand card pack and rushed around the coffee table. Putting an arm around her, he asked in a gentle voice, ¡°What is it that I have given you that is so valuable?¡±

    Priss leaned into him, her face burying into that safe spot where the neck and shoulders meet. ¡°Just about everything important to me,¡± she replied a bit muffled as she didn¡¯t move her head to respond.

    ¡°As you have for me. What else is going on? What is this about? Something is weighing on you. You usually don¡¯t show this kind of reaction. Talk to me,¡± Terry consoled as he gently held Priss. A hot tear trailed down his neck as he waited. Pointing out such a thing would be cruel. All Terry should do is quietly sit and let her lean on him. So that is what he did.

    Eventually, Priss let go of him and wiped at her eyes as discreetly as she could. They were lined red from the stress of tears so any subterfuge was useless. That wasn¡¯t the point though, she knew that he knew. It was for readjusting herself to continue the conversation. After a breath, Priss spoke, ¡°I¡­ I have a feeling my dad is going to tell me to distance myself from you soon. Told me that you¡¯re not going anywhere in life and that I can do better with my time and attention elsewhere and with people he approves of.¡± This was both a surprise, but also not terribly unexpected. The revelation was surprise for sure, but Priss¡¯ father¡¯s thoughts regarding Terry were not that big a surprise. He had met Mr. Daniels once before. He was a towering mass of muscle. Mr. Daniels exuded an atmosphere of danger around himself that it made Terry feel like he was standing near the sun. He was the leader of a mercenary company of sorts after all. The man had trained and forged Priss into the well-muscled martial artist that Terry knew. Anyone who trained Priss was bound to be dangerous, and have high expectations apparently.

    ¡°I usually don¡¯t give him the time of day when he tells me such things, but he has been adding such much more pressure at work on top of his insistence about this that I¡¯m getting overwhelmed,¡± Priss confessed.

    ¡°Why did you take a second job at Cardstock then? Your dad won¡¯t like your attention split even further if he is hounding you this much,¡± Terry said as he began piecing together Priss¡¯ predicament.

    ¡°Because it is a legitimate reason that he can¡¯t stop, without making a scene, to see you,¡± Priss answered.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Terry replied intelligently, the puzzle finally showing a complete picture.

    ¡°Yea,¡± Priss agreed as she leaned back into Terry.

    ¡°What is it you want?¡± he asked as he wrapped both arms around her.

    ¡°For my dad to mind his own damned business,¡± Priss hotly complained.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to handle this alone. I will help you,¡± Terry said with conviction and a gentle smile, ¡°I know I can¡¯t help with the work you do with your father, but I am here for you however else I can be.¡± Priss¡¯ dad was frightening, but Priss meant more to him than that fear. More than an original pack of Fate¡¯s Hand cards. He would stand with her against the force that was Mr. Daniels with Priss however he could.

    Priss weakly smiled and said, ¡°You know work with dad is secret, so not much help there to be had. But¡­¡± She didn¡¯t get to finish as Terry interrupted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that,¡± he stated passionately, ¡°Let me support you if you¡¯re going to keep standing up to him like this. You¡¯re doing for me after all; I should stand with you as you do.¡± Priss sighed and pressed her full weight onto Terry.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re saying Terry. If you knew there wouldn¡¯t be much more to be done. Plus, you¡¯d be in more danger. And not just from dad,¡± Priss said. Terry knew that Priss and her father worked amongst licensed bad-asses and did secret things that he had no clue about. Details were never given and he stopped asking. Those licensed bad-asses and secret things might put Terry in danger if he supported Priss in her rebellion for keeping him in her life.

    ¡°I don¡¯t care. You¡¯re important to me, and that is enough to face the danger,¡± Terry earnestly stated.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t kno¡­¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Terry interrupted again, ¡°if I knew I had to go through monsters and minions to support you I¡¯d still do it.¡± He looked down at Priss, who was still leaning heavily against his chest, in attempt to convey the conviction for his statement. It must have worked, because she pushed upward and kissed him.

    After separating for a breath, Priss stood and offered Terry a hand to do the same. ¡°Alright,¡± she said as she hauled him to his feet, ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that. Tomorrow we will talk about it. About everything. For now, let¡¯s go to bed. I¡¯m drained from the day, and that,¡± Priss widely gestured to the spot they had been sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, ¡°and both of us have to wake up early tomorrow.¡± Priss then led Terry to her bedroom as a yawn escaped her lips. Terry followed and attempted to stifle a yawn of his own.

    Once the door to the bedroom closed the lights of the apartment slowly faded to dark. Quiet soon permeated the apartment as its denizens drifted off to sleep in the arms of the each other. The Fate¡¯s Hand card packs laid on the coffee table, forgotten due to the weight of an emotional conversation. A brief and bright flash of light invaded the room¡¯s darkness. The flare was emitted from the original card pack of Fate¡¯s Hand. Had an observer been present, they may have witnessed the purple and blue spiral on the pack change colors. Its arcane galaxy now shone with an orange and green weave of light throughout it. But no observer was present, and no one noticed the slight tremor of magic that came with the change. At least, no one who had been physically watching the cards.

    Part Two End

 Part Three: Preparing the Deck

    Part Three

    Preparing the Deck

    If dreams were omens or portents of the future, or of desires, then Terry would make for a poor Oracle. Or at least a rather cryptic one. When Terry dreamed, it was usually of the dark place. The place that he sometimes went to in his waking hours that Priss knew and worried about. He didn¡¯t tell her how often he visited it in his dreams. There was no need to worry Priss further about something so harmless. Well, that is what Terry kept telling himself.

    In the dark place Terry couldn¡¯t see anything, couldn¡¯t hear anything, could taste anything, and couldn¡¯t smell anything. At least at first. Those came later. What Terry sensed first was by touch: it was always cold. A chill would creep under his skin starting at his fingertips and toes. Gradually it climbed to his hands and feet, then up his arms and legs. It was at this time another sense would pick up something. Usually it was his hearing; though sometimes a smell would intrude first. He would begin to hear a crunching sound. Like the sound of stepping through snow that had a thin layer of ice overtop of it. The sound would start at what could only be guessed at as a vast distance.

    The only way Terry could hear it was because it was the only sound. In the absence of everything, anything is deafening. As the crunching grew closer, it would begin to change. The crunching became heavier. Like the broken material became something else, something stronger. The louder cracks sent shivers down Terry¡¯s spine every time. His bones quivered in terror, like it was them that was being sundered under the approaching force.

    Smell and taste came next. Always together. This was the most varied influx of sensations. The common was copper. Copper would seep through his nose, lay heavy on his tongue, and claw its way down his throat. Terry wasn¡¯t a fool, he had bit his lip and tongue enough times to know what he could smell and taste. It was blood; thick, warm, and heavy blood. More than he had ever been around in his waking hours. Thinking of it as blood made the entire experience worse. So Terry opted to keep thinking of it as copper; to maintain his mind and stomach through the experience.

    Copper grew heavier on his senses as the heavy, crunching footsteps drew closer. His ears would begin to pick up a new sound around this time. Deep breaths could been heard in tandem with the crunching. It was not the labored breathing of one in exercise, but the cavernous, paced breathing of a large being simply moving forward. Tension would grow in Terry from anticipation. His very soul knew that something was approaching him, and he was unable to do anything about it. No escape could be chased. No sanctuary could be sought. No resistance could be rallied. All Terry could do was wait, wait in terror.

    By this point, in the standard dream-visit to the dark place the crunching would stop. The chill that gradually crept through Terry¡¯s body had covered his entire being and began to take away the feeling that marked its progress with numbness. The deep breaths would sound directly before Terry. The source being only steps away from him. It was in this moment that Terry¡¯s final sense received stimulus: sight. What Terry would see wasn¡¯t much, but it sent fear to his mind and a spark of¡­ well Terry didn¡¯t know how to identify it actually¡­ a spark of something to his soul. A pair of grey eyes would stare back at him. They were enormous in comparison to his own. Dinner plates might be a fair parallel for size, but then again those eyes were all Terry could see in the abyss so perhaps the comparison didn¡¯t matter. Dinner plates came in too many sizes anyways.

    The grey eyes didn¡¯t contain malice in them. Malice required disdain and hatred towards what was being viewed. Terry didn¡¯t think that the eyes¡¯ bearer had those particular emotions toward him. There was no support for this idea, but it was his only thought on the matter. That didn¡¯t mean there weren¡¯t other emotions swimming through those grey eyes. If Terry had to put what he thought he saw into words it would be, ¡®the look of a predator.¡¯ He felt like prey under the gaze of a great predator when looking into those eyes. The eyes never attacked though, never hunted him. They just did what eyes do, and watch. It was extremely nerve-wracking because Terry always felt an immense pressure coming from the entity. He had come to the conclusion that the eyes were waiting for something. In no dream did he figure out what the eyes sought after. They only observed patiently.

    Tonight¡¯s dream followed the usual pattern. Darkness. Cold. Crunching. Copper. More crunching. Breathes. Eyes. This was just another visit to the dark place. An abyss that had eyes watching Terry. However, this dream became different after an eternity¡¯s long staring contest: the eyes shift their gaze to something beyond Terry. Terry chanced a glance behind him to see what distracted the eyes and gave a shriek of horror. Not in terror for himself, but for Priss. He saw Priss through what could only be described as a giant portal. It was ovular in shape, the edges colored orange with crackling and fraying energy. Priss did not seem to notice the tear in reality because she was focused on something to the side of the portal¡¯s frame. Whatever she had her attention on it truly alarmed and frightened her. Terry saw Priss¡¯ eyes wide with fear and her arm outstretched, as if trying to reach for something. Terry took a step towards Priss. He had to help her. Had to hold her. Had to tell her. Had to step forward.

    Each step towards the portal dropped a great weight onto Terry. His footfalls grew heavier and crunching could be heard beneath his own feet this time. He stumbled once the weight became too great and bit his lip. Blood ran heavy and hot down his chin and in his mouth. Terry kept struggling forward towards the portal, towards Priss. Soon his labored breaths filled his ears as his lungs demanded air to push onward. Closer to the portal Terry got, the more weight Terry had to bear. He was crawling after a moment, a minute, a year. The time Terry struggled in this abyss was not the same as the time Priss went through it seemed. She moved slowly, too slowly for it to be an act. More akin to a slideshow. But those extended moments allowed Terry to observe every line of fear on her face. To see the helplessness in her eyes. She wasn¡¯t hurt physically, but she was hurting. Something horrible was happening to her and Terry did not know what. He had to get to her though. Through the portal; one crawling step at a time.

    His fingers could almost touch the portal. They were a mere hair¡¯s breadth away. The weight bearing down on Terry was too much though. He felt that his being was getting crushed. His essence and soul flattened and made part of the nothing around him. That didn¡¯t matter though. She did, and he could reach her. To a side Terry heard the crunching that signified movement in the dark place. Glancing away from Priss for the first time he saw the grey eyes looking back at him. Terry saw something other than a predator¡¯s glare in them. He witnessed what he thought was confusion? No, concern. The eyes were concerned. Why would the eyes be concerned? About what? The eyes look through the portal and Terry followed the gaze. Priss was still in the frame of the portal and had moved a bit more towards whatever she was running for. Despair still painted her features. It broke Terry¡¯s heart. He couldn¡¯t move though. The dark place trapped him at the cusp of being there with her. Terry glanced back at the grey eyes, surprised to see the concern still in them. In desperation, Terry gazed into those grey eyes and begged, ¡°please, I¡¯ve never asked for anything. Not for these dreams to stop, not for you to stop looking at me like food. I only beg this: help me, please. Just this one time is enough. I can¡¯t do this alone, I¡¯m weak and I need strength to be there with her. Please, help me be strong enough for just that.¡±

    The grey eyes gazed into his, weighing what Terry asked of them, unreadable in this moment of forever. Then they blinked. For the first time Terry could recall, the grey eyes blinked at him. A voice, a rich baritone, ¡°I find your character and virtues to be of righteous origin. Your search for power is beyond yourself, but not for yourself. I accept you as my soul-bond. I will be your guardian and companion. I am the symbol and manifestation of your kindness, your love, your determination, and your loyalty. I am Winter, call upon me when the time comes and I will be there, for that time and forever after.¡±  With that the grey eyes had a white mass surround them. It formed into a bestial shape with four legs. It nudged Terry with its, probably, nose and then padded towards the portal. Once it was there it jumped through and Terry woke up.

    Terry rose out of bed with a start. Wide-eyed he look around hastily and then calmed as he realized he was in Priss¡¯ room. He had stayed the night in her apartment. Where was she? Looking around the room with intent this time, Terry saw Priss¡¯ slate project ¡¯06:15¡¯ above its screen. The newer models of slate could project their information above the glass that attached at the forearm. Terry wasn¡¯t sure how it all worked, but it was a lot like the holograms from old sci-fi movies. Priss was certainly not in the room. Not terribly surprising. At this hour she would consider herself sleeping in.

    The vestiges of sleep long forgotten in the near immediate wake up after one of his dark place dreams, Terry rose from the bed and headed towards the living room. He felt weird. The dream was different than usual, very different. He couldn¡¯t place what exactly it was either. Like most dreams the details faded. Once in view of the living room, attempts to recall were forgotten. Priss was set up on an exercise mat doing one-handed pushups. Each rep was followed by a swift rotation of hands. The speed of each rep put most fitness minded folks to shame if they had been using both hands.

    It was a damn impressive display of physical prowess. Terry quietly watched as he leaned on the doorframe. Since he met Priss, and got to know her, he saw things that he would have pegged as impossible if he hadn¡¯t seen it in person. This being almost one of them. No matter the wonder of what Priss was accomplishing on that exercise mat, aside from distracting Terry, this was one of her more ¡°tame¡± workouts. A ¡°warm-up¡± as she called it; didn¡¯t want to do anything too strenuous before work.

    ¡°Good morning handsome,¡± Priss called out as she switched workouts to do some sort of upside down plank against the wall. ¡°Care to join me?¡±

    ¡°No thanks,¡± Terry replied, ¡°last time I took that suggestion I felt pain in muscles I didn¡¯t know existed. Why don¡¯t I make breakfast instead?¡± With that, began a hasty, and tactical, retreat to the kitchen.

    ¡°You have breakfast with Dave and Anne this morning, remember?¡± Priss said.

    ¡°Oh yeah, but you don¡¯t, so breakfast for one it is. Want it light or heavy?¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the most wonderful homebody,¡± Priss teased, ¡°light breakfast please.¡±

    ¡°As the Prissess requests,¡± Terry replied with a mock courtier¡¯s bow. Soon after he had two eggs on a skillet being cooked easy over. As the apartment filled with the aroma of eggs and coffee Priss stopped her warm-up routine and sat down next to the coffee table. Terry carried over a plate of eggs and a cup of orange juice for her and quickly returned with a mug of coffee for himself.

    ¡°Awake yet?¡± Priss asked around a mouthful of eggs.

    ¡°First off, that¡¯s disgusting. Eat then speak,¡± Terry said. Priss shrugged, this was a ritual by habit and repetition. ¡°Secondly, I just handled a hot stove to make you eggs. I should be awake by now.¡±

    ¡°Wow, someone is feisty this morning,¡± Priss said, thankfully after swallowing a mouthful of egg. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Terry didn¡¯t know how to really answer that question. He felt weird after waking up from the dream. But what kind of answer was, ¡°I had a bad dream¡± for a twenty year old?

    ¡°Nothing new,¡± he finally answered after taking a sip of coffee, ¡°you know I get anxious before you go to work with your family.¡± Priss nodded sagely as she downed the rest of her orange juice. ¡°I know you can take care of yourself, and I won¡¯t do anything to stop you. But¡­ but I just worry is all.¡± His answer had started as a deflection but turned out to be another aspect of the truth.

    Priss reached out and put a hand on his, ¡°I know you worry; and I make sure to be the smartest and safest on the team so you don¡¯t have to be so worried. I told you last night that I¡¯d share the mysteries on what I do today, and I will, tonight. That conversation is going to be too long for this morning. So please, be patient and trust that I am as safe as I can be out there.¡±

    Terry nodded in ascent, ¡°of course. I can do that for you.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Priss said as she snagged Terry¡¯s coffee from him, ¡°now we can move on to something we can handle this morning: the unveiling of these cards!¡± Terry glanced to the card pack that Priss had given him the night before. It still rested where it had been forgotten the night. Patiently awaited its own reveal.

    ¡°You sure¡­¡± he began to say, but Priss interjected.

    ¡°Yes! We did this last night. My mind hasn¡¯t changed. Get over it, and open the damn cards already!¡±

    Terry let out a breath then nodded, ¡°Alright. As my Prissess demands.¡± That comment earned him a light jab on the shoulder and a soft chuckle. Both then looked at the card pack resting between them. The image of the out-stretched hand manipulating the magical aura looked to be shimmering. Not actually though. Must be an optical illusion built into the exterior of the card pack they didn¡¯t pick up on last night. With a practiced hand Terry broke the sealed top of the card pack and removed its contents. Five Fate¡¯s Hands cards lay on the coffee table, backside up, between Priss and Terry.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°That¡¯s interesting. Were the magic spirals orange and green in the original set?¡± Priss asked as she leaned closer to inspect the cards.

    ¡°No, always purple and blue well as I can remember,¡± Terry answered, ¡°Probably just a faulty printing though. As long as the gaming table recognizes and registers them it doesn¡¯t really matter.¡±

    ¡°True enough. Now let¡¯s flip these babies over and see what you got!¡± Priss said excitedly. Terry nodded his head in agreement. There was always an air of excitement when revealing new cards. Never knew what treasures you would uncover.

    Mutation: Alacrity

    Class: Common (Enchantment)

    A mutation for familiars that improves their overall speed and dexterity.

    It was a card with a bronze border, a common. Almost every monster or beast deck for beginners had an alacrity mutation in them, several usually. It was easy to understand and useable by just about all familiars. That, however, make it nearly useless in high level play¡ªit was far too weak to be impactful against more rare and specialized enchantments.

    ¡°Well,¡± Priss said, ¡°can only go up from here.¡± She had been trying to console Terry about getting a beginner card in an original pack, but he just stared dumbly at the card. ¡°What is it?¡± She finally asked after waiting for him to fill her in.

    ¡°It¡¯s different,¡± Terry answered, ¡°the image is moving more than I remember it doing before. And the description is missing the specific increase to the speed attribute. There should be a number, like ¡®+1.¡¯¡±

    Priss shrugged, ¡°maybe that wasn¡¯t needed in the first series of the game. The game tables would recognize the card and enable its effect on a familiar.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Terry agreed, ¡°but I know a few players that wouldn¡¯t play the card on principle due to the vague bonuses it provided.¡±

    ¡°Does that include you?¡± Priss inquired conspiratorially.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Terry replied, ¡°play with a card long enough and you get a feel for how well it works. Besides if the artwork is any indication, this is a variant card. Might do more than we think.¡± Priss nodded in agreement, but before adding further to the conversation, Terry flipped the next card. Priss had the mug of coffee halfway to her lips, as if on pause. Terry¡¯s hand had not moved a muscle. It hovered just to the side of the newly unveiled card.

    ¡°Is it real?¡± Priss quietly asked as the mug was placed on the coffee table, forgotten.

    ¡°If Alacrity is real, then logical would lead us to believe so,¡± Terry answered with trepidation. ¡°I have no prior experience for comparison. The card between them sat placidly on the coffee table. A vague, bestial image created out of a white fog with piercing grey eyes commanded the artwork of a card with a blue border.

    True Familiar

    Class: Mythic (Summon)

    Summons a permanent familiar that bonds to the soul of its mage. The true familiar shares power and grows in strength with its soul-bond. A True familiar¡¯s form is a reflection of the character and virtues of the soul-bond.

    Terry¡¯s gaze went between the class of mythic, written plainly underneath the name of the card, and the grey eyes of the artwork. Those eyes were eerily similar the ones he saw in his dreams. They didn¡¯t have the predatory glint to them though. They seemed to just be waiting. When Terry was about to look away and say something to Priss he stopped. The eyes blinked. Blinked at him. Terry felt an odd recognition at that, but couldn¡¯t properly recall why. Priss interrupting his musings with her own.

    ¡°Is this how mythic cards work?¡± she asked, ¡°you get a permanent familiar. How does it work? Do you have to draw the card and play it first? Do you start the game with it?¡±

    As Priss took a breath to continue the rapid fire questions Terry spoke up, ¡°I have no idea. There is no precedence or mechanic I know of for such a thing. I¡¯m curious about this ¡®soul-bond¡¯ idea. Since such a thing doesn¡¯t actually exist, how are the parameters defined?¡± Both Priss and Terry involuntarily twitched at that last statement. One for knowing that it was possible. One for not knowing, but feeling that it was real.

    Priss reached for the mug of coffee and quickly filled the air by saying, ¡°a problem to solve at the game table. Flip the next.¡± After speaking her piece, she hid behind the mug of coffee. Terry was starting to think he should have just made enough for two mugs at this point. Too late now though, so he acquiesced and flipped the third card.

    Sanguine Bat

    Class: Uncommon (Summon)

    Conjures a cat-size bat imbued with the ability to transfer life energy from its bite victims to itself or its mage.

    This was not an earth-shattering reveal like the ¡®True Familiar¡¯ card prior. Both Priss and Terry had heard of the ¡®Sanguine Bat¡¯ card before. Terry even ran a few in his own monster decks. It wasn¡¯t an awe-inspiring, game-winning powerhouse of a familiar. The colloquially named ¡°vamp bat¡± by the Fate¡¯s Hand community was a self-healing, highly mobile, pain in the ass. It was a familiar that could be dealt with, but it took attention and resources away from the real threats a monster or beast deck could bring down to bear.

    ¡°A vamp bat isn¡¯t a bad card to keep in your back pocket,¡± Priss said. She meant it too. Before getting her ¡®Lesser Seraphim¡¯ which could fly naturally, these flying pests would draw out matches long enough for her to lose more often than she did these days. So the ¡®Sanguine Bat¡¯ had a special place of respect and hate in her heart.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Terry said distractedly as he stared intently at the card.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Priss asked looking more intently herself.

    ¡°I know the artwork on these cards is supposed to make them more realistic, it¡¯s part of the reason I love just having Fate¡¯s Hand cards, but I swear that the bat just looked at me, nodded, then looked away,¡± Terry explained finally looking up at Priss. She indeed saw the bat looking away from the perspective of the picture, but had failed to notice the rest of Terry¡¯s moment with the card.

    ¡°Probably nothing,¡± she said, ¡°artwork is known to glitch on occasion and it wouldn¡¯t be the first mannerism an artist coded into their work.¡±

    Terry nodded in agreement, ¡°Yeah, probably just that.¡± He didn¡¯t sound too convinced, but didn¡¯t press the issue further. Neither of them could verify a theory regarding this, so best to move on. To further that policy Terry flipped the next card and a bronze border greeted them.

    Unsettling Fog

    Class: Common (Field)

    Creates a thing shroud of fog for a 50ft radius. Entities within the fog hear murmurs that reduce awareness and gradually foster hallucinations. A powerful, or willful, being maybe unaffected by these conditions.

    ¡°Don¡¯t see field cards very often,¡± Terry commented.

    ¡°Yea, probably closer to uncommon in class by the standards of the meta right now,¡± Priss added. Field cards place an effect or condition over a wide area within the arena familiars fought in. Some were more benign, like a fog or light misting of rain, others were near catastrophic and would rend the earth or shatter the sky. Field cards had begun to lose their usage in common practice for Fate¡¯s Hand though. New rules from the release of the third series placed field cards into the same category as enchantments for the purposes of how many cards of a specific type were allowed in the deck. Other enchantment cards, such as mutations and armaments, were just too useful in comparison for most players. The only real exception was if you had one of those catastrophe-level field cards or one that worked well with your primary familiar.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mean to be harsh, but that card seems pretty useless. I don¡¯t think any primary familiar is going to fall for that. And the phrasing makes it seem like your own familiars are just as susceptible to it,¡± Priss said as she finished of Terry¡¯s coffee. Or her coffee, two-thirds possession being ownership or something like that.

    ¡°Have to test it out to be certain,¡± Terry answered, ¡°I don¡¯t have much experience with field cards. Didn¡¯t know what they were when I started playing and then the rule change dropped and I didn¡¯t invest the time to learning.¡±  Without waiting to continue to conversation, Terry unveiled the final card. Both Priss and Terry stiffened involuntarily and then looked at each other. The artwork was similar to the art of the card pack itself in one way, but vastly different in another. There was the iconic spiral galaxy bundle of arcane energy. It actively swirled with orange and green magic in a clockwise motion. At the center of that orange-green spiral was a stylized eye. Like ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics style of artwork. The border of the card was the second blue border on the table.

    Fate Sight

    Class: Mythic (Magnum Opus)

    Gain the ability to see the Fate auras of the beings which can be seen. When focused with enough power, the potentials of the future can be seen as well.

    ¡°So, is it a hand revealing card?¡± Terry asked, ¡°because I¡¯m having a hard time deciphering what this actually does on the game table. If it wasn¡¯t so vague I would be more excited and less confused.¡± Priss didn¡¯t acknowledge what Terry said; she kept staring at the card with a fierce intent and didn¡¯t say a word. Terry took a breath to say something more, but a heavy knock on the apartment door made both of them jump.

    ¡°Priscilla,¡± a deep voice boomed from the hall, ¡°open this door, immediately.¡± Priss was up and walking to the door before the voice was done speaking.

    As she walked past Terry she whispered, ¡°put those cards in your pocket and do not let him see them under any circumstances.¡± Though spoken softly, the tone demanded obedience without question. Terry complied with a nod and quickly gather the five cards and slide them into his pocket. As he did this, Priss opened the door to the hall and in stepped a man.

    This man stood tall. Taller than most tall people by a full head. That height was accented by the bulging muscles that radiated strength and power beneath clothing that seemed to fit a bit too tightly. Even the dark winter jacket worn by him hardly muffled the imposing aura of the man. Sharp black eyes scanned the room, burrowed into Terry, then went to Priss.

    ¡°Report,¡± he ordered in that deep voice, ¡°What was that?¡±

    Priss, who already stood and walked with impeccable posture, straightened further and answered, ¡°an accidental discharge of my equipment sir. I was distracted by Terry and my focus slipped. I will not do so again.¡± The man did not blink as Priss completely changed gears and became more soldier than woman. Terry was confused as to why Priss had covered up the existence of the Fate¡¯s Hand cards with a lie, but then blushed at the implication of that falsehood. He quickly glanced at the man then down at the empty coffee mug in embarrassment and despair. Priss said that to her father after all.

    ¡°We will have a debrief regarding your distraction later,¡± Mr. Daniels said, ¡°prepare yourself and gear to leave in fifteen, and, boy,¡± he continued, ¡°you will leave.¡± Not a request. Another command. Like he was another soldier in his super-secret squad. Terry didn¡¯t like the presumption or the command, but he was completely cowed by the man. There was no inclination, aside from the swiftly vanishing fantasy, of disobeying him. Disobedience had consequences. Plus, Terry respected Priss and didn¡¯t want to cause issues between father and daughter. At least more issues than he was causing already.

    ¡°Uhh,¡± Terry stammered, his voice betraying him, ¡°Yes sir¡­ will do. I mean, I¡¯ll get out of the way so Priss can get to work.¡± Standing as he spoke, Terry moved to head for Priss¡¯ room to gather his things. He stopped as he thought that Mr. Daniels might bodily harm him if he knew he had slept in the same room as his daughter. Terry liked being bodily whole.

    ¡°I¡¯ll assist Terry and meet you in the vehicle,¡± Priss intoned while grabbing Terry¡¯s arm and dragging him into the bedroom.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she whispered after closing the door and wrapping her arms around Terry. ¡°Dad wasn¡¯t supposed to be here for another hour and I didn¡¯t want you to see that.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on Priss? Why did you cover up the cards?¡± Terry asked, concern and confusion coloring his voice.

    ¡°More than I have time to explain right now. I promise that tonight we will talk about it all and I¡¯ll answer your questions. Can you be patient with me, please?¡± She asked, her plea filling her eyes as she looked at Terry. He took a moment to look at the woman in his arms. She was stunningly beautiful to him, even in simple workout clothes; she was strong and powerful, the strength of her embrace proved that; and, most importantly, he knew by looking at her that she genuinely cared about him. Whatever she was hiding right now, whatever she couldn¡¯t say, was protecting him somehow. From what he didn¡¯t know, not yet.

    ¡°Of course I can,¡± Terry finally said. She squeezed him and murmured a quiet thank you. As he held her, Terry¡¯s mind flashed an image of Priss in distress. Terror and pain painted across her features as she ran, arms outstretched, towards something he could not see. The image haunted him. He didn¡¯t want it to be true. It wasn¡¯t real. A fear playing across his mind is all. But the image did inspire Terry to say something more meaningful to Priss. Firming his resolve, Terry came to a decision and looked at Priss, ¡°Be careful today, I¡­ I couldn¡¯¡­¡± he sighed and took a breath, ¡°I love you Priss, I know you know, but we never said it aloud and I feel like I need to right now.¡±

    Terry¡¯s statement wasn¡¯t completely honest. Not the loving Priss part, for him that is complete truth. It is the ¡°we haven¡¯t said it aloud before part¡± that isn¡¯t completely honest. Priss had said it once after a night of bar-hopping around downtown Fallsbend about a year ago. Both were extremely drunk at the time and Priss was adamant the day after that she wouldn¡¯t say something so important for the first time while completely smashed. Terry dropped the matter because he could have remembered wrong. He was completely smashed that night as well.

    Priss stiffened for a moment, then melted into Terry. ¡°You jerk,¡± she said with a quivering voice, ¡°why did you have to say that now, of all times?¡± It was a rhetorical question, but Terry answered anyways.

    ¡°Felt like I had to. I had a dream last night that scared me pretty bad. You were there and something terrible was happening or happened, not really sure. I just remember you looking terrified. So I needed you to hear that so you knew I need you to come back safe for whatever it is you¡¯re going to do,¡± Terry said as he placed a hand on top of Priss¡¯ head while she leaned into him.

    ¡°You make me feel like such a girl at times like this,¡± Priss complained as she stepped back and wiped at a tear.

    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, you¡¯re the muscle-bound, sexy ninja out of the two of us,¡± Terry said with a grin in attempt to lighten the atmosphere that settled around them.

    ¡°Damn right I am,¡± Priss agreed in attempt to also lighten the mood, ¡°I will come back to you, safe. When I do, we will figure all this out. But for right now, I have to go. I really don¡¯t want to, but it can¡¯t be helped.

    ¡°I¡¯ll call when I¡¯m free from work and head straight for you. Hope breakfast with Dave and Anne is nice. Bound to be a better morning than mine,¡± Priss said as she began pulling out a few black duffle bags from her closest.

    ¡°Sounds good to me. Go do what it is you do. When we settle down for the evening, we can make tacos and talk,¡± Terry told her with a more genuine smile. Tacos were their mutual favorite food and was something neither took casually. It made at least part of the evening something to look forward to.

    ¡°mmm,¡± Priss purred in anticipation, ¡°that sounds great. Now get out of here, I got to get dressed and you don¡¯t get to see my ninja outfit.¡± An idiotic grin spread across Terry¡¯s face as he heard that. He was pretty sure she wasn¡¯t a ninja, but it was a fun joke nonetheless between them.

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Terry mock saluted and then put his jacket on.

 Part Four: Unveiled

    Part 4

    Unveiled

    When Terry left the apartment Mr. Daniels was nowhere in sight. A big, black electric SUV sat by the curb near the Scholastic Dorm entrance. It was a safe assumption that it was the Daniels¡¯ vehicle. It was probably the only vehicle in the area that could comfortably fit a man of Mr. Daniels¡¯ size. Offering a friendly wave in that general direction, no need to be rude, Terry set off across campus towards Cardstock. Sunrise was another hour or so away, so Terry navigated by the glow of street lamps. It was probably due to the poor lighting, but Terry swore he saw something in the shadows, following him. It was only caught in the corner of his eye, swirling shadows in his peripheral vision.

    When Terry would turn his head in the direction of the dancing shadows there would be nothing but poor lighting there. If anything was shifting in the shade, it was more ephemeral than solid. Crossing another street on his way to work, Terry saw an amorphous shroud in the corner of his eye. It was roughly man-sized cloud of smoke moved out of the shadows and towards him. When he looked directly in that direction there was nothing but dim light and snow. Terry thought he saw a person¡¯s silhouette within that smoke, but he couldn¡¯t prove anything.

    A block further Terry was waiting at another crosswalk. He idly looked around him and followed the headlights of a passing car has it went down the street. Terry¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he saw a man become visible in the headlights. Harsh shadows played across his features due to the direct light, but there was what could only be described as black smoke rolling off his form. The smoke seemed to suck in the light that struck it, making the outline of the man clear, but the details difficult to ascertain. Terry blinked to make sure what he saw was real. When he looked again the man in smoke was gone. The occurrence happened too swiftly for Terry to confirm if it actually occurred or not. It could have been his imagination. His mind wasn¡¯t truly focused on his surroundings. The events of the morning dominated his thoughts.

    What his mind focused on exchanged itself for a moment on the revelation of his new Fate¡¯s Hand cards to the confusing and secretive actions of Priss once her father showed up. The two mythic-class cards were amazing, they were probably powerful cards, their flavor text did not really align with the Fate¡¯s Hand cards that Terry had experience with and left him confused as to how they were used in game. But, they were mythic cards, they might have their own rules that would be applied once they came into play. He would tell Dave about them and see if he would be willing to test them out after breakfast¡ªpurely for their mutual education regarding mythic cards.

    Priss was also on Terry¡¯s mind. These thoughts were a concoction of concern and curiosity. Both were not new to Terry regarding Priss. She had a secretive and dangerous job with her family. Whatever it is they did allowed her to become dangerous when she chose to; so what did they do that required such skills? ¡°Be patient. Priss said she would tell me about everything tonight,¡± Terry muttered to himself as he crossed the street once the light allowed it. ¡°She will come home, like every other time, and we can finally talk about it.¡± Terry had always been curious about what Priss¡¯ family did for work, but he had been content with knowing she came back safe. Now, however, he had a newfound desire to know due to what happened this morning. He also wanted to know why Mr. Daniels couldn¡¯t be allowed to see the Fate¡¯s Hand cards. Priss involvement with the game wasn¡¯t really a secret as far as Terry knew. Then again, she didn¡¯t offer much information regarding her family in general.

    Distracted by these tumultuous thoughts, Terry began to feel uncomfortably warm in his jacket and began to unzip it to take it off. Halfway through the process he stopped in his tracks as he realized what he was doing in the middle of winter. Terry finally tore himself away from his thoughts and glanced at his surroundings.

    The winter streets of downtown Fallsbend were gone. Terry was surrounded by trees covered in the blooming greenery of summer. As he spun on a heel to take in everything around him in disbelief, the sounds and smells finally filtered in for him. The chirping and chattering of small woodland creatures greeted his ears. Fresh air and the scent of animals and plants registered to his nose at the same time. Terry hardly left the city, but Priss did for work. The scent of woods was something he had smelled off of her before. His most outdoors experience was at the small city park we crossed on the way to and from his apartment. This was something wholly different and unreal.

    Once immediate curiosity was sated, Terry¡¯s rational mind wrested control once more. His eyes widened in realization to the fact he was not where he should be. There was no snow, no biting cold, not even a single building in sight. Terry was now going from uncomfortably warm in his jacket to unbearably hot, so he finally took it off. Stepping forward, Terry reached out and touched one of the trees surrounding him. The bark was rough against his fingertips as his hand gentled trailed down the side of the tree. It was real. But how? Virtual Reality was getting better, sure. There were sensory pods, but those were for the military and far too wealthy to play with. Terry never got to use one, just read the reviews. This was far too¡­ far too tangible for even the sensory pods.

    ¡°How did I get here?¡± Terry voiced his tentative acceptance to the very realistic environment around him. He voiced the question with no real intention on getting an answer, just filling the air. An answer did come though.

    ¡°The more productive question to ask, Terence, is ¡®why am I here?¡¯¡± a familiar voice spoke from behind Terry. Spinning around, Terry saw a man cross through a threshold of smoke and become whole.

    ¡°Dr. Ramirez?¡± Terry questioned with disbelief coloring his voice. ¡°Why are you here? What is this place? Am I dreaming?¡± Dr. Ramirez was Terry¡¯s old creative writing professor from university. He was an older Mexican-American man with short, dark hair and an immaculate goatee. At the moment he wore black slacks, a dress jacket with a white collared shirt. On the right side of his jacket a chained lapel pin with a stylized lion wrapped around a dark gem sat. The gem seemed to gradually shift from black, to a deep purple, then back to black. It was mesmerizing.

    ¡°Those questions are not an improvement,¡± Dr. Ramirez said, ignoring the questions and Terry¡¯s pleading tone. ¡°I am here as a proctor and a messenger. Listen to what I have to say well, any mundane questions you can ask your martial monkey later.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Terry asked dumbly. Dr. Ramirez sighed.

    ¡°Still asking the wrong questions,¡± he said, ¡°listen closely. I am only going over this once.¡±

    ¡°This,¡± he gestured to the surrounding woods, ¡°is a very real place as is everything, and I mean everything, else is as well. Consider your present predicament a test, not because you¡¯re being graded, but because there are parties interested on if you survive. For this test I am your proctor, and by this I mean that I brought you here and I tell you the expectations. No assistance will be provided.

    ¡°How to pass this test is simple, follow only these two criteria: one, survive here in the Scarred Wood until the end of the day tomorrow. Two, discover your attunement. The first part will be exceptionally easier the sooner you succeed on the second,¡± Dr. Ramirez said as he listed the criteria off his left hand.

    ¡°How am I expected to survive in the woods? I have no idea what to do here?!¡± Terry said with a yelp quickly following as a tendril of smoke rose from his former professor and smacked Terry across the chest.

    ¡°No interrupting,¡± Dr. Ramirez stated with not a care in his tone, ¡°The next duty I have is to be a messenger.¡± With that he reached into an interior pocket of his jacket and retrieved something. A light underhand toss sent a small object sailing through the air between the two. Not expecting the action, Terry fumbled and dropped it on the ground. A ring nestled itself amongst the blades of grass at Terry¡¯s feet. After examining it for a moment or two, Terry gingerly lifted the ring from the ground. It was made out of a dark stone he wasn¡¯t familiar with. Heat a bit warmer than his own pleasantly radiated from it. The top of the ring had the figure of a bird in flight engraved into it. The engraving was filled with silver, creating a contrast that allowed the artwork to be clearly seen.

    The ring was beautiful, well-crafted, and certainly nothing Terry should have a right to have.

    ¡°Everything you will need is inside from what I¡¯m told,¡± Dr. Ramirez said, ¡°not sure why the Merlin gave you one of those rings, and I¡¯m even dumbstruck that it was mana-bound to you.¡± Disdain crept into the former professor¡¯s voice as he spoke that last bit. Terry was taken aback by the tone. Dr. Ramirez¡¯s creative writing class had been his favorite before dropping out of university. He thought that there had been a healthy rapport between them. Either something changed or the professor had an incredible professional mask.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± Dr. Ramirez stated after taking a breath to reign in his leaked disdain, ¡°it¡¯s nothing personal. That ring is both powerful in its arcane function and in what it represents. Very few are given the opportunity to have one, let alone get it mana-bound. You are very fortunate.¡± This was more akin to the teacher Terry remembered, but he was still off put by all of this.

    ¡°Mana-bound?¡± Terry asked, ¡°What does that mean? What is this ring exactly? Who is the Merlin?¡±

    ¡°Those might be the first useful questions you¡¯ve asked yet,¡± Dr. Ramirez replied with a slight curl to the corner of his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll answer two of your questions.

    ¡°Mana-bound means that an objects imbued with arcane power is directly linked with a particular mage¡¯s mana signature. To put it simply, only the particular mage can use an object mana-bound to them. There are ways to override this, but it is time consuming and rarely worth the effort. Just having an arcane object itself is a rarity these days.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, and wait,¡± Terry hurriedly said, ¡°mages? As in magic? Like fantasy?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Dr. Ramirez stated with another smirk, ¡°if that is really your second question. Yes, like magic in the fantasy stories you wrote in my class. Well, perhaps not exactly like that, but the idea is sound.¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be true, magic is just fantasy. Meant for stories and games,¡± Terry said with disbelief.

    ¡°Terence, you watched me walk out of smoke not five minutes ago and I struck you with smoke mere moments ago. What part of science allows me to accomplish such feats?¡± Dr. Ramirez asked.

    ¡°uhh,¡± Terry sputtered, not knowing how the rules of reality he was familiar with could logically answer the question.

    ¡°Remember what I said at the start of all this, everything around you is real, everything that is here is real. No story, no fantasy, just another part of the world that is hidden from plain sight to most,¡± Dr. Ramirez said to Terry. ¡°Now the last bit of my job here, a message. The Arcanists, which is a group of mages from the Midwestern United States, would be delighted to accept you into our ranks and train you as a mage should you pass your test and have interest.

    ¡°Whether you accept,¡± he continued before Terry could raise his voice with another question, ¡°is up to you. The Arcanists do not force other mages into our ranks, even if we offer the best protection and resources for our kind. Regardless of your decision, know that powerful figures and interested parties will take notice of you eventually. The Merlin and the Arcanists already have. Choose your future wisely.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s cryptic,¡± Terry said in a deadpan voice, ¡°now can you explain all this more? I have no idea who or what any of that is, I don¡¯t know where I am, I have no clue why I¡¯m being forced to do some test, and I am so confused about what the hell is happening right now!¡± Terry¡¯s voice grew to a frustrated pitch by the end of his string of statements. Dr. Ramirez quietly gazed at Terry after his outburst before replying.

    ¡°Nope,¡± he finally said, ¡°I won¡¯t answer any more questions. I gave you two, and it is no problem of mine that yours were poor ones. However, I will offer some free advice,¡± he paused for dramatic effect, ¡°fight well or run fast.¡± With that Dr. Ramirez darkly chuckled to himself and began to step back. As he did a thick plume of smoke began to form behind him. Once he was fully obscured a thunderclap echoed through the woods and was gone. Only faint wisps of smoke were left, and those quickly disappeared with the gentle breeze. Terry was left alone in a strange woods with a fanciful ring in his hand, a growing list of questions, and a blooming anxiety.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Terry told himself, ¡°deep breath. Let¡¯s believe Dr. Ramirez for now about all this. Denying everything around me won¡¯t help me survive if it is real. So focus Terry, focus.¡± Terry slapped his cheeks and then took a look around him, with a critical eye rather than a befuddled one. ¡°I wish I had gone camping with Priss now,¡± he quietly complained, ¡°I have absolutely no idea how to find anything in the woods.¡± But, maybe finding something isn¡¯t the point at the moment. Dr. Ramirez had said to ¡°fight well or run fast,¡± what exactly is he fighting or running from?

    Quieting himself, Terry attempted to stretch out his senses into his surroundings. If magic was real, then maybe those web novels that were Terry¡¯s guilty pleasure for bedtime reading had something to them. He concentrated, shutting his eyes tight and willing his other senses to feel out what lurks in the woods. Nothing. He sensed absolutely nothing.

    Opening his eyes, Terry sighed and glanced into the woods around him. Lots of trees, shrubs, and other things that are green met his gaze. These didn¡¯t seem particularly dangerous, but man-eating plants might actually be a thing around here for all he knew. Then, it hit him. He didn¡¯t hear anything around him. When Terry arrived, before he even really understood his change in location, he heard the sounds of nature. Birds chirping, small creatures chattering, and other ambient noises within a woods that gave a hint towards what was around. Now, it was silent. Like the trees had taken a breath of anticipation for what came next. Panic began to swell up in Terry¡¯s chest as the silence stretched itself. Anxiety was something of an issue for Terry and silence did a great job of perpetuating it.

    A snapping twig to Terry¡¯s left shattered the stillness in the air and further cultivated panic. Quickly twisting in that direction, Terry witnessed the culprit break through the cover of some shrubbery. It was a small humanoid creature. Pale green skin assisted in blending it with the surrounding foliage, long and gangly limbs were attached to a short body. An oversized head with large ears, nose, and eyes pointed directly at Terry. Large, black irises hovered above an open mouth filled with wickedly jagged teeth. A small wooden club was held in its hand. Something like animal furs hug from one shoulder and draped down its body to cover the nether region. From the smell, the skin hadn¡¯t been cured at all; just thrown on after the creature was processed.

    This creature was no great mystery for Terry. He had seen countless goblins on gaming screens and projections. It looked pretty similar to those fictions, but was longer limbed than Terry knew them to be. The goblin slowly moved forward with a slight hop to its step. Not really what video games had conditioned Terry to expect, and it was a tad terrifying. That could just be the situation as a whole though. Have to reflect on this later to figure it out.

    What parts from video games regarding goblins could Terry trust? From what he knew they were relatively weak creatures in the grand scheme of things. They often prospered in groups under more powerful entities¡ªeither other, stronger, goblins or other races that would enforce dominion through force. Goblins were usually weak, early level creatures for heroes and champions to beat up for experience. Looking at the very real, very menacing goblin slowly advancing towards him, Terry did not feel like a hero or champion about to get some easy levels. No, he looked at the goblin and knew fear. That goblin had a hungry expression in its eyes and Terry was distinctly uncomfortable with it. Dr. Ramirez¡¯s advice came to mind and Terry decided to follow the wisest of the options¡ªhe ran.

    ~

    ¡°Our objective today,¡± Commander Sunkin said in his deep voice as he exited the passenger seat of the SUV, ¡°is a shaman that has been sighted gathering goblin tribes in the Scarred Wood. We are to take care of it before it spawns a legitimate issue for the Veil¡¯s balance.¡± As he spoke, Priss watched her father pull out a small glided box, roughly the size of 20<sup>th</sup> Century cigarette box, and retrieve a coin the size of a quarter. She glanced at it as she stepped next to her father. It was something she had seen before, but it was the closest thing to magic that her father and other martials would personally handle. It was made of gold and pulsed with veins of green energy.

    ¡°An upstart goblin is not an issue,¡± Priss said in her distant, soldier¡¯s voice. She began to hate that voice. ¡°So why do we have a full squad to handle the issue?¡± Priss gestured to the Captain Frost, James the mean hockey player as Terry labeled him, and a mage she didn¡¯t know the name of from the Moon Department of Crescent Dawn. Priss had been making an effort to know the names of the mages she worked with, but it was difficult when they had their guard up around her and other martials at all times. Commander Sunkin ignored the question as he walked through the front door of a local art supplies store, Matt¡¯s Crafts, the sign of the window declared to the street.

    ¡°Hi there!¡± A not so awake and chipper door greeter for the store muttered as he rubbed at his eyes, ¡°welcome to Matt¡¯s Crafts. Can I help you find anything today?¡± Once sleep was taken out of his eyes, the door greeter, an older gentleman probably around 60 years old or so, took in our group with a breath of surprise. Before he could speak, Priss¡¯ father spoke.

    ¡°Good morning Gerald, we won¡¯t be needing any crafting supplies at the moment. We are simply here on business. I do think I will pick up some more yarn later though. If you could set aside two bundles of red and yellow acrylic yarn I¡¯d greatly appreciate it,¡± Commander Sunkin kindly said to the old man, ¡°Please inform Mr. Tonella that we will be in the restricted area for most of the day.¡± The old man inclined his head and said he would do so right away.

    The restricted area was behind a steel door that presided in the employee¡¯s hall. To the Veiled, people who were unaware of the Hidden World, magic; monsters; and the like, it was a door that was impossible to open. To most unveiled it was the same, but they could at least understand why. It was enchanted to only open with a magic coin pressed against it. A coin like the gold-green one that Priss¡¯ father was rolling between his fingers. Once they got to the door he casually pressed the coin to the door and it silently slid to the slide to reveal the room beyond. Everyone from the squad marched in and the door closed behind them.

    The room held a pedestal at the center of the room. It had a narrow neck that held a palm-sized tablet at roughly waist height. Other than that there were some shelves with seemingly random, mundane objects resting on them. There were pens resting on individual stands, rows of plain white coffee mugs, umbrellas hanging off pegs, and other ordinary items had no logical connection to the others in the room. Priss, her father, and James went to the items strewn about the room and retrieved them. Priss picked up a pen and coffee mug, her father gathered an umbrella, as did James. The mage whose name she did not know stood by the pedestal and placed his hand upon it.  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A blue vapor that hummed with energy uncoiled from a watch the mage had on his wrist. It travelled down his hand and into the tablet on the pedestal. The tablet soon glowed the same hue of blue and what seemed like specks of pollen in that color floated off it. Those magical, blue pollen-like specks gathered a few feet in front of the mage and pedestal and began forming a condensed ball. After a minute the blue mass was roughly the size of a tennis ball. At this point it contracted and then violently expanded outward. The blue energy was now spread then over an eight foot area against the far wall. It shimmered and then a scene foreign to the room was shown through it. Similar to a window, screen, or projection a green forest was seen through the portal that had been created. The portal was edged with blue energy the same color as the particles the pedestal had emitted.

    ¡°Mage, report,¡± Commander Sunkin ordered as he watched the mage take a step away from the pedestal with labored breathes. The mage took a red gem out of a pocket and placed it on the pedestal before replying.

    ¡°Commander Sir, the portal to the Scarred Wood is stabilized. I placed the rift near the Tree Folk village, Elm¡¯s Bark,¡± the mage replied once his breathing was more controlled, ¡°this position is not be far from where the shaman is, should reports be accurate.¡±

    ¡°How stable is the portal?¡± Captain Frost inquired as he rolled a shoulder in anticipation.

    ¡°It was a relatively painless process this time,¡± the mage replied, ¡°with the red mana carrier crystal powering the portal I can insure six hours in the Hidden World. Eight hours is probably safe with this particular rift location, but beyond six there is no guarantee of stability.¡±

    ¡°Captain Frost,¡± Priss¡¯ father said, ¡°take the mage through the rift and secure a beachhead. Then scout the area and discover potential directions our target may be in.¡± Captain Frost nodded his compliance.

    ¡°Yes commander,¡± he replied with a salute, ¡°come mage.¡± With that he and the mage walked through the blue portal against the wall and became part of the forest scene on the other side. Once the pair had gone through Mr. Daniels shift his body to face Priss.

    ¡°An equipment discharge? Really want me to believe that the burst of magic the mage and I sensed was an equipment discharge?¡± He asked her a tone that was only a degree warmer than when he gave orders.

    ¡°Our gear is enchanted by the Moon Department,¡± Priss began saying, ¡°some arcane energy leaks out when they activate.¡± She knew this was a weak excuse, but she had not been prepared for the reality. Those Fate¡¯s Hand cards of Terry¡¯s were magic and she could not let her father know.

    ¡°And what exactly discharged?¡± Mr. Daniels asked with an unbelieving look on his face.

    ¡°My armor,¡± Priss answered quickly, ¡°as you know, it has an automatic response enchantment and it partially activated.¡±

    ¡°And why did it ¡®partially activate¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Because of acts that I will not discuss with my superior officer or my father,¡± Priss curtly replied. By shifting the reason to something more scandalous and personal his focus may go away from the magic sense as the instincts of an over-protective father took control. It wouldn¡¯t do any favors towards her father¡¯s opinion of Terry, but it was better than the truth. His eyes narrowed at her words.

    ¡°Priscilla, I think it is time to reassign surveillance of Terence White to another operative,¡± Mr. Daniels said in his cold, professional voice, ¡°It was allowed for you to present yourself as a love interest to the subject because it was argued that having our observer be a confidant would prove or disprove the concerns raised regarding him.

    ¡°Nothing has developed through this approach in over a year. A change of tactic will proceed. Once we are done with this mission you are to break contact with the subject and go on standby.¡± As he said this, Mr. Daniels pressed his thumb against the handle of the umbrella in his hand. Previously hidden symbols began glowing an orange-red color from where his thumb pressed and crawled the length of the umbrella. As the hidden symbols revealed themselves with the glow the umbrella began to change form. Its handle straightened and lengthened into a leather-wrapped handle; a thick V-shaped cross-guard sprouted above the handle; and the umbrella itself grew longer, flattening itself and transmuting into a light colored metal.

    The entire process only took around five seconds. Once it was complete the once mundane umbrella became a sword that was three-fourths the size of Priss¡¯ father. A great sword with red-orange symbols stretching the length of the blade hummed as his qi began coursing through it like a new vein.

    ¡°I disagree,¡± Priss said as she pressed the activation command on her pen and coffee mug, ¡°I am the best opportunity we have if a development with the subject occurs. He trusts me and would tell me.

    ¡°That is if there is ever going to be a development. It has been two years. Terry could just be a veiled one that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.¡± As Priss stated her case the pen and coffee mug had transmutations of their own. The pen grew into a short sword with a tip shaped like a tear drop. Her coffee mug flattened itself and expanded into a metallic circular shield.

    ¡°There are other methods of obtaining information regarding Terence White. If there is even a chance that he is a void-sourced manafested then he must be dealt with,¡± Mr. Daniels said with certainty. ¡°We cannot allow any unbound manafested discover him and weaponize his power. Or worse, he accidently activates that foul magic without any control to speak of.¡±

    ¡°I understand that Terry could, possibly, be a mage of terrible power,¡± Priss said with heavy emphasis on ¡®possibly,¡¯ ¡°but I haven¡¯t seen any signs of magical power or the development of an attunement since I began this assignment. He is just a normal man trying to figure out life.¡± Her father adjusted his grip of the great sword and began walking towards the blue portal as he spoke, ¡°This decision is final. Once our mission is complete you will break all contact with Terence White and a new operative will take over the observation task.¡± Priss was about to argue further but he stepped through the portal before she had the chance.

    This is a problem, she thought, what I am going to do?

    While having these thoughts and stepping towards the portal her slate chimed. It was a sound reserved for the spectating application used to watch Fate¡¯s Hand games remotely. Curious, Priss turned on the slate¡¯s projection with a flick of her wrist. The projection read, ¡°Deck Mage has entered the field of combat, would you like to spectate?¡± Another gesture shut off the projection and Priss continued towards the portal. Dave and Terry were probably having a game before breakfast. Nothing she had time to watch, she had a job to do and an order to try and annul. She stepped through the rift and into the Scarred Wood.

    ~

    ¡°I,¡± wheeze, ¡°will never,¡± cough, ¡°dismiss,¡± another cough, ¡°Priss¡¯ invite to work-,¡± wheeze,¡±-out again.¡±

    These words struggled to tumble out of Terry¡¯s mouth between ragged breaths his lungs demanded as he ran through the woods of ever-present danger. He had followed Dr. Ramirez¡¯s advice and ran. Ran hard and fast. Which worked out for about two minutes. In other circumstances, that wouldn¡¯t be a terrible time for an all-out dash. Terry wasn¡¯t out of shape, but exercise to him was to stay fit not become herculean. And fit, but modern standards, only had someone running at full tilt for two reasons: one, nature-called at the most inopportune time and the freeway¡¯s rest stop was just a little too far away for comfort; two, you were running for your life from so sort of danger. Terry¡¯s experience with the first option was rough enough, and he was not enjoying the second much either.

    Side-stepping another tree and hoping it did not reach out and grab him, Terry heard the hurried crashing of his pursuers. Yes, pursuers. As in more than one. It seems that Terry¡¯s understanding of goblins from games and books was not all inaccurate. They did like travelling in groups. When Terry first ran he thought he could disappear into the woodwork and maybe surprise the goblin somehow.

    That idea was thrown out quickly as the creature began to hoot and holler as it saw him run away. As it did this more of the same sound began echoing through the woods. Apparently, the goblin was calling all his friends and neighbors to converge and participate in the hunt for Terry.

    Terry kept running through the unfamiliar woods in hope of losing his green-skinned pursuers, but the plan was failing and he was slowing down. His run had reduced to an unsteady jog and anything within half a mile could probably hear his breathing. More crashing of foliage behind Terry motivated him to pick up the pace yet again. Time was running out because Terry was getting out ran. A brief glance behind revealed more than 5 goblins within 30ft of him. Not good, not at all. The sight inspired a second, or third, wind for Terry and he began to pull away with additional speed. That additional speed allowed for Terry¡¯s face to smash with extra force into the earth as he tripped on a root.

    The air whooshed from his lungs with the impact and his nose erupted in pain as the smell and taste of copper entered his senses. Terry¡¯s thoughts tumbled as if in a rock polisher. Did the tree just trip me? Uugggh, this fucking hurts. Did grass always feel this soft?

    Moaning due to the pain, he pushed against the ground in attempt to rise. As he did so a high-pitched cry reminded Terry of his situation. He scrambled to stand up and keep running, but a scream erupted from his lips as red-hot pain seared a line into his left leg. Terry toppled to the right and landed back on the ground. He couldn¡¯t get back up and he had to get away from the goblins. That, however, wasn¡¯t the prominent thought on his mind. Terry was in agony.

    Terry had broken a bone before. A toe to be precise. He slipped on slick bathroom tiles and his foot crashed into the underside of the countertop. That had made him tear up and then hobble for a month or two. The pain he felt now made that broken toe seem like what it probably had been: a minor inconvenience. Terry pried his eyes open and stretched a hand to touch the abused area, but another strike hit him in the ribs, and pain reintroduced itself explosively.

    As Terry toppled over in anguish, again, a howl of enthusiasm sounded off. Having a change in priorities, Terry glanced in that direction. A goblin stood there, a makeshift club held over its head in triumph and stinking pelt clinging to his torso. Its mouth was open in glee and Terry was able to observe the jagged teeth in fine detail. The goblin barked at Terry, either laughing at or taunting him, and swung the club again.

    Terry had the wisdom to duck this time. He leaned back, landing on the ground a third time. His ribs rioted in pain, but adrenaline was thankfully numbing it a bit. Though dodging was a wise move, Terry had lacked the foresight to see that his position made it simpler for a newly arrived goblin to stab him with a crude stone knife. The blade¡¯s invasion of Terry¡¯s right shoulder offered him a pointed lesson on the value of situational awareness. More directly though, it was damned painful. The club strikes were at least spread out a bit. The knife wound left blinding pain and cut muscles in a very concise region.

    Beginning to panic, Terry flailed his arms and legs. He needed to fight back. Needed to defend himself. He wasn¡¯t a muscle bound ninja. He didn¡¯t have the physical abilities or instincts that Priss did. The only things that Terry had going for him were Priss and his talent at a card game. Priss might have some awesome dedication to fitness and self-defense, but Terry wouldn¡¯t want her to also be in this fantasy nightmare if given the choice, and a card game wouldn¡¯t save him from these very real, very dangerous goblins. He had nothing to defend himself with.

    I hope Priss will be alright after this is over, Terry thought as another club strike crashed against his chest this time. Another, now familiar, cry of pain erupted from his lips and his body curled in attempts to present a smaller target. He was ready for it to be over. Hopefully goblins killed before they ate their prey.

    Prey.

    Terry knew what it was like to feel like prey. To be watched by something more dangerous and powerful as something to toy with, something devoured. Terry knew what is what like to be prey and knew that these goblins were not predators. As the thought struck him, Terry soon discovered himself no longer on the ground being beaten and stabbed to death by goblins. He was in the dark place. Pain didn¡¯t follow him here apparently. That was a relief.

    What was less of a relief was the pair of grey eyes staring at Terry. They hovered right next to him. Unlike the many times before when Terry met the grey eyes in the dark place, a white vapor formed around the eyes. It created a snouted head, a body with four legs beneath, and what had to be a tail behind it. The grey eyes, and accompanying vapor body, were vaguely lupine. It stood before Terry, concern coloring its irises. How Terry knew, he couldn¡¯t say. There was no facial expression, or even eyebrows to observe being raised or lowered in judgement. But, he just knew the grey eyed vapor beast was concerned for him.

    ¡°Why do you not call for aid?¡± a familiar, but not known baritone voice inquired. ¡°It is unwise to hunt without the pack at your side,¡± It continued before Terry could reply. It looked beyond Terry and he followed the gaze. A rift in the all-consuming darkness rested there. A scene of now three goblins surrounding Terry¡¯s huddled was within the frame.

    ¡°I see,¡± the vapor hound stated, ¡°it is not¡­¡± it paused as if trying to figure out the proper word, ¡°time, for my arrival.¡± The trio of goblins were slowly moving their respective weapons in unison. Preparing for the finishing blows no doubt. They looked like they were moving through molasses. It was beyond slow.

    ¡°It is frustrating I cannot see beyond this darkness unless you open the rift, otherwise the pack could have aided you sooner,¡± it said as it continued to observe the scene beyond the rift. Terry was, understandably, confused.

    ¡°What pack?¡± He asked, ¡°far as I know it has always been you and I in this abyss.¡± The grey eyes looked back at Terry before answering.

    ¡°There is nothing here besides us,¡± it replied.

    ¡°Well, isn¡¯t that what I just said?¡± Terry snorted.

    ¡°There is nothing here besides us,¡± the vapor hound continued as if Terry hadn¡¯t interrupted, ¡°because you have not called forth anything else from here. I sense other rift keys with you other than my own. Use them to call forth others to join our pack. Survive until it is time I join you beyond the rift. Then we shall show creatures like these,¡± the snout gesturing towards the goblins, ¡°what true predators are.¡± A vicious, what had to be smile, spread across its face as fangs bared themselves. Terry couldn¡¯t help but grin back. He had no idea where the feeling came from, but he knew he could trust this entity. Trust it more than anyone else Terry knew. More than Priss, but not by much.

    ¡°So what are rift keys?¡± Terry asked, ¡°I¡¯m all for getting some help and adding the ¡®pack,¡¯ but the how to do that is part I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You have four other rift keys,¡± the vapor hound said, ¡°simply touch one and pour your source into it.¡±

    ¡°Source?¡± Terry repeated.

    ¡°your mana, your intent, your will. Different words for the same idea. Focus that into the rift key as your handle it and it will call forth another from the nothing around us.¡±

    ¡°How can something to help me come from this?¡± Terry asked while gesturing to the absence surrounding them.

    ¡°Everything comes from something, but at some point something had to come from nothing. Your power simply calls what is and can be from where everything began,¡± the grey-eyed vapor entity answered, ¡°this is not the time for a discussion though. It is time for you to go back and survive. I will be waiting for my own rift.¡± As these final words echoed pain began to blossom in Terry¡¯s senses again. Bludgeon and stab wounds sang with an orchestra of agony. He was back on the forest floor, huddled in attempt to protect himself from anything lethal.

    Recalling the conversation he had in the dark place, reached out with his intent to find the rift keys the entity spoke of. He knew there were five in total, and that gave him a pretty good idea of what exactly he was searching for. Terry imagined a region around himself that he could sense everything. It wasn¡¯t every large. Just an inch or two from himself. Unlike when he tried to sense the forest around him, Terry did feel a response from his intent.

    He felt the clothes on his body. They were heavy due to the winter weather back in Fallsbend, but now were cut and torn from the goblin assault and dash through the woods. In the pocket of his jacket he felt a powerful echo of, well of something. Terry wasn¡¯t sure there was a formal word for what he was experiencing. He was not looking at the cards in his pockets, but he swore he sensed colors from them. He could hear the colors coming off of them. There were two blues, two bronzes, and a silver that sang. They did not sound like anything that Terry could relate to, but he knew the general aura of each. There were differences between them, but he did not have the time to investigate further.

    Terry tried to grasp one of the blue auras. He found that it was too difficult to grasp. It wriggled out from his grip and continued to taunt him from just beyond his grasp. Then tried to grab the other blue aura he heard. This one was more familiar, it sung with tones of gray in it. However, this card was too large for him to fully command with his floundering magic and remained still regardless of his intent. The silver aura seemed to shriek at Terry, demanding his attention. Partly from desperation, partly from wanting the silver¡¯s shrieking to go away, Terry swung his magical intent towards it and willed it to listen. Once Terry¡¯s intent commanded the silver aura it silenced itself and relaxed itself into Terry¡¯s magic. It was then he knew that the silver aura and its source were his to command. Terry willed the rift key he now controlled to open, and released what the dark place sheltered into the world.

    A burst of orange light surrounded Terry after he opened the rift key through his intent. His already pain-exhausted nerves burned with power. Terry opened his eyes to see the trio of goblins stepping back, wide-eyed as he became a beacon of orange light. Looking at himself Terry saw it wasn¡¯t he that was glowing, but an orange mist that was slowly rotating around him. The mist came from a Fate¡¯s Hand card that somehow ended up in his grasp. It was the Sanguine Bat he pulled from the card pack this morning.

    This time Terry was certain this wasn¡¯t a normal card with a glitch. For one, the orange mist falling off the card wasn¡¯t something Fate¡¯s Hand cards could do. Secondly, he felt a connection to the card. He knew it was magic, real magic, and that it was his. Looking at the artwork on the card he saw the large bat looking directly at him with clear purpose. It looked to be saying, ¡°are you going to let me help? You desperately need it.¡± Without allowing time for logical thought to question his action, Terry poured more of his will to live into the card and threw it with a cry of desperation.

    The card sailed through the air rather flimsily. A trail of orange mist marked its trajectory towards the goblins watching Terry. The card glowed a brighter orange then flashed. Once the light was blinked out of Terry¡¯s eyes he saw that where the card once was a bat the size of a large cat flapped there lazily. It had a 2 ? or 3 foot wingspan and blood-colored fur on its body. Terry was certain that this was his creature. There was a living connection between them. There was a slight tremor in the connection, then a strain. If a rope connected Terry and the Sanguine Bat, then the bat just started tug-of-war.

    Befuddled by what was happening Terry¡¯s grip on the figurative rope slipped and moved more towards the vamp bat. As this happened he felt a drain within himself. Like there was a tub full of water and the drain had been opened for a moment then closed again. Concern flooded his mind as possible consequences of losing the tug-of-war match piled up. A growl, bestial and menacing resounded through Terry¡¯s mind and being. It seemed to come from himself, somewhere he was beginning to become aware of.

    ¡°The new pack member questions the alpha,¡± the baritone voice said, ¡°it questions our strength. Let it know where it stands within our pack.¡± Terry had questions, questions he felt that could be asked at a more appropriate time. For now, he grabbed onto the connection with the vamp bat with his intent and pulled.

    It wasn¡¯t much of a contest once Terry wasn¡¯t distracted. As he pulled the authority of the connection into himself the tub of energy he felt before drained considerably. If he had to guess, maybe half was gone and slowly draining. Good news was, the vamp bat had submitted to Terry¡¯s will and was part of his pack. Whatever that meant.

    Sounds of shuffling brought Terry¡¯s awareness back to his surroundings. The trio of goblins had enough of watching him and the bat stare at each other it and decided to charge forward. As they did this a stream of instinct flowed through the connection Terry shared with the Sanguine Bat. There were no words associated¡ªjust the need for action. The action in this case, was to attack and heal; to feed and drink. Sounded like a solid plan to Terry. He looked back at the bat and hoarsely said, ¡°do it.¡±

    The vamp bat flew into action once the words were spoken. It rose into the air and then dove sharply towards the lead goblin with the bloodied stone knife. The goblin shrieked in terror and raised its knife in defense of itself against the aerial strike. The Sanguine Bat rolled to the side and used feet to push aside the knife raised against it. No longer obstructed by blade, the bat opened its mouth to reveal a quintet of oversized fangs. They buried deeply into the shoulder and chest of the goblin. Crimson blood leaked from the punctures. The goblin tried harming the winged leech, but its assault grew weaker with each passing moment. Its skin shifted to a paler shade of green as the vamp bat concluded its task.

    Once sated, the vamp bat flew toward Terry and began to glow crimson. Particles of red floated like pollen on the breeze between the familiar and its mage. As the particles impacted Terry he saw them slowly absorb into his body. As more were absorbed he noticed the pain in his bludgeoned and cut regions subside slightly. The symphony of pain was more of a garbage-band concert now.

    Terry sighed in relief as the pain reduced. Slowly raising himself into a sitting position, Terry surveyed the developing situation around him. Above and slightly ahead of him hovered the Sanguine Bat. A constant stream of emotion flowed through the connection between them. With effort he could quiet it, but it was always there participating in his mind, feeding and inspiring thoughts. By all rationale having such a foreign bond should freak out Terry. This wasn¡¯t normal, but none of this was. Dr. Ramirez said all of this was real and Terry finally believed him. Technology couldn¡¯t do all of this. He would freak out about this later, but when he was whole and alive. Freak outs were best done when whole and alive.

    Beyond the flapping familiar Terry saw two green-skinned monsters, one with a makeshift club and one with no weapon to speak of. Looking at the one with the club Terry¡¯s anger flared. He wanted its blood. Wait, its blood? Where did that come from? The vamp bat took the thought as allowance to act and dove towards the club wielding goblin. It had still be mentally recovering from watching its fellow¡¯s blood get drank like a Capri-Sun and did not react swiftly enough to defend itself effectively. The Sanguine Bat bit down and drank deeply.

    Shrieks of pain and surprise quickly subsided as the goblin¡¯s vital essence faded. Terry felt a trill of ecstasy run down his spine as his card creature finished drinking. Before he could make a mental note of that, four more goblins charged out of the woodwork. The friends and neighbors had arrived.

 Part Five: Survival

    Part Five

    Survival

    Priss and her father entered the Scarred Wood through the portal that the mage had opened in the secret room of Matt¡¯s Crafts. The familiar scene of towering trees and overgrown underbrush greeted them after the usual sense of vertigo that accompanied portal jumps passed. As the pair quickly righted themselves to their surroundings Captain Frost marched up to Priss¡¯ father, Commander Sunkin, and reported with salute.

    ¡°Commander, we have secured a beachhead and have made contact with the friendly locals.¡±

    ¡°Very good captain, now tell me, has the direction of our target been determined yet?¡± Priss¡¯ father replied with an all-business, military voice. Captain Frost¡¯s expression cracked for a moment then reaffirmed itself to its usual near-sneer.

    ¡°I am not entirely certain about that sir. When we arrived the manafested reported he felt the use of mana to the East, but the treefolk are adamant that the shaman we hunt is Northwest heading towards the Scar and recruiting more goblins along the way,¡± Captain Frost explained. ¡°The manafested is discussing with the treefolk what they sensed in comparison to what the treefolk reported to us.¡± He gestured towards their mage in blue jeans and an untucked red button up shirt calmly discussing something with a pair of treefolk.

    Priss had met treefolk before. They were an extremely gentle and kind people that called most distant places of nature home. For the most part treefolk were human looking; arms and legs in the right places with the right proportions. A treefolk, on average, was around four and a half feet tall. Their skin was the color of tree bark and their hair was often brown or black in color. That hair was always a tangled mess with leaves and small twigs caught in it. Their clothing looked like leaves and grass woven together into a single piece shift. Far as Priss knew, both men and women wore this style of clothing. Though it was difficult to be sure. Treefolk were androgynous in their physicality and made no effort to distinguish genders. They were more concerned about maintain their connection to nature than maintaining social constructs.

    Treefolk¡¯s intimate connection to nature made them powerful nature-sourced mages. The Crescent Dawn did not usually deal with mages that were unbound or monsters in a cordial manner, and the treefolk were a fusion of mage and monster by all accounts. However, the treefolk of the Scarred Wood were treated as informants by Crescent Dawn. They did not get harassed or hunted by members and in return the treefolk made some resources of their village, Elm¡¯s Bark, available to Crescent Dawn expedition teams. This mostly manifested in information of budding threats in the region or supplies for extended expeditions.

    Priss honestly thought that this arrangement only existed because of how kind and peaceful the treefolk were. If they were serious about keeping Crescent Dawn out of their territory then it would escalate into a full-scale conflict. One that she didn¡¯t think Crescent Dawn had the resources to fight for any length of time. Nature-sourced magic in a magical forest had to be a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

    Priss¡¯ father always maintained a cautious vigilance with the treefolk and other peaceful denizens of the Hidden World that Crescent Dawn dealt with. He thought it only take one small step for them to break the Veil and invade the Veiled World. Therefore, he kept a watchful eye on all he considered more monster than man.

    ¡°Is there a problem with the information?¡± Commander Sunkin asked.

    ¡°Not entirely sure. I don¡¯t know speak monster,¡± Captain Frost replied with a shrug.

    ¡°That is something you could easily change,¡± Priss reprimanded without thinking, ¡°you could take lessons from the Moon Department on how to translate mana-charged languages. Just set aside your attitude and ask nicely.¡±

    ¡°And take more of my time away to study with another kind of monster? I think not. Some of us find it uncomfortable to be around those wolves in sheep¡¯s skin,¡± Captain Frost retorted with a snort.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Commander Sunkin ordered, ¡°this is why we brought the bound mage. It¡­ he will be the translator between us and the treefolk. Corporal Daniels is our substitute translator she has taken lessons in mana-charged language translation.¡± With that being the end of the conversation, he strode towards the mage and treefolk to interject. This left Priss standing alone with Captain James Frost.

    ¡°Get anything good from your winnings?¡± he asked noncommittally. Priss looked at him in confusion for a moment as she attempted to connect the dots on the question and its unspoken context.

    ¡°Ohh,¡± Priss said as it dawned on her, ¡°No idea, haven¡¯t opened them yet. Spent too much time staying warm with Terry because of how cold last night was.¡± Priss watched James¡¯ hand tighten into a fist and a narrow-eyed glare cross his face before he regained his composure. ¡°It¡¯s not like you care about a game about monsters anyways,¡± Priss continued before he could have a word, ¡°you are just upset I¡¯m spending my time with Terry and not you.¡±

    Since he had joined Crescent Dawn five years ago he had been determined to be with her. Well, that was a gentle way of saying that he wanted to own her. Own her in that nearly archaic socio-macho sense. James saw Priss as the daughter of a powerful person, and she a gateway token to power for himself. Priss, however, refused to be taken or controlled. The fact that such a narrow-minded ass like James thought it was his right for such possession of her just infuriated Priss.

    It wasn¡¯t just James, Priss had no interest in people like James at all. He had some power and used it to push and control the world around him to his liking. James saw her as something his power could take. When he had initially made his move to possess her Priss handily beat him into the floor of the Crescent Dawn training room. She had let him know she had no interest and dismissed him. This made her more desirable to the cretin and he continued to sway Priss to being a trophy claimed.

    How James did this was by training hard and believing that beating Priss in a fight would win her over. She wasn¡¯t sure how the idea of beating her in a sparring match was the condition to meet for her affection, but he followed that dogma for years. He actually got decently strong along the way. His amount of qi was more than her own at this stage of growth, but this was mostly due to the martial tradition he practiced. James was the only Crescent Dawn Mason that practiced the East¡¯s method of qi core placement¡ªjust below his naval. This qi core location allowed the martial the largest amount of qi to be kept within their core. Basically, his reserves of raw qi were larger than her own.

    Priss, however, was still stronger than James due to experience and technique. Her father had trained her in the Mason tradition of martial practice all her life. She formed her qi core at the tender age of five, ten years before it was considered safe to do so. Her father insisted on a training regiment that had her using it every day once it was stable. Was this safe for Priss? No, not really. An inappropriate or over use of qi can permanently harm the body and disallow the qi to flow smoothly. A child is more likely to make these mistakes while using their qi because they are still learning how to operate their bodies. Despite these dangers to her, Priss¡¯ father had his daughter create her qi core at five years old so she could become something more¡ªhe hoped to mold Priss into a Mason that reached to highest tier of strength.

    The extra time and extreme training with her qi allowed Priss to exceed most of her peers in qi technique prowess, and James was no exception. James absolutely hated that Priss was stronger than him. To be honest, Priss was not actually stronger, but more skilled and practiced and this allowed her to not lose a single training match, mission, or competition when facing off against him. James was a man that held a high opinion of himself and his physical prowess, in all perceptions of the phrase, and his inability to conquer her truly pissed him off. Pissed off is only part of how James sees it though. Priss was a challenge, an objective for the conqueror¡¯s path to power. Too bad for the conqueror that this girl wasn¡¯t having any of his shit and would remind him violently so if needed.

    James¡¯ frustration to not being able to conquer Priss really came to a head when she was given the observation mission regarding a potential void-sourced mage. A mission that took a more romantic path with a possible manafested monster; well, monster to most Masons. Once Priss and Terry were public about their relationship, even if it was a cover her observation mission, James became even more unbearable.

    He bullied Terry like a jealous teenager, which, Priss supposed, he was. She took care of the bullying, but James was always around; keeping an eye on her and Terry. Priss suspected he reported to her father with extreme bias. Whether James¡¯ supervision was his on initiative or on order from her father Priss didn¡¯t know nor did it really matter. James doggedly followed the creed of her father in hopes to impress him and move forward within Crescent Dawn and as a Mason. Both men would do terrible things if they found out about Terry actually being a mage. That was something that Priss would not allow to happen.

    ¡°Having such¡­ engagements with the target of a mission creates blind spots and is ultimately unprofessional,¡± James said with the barest hint of tact. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even go into the fact he is a manafested and should be contained in the strictest of manners. Not coddled and cuddled.¡± Priss bristled at that.

    ¡°What¡¯s unprofessional is continually harassing a peer while they are successfully performing their duty and also continuous poking at a potentially powerful unbound mage to the point of persecution,¡± Priss snapped back, ¡°I have said in my reports before; it is better to create trust rather than distance. He is easier to observe this way.¡±

    ¡°So offering yourself to a manafested makes you a top-grade Mason?¡± he retorted, ¡°that makes you nothing but a who¡­ ugh!¡± James failed to finish his statement because Priss swung her leg forward with a surge of qi and kicked him in the stomach¡ªright where his qi core settled. His words and wind whooshed out of him as he flew back into a tree ten feet behind him. Sadly, James took no real damage due to his armor enchantment activating, but it was damn satisfying all the same.

    ¡°What is going on here?!¡± Commander Sunkin bellowed as he seemed to materialize before Priss. His severely creased brow and the small licks of flame that erupted from his blade offered a hint as to his humor towards this situation. Priss shrugged casually.

    ¡°Captain Frost was about to say something unwise and I decided to test his reaction time while his guard was down,¡± Priss replied with a professional nonchalance, ¡°his results leave much room for improvement.¡± Commander sunkin was nonplussed by this response as he glaned between Priss and the winded captain.

    ¡°This shall be added to the debrief we will have once the missions concludes,¡± he finally said. ¡°Captain! Get up, we have work to do.¡± Captain Frost grunted as he rose. He walked slowly as he came to stand with Priss and her father. Priss delighted in seeing he was hovering a hand over the spot she kicked him. Perhaps it was more effective than she thought. The mage, whose name Priss could not remember for the life of her, walked over from the Treefolk he had been talking to and spoke the the Masons before him.

    ¡°Alright, so here is the situation as I understand it,¡± he said while adjusting the zipper of his sweater, ¡°the Treefolk have been asking the trees¡­¡± Captain Frost coughed. It sounded fake to Priss. The mage must have thought so as well, because he scowled at Captain Frost before continuing. ¡°¡­ they asked the trees to keep an eye on any magic used that is not nature-sourced. Basically, any magic that isn¡¯t theirs. The trees have informed them that a semi-consistent use of patron-sourced magic has been heading steadily Northwest for t he past month.¡±

    ¡°From here that direction would lead to the Scar, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Priss asked.

    ¡°Yes, it does,¡± the mage nodded. ¡°the Treefolk and I agree that if that is the shaman, and that is its destination, then it most likely has a corruptor as a patron.¡±

    ¡°What exactly is a corruptor?¡± Captain Frost questioned with an abrasive tone, ¡°and why does it matter? Manafested is manafested regardless of source.¡± The mage took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Priss herself was wide-eyed at James¡¯ blunt comment. Most Masons in the Sun Department of Crescent Dawn thought magic was dangerous and any who used it were diseased, but they refrained from using the term ¡®manafested¡¯ in front of mages from the Moon Department. Doing so would create too much additional tension on an already tenuous relationship. Apparently, James didn¡¯t care. Priss glanced at Commander Sunkin to gauge his reaction but saw no hint of his thoughts on the comment.

    ¡°A corruptor patron is a malevolent spirit that sinks into the mind of its mage and allows that mage to influence the minds of those around them,¡± the mage answered after calming himself.

    ¡°Give a corrupter time to grow and they can brainwash those who surround its mage,¡± Commander Sunkin added, ¡°perfect for creating loyal hordes of fiends and monsters. Eventually they can completely take over their mage¡¯s mind and body, becoming the physical manifestation of their spirit-self. That is when a whole new problem on a whole other scale begins.¡±

    ¡°Why would anyone make a contract with such a patron? That sounds like such a terrible deal,¡± Priss asked. Her father looked between her and Captain Frost. He shook his head in disappointment before answering.

    ¡°It seems our company¡¯s youth have a distinct lack of knowledge regarding those we protect the Veiled World from, mage would you be so kind as to inform our pair of disappointments?¡± The mage¡¯s eyes narrow for a moment in frustration, but then he yielded.

    ¡°A mage that takes such a patron is due to it being an easy path to power. Most patron-sourced mages would be underwhelming if they used a different source. So the promise of power beyond their own means is too alluring for them,¡± the mage explained with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how potentially vile and powerful they might be in the future,¡± Captain Frost said, ¡°I¡¯ll just crush the manafested before it endangers the veil.¡± He smashed a fist into an open palm for emphasis. The mage looked to be on the precipice of passively frustrated and absolutely livid. A glance at Captain Frost showed him to be grinning at the mage.

    That bastard knows exactly what he is doing.

    Is he trying to have the Moon Department file a complaint? Or worse, retaliate?

    ¡°Continue with the report,¡± Commander Sunkin commanded as if the tension was unimportant. Priss couldn¡¯t help but let out a small huff at her father¡¯s lack of even a comment. He was the Commander of the Sun Department and co-owner of Crescent Dawn, but he did nothing to stop or alleviate the tension between the mage and James.

    ¡°If the shaman has a corruptor patron, then going to the Scar allows for more flexibility to perform its specialized magic. There is no ambient sourced-mana at the Scar so it can perform at perfect efficiency; unlike if this shaman were to perform its magic in the woods where high levels of ambient nature-sourced mana presides,¡± the mage continued to explain. Priss only had a rudimentary understanding of magic, enough to fight manifest.

    No, I can¡¯t think¡­ I won¡¯t think like that anymore.

    ¡°Why is there no nature magic at the Scar?¡± Priss hurriedly asked. She hoped to both distract herself from her thoughts and learn something that could help herself and Terry. The mage¡¯s eyebrows raised in surprise by the genuine question.

    ¡°Because the void-sourced spell that originally created the Scar left a festering trace of its roots. Since void-sourced spells come from nothing, there is nothing to resist a corruptor from doing its work,¡± the mage answered his face lifting the scowl of suspicion a bit.

    ¡°How does this relate to the flair of magic you sensed earlier?¡± Commander Sunkin asked in his leadership voice.

    ¡°It honestly might not,¡± the mage confessed, ¡°for starters, that flair of magic is East of Elm¡¯s Bark¡ªnot at all in the direction that the Treefolk say the shaman is heading

    ¡°The concerning part is that the Treefolk and I believe it to be a fledgling void-sourced mage. It they don¡¯t acquire, or gain too abstract, of a attunement then could be a danger to themselves and at least a quarter of the Scarred Wood.¡±

    Priss had a flash of concern. Terry¡¯s cards were magic. Though ignorant of his new identity, Terry was also a novice-level mage. She took a quiet breath to calm herself. Terry didn¡¯t have access to a Veil Portal, he couldn¡¯t be here. He was playing Fate¡¯s Hand with Dave before breakfast, not performing magic here. Plus, although she didn¡¯t know how to test a mage¡¯s mana-source Priss doubted Terry had the rarest and most dangerous of sources.

    ¡°I would like to search for this and make sure they are safe and no thre¡­¡± the mage attempted to say before Captain Frost interrupted.

    ¡°A void manafested! Now there is a real monster,¡± he said with an excited gleam in his eye, ¡°we should be hunting down that thing instead of this shaman.¡± The mage finally had enough and burst with blue energy that danced around him like angry flames.

    ¡°That thing is probably a lost and scared person,¡± the mage said with a low and threatening voice, ¡°they will need help to control their magic this early before something terrible happens. Mages are not monsters!¡± the mage finally began raising his voice as his emotions bleed into his speech. ¡°It is people like you, your words and actions, that force us to become the only thing you see us as¡ªmonsters, it is either that or slaves to pacify your own fears.¡± The mage¡¯s blue energy danced off his body and seemed to reach towards the object of his ire with angry flicks.

    ¡°Stop this,¡± Commander Sunkin ordered quietly, but Captain Frost and the mage didn¡¯t hear him.

    ¡°Something that uses powers that can so casually rip holes in the Veil and allow monsters into the Veiled World isn¡¯t a monster itself?¡± James shot back as he lifts his spear into a ready position.

    ¡°And the superhuman abilities of any qi wielder isn¡¯t inherently dangerous?! Does the root of power really matter more than how it is used?¡± the mage demanded with a roar. Priss idly thought that arguing philosophy with James was an exercise in futility. The mage continued his voice rising to a full-blown yell.

    ¡°I joined the Crescent Dawn because a union between Masons and mages and hoped for acceptance in both worlds. Clearly, you have proven me a fool to dream such things.¡± The watch the mage wore began to glow a violent azure. Geometric symbols that overlapped atop one another glimmered above the watch¡¯s face as a spell formula was swiftly prepared.

    Huh, a meta-physics sourced mage. Haven¡¯t seen on of those since Marcus helped Terry move out of the dorms.

    Aside from having relatively useless thoughts, Priss was still as she watched the escalation of this argument. There wasn¡¯t much that she could do without making it worse. Plus, she wasn¡¯t really sure who was in the right. Mages were dangerous to the Veiled World. They could very easily bring back the monsters and creatures that terrorized the humanity many millennia ago with careless use of their power. Then the efforts of ancient martials would be wasted. However, the man she had fallen in love with, besides her intention and better judgement, was a mage. She did not want him to become someone hunted and persecuted for what he is rather than who he is.

    Would I have treated Terry like this if I had met mage before the man? The thought sent an unpleasant shiver down Priss¡¯ spine. She did not like the answer her subconscious gave her.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Commander Sunkin bellowed as he stretched out a hand towards the mage. Red-orange qi rolled off his arm like weighted fire as he did so. The mage¡¯s watch began to glow red instead of blue. He suddenly reeled his hand towards his chest and cried out in pain. The mage then collapsed to his knees and gingerly held his right wrist.

    Wow. Didn¡¯t know father had been able to use elemental qi projection. He might make it to the Champion rank yet.

    Commander Sunkin looked angerly between the two offenders. ¡°This argument has no point to it. Mages are welcome to Crescent Dawn if rules, such as not aiming attunements as fellow members, are followed. Moonsister Yarrow and I made this company to ensure mages could live amongst us and use their powers for the benefit of the Veil.

    ¡°You, mage, are acting as if you are chained. We have not caged you. You are free to be a part of the world while the Sun Department and I protect you from other Masons and extremists.¡±  Priss found herself nodding along to what her father said. It was, after all, the creed she was raised on and until recently had not questioned it. The mage looked pained and pissed as he glared at Commander Sunkin. He did not say anything though. Either too pained or wising up to back talk the man who just displayed the ability to project elemental qi.

    ¡°Corporal,¡± Priss straightened as Commander Sunkin turned to address her.

    ¡°Sir!¡±

    ¡°You will head Northwest towards where the shaman is supposedly heading. Once you confirm the target is there wait for myself or the captain to regroup with you before removing the target.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± Priss saluted with slight hesitation. The drama that just happened was still weighing on her mind. Her father seemed to write it off immediately.

    ¡°Captain,¡± Commander Sunkin continued, ¡°you will head East towards the fledgling mage and ascertain their temperament. If they are unbound, offer them an invitation to our Moon Department,¡± Priss saw the mage twitch at that, but the reaction could have been caused by pain as well. ¡°If they decline or prove too dangerous, then do what is necessary to protect the Veil¡¯s security. We cannot afford another rogue void mage in North America.¡± Captain Frost saluted in the affirmative to the order.

    ¡°What will you do sir?¡± Priss asked before she could bite her tongue. She gulped a little. Her father detested being questioned or talked back to. This time, he didn¡¯t seem to mind or catch what she said as such though.

    ¡°I will be staying by the portal and having a chat with our mage companion. I need to reassure him that the Captain¡¯s outburst and his retaliation are not acceptable and that alleviate his misconceptions.¡±

    ¡°They why is he going after the young mage?!¡± the wounded, but apparently still spirited mage demanded as he pointed at Captain Frost. ¡°You saw how he treated an attuned and friendly mage! Frost will kill that new mage on sight!¡± Talking back was probably a poor decision, but he seemed to accept the consequences and go all in with reprimand the commander.

    ¡°And another thing! I have a name, all people do. My name is Ralph Calk, call me by name; not just mage or monster.¡± Priss¡¯ father sighed, actually sighed.

    ¡°Very well, Mage Calk, you make an excellent point. The Captain¡¯s present condition does make him a poor candidate of first contact operative. Corporal you will go East instead. Same first contact protocols remain in effect.¡±

    ¡°Affirmative, may I be dismissed?¡± Commander Sunkin nodded and she was off before Captain Frost could object to the reassignment. Priss agreed with the mage, no, with Ralph, that James should not be anywhere near a new mage. Especially one so potentially dangerous and scared. Her imagination showed her in vivid detail what would have been the likely outcome if that mage had been Terry and Captain Frost had been sent out. Priss clenched her jaw in anger at something that didn¡¯t happen and pushed on Eastward.

    Priss¡¯ movement towards the East was at a steady jog. At least to her it was a jog. When qi was infused with muscles, the most basic of techniques a martial could wield, the body¡¯s performance quickly stretched what was thought as physically possible. Her steady jog with qi flowing through her legs and filling her lungs was comparable to a full sprint from an Olympic athlete, and she could keep up the pace for three days straight. No hyperbole there, her father¡¯s training regiment for her consistently tested and pushed her limits; qi endurance being one of them.

    Minutes passed as did the green scenery of trees and underbrush surrounding her. She slowed to an almost normal walk when she came to a realization: she had no way of determining where the fledgling mage was. Sure, she knew magic when she saw it, but there was no magic in the forest surrounding her vision. The commander was probably going to give her a sensor to assist with this slight issue, but she was out the gate and off to the races before the saddle was on, so to speak. Before she could think further on the matter a sing-song voice reached her ears.

    ¡°Daughter-sun, this one greets.¡±

    Priss raised her shield reflexively and turned in the direction of the voice. A Treefolk stood before her. They were a bit taller than the average for their kind, a nest of black hair tangled onto itself atop its head. Priss lowered her shield and relaxed her posture.

    ¡°Sun daughter greets child of the trees,¡± Priss replied. Treefolk had a particular way of speaking that Priss did not think she would ever fully master. They avoided pronouns like I, me, and you. Something about those words being assumptive, or too narrow for their perspective of the world. Priss wasn¡¯t really certain. When Moonsister Yarrow taught Priss how to speak mana-charged languages, such as the Treefolk¡¯s, it had come with cultural lessons as well. It was those parts of the lessons that Priss would have slept through if she were in a classroom and not being tutored. Needless to say, the lessons that stuck with her were selective.

    ¡°How may I help you?¡± Priss asked and then mentally cringed. Hadn¡¯t she just reminded herself to avoid that word?  The Treefolk didn¡¯t seem to mind.

    ¡°Daughter-sun travels towards mage-new but has lost the way. Turned around daughter-sun will become,¡± the Treefolk said plainly. Now Priss thought about it a bit, the Treefolk¡¯s speech kind of reminded her of an old sci-fi movie character from a film trilogy she found online. Terry absolutely loved those movies once she showed them to him.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Priss answered with an inquiring tone.

    ¡°mage-new is watched,¡± the Treefolk continued, ¡°monster of the Scar comes for mage-new.¡± This was news to Priss. Trees must be talkative today.

    ¡°The monster of the Scar watches the new mage?¡± Priss asked to affirm her understanding. The Treefolk shook their head side to side.

    ¡°No. mage-smoke watches mage-new. Monster-Scar comes for mage-new,¡± the Treefolk explained. So the fledgling mage was part of a group. Why else would another being watching over them?

    ¡°Why tell Sun Daughter this?¡± Priss made sure not to use personal pronouns this time. She gave herself a mental cheer at the small success. The Treefolk tilted its head quizzically for a moment, listening to something Priss could not and then replied.

    ¡°The trees say mage-new smells of daughter-sun.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Priss asked intelligently.

    ¡°The trees say new-mage smells of daughter-sun,¡± the Treefolk repeated helpfully.

    Take a breath, Priss. That¡¯s right, breathe. Now why would someone smell of me? If they have my scent then they¡­

    ¡°Terry!¡± Priss exclaimed and screamed at the same time as the realization struck her. ¡°Where is he?¡± Priss asked with rising panic. The Treefolk pointed what was probably Southeast and spoke.

    ¡°Go this way daughter-sun, follow the leaves-yellow to find mage-new. Then listen for screams.¡± Well that wasn¡¯t ominous at all. Before she could question the Treefolk further she witnessed its bark like skin transmogrify into actual bark. The unkempt hair stretched and took on a green hue, the texture becoming that of leaves. The Treefolk had become of tree. In another situation this revelation would have been fascinating, but Priss was already swiveling her head around looking for tree with yellow leaves.

    In another display of what Priss assumed was Treefolk use of nature-sourced magic Priss watched as a rough line of trees began shifting the color of their leaves into the fall colors of yellow. The line of yellow leaved trees was in the general direction that the Treefolk pointed towards. Without giving time to really question if the Treefolk¡¯s information was trustworthy Priss bolted along the path of yellow leaved trees. Terry was in the Hidden World and he needed help.

    ~

    I could really use of help.

    Terry moaned in pain as he watched the Sanguine Bat flutter between the four goblins. Their long limbs offered reach to their nails and weapons, but they were uncoordinated as a group and kept smacking each other rather than the bat. Terry¡¯s flying ally did get struck by the flailing goblins occasionally, but the damage seemed superficial. It was difficult to tell for certain since its fur was the same color as blood.

    Terry sat up on the ground with a struggle. He bit down on his lip to keep the involuntary sound of pain from escaping. Any noise like that might remind the goblins he was there, and he was in no position to do something about that. His body stung from the beating he received from the goblins. Oversized purple blotches of skin formed where clubs struck, rends of flesh showed where claws and that stone dagger have run across his body. The healing the vamp bat had given him took the painful edge of the wounds, but anything beyond this small movement was an unimaginable labor.

    Something had to change, soon. This tenuous situation would quickly fall out of favor for Terry. His¡­ familiar? Summon? Creature? Friend? Minion? Terry wasn¡¯t sure the proper term to use when referring to the Sanguine Bat but knowing would not be helpful in the moment. His bat could only distract. Attacking entailed latching on with fangs and drinking in the vital essence of its prey. That made it remain still enough for others to easily attack it. Goblins, while largely unskilled from what Terry saw, could successfully strike an immobile target. He has the bruises and cuts to prove that.

    Might as well try another card, vamp bats are strongest when paired with another card.

    Terry was grateful that whatever this magic was that it was similar to Fate¡¯s Hand. This was the only way he even had an inkling of what to do with the power. He extended his intent into his immediate surroundings, his jacket pocket in this case. There were still two blue echoes and two bronze chimes. Terry tried to reach out to the blue echoes, but they remained unmoving to his summons. That left the bronze chimes, his common rank cards.

    With no idea on how to differentiate the cards with this magic color sight/sound he was using, and as he was in too much pain to physically draw cards for inspection, he pulled at one randomly. Energy drained out of him and into the card now held in his hand.

    When did that happen?

    The metaphorical tub of power within Terry was now getting dangerously low. He could imagine warning sirens going off and some grandfatherly voice telling him that his health and mana are low, did he have any potions or food? There was, however, no grandfatherly voice and Terry certainly did not have any potions or food. He did have a magic playing card in his hand and that was probably more useful in this circumstance. A quick glance revealed what Terry had to work with.

    Unsettling Fog

    Class: Common (Field)

    Create a thin layer of fog which shrouds a 50ft radius. Entities within the fog hear murmurs that reduce awareness and gradually foster hallucinations. A powerful, or willful, being may be unaffected by the fog.

    ¡°This might actually work,¡± Terry whispered to himself. He had never used a field card before since they fell out of fashion before his time playing Fate¡¯s Hand, but if the card did what it said then the probably weak-minded goblins wouldn¡¯t stand a chance. He focused more of his intent on the card and willed it to activate its described power and hoped that there wasn¡¯t some hidden caveat to its use.

    The card shimmered as it responded to Terry¡¯s intent and white fog billowed forth from it. The fog cloud took moments to completely cover the immediate area. Once that was done the card faded from Terry¡¯s hand. The fog persisted and Terry felt a connection to it. The bond was not like the one he had to the Sanguine Bat. There was no presence with this. Terry just felt a trickle of what he assumed was his mana leaking from him and through the bond into the fog¡¯s conjuration.

    Terry looked back towards the fight between the goblins and his summoned bat. Summon seemed like the best word for the bat. It was more difficult to see due to the fog, but he got a general idea of what was happening¡ªthe card had said it was just a thin layer of fog after all. Terry saw the goblins¡¯ large ears swivel side to side as they looked around themselves. Through the unfamiliar connection he had with the Sanguine Bat, Terry sent a command and hoped that it worked.

    Attack one on the edge.

    The connection quivered for a moment as tension began to strain the bond. Terry¡¯s instincts screamed that the summon was trying to resist the command. Panicked he would lose his only ally in this struggle, Terry¡¯s will clamped down on the connection with desperate force and pulled the bond closer to him. The Sanguine Bat did not physically get closer to him, but Terry felt a tighter bond with the creature due to his action. The summon settled down and seemed more open to Terry¡¯s order.

    The shadows in the fog continued flailing blindly as they seemed to lose their senses. Were the whispers in fog that distracting for them? Why wasn¡¯t he affected by it? Could he control the effects? These excellent questions were interrupted as an uncontrollable wave of nausea struck Terry. His body shook as a chill swept across him. He rolled onto his side and retched. Bile stung his throat and coated his mouth with its awful flavor. All Terry could focus on was this new dynamic to his present pain.

    Moments and deep breaths later Terry rolled onto his back. Above him the tree line gave way to a beautiful blue sky that showed the sun near the apex of its daily journey. Had the whole morning really passed that quickly? Wait. Terry could see the sky. See the sun. Where was the fog?

    Terry raised his head to get a better view of his situation. The fog really was gone. He clearly saw a trio of goblins shaking their heads. As if clearing their minds of something. There was another goblin, but it was on the ground. A sizeable gash across its throat coating the surrounding flesh in crimson told the tale of what happened to it. Where was the vamp bat? That summon was his lifeline.

    Terry mentally probed for that bond he had pulled closer to him to take control of the card monster. He did not find it. Panic set in once again. With the panic came additional adrenaline he thought had been spent in his earlier flight. With the adrenaline his pain was pushed aside and he stood on shaky legs. He tugged at his mana tub, that was really a poor choice of word but it didn¡¯t feel like the size of a pool, and nearly collapsed back on the ground. What had been teeming with magic essence at the beginning of this last stand had run dry. Terry was out of magic.

    Well, that explains the missing bat and fog.

    His legs began shaking in weariness and pain once again as the reality of his situation settled into his mind.

    He was not going to be able to escape from this.

    ¡°Hey, you green bastards!¡± Terry yelled, surprising the goblins and himself. The sound snapped the goblins¡¯ attention back towards him though. ¡°Come and get some if you¡¯re brave enough.¡± He raised his voice and fists in defiance towards his foes and prepared for what came next.

    The goblins were not frightened by Terry¡¯s declaration.

    Damn. Well, at least I¡¯ll get a swing in before the end of this.

    They looked at Terry with a hungry malevolence. This wasn¡¯t going to be pretty, pleasant, or even plausible. But, at least he was on his feet this time. With a war cry the trio of goblins charged. With a returning shout Terry stood his ground and waited.

    One of the goblins pulled ahead of the other two with a loping gait and crouched low preparing to leap the remaining distance. Terry dully noted that it kind of looked like a frog in that position. Another war cry signaled it flight towards Terry. He raised up his fists and prepared to swing for the impact. He spread his feet in hopes of remaining stand after the impact, but that was hopeful thinking. He was hardly standing as is. A stiff breeze would push him over.

    A high tone whistle sound swiftly approached Terry from the side, beyond his sight, and he idly thought a stiff breeze might actually be coming to knock him over. Before he could twist his head to inspect the direction the whistling sound came from a streak of silver rushed into his line of sight and towards the mid-leap goblin.

    The silver streak moved too swiftly for Terry to identify it. The object did stop with a loud crack as it connected with the leaping goblin. The creature had been knocked back a good ten feet or so from the impact site and Terry now had a clear visual of what hit the soon to be killer. A black and silver disk the size of a small end table was embedded in its chest by the rim. The goblin lay unmoving. Terry and the two remaining goblins looked at one another and silently asked if they knew what caused this.

    ¡°Terry!¡± a wonderfully familiar voice shouted from the direction the disk came from. He looked to a clearly humanoid blur run out of the foliage and gently slam into him. The force of the impact buckled his knees and he collapsed into the sudden embrace. Taking a breath to replace the air the crash forced from his lungs Terry took in the sweet scent of apples.

    ¡°Terry,¡± a brunette woman clad in some sort of black/brown studded leather outfit said as she hugged him a bit too tightly. ¡°Are you ok? What are you doing here? How did you get here? Who is watching you? Where are they?¡± the rapid fire questions started with concern and ended with a snarl.

    ¡°Hey there troublemaker,¡± Terry wheezed as Priss continued to crush him. ¡°Can questions and crushing wait till later? These guys have been after me for a while.¡± Priss lightened her hug and glanced at the two goblins behind her. They were finally coming to their senses and raising their weapons threateningly.

    ¡°huhh,¡± she sighed. ¡°Think you can stand for a bit? I¡¯ll take care of this.¡± Priss took a tentative step back as she released Terry from their embrace. He had been leaning on her for more support than she realized because he immediately began tottering and falling towards the ground. She quickly caught him and took a serious look at him. He was beaten and bruised from bludgeoned attacks and had several nasty cuts from claws that probably needed to be cleaned. Blood coated the clothing and flesh surrounding those wounds. Terry looked like he had been through hell. Priss was honestly surprised he wasn¡¯t in worse shape if he didn¡¯t have anything to defend himself with.

    That¡¯s not completely true, he is probably the fledgling mage. Where is his magic?

    ¡°Did the goblins do this to you? Or was it the smoke mage?¡± Priss asked with an icy tone.

    ¡°Goblins,¡± Terry groaned. The adrenaline leaving his system, making him even more weak and shaky.

    ¡°Alright, sit tight and I¡¯ll be right back,¡± Priss told him. Terry complied as she guided him to the ground.

    ¡°Be careful, they hurt a lot.¡± Priss adjusted her grip on the short sword now in her hand and spun on the goblin duo.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m far too powerful to fear trash like them.¡± Priss spoke with steel in her voice that Terry only heard when she was royally pissed off.

    The goblins found their nerves and charged once Priss was facing them. She stood there for a moment, two moments, waiting for them. It could have been the near blinding flairs of pain, or perhaps the blood loss, but she had been standing there in front of Terry and then she wasn¡¯t. A goblin screamed surprised pain as a foot of sharpened steel sprout from its chest like a blade of grass. Priss appeared a moment later behind the goblin with the steel growth, a grim look covering her face.

    The second goblin reacted swifter than Terry would have credited to the creature and pulled back its club to swing at Priss. She glanced at the creature is cold eyes and its clearly orchestrated attack. Without any pull back of the arm as warning, her free hand flew towards the goblins throat and jabbed at it. The goblin¡¯s windpipe visibly caved and it collapsed gurgling. A vicious sucking sound announced that Priss drew her blade out of the goblin sheath in front of her. She deftly beheaded the first goblin with a single stroke and the second followed shortly after.

    Terry looked at his girlfriend with new awareness in his eyes. She just dispatched two creatures, three he corrected as he glanced at the silver black disk still embedded in another goblin, with casual ease. At least he knew what her insane workout routine was for. Priss surveyed the surrounding area with a determined and practiced gaze as she scanned for more threats. Priss looked less like the over-competitive woman Terry knew and more like a predator in this moment.

    Silence pervaded the bloodied patch of forest as he watched his girlfriend clean blood off her very real sword with a flick of her wrist. With no further threat to his life Terry¡¯s mind caught up to who exactly was here with him.

    ¡°Hey Priss,¡± he began slowly and quietly. Pain echoed from his voice as his body was still singing its wounded symphony. ¡°I know we joked about you being some sort of secret ninja, but are you actually a secret ninja?¡± As he voiced his question Priss walked over to the metal disk to retrieve it¡ªoh it was shield, a buckler. Once the question was out she turned and looked at Terry, an unreadable expression on her face. She quietly walked over to Terry and sat on the ground next to him. Priss wrapped her arms around him, gingerly this time, and buried her face into the safe space that was where his neck and shoulders met. There she laughed before replying.

    ¡°That is the first thing you ask me? Am I really a secret ninja? Really?¡± Priss was trying to keep her voice composed but small fits of laughter broke through between each question of her own. Terry blushed, which Priss thankfully couldn¡¯t see, but she was right. There had to be better questions to ask than that. Once her chuckling fit subsided, Priss sat up and looked at Terry. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡± Terry asked, he had just been saved by her. He only stayed still like he was told.

    ¡°For not freaking out immediately. I never knew for certain how you¡¯d react if you found out I can do, well, do that,¡± Priss gestured towards the slaughtered goblins. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to shun me if you knew I was capable and willing to do stuff like that.¡± Terry looked at Priss with a small kind smile and wearily laid his head on her shoulder before answering.

    ¡°Honestly, I might freak out a bit later, once I get a grip on what is going on, but shun you? No, definitely not. Keep you closer because you¡¯re now more badass than I knew before, that¡¯s a definite possibility,¡± Terry said as he raised his head and kissed Priss¡¯ cheek. Priss looked at Terry with a mixture of thankful and joyful tears in her eyes. She rubbed her head against Terry¡¯s affectionately and then spoke up.

    ¡°So I have to bring this up; how did you get here? Who is watching you? The Treefolk said a smoke mage was watching you.¡±

    ¡°Watching me?¡± Terry muttered quizzically before something clicked in his mind. ¡°Oh! That must be referring to Dr. Ramirez. Who are the Treefolk?¡±

    ¡°Dr. Ramirez is the smoke mage?¡± Priss asked with eyebrows raised in surprise. ¡°I had no idea he was even a mage.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I had no idea either. I was heading to Cardstock and the street became a forest when I wasn¡¯t looking. Then Dr. R tells me to take this test and tosses me a ring and says powerful forces watch me,¡± Terry said raising his hands to make air quotations.

    ¡°I know this might sound crazy.¡±

    ¡°Stop right there,¡± Terry interrupted with a slash of the hand. ¡°Yes, it will sound crazy, but Dr. R said everything around me is real. My beaten and cut body hurts in a very real way. These goblins looked and sounded very real. You,¡± he paused to take Priss¡¯ hand, ¡°are very, very real to my touch. So, let¡¯s skip the ¡®world is not what you have known¡¯ diatribe and just tell me what is happening. Because that would mean more to me than coddling my disillusionment.¡± Priss smiled sadly at Terry but squeezed his hand and nodded.

    ¡°You¡¯re handling this better than I feared. Better than most Veiled I¡¯ve heard of thrown into the Hidden World.¡±

    ¡°Had to accept it all rather quick. Dr. R hit me with smoke, goblins ran me down like I was a hunted fox, and I summoned a bat from a playing card. There is only so much that can be dismissed with the suspension of disbelief.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you summoned a bat?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I was about to get my skull caved in and then kind of heard¡­ well I heard something. If I were to put into words I know it would be that I heard colors and then pulled at one with my intent. The Sanguine Bat card appeared in my hand then the actual bat did,¡± Terry explained.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Priss said smartly, ¡°lot to unpack right there. Which is something we don¡¯t have time for. I¡¯ll keep what you need to know simplified right now. Once we are out of here all the questions you have can be answered better.¡± Terry nodded and Priss continued.

    ¡°My job,¡± she began, ¡°is to maintain the secrecy of the world you now find yourself in, the Hidden World, and the security of the world you have known, the Veiled World. I, and the people I work with, are called Masons. American practitioners of qi. We keep monsters out of the Veiled World and make sure no Veiled Ones, people who don¡¯t know about the Hidden World, don¡¯t stumble into it.¡±

    ¡°Dr. R called you a martial, is that a type of mason?¡± Terry asked without really thinking about their tenuous peace at the moment. Instead of reprimanding him Priss just answered the question.

    ¡°All Masons are martials, but not vice versa. Martials are people who use qi to enhance their body. But there are different types of martials in the world.¡± Terry looked about to ask another questions but Priss beat him to it.

    ¡°No, you are not a martial,¡± Priss paused and took a breath, ¡°you¡¯re a mage Terry.¡±

    ¡°Oh come on!¡± Terry exclaimed raising his arms up in exasperation before he yelped in pain. His body was still battered after all. He flopped on the ground before eying Priss and speaking again. ¡°Ouch, forgot for a second I was actually in quite a bit of pain. And you! You were one word away from an absolutely perfect reference, and you blew it.¡±

    ¡°Can you take this seriously?¡± Priss huffed.

    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± Terry said sullenly as he painful rose up from his back. ¡°So what you do and I did are different? How?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good question I¡¯m not really qualified to answer,¡± Priss confessed. ¡°Someone from the Moon Department would be better, but I¡¯m not sure going there would be the best option for you.¡±

    ¡°Moon Department? And why keep me away?¡±

    ¡°the Moon Department is where the mages of my father¡¯s company, Crescent Dawn, work,¡± Priss answered. ¡°I kind of want to keep you away for a couple reasons: one, you are probably a type of mage they couldn¡¯t appropriately handle or want to. Two, because I don¡¯t think I can agree with how mages are treated there. I certainly don¡¯t want you treated that way.¡±

    ¡°How are mages treated there? Surely they don¡¯t treat other people too poorly,¡± Terry asked. Priss involuntarily flinched at his innocent comment.

    ¡°Like how James treats you in most cases,¡± she replied weakly, ¡°but there are times it is worse.¡±

    ¡°Ahh,¡± Terry said, mostly to himself. After a pause his mind connected some dots with the new context and asked a new question. ¡°Have I always been a mage?¡± Priss looked up sharply and gazed at the man she had come to know and admire, and love over these two years.

    I should just tell him everything. I was going to this evening anyways. What does it matter if it is here and now?

    I should probably also tell him that I used to treat mages poorly as well. But that I changed because of him. No, not because of him. I knew felt uncomfortable with how Masons treated mages but didn¡¯t acknowledge it. Terry just gave me the reason to acknowledge it.

    Priss opened her mouth to confess her thoughts and past to Terry but was stopped when she saw him starring wide-eyed at something behind her.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong love?¡± She quietly inquired. Her instincts telling her to slowly prepare herself and her weapons. Terry barely moved and did not make eye-contact. His sight was directly focused on whatever was behind her. A dull burst of orange light caught her eye and she glanced down towards it.

    In Terry¡¯s hand was the True Familiar Fate¡¯s Hand card. Had Terry just performed magic without an attunement? But, maybe that wasn¡¯t the case. The card was too concrete, too focused an object for faulty spellwork. The card meant something, but she didn¡¯t know magic enough to guess at what or why. A major crack of timber brought Priss¡¯ attention away from her musing and into the present moment once again.

    ¡°Priss,¡± Terry said with a tremble in his voice, ¡°what is that?¡±

 Part Six: Monsters

    Part 6

    Monsters

    ¡°Priss,¡± Terry said with a trembling voice, ¡°what is that?¡± It was a solid question to ask. His background in fantasy novels and card games offered no useful context for the creature pushing it way through the underbrush towards them.

    The creature moved with an alien grace. If given a sensible comparison it was a kind of cat; a cat that stood five feet tall on all fours. One could suppose the head was feline at one point in its ancestry. Ears were in the proper place, but were long and angular. Its mouth didn¡¯t have a lower jaw but four mandibles that released in separate directions when opened. Each mandible housed a neat row of viciously sharp teeth. Which were proudly displayed when it hissed.

    The entire body was covered in a black chitin that melded into gray flesh at the joints. Most disturbing element of this being were the tails¡ªor perhaps tentacles were more accurate. Four grayish tentacles sprouted from the rear of the creature. Each tentacle held teethed suckers at their ends that reminded Terry of a lamprey¡¯s mouth. Overall, Terry was not prepared to deal with this shit.

    Priss finally looked over her shoulder and swore.

    ¡°What the fuck is that?¡±

    ¡°Kind of hoping you knew that bit of wisdom,¡± Terry unhelpfully replied. ¡°Damn thing is nightmare fuel.¡± The horror creature slowly moved towards them. Its body lowered into a crouch as it prepared to pounce on the pair. Priss slowly rose to her feet, not taking her eyes of the creature. She firmed her grasp on the sword and buckler.

    ¡°Think you can move at all?¡± she asked without looking back.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Terry answered, ¡°at least not fast enough for it to matter.¡±

    ¡°Then we fight,¡± Priss said matter-of-factly. ¡°Can you use that card to do something?¡± She gestured to his right hand subtly as she continued her starring contest with the nightmare beast. Confused, Terry looked down and saw he was holding the True Familiar card. He hadn¡¯t pulled for it with his intent, last time he tried to pull a card with a blue echo they stayed exactly where they were; so how had it ended up in his hand now?

    ¡°Not sure, think I tapped out of magic power while fighting the goblins in round one,¡± Terry replied, ¡°might have more magic by now. Not really certain how this magic thing works at the moment.¡± Priss opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as the creature leapt for her and Terry. It cleared the ten foot gap between them with a single bound¡ªclaws outstretched and mandibles open with an unearthly yowl.

    Priss raised her buckler swiftly and thrust it forward. The four mandibles latched onto the shield and tried to violently rip the barrier side to side and take Priss¡¯ arm with it. Priss, however, had the good sense to release the shield and avoid having her arm forcibly removed. She didn¡¯t avoid one of the claws from the beast though. Her left thigh received two nasty gashes as the claws ripped through her leather armor and easily dug into her flesh. A brief cry of pain was all the attention Priss gave the wound before retaliating by swiping her short sword at two incoming tentacles.

    The blade glowed green on its cutting edges as it sliced through the first tentacle. The second tentacle only had a quarter of its width severed. It was still a threat, but it lost much of its alacrity. Blue blood flowed out of the wounded tentacles and a pained growl rumbled around the buckler. The nightmare cat jumped back and avoided a thrust from Priss¡¯ sword. After a moment of fighting the buckler the creature dropped the shield to the ground and began circling the humans.

    ¡°I think it is trying to get to you,¡± Priss said as she shuffled to continue acting as a barrier for Terry.

    ¡°Why do you think that?¡± Terry asked.

    ¡°Treefolk told me that a creature from the Scar was seeking you out. This, thing, isn¡¯t local as far as I know. How¡¯s that magic coming along?¡±

    Terry jumped as a he realized he was supposed to be doing something. He had been both mesmerized and terrified while watching Priss¡¯ brief exchange with the monster. She has said what she did wasn¡¯t magic, but her actions seemed too much for that to be the case.

    ¡°Magic. Right. Doing that,¡± Terry absently replied as he brought his focus to the card in his hand. It gave off the visual and sound of blue. Terry still didn¡¯t understand how he knew he was hearing colors, but now was not the time nor place to figure that out. The intent of pouring power into the card and releasing the magic of it flowed from Terry. Terry¡¯s tub of magic power, however, was basically dry. A small amount of magic seemed to have recovered, but it was nowhere near enough. That didn¡¯t stop Terry from continuing to pour magic and his intent into the card. It had to work like the novels and shows he read. Moments like this were breakthrough moments. All he had to do was exceed his limits and sour towards the heavens¡ªor something like that.

    Terry''s tub of magic, as he referred to it at the moment, began cracking. It was destroying itself under the demands for more power. Each fissure and rupture felt like the violent tearing of something important underneath Terry¡¯s skin. This doesn¡¯t feel like a breakthrough.

    Terry screamed. Terry screamed in pain. Terry screamed in more pain than when the goblins assaulted him. His voice gave out and his body only spasmed briefly before the pain locked his muscles. The experience was simply too extreme. Terry blessedly dropped consciousness.

    As Terry¡¯s cries of suffering surfaced, Priss whipped her head around instantly. A moment later she knew that was a mistake. Before she could correct her folly the nightmare cat attacked. Its claws dug into her sides and two circular incisions painfully announced where the tentacles latched on to her shoulder and back. On reflex alone, Priss swung her sword across the front with all her remaining qi. The solid impact and resistance against the blade¡¯s edge as it dug into the creature informed her that she probably stopped another attack, however briefly. She continued ignoring Terry¡¯s screams to focus of her immediate threat. Terry would have to wait.

    The nightmare cat¡¯s lower mandibles were missing and a nasty, bloody line ran across its chest. Blue blood flowed from the wounds freely. Oddly though, it did not cry out in pain this time. The nightmare cat watched Priss patiently, out of sword¡¯s reach. Then the teethed tentacles dug into her flesh further. Priss stumbled at the increase in pressure from the attached appendages, but remained steadfast on her feet. She raised her weapon to step forward and strike her opponent and found that she couldn¡¯t. Her strength was flagging, decreasing with every passing moment. The two tentacles of the nightmare cat that were attached to her were now siphoning energy directly from her body, like an energy leech.

    Priss had been wondering how this creature was so easily wounded by her attacks and now she had an answer¡ªthe creature attached its suckers to its prey and drained their stamina until there was no energy left to defend themselves with. That was exactly what was happening to Priss right now. Granted, she did not start this fight at her best. She had sprinted along yellow tree pathway the Treefolk created for her and then held nothing back when dealing with the goblins. Foolish that was. Priss knew that something else was coming for Terry. Hell, goblins were not even on the list of things surrounding Terry that the Treefolk mentioned. Priss fucked up and was now paying for her haste and lack of foresight.

    A flash of orange light reflected off the creature and the surrounding forest-scape. It came from behind Priss; where Terry was laying on the ground. A breath of silence filled the surround forest, then crackling, wild energy began snapping at the air. It sounded like the tesla coils that power plants used running out of control.

    The nightmare cat glanced in the direction of the crackling sound. After a moment it yowled and took a bounding leap towards it. Priss was still attached via tentacles and got dragged along. She swung her sword at the tentacles connecting her to the creature, but she had now qi left to reinforce her swing and her physical strength waned with each passing moment. Wherever this creature was going, she was in for the ride until completely drained.

    Suddenly, the nightmare cat stopped. Priss twisted to avoid colliding with the creature and stumbled onto her knees. She looked up to see what had forced her foe to stop. Ok, foe might be a generous term for this situation. Priss was completely at its mercy. Her captor. Well that wasn¡¯t kind to Priss¡¯ pride; let¡¯s just go with foe. They just had the upper hand for the moment. Once Priss¡¯ sight registered what she and her foe were looking at, she too understood the pause.

    Terry, poor beaten and battered Terry, laid on the ground face first. She saw new blood trails running from his ears and down the side of his face from his eyes.

    Oh no, what did he do?

    Priss heard Moonsister Yarrow warning her mages before performing magic that when already taxed on mana reserves that it was better not to and rely on the Masons and recover. There was some sort of danger associated with overtaxing a mage¡¯s mana reserves that Priss didn¡¯t know about. She could have asked, learned more about how the strength¡¯s of her fellows at Crescent Dawn worked, but she hadn¡¯t cared then. She hadn¡¯t cared and now her apathy was reaping the consequences on Terry.

    This is my fault.

    The giant orange-rimmed portal crackling and snapping with angry energy near Terry proved that he had succeeded in her request. To his further detriment.

    The nightmare cat starred at the portal to nowhere without moving. A quiet voice that Priss almost didn¡¯t catch sounded from the other side of the portal. It was a desperate and familiar voice.

    ¡°¡­strong enough for just that.¡±

    It couldn¡¯t be Terry she heard. He was laying unconscious next to the portal. But the voice distinctly sounded like Terry when he was beyond stressed and overwhelmed. As she tried to think of a logical reason for this a rich baritone voice sounded from the portal as well. Its sound was distorted and broken up and Priss only caught a few words.

    ¡°¡­I accept¡­ and forever after that.¡±

    Even in this dire situation, she very likely to die to either the nightmare cat or whatever was in the portal, Priss flushed with incredulity. She did not want to hear anyone say that to Terry, even the shouldn¡¯t-be-Terry voice in the portal. Priss didn¡¯t have much time to investigate the root of those thoughts and emotions as a crunching sound began to erupt from the other side of the portal. The sound came one after another, like footfalls through frozen snow.

    What came first through the portal was the sight of two gray disks with a black circle in the middle of each. The disks hovered in the upper third of the portal. Since the portal was probably thirty feet or so tall, that was quite a height. Priss gasped as the nightmare cat¡¯s teethed tentacles bit further into her. The creature had gone stock still and rigid. Much like Terry when he was starring at it. Much like when prey caught sight of a predator.

    Priss glanced back at the portal and saw the black circles contract as they seemed to focus on her.

    Shit. Those are eyes.

    For eyes to be that large, what was the true size of the creature attached to them?

    ¡°Release her foolish one, you have erred in ways you do not comprehend and her essence will not cure your madness,¡± the baritone voice rumbled from the portal. The nightmare cat reacted with a retort of hisses. The hisses sounded off due to the missing lower mandibles and Priss would have taken a measure of joy from that in another situation. The hisses were completely unintelligible to Priss, but not to the eyes apparently.

    ¡°Truly a shame then,¡± the voice continued and the crunching sound resumed. ¡°In time you could have gotten your own rift key and joined the Pack.¡± The crunching got louder and something new appeared from the portal.

    It started with a thick column of white-gray fog. Another joined beside it and the fog began condensing and gaining a new texture. The base of the fog columns widened and grew four elongated tendrils from the base. Those tendrils curved, hardening into black claws that were soon covered in black fur that was lightly covered in white. It reminded Priss of a light dusting of snow over asphalt.

    The eyes drew closer next. Before the breached the boundary of the portal more fog poked through near the eyes¡¯ level. That fog transformed into a black nose attached to a large muzzle covered with the same black-grey fur as the leg. Soon the rest of the head emerged from the portal as well as part of the body beneath. The creature¡¯s head was the size of a compact car and clearly canine.

    Fuck. This thing puts any dire wolf I¡¯ve fought to shame. Terry summoned that?

    The features of this dog were more aligned with a wolf than any domestic breed. Sharp ears twitched at every sound, the pointed tips of fangs teased their presence beneath black lips, and its ever-emerging form was lithe with trimmed muscle hidden with fur. Clearly the portal was indicative to the size of the wolf-monster because as it fully emerged most of the portal was filled by the frame of this creature.

    Though this was quite a bit to take in, the wolf-monster fully emerged from the portal in just a few seconds. The sheer size and presence of the beast just seemed to stretch out the moment. It looked down at the nightmare cat and a growl rumbled from deep within its chest as it spoke again.

    ¡°It is a shame foolish one. You stand below your better, a true predator, and you fail to accept your place or fulfill my commands. That, and you harm the Pack Alpha¡¯s mate, you were destined to be nothing more than a cursed example of what happens to prey that believes to be hunter.¡± Before the nightmare cat could respond or flinch the giant wolf-monster lunged forward with its jaws unhinged. The teeth sank into the chitin of the nightmare cat as if it were not there. The majority of the feline monster disappeared when the jaws completely shut. All that was left was a torn rear leg and tentacles still attached to Priss. The massive wolf swallowed with a big gulp and then turned its attention to Priss.

    Shit, shit, shit! There is no way even father and Yarrow could fight this thing off. I¡¯m screwed. Terry, I¡¯ll be joining you soon.

    ¡°Hold still mate of the Alpha,¡± the giant wolf-monster said without moving its mouth. ¡°These tentacles must be removed with care or further damage will occur.¡± The statement made Priss realize she was shaking. But not in fear. Definitely not in fear.

    The wolf-monster approached and opened its mouth slightly. Two white trails of mana weaved through the air towards Priss. She went rigid and prepared for death. Death did not come. The white trails of mana connected with the tentacle remains. Those remains began cracking and then falling off her in pieces. Like icicles melting off of a roof. The process took a few minutes, but once complete, Priss was totally free of the teethed masses, and she was utterly exhausted. This whole day had been an ordeal so far. She collapsed in a heap onto the ground as her legs realized there was no more energy to even stand.

    After a quiet moment Priss looked up at the wolf-monster. It had already moved to Terry¡¯s side and was sniffing him. Panicking at the sight, Priss stumbled to stand on shaky legs and with pure determination raised her weapon.

    ¡°Stay away from him.¡±

    Alright, that sounded pretty feeble to her. She could only imagine how it looked in her bloodied condition. Priss started swaying as her balance was out of reach and fell forward.

    Right. Blood loss is a thing.

    She did not smash into the ground as she expected. An oversized muzzle of black and white fur caught her and began gently guiding her waning form to Terry¡¯s collapsed body.

    The wolf-monster set Priss down next to Terry with far more kindness than she expected from such a creature. Not that Priss was an expert on monstrously oversized wolf monster social habits. She had a general idea where to stab and that was usually enough. Once Priss was in reach of Terry she grabbed his side and rolled him closer to herself. He was in rough shape. Blood had run freely from his ears and eyes, his skin a sickly pale, lips were a shade of purple she had only seen when he got the flu real bad, and he felt more cold than he should. Cold bodies were not good.

    ¡°Terry¡­ Terry, sweetie, wake up. It¡¯s over now. Please get up. We have so much left to talk about. Like how you got a dog without asking me about it. Isn¡¯t that the sort of thing couples decide on together? I don¡¯t think we have a yard big enough for the one you brought home¡­ Terry, sweetie¡­ please¡­¡± Priss had started by holding onto Terry¡¯s shoulders as she tried to shake him awake, but slowly lowered herself onto his prone form; her arms wrapped around his neck as she began silently sobbing into his chest.

    A deep, threatening growl forced Priss to raise her head an undetermined amount of time later. The wolf-monster stood above her and Terry with plenty of clearance in a defensive posture. In the direction the wolf-monster¡¯s ire was pointed at was an ever-growing cloud of smoke. It smelled like a campfire and undulated with gray and black colors as the shape of a man formed and broke free of the smoke. Priss immediately recognized Dr. Ramirez, Terry¡¯s prior creative writing professor, the smoke mage the Treefolk warned her of, and a mage of the Arcanists as the stylized lion broach pinned on his jacket suggested. He walked forward with casual confidence as he took in the scene before him.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± the mage said to himself but clearly enough for Priss to hear, ¡°a conjured creature that defends its summoner even when in an unconscious state. I am curious how Terrence accomplished that without any formal training in that particular school of magic.¡± He stopped moving forward and placed a thumb under his chin as he continued muttering. ¡°The creature seems to have a higher than average intelligence for a conjuration and is flushed with mana, if size is any indication. Perhaps it is a contracted beast. Though Terrence has had no chance to dip into binding contract spells. Could be natural talent. Too bad, fool boy shattered his mana reservoir to conjure whatever this beast is.¡±

    Dr. Ramirez took another step forward and the wolf-monster growled throatily. The mage paused and looked directly at the beast. ¡°Oh hush up with all that showmanship. Your time is limited now that you¡¯re no longer being fed mana. Just move aside quietly like a good beast so I can deal with this.¡± The wolf-monster did not move aside as demanded by the mage. It instead crouched lower and kept its hackles raised. It was odd that the creature was so protective of both her and Terry. Priss didn¡¯t know the specifics of how summoned creatures operated, but part of her was glad that it acted in this way. The wolf-monster, however, could not help Terry get out of his current state. So Priss raised her voice in desperation as she spoke to the Dr. Ramirez.

    ¡°Can you help Terry? Can you fix his mana reservoir?¡±

    Dr. Ramirez looked down at Priss in confusion for a moment before recognition struck him. ¡°Ah! Miss Daniels, the vaunted Daughter of the Sun,¡± a slight twist of his lips and words forming a sneer. ¡°How fortuitous to make your acquaintance on this side of the Veil.¡± The look in the mage¡¯s eyes were not friendly.

    Might have been a mistake talking to him. Dangerous talking to any Arcanist.

    Priss was having second thoughts about garnering attention from a foe of her family¡¯s organization, but she was committed at this point; Terry needed help that she couldn¡¯t provide herself. ¡°Can you help Terry?¡± Priss pleaded once again in what she hoped was a more powerful voice than she felt. The growing grin coated in a bully¡¯s glee on the Arcanist¡¯s face did not comfort the hope Priss fostered. He took another step forward and smoke began surrounding Priss, Terry, and the wolf-monster.

    ¡°Oh, no, I am afraid I cannot afford any assistance to Terrence at this time,¡± the sneer present on Dr. Ramirez¡¯s face spreading into something darker as he spoke.

    ¡°Why not?! He is still breathing! I¡¯ve seen and heard of mages doing things beyond imagination! You have to fix him!¡± Priss no longer illusioned herself with propriety or having a position of power in this discussion. If begging a mage, an Arcanist, for help would save Terry then so be it.

    Dr. Ramirez took yet another step forward, the smoke continuing to encircle them. ¡°You see, Daughter of the Sun,¡± another step, more smoke, ¡°when I arrived at the trial scene of my candidate¡ªan up and coming void-sourced mage that could offer hope and position for our kind¡ªI discovered that his girlfriend from the Veiled World as a Mason spy,¡± he spat out, with extra venom around Mason. Tendrils of smoke began from at the fringes of the encircling smoke and reaching for the trio. ¡°This Mason spy weaseled herself into my candidate¡¯s life and got close enough for him to lower his guard. Now, as his powers finally manifest into something conscious and wonderful, did this Mason spy fulfill her true duty. She eliminated the threat by murdering someone that trusted her when he was nothing more than a lost and confused boy in a world he did not know existed. All in the name of the Veil.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª¡±

    ¡°It was a shame,¡± he continued, interrupting Priss¡¯ defense, ¡°that I arrived too late to save my fellow, young mage¡¯s life. He had the potential to raise up the Arcanists into something beyond a bullied regional institution.¡± The surrounding tendrils of smoke began forming broad, leaf-shaped points. There were more than Priss could count.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry though,¡± he continued as he raised his hand like preparing to signal a firing squad, ¡°there was something I could do about all this. Tragic as my necessary actions were. I could avenge my fallen fellow and carry the Merlin¡¯s favor away from the hands of the Masons. With that I could rally more of my kind to the cause and break the chains that bind us to the unworthy oversight of Masons!¡± The professional decorum gave way to hysterics as the mage finished his monologue.

    He is going to kill me. He will kill me and no one will know what actually happened. No one will know and a war will start of because of that. Fucking great.

    Priss struggled to move. She had to stand up. Had to at least try and defend herself and Terry. Like hell Priscilla Daniels was going out of this life without bloodying the nose of her killer at least. Priss struggled to move, getting on one knee and then collapsing back onto the ground. Dr. Ramirez cackled at the sight. She hated this mage. This monster.

    The monster laughed as he spoke with a sinful smile, ¡°I¡¯d ask if you have any last words, but you died in a savage battle, like an animal, like what every Mason deserves.¡± The raised hand fell forward. Priss had no qi left, so she did what felt right in her final moments¡ªshe dropped and held onto Terry. At least she would be with who she loved at the end of all things.

    The end of all things felt rather cold. Priss didn¡¯t put much stock into theories of what the afterlife was like, she was a more tangible evidence kind of woman, but was it too much to ask for a warmer eternal rest?

    An ear shattering howl forced the realization that she would have to wait a bit longer to get answers regarding the afterlife. Once the howl subsided Priss opened her eyes and raised her head to survey why she wasn¡¯t dead. Now, Priss wasn¡¯t an expert on magic by any imaginative stretch, so when the mage said the wolf-monster wasn¡¯t long for this existence she assumed it would disappear or be unresponsive. The fact it had been crouched defensively over her and Terry this entire time and she hardly recognized that proved she was  not in the best shape. What she saw once opening her eyes, though, was impossible to miss, even as fatigued and beaten as she was.

    Thank God this thing is on our side.

    Priss¡¯ mouth was held slightly agape at what she saw. Frost covered the ground at the wolf-monster¡¯s feet and was slowly expanding outward. A thin flurry of snow swirled around them with about two or three feet in height. As the bladed smoke tendrils lunged to deal a death blow an opposing length of frost erupted from the flurry barrier. The two forces clashed and the smoke and frost dissipated. This occurred in dozens of places in the same span of time, continuously. It was an amazing display of control by both parties, but more so for the monster-wolf. After all, its defensive strikes were all reactionary.

    A glance across the way showed Dr. Ramirez in dire concentration. Sweat beaded down his face and soaked through his clothing as his assault was precisely countered at every strike.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Priss croaked, her voice hoarse from the stress of all that transpired. The wolf-monster was intelligent, had empathy (she thought), and could speak. Priss hoped that meant it understood her words and would maybe even listen.

    ¡°The more power I use the less mana will be available to offer the Alpha¡¯s mana repair,¡± the creature replied concisely. Clearly it wasn¡¯t able to take too much attention away from the defense effort. The fact it had the capacity to reply at all was kind of frightening. Before she could inquire further the wolf-monster continued. ¡°The longer this continues the more difficult the repair will be.¡± Priss had no idea what a mana repair was, or how it was done, but there was enough context to allow an accurate inference.

    ¡°What do you need to end this?¡± Priss asked, determined to not be as useless as she felt. Part of her, though, was rebelling at the fact she was conspiring with a genuine monster. No, that wasn¡¯t completely fair. The real monster in this forest was the mage across the way.

    ¡°Normally, nothing would be necessary, but a distraction against the prey would be helpful.¡± Rather full of itself this wolf-monster was. Then again, the nightmare cat¡¯s demise and the casual display of arcane control told tale of real strength. Ok, maybe it was self-confidence the wolf-monster had.

    ¡°Won¡¯t be anything useful, but I can get you a small distraction,¡± Priss said as her fingers probed the handle of her short sword laying nearby.

    ¡°A moment is enough,¡± the wolf-monster replied. Priss nodded at the creature¡¯s words, realized it couldn¡¯t see her doing so, and then her fingers found what they sought. Her thumb pressed the magical formation engraved into the handle of the weapon and she channeled the final drops of qi she had into it. Her weapon began the process of condensing its size and Priss raised her arm up. She curled her arm back and threw the shrinking weapon towards the mage. The sword continued downsizing as it spun in the air. Smoke tendrils attempted to intercept it, but between the continuing decrease in size and the counters of frost blasts the projectile flew unimpeded. Just before reaching the thoroughly concentrating mage the sword returned to its docile pen form and struck Dr. Ramirez in the nose.

    The mage recoiled from the pen¡¯s strike, nothing damage, but distracting nonetheless (it was a rather heavy pen), and his smoke lapsed into stillness as his concentration was interrupted. That interruption was all the wolf-monster needed. Blue-white frost exploded from the swirling flurry in the form of dozens of coin sized shards of ice. It all followed the path of the sword-pen and impaled the mage¡¯s face.

    Priss didn¡¯t look for too long, but the misty spray of dark red told the tale of Dr. Ramirez¡¯s fate. Were that not enough evidence, the surrounding smoke quickly thinned out by a breeze over a few minutes. Just like that a mage died. Just like that a man died and Priss didn¡¯t feel any regret for her part. Her current situation was rather stressful; maybe the regret came later.

    If Terry saw that he would feel so vindicated. It was the pen, not the sword, that won the day.

    Priss chuckled at the absurdity of her thoughts. Here she was laying beaten and battered on the ground next to her mage boyfriend in the Veiled world next to a house-sized wolf-monster and her thoughts focused on how the pen was mightier than the sword. Stressful situation indeed.

    Her thoughts were interrupted as the wolf-monster finally moved. It stepped forward and turned around. Then, after laying down and facing Priss, spoke, ¡°Your assistance in the hunt is appreciated Mate of the Alpha.¡± The voice filled the air without its mouth moving. That fact was both fascinating and terrifying.

    ¡°I¡¯m the Mate of the Alpha,¡± she fluctuated her tone as she said that bit, ¡°because I¡¯m dating Terry?¡± But before getting an answer he shook her head and pressed on for more immediate concerns. ¡°What needs to be done to heal Terry? This mana repair you talked about.¡±

    ¡°Normally I¡¯d say he¡¯s completely fucked,¡± a new voice said. ¡°That much structural damage to a mana reservoir is neither reversible nor repairable. Kid should be dead, no if¡¯s, and¡¯s, or but¡¯s about it.¡± The voice was light and cheery, despite the dark content of its speech, with a soft English accent that dipped into American West Coast a bit. Both Priss and the wolf-monster jumped at the sound and looked towards it.

    A portal rimmed in completely solid purple and black energy led to what seemed to be the inside of a bedroom. It was painted with a gaudy color scheme of dark reds and black. A stainless steel pole was connected to both the floor and ceiling just right of center of the portal¡¯s frame. The pole was near what looked to be a bed with a layer of rumbled sheets mimicking the room¡¯s tragic color scheme.

    The person who spoke was a¡­ Priss quickly looked away with a blush due to the fact the man was not wearing any clothing aside from a pair of boxer briefs with the image of a banana in a rather targeted location. As the man stepped fully through the portal the wolf-monster began growling defensively once more.

    ¡°Down boy,¡± the man chuckled kindly. Priss looked back up and saw his hands up in a placating gesture. Priss determinedly kept her gaze above the neckline. She only drifted lower once. Ok, twice. ¡°I¡¯m not here to harm your bonded or his girlfriend. I¡¯m actually here to help unlike that bigoted popsicle over there.¡± He said, gesturing towards Dr. Ramirez¡¯s body. Now Priss was looking at him instead of the ground she was finding it hard to be impressed. He had a mess of black, curly hair that hung crude ringlets in front of his eyes. The muscle definition that Priss was used to seeing in the men around her, well the Masons anyways (Terry was getting there, but hardly put real effort into improving his physique), was not there. He was soft, his muscles hanging off his bones rather than hugging them. He hardly looked like a mage who could¡­

    ¡°You tore open a rift in the Veil!¡± she accused heatedly. Her instincts as a Mason appalled at such blatant disregard for the safety of the Veiled World. She somehow doubted that the Veiled World location of the portal was secured as any rift site was supposed to be.

    The man sighed in exasperation before replying. ¡°That is such a crass way of stating what I¡¯m currently doing. See this?¡± He stepped to the edge of the portal and pointed at the perfectly still rim of purple-black energy. ¡°Absolutely no mana bleed on either side. I simply lifted the skirt, I mean curtain, of the Veil and moved to the other side.¡± Priss opened her mouth to protest her concerns about security but was interrupted.

    ¡°Stop waxing yourself something elegant and get back over here. If I settle down I¡¯m making you dance on the pole!¡± a powerful, feminine voice called from out of frame on the other side of the portal. The man sighed, dejectedly this time.

    ¡°As for your concerns about safety on the Veiled side I¡¯m sure you have, Lily over there is more dangerous than anything these woods could muster I¡¯m sure,¡± he said.

    ¡°Did you hear me!¡± the woman¡¯s voice, apparently Lily, bellowed in annoyance.

    ¡°Yes dear!¡± the man snapped into action at the words, striding over to Priss and Terry. Priss wanted to get between him and Terry, not knowing what his intentions were actually. The man simply grabbed Priss by the shoulders and gently set her to a side.

    ¡°Let¡¯s look at you first,¡± the man said soothingly, ¡°Terry¡¯s condition isn¡¯t going to get worse anytime soon. The damage is already done.¡± His hands glowed with purple-black magic. One hand went to her forehead and the other just below her breasts. ¡°Sorry for getting handsy,¡± he said as she sputtered and tried to remove the offending hand. ¡°Need both to circulate energy through you. Get some healing and kickstart your qi replenishment.¡± Priss opened her mouth to snap at the man regardless, but a sigh of relief slipped out instead as she felt her body knit back together. Soon she was conscious of the energy flowing through her. It circulated through her qi channels and encouraged her body to begin refilling itself with her own power.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Priss half muttered before looking the stranger in the eye. ¡°Who are you and what did you do to me? Healing magic is supposed to hurt like hell.¡± The man smiled at Priss as he removed his hands.

    ¡°A good mage can knit flesh back together; a better mage knows how to do it in a way that encourages fewer future injuries,¡± he said with a wink. Priss¡¯ eyes widened at the realization.

    ¡°They do it on purpose? Those bastards!¡± she growled. The man just chuckled.

    ¡°As for who I am,¡± he continued with a pause, then leaned back and looked towards the portal. ¡°Lily! What¡¯s my name right now?¡± he yelled. Priss heard a drawn out sigh.

    ¡°Let me check your wallet. Where is it?¡±

    ¡°Black dress shoes, left foot,¡± he replied without thinking much.

    ¡°Got it!¡± Priss swore she heard fiendish glee in that voice. ¡°Your name is Steve right now. Such a banal name. You can do better.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Thanks Lily,¡± so-called Steve replied and then looked back to Priss. ¡°Name¡¯s Steve, and I know who you are so no need for introductions. Shall we get to Terry now?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah. I mean, yes! Please help him. I have no clue what to do. But wait, didn¡¯t you say his magic pool was broken for good?¡± Priss said in quick succession.

    ¡°first off, mana reservoir, not pool. Can¡¯t go swimming in it. Secondly, I technically said, ¡®normally¡¯ fucked beyond repair. Terry here is luckier than just about any novice mage I¡¯ve known in recent memory,¡± Steve answered with a bit a sass.

    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡± Priss asked as she moved Terry¡¯s bloodied head onto her lap.

    ¡°Because of the puppy here,¡± Steve answered as his thumb gestured to the house-sized wolf-monster. ¡°You boy shattered his mana reservoir calling forth a familiar, and not just any, but a¡ª¡±

    ¡°True familiar,¡± Priss interjected. Steve¡¯s metaphorical sails had the wind taken from them as she supplied what seemed to be the correct answer. He quirked an eyebrow up in surprise and nodded.

    ¡°Aye, that¡¯s why doggo here hasn¡¯t up and vanished without a mana supply or gone on a rampage. How¡¯d you know? Not to stereotype, but martials tend to not know much about magic, let alone enough to identify a sage tier spell.¡±

    ¡°Well I probably fit the stereotype still,¡± Priss confessed as she wetted her thumb to clean the blood from Terry¡¯s face. ¡°I only read the name on the card.¡±

    ¡°Card?¡± Steve asked with a tilt to his head.

    ¡°Yeah, looks like a card from Fate¡¯s Hand, a trading card game we play,¡± Priss explained. ¡°Pretty sure it is one of his attunements.¡± At that Steve became very still, his carefree expression mellowing into a cold, serious expression.

    ¡°Void-sourced mages don¡¯t have attunements,¡± he stated simply. That bit of knowledge was news to Priss. She was under the impression all mages had attunements. Her ignorance was an ever-growing issue.

    ¡°I believe the Mate of the Alpha speaks of the rift keys,¡± the wolf-monster¡¯s baritone voice said. Priss and Steve turned their heads to regard the creature.

    ¡°So, you are intelligent,¡± Steve half asked, half stated.

    ¡°Enough to know when to be insulted,¡± it shot back.

    Damn, the dog must have a bit of Terry after all.

    Steve chuckled with a shrug. ¡°Fair enough. What do we call a high-minded creature such as yourself?¡± Before a reply could be made, Lily¡¯s voice spoke from the portal.

    ¡°Steeeve,¡± she voiced extending the vowels in a sultry cadence, ¡°what¡¯s your favorite book and who wrote it?¡± Steve and Priss glanced towards the portal. Priss became horribly embarrassed and terrified at the same time for what she saw.

    The woman standing in frame of the portal was an exotic, inhuman beauty. She was lithe with deeply tanned, almost red, skin; long raven black hair that flowed over her shoulders and to the small of her back; her eyes were the shade of midnight with twinkling specks of rubies throughout. Her outfit was so revealing that a California beach girl would blush at the sight. Priss didn¡¯t look long, but there was just enough black leather to wake up the imagination, but not enough to work it tirelessly. It was positively sinful.

    ¡°Le Morte d¡¯Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory wrote it a bit after we met. Kept me entertained after your hissy fit in Paris some time afterwards,¡± Steve easily replied while shamelessly taking in the view. ¡°you realize we are kind of in public, right Lily? Poor Priscilla is red as an apple with just a glance.¡±

    Lily giggled in a manner that seemed to deceive how confident the woman was with herself and her body before replying. ¡°Just for that little reminder about Paris, I¡¯m going to get something real nice for myself. Have fun playing doctor, that boy is all sorts of broken. Also, I wouldn¡¯t mess with that familiar too much. Closest thing to a god-beast I¡¯ve seen since we visited Fenrir. Even you would have to get stretched out before a tussle,¡± Lily said, waggling her immaculate eyebrows suggestively. She then walked out of frame with a wave.

    Both Steve and Priss looked back at the wolf-monster with a new appreciation, or apprehension. The giant dog seemed to preen a bit at the revelation. Something clicked with Steve as his head whipped back towards the portal.

    ¡°Lily, why did you ask that question? And what did you mean by ¡®getting something nice¡¯ for yourself?¡± Priss could hear the panic in his voice. Manic chackling was the only response.

    ¡°Kind of sounds like a security question for something,¡± Priss said helpfully. ¡°Like what¡¯s your favorite book or the name of your first pet. So, what¡¯s yours?¡± The question raised to the house-sized hound. Steve looked torn between investigating what Lily was doing and staying where he was.

    ¡°The name I know for myself is Winter,¡± the familiar replied casually.

    ¡°Did Terry name you that?¡± Priss asked.

    ¡°No, Winter is what I am, so it is what I am called,¡± Winter answered.

    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Steve said with faux interest, haste filling in the gaps between words. ¡°Show me these rift keys.¡±

    ¡°They are in the Alpha¡¯s left jacket pocket. All five are present at the moment,¡± Winter said calmly, not rising to the haste in Steve¡¯s tone. Priss reached out to the pocket in question and found five Fate¡¯s Hand cards. The image of a magical orange-green vortex above an open hand swirled in a clockwise manner. All the cards Terry and Priss saw this morning¡ªwas that just this morning? ¡ªwere there save one alteration. The True Familiar card changed.

    Winter, Hound of the Storm

    Class: Summon (True Familiar)

    Winter is the True Familiar, soul-bound to the mage Terence White. For spells, effects, and other conditions Winter and Terence may be considered the same entity. Winter can never be truly banished and may exchange strength between himself and his mage; the inverse is possible as well.

    Priss handed the cards to Steve and he spent a few minutes studying them in silence. He muttered to himself, but it was nothing intelligible.

    ¡°Alrighty!¡± Steve declared was he studying was complete, ¡°these rift key things, attunements, playing cards, whatever are probably the best thing I¡¯ve ever seen for a void-sourced mage.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that? And I thought you said void-sourced mage couldn¡¯t have attunements,¡± Priss asked.

    ¡°Void-sourced magic has the potential to be anything, and that is extremely dangerous. An over-imaginative, or straying, mind can cause some real terror. Most void-sourced mages can only deal with concrete, simple things and ideas. It is difficult to grasp abstractions and attempting so usually ends poorly,¡± Steve lectured. ¡°These cards are a blessing and a burden for Terry. They offer concrete, simplified descriptions for some highly convoluted magic. All he has to do is believe what the card says and supply the requisite mana. It is possibly troublesome because of two reasons: one, it could limit what he is capable of should he display real mental discipline and alacrity; two, if the card is mana charged and not used, anyone can use them.

    ¡°It is the latter reason that these cards aren¡¯t attunements as you know them. Sure, the look like an attunement, and quack like an attunement, but at their core they don¡¯t act like attunements. That¡¯s the thing with void-sourced magic. Anything can be created or destroyed should the mage be skilled enough. Your boy here created attunement-not-attunements from something he was very comfortable with and maintained the rules of that inspiration.¡±

    ¡°So anyone could use these cards to perform magic? Even martials and Veiled Ones?¡± Priss asked with growing horror. If that were the case, a lot of terrible things could happen should the wrong people discover this.

    ¡°Yep. As long as they know what the card does, which it so handily describes, anyone could work the magic,¡± Steve replied matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Can it be safeguarded against? Can Terry not mana charge the cards? Could you take away his magic so he isn¡¯t a mage anymore?¡± Priss asked in a growing whisper. She felt ashamed the moment she said it, but the words slipped out before she knew they were on her tongue. Damned unconscious thoughts. Steve surprised Priss with a glare that made her fold onto herself.

    ¡°If that is how you think and feel Priscilla Daniels, I can relieve you of the burden that is knowledge of Terry White. You will never recall him, and return to the path of the Mason set down for you by your forebearers. If you ever meet him again you would only see a mage to fear, subdue, or kill. Probably kill since he is a breed of mage that martials fear most and have a kill on sight policy with. Would you prefer that? It might be kinder to yourself than the alternatives,¡± Steve¡¯s scolding made Priss shake with fear, sorrow, and guilt. A painful cocktail of emotions. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. Priss¡¯ shoulders began shaking as sobs racked her body. She clutched Terry tightly as she cried.

    ¡°I,¡± sniffle, ¡°didn¡¯t,¡± sob, ¡°didn¡¯t.¡± Priss took a deep breath to control herself and then tried speaking again. She didn¡¯t raise her face from Terry¡¯s now tear dripped face as she spoke quietly.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to mean what I said. I love Terry, and being around him is changing my outlook on mages. But changing who I was raised to be is hard. Impossible even it feels like. I love a mage that I was taught to fear. I jumped at the idea of changing who is he is so I could be more comfortable, and I am ashamed of that instinct.¡± Priss did not look up from Terry¡¯s face. It seemed more of a confession to him than an excuse to Steve.

    When Steve spoke once more it was far kinder. ¡°That is wisdom I can admire in one so young,¡± he said. ¡°Keep that in mind moving forward. It doesn¡¯t make change easier, but it will keep your reasons in sight.¡± Steve placed a gentle hand on Priss¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s get him fixed up so you can tell him that yourself.¡±

    ¡°What do we need to do?¡± Priss asked, finally looking back at the nearly naked man. There was compassion in his eyes when she did.

    ¡°Not much, truth be told,¡± he replied. ¡°I mostly have to guide Winter¡¯s mana and help it shape into a new mana reservoir for Terry.¡±

    ¡°Will that hurt Winter?¡± Priss asked with concern. Which is odd she thought. She only met Winter a short time ago, but knowing its connection to Terry made her protective.

    ¡°No,¡± Winter replied, ¡°the Alpha and I are soul-bound. My strength is his, and his mine. It will not harm me, but I will be weakened while in an idle state.¡±

    ¡°In translation, if my theory is correct,¡± Steve said before Priss could inquire further, ¡°most of Winter¡¯s mana reservoir will become Terry¡¯s, leaving Winter with less to utilize on his own. Terry should be able to empower Winter with mana like his spell cards; giving the pooch a temporary fix of power.¡±

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Priss asked Winter.

    ¡°It aligns with my instincts on the matter,¡± nodded Winter. A strangely human gesture.

    ¡°Excellent! Let¡¯s get started,¡± Steve said with a clap of his hands. ¡°Pups, start funneling mana to the kid and I¡¯ll do the hard part.¡± Winter growled lightly, but seemed to comply. Priss couldn¡¯t sense mana very well when she was rested and had qi, but she was recovering and exhausted. There was no chance of her knowing what was going on. So all Priss could do was watch. It largely amounted to Steve placing a hand on Terry¡¯s forehead and chest, eyes closed and focusing. Winter¡¯s eyes were closed as well, but a more visceral change occurred with the wolf. The house-sized hound began shrinking and the aura of cold which surrounded the familiar, something Priss was just now noticing, receded as well.

    The whole process took a few minutes, but once it was done Steve raised his hands away and leaned back. His forehead was covered in perspiration; clearly what he did was more difficult than he let on. Winter, by the conclusion of the process had drastically changed. He was now the size of a normal dog; well, ok, on the larger side of normal. Winter looked like a wolfhound, more wolf than hound, that weighed at least as much as Priss did. The best part of this was Terry¡¯s breathing had become stronger and stable. He was going to be alright!

    ¡°That should do the trick,¡± Steve huffed through recovering breaths. ¡°The kid now has the mana reservoir equivalent of a sage tier mage, and it will only grow with use and time. Nature of void-sourced mages after all.¡± Priss¡¯ eyes widened at that news. She didn¡¯t know the specifics, but mages were categorized by their raw strength and arcane knowledge by tiers¡ªlike martials were¡ªsages were somewhere in the upper-middle of those tiers she thought.

    Priss opened her mouth to thank Steve, but a loud cash register chime sounded from the other side of the still open portal. Steve¡¯s face went from confusion to terrified as realization dawned on him.

    ¡°Shit!¡± he shouted as he jumped to his feet. ¡°Lily is on Amazon again, I have to go now.¡±

    ¡°What? Why is that bad?¡± Priss asked with a bit of incredulity. Terry was safe, but she needed help to resolve the rest of the situation.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Steve replied frantically, ¡°the last time she went on Amazon the credit bill was so astronomical I had to make everyone forget the name associated with the account to get away from it.¡±

    ¡°How does that work?¡±

    ¡°No time to explain. Lily! Darling! Please don¡¯t do this again. I¡¯m sorry I brought up Paris.¡± More cackling was the only response as Steve swiftly shuffled to the portal. He turned before crossing the threshold to address Priss.

    ¡°Here are Terry¡¯s cards,¡± four Fate¡¯s Hand cards floated towards Priss. ¡°I¡¯m keeping this one as payment for services rendered.¡± He flashed another Fate¡¯s Hand card still in his hand. ¡°I¡¯ll give it back once I¡¯ve decided Terry needs it or I¡¯ve used it myself.

    ¡°Also, I removed suspicion of Terry being a mage as an idea. Only we know he is as of this moment. Use that information wisely.¡± Steve stepped through the portal and it began shrinking.

    ¡°One more thing!¡± he shouted, ¡°that ring I gave Terry should help him figure out his first steps in understanding his magic. The payment for that is non-negotiable. Best of luck!¡± and like that, the portal blinked out of existence. Priss was now alone in this clearing with her unconscious mage boyfriend, his oversized wolf familiar, and the body of a mage from the Arcanists.

    ¡°Well boys,¡± Priss said to neither in particular, though Winter was paying attention, ¡°what are we going to do now?¡±

 Part Seven: Answers

    Part Seven

    Answers

    ¡­beep¡­beep¡­beep..beep..beep. beep. beep.

    ¡°Ah!¡± Terry yelled as the insidious sound continued to ruin his rest. He abruptly sat up to shut off the demonic alarm and found himself falling right back down as pain flared across his chest and through his right thigh. The pain forced labored breaths in an effort to steel himself against the pain. The demonic alarm clock was keeping pace with his agitated heartbeat.

    ¡°Calm down dear, calm down,¡± a matronly voice intoned that Terry did not recognize. ¡°Move like that much more and you¡¯re likely to tear out the stitches I worked so hard on.¡± Terry looked up and saw an elderly First Nations woman sitting in a wicker rocking chair nearby. She had a round face that sagged with the creases of age and stress lines. Long black hair streaked with gray was tied into twin tails that ran over her shoulders. The hair tails were adorned with bird feathers of various size and beads tied off at the ends. The elderly woman wore a bright blue robe hemmed with white; gold stylizations of the moon¡¯s phases worked around the white hems. The woman looked like a kind grandmother¡ªone Terry never had.

    She smiled as Terry studied her and set aside a bead work that she had been busying herself with. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you so energetic after your ordeal. Had you slept any longer I would have been concerned something else was wrong with you,¡± the elderly woman said with playful admonishment. ¡°Oh, the young have no cares in the world and just sleep their time away.¡±

    ¡°Uh, sorry?¡± Terry sputtered in response. He moved his focus away from the First Nations elder and studied the room he was in.

    Terry laid in a hospital bed next to IV drip stand and vitals monitoring equipment. That is where the infernal beeping was coming from. The rest of the room was rather standard for a recovery room as far as Terry¡¯s experience led him to believe. Sterile white walls, florescent lighting, clean countertop with sink, and a couple under-stuffed chairs for visitors. The only outliers were the wicker rocking chair and the unknown woman sitting in it.

    ¡°Who are you? Where am I? and why am I here?¡± Terry asked in quick succession. He internally winced a bit at demanding so much from someone who seemed to have helped him through something.

    The elder laughed, ¡°you must be closer to Priscilla than I¡¯m sure Jack would like. You sound just as impatient as she does when asking questions.¡± Hearing Priss¡¯ name made Terry wonder where she was. The last thing he remembered¡ª

    Cards- Forest- Smoke- Terror- Monsters- Darkness

    Memories of what happened to Terry in a place not of this world rushed back into conscious thought. He gasped and fell back onto the bed. His mouth gaped open and close like a fish out of water for a bit. Once Terry regained control of himself, he looked back towards the elder. There was concern written across her face, but her eyes did not waver. She was studying him for something. Apparently, this grandmotherly figure was not just about fresh cookies and stories from her youth.

    ¡°Where is Priss?¡±

    ¡°I see you remember some of your ordeal already. The trauma you experienced was about middling for Veiled Ones when they are dragged into the Hidden World. Definitely seen worse. At least you survived your time there,¡± the elder finally said after continuing to study Terry for a moment. ¡°And don¡¯t worry about Priscilla. She is just fine. She got beaten and battered rather nastily by that feline monstrosity, but she is a tough young lady; she is already on her feet.¡± Terry sighed in relief at the news. He opened his mouth to state his question hadn¡¯t been answered, but she kept talking; completely ignoring the social contract that conversations were a two-party dialogue that went back and forth.

    ¡°She is somewhere in the building. Probably getting debriefed by her father and other ranking members of the Sun Department.

    ¡°As to where you are, you¡¯re in the Crescent Dawn Headquarters building. Headquarters is a bit assuming a title, I¡¯ll admit. It is the only building our organization has when that term would make one assume there are multiple branches. Oh well, That¡¯s the name Jack put on the building. Things carved in stone and all that nonsense.¡± The elderly woman took a breath and then continued.

    ¡°You¡¯re more specifically in the medical wing of said headquarters. We just tend to call it the Infirmary¡ªno need to reinvent the wheel with names. You got cut up and bashed quite nastily. Lost more blood than is generally recommended by the Red Cross, and you suffered an abnormal amount of mental strain in addition to the standard trauma of crossing the Veil for the first time. There was some healing already done to your body prior to getting into the Infirmary, Priss can¡¯t heal, so I¡¯m curious if you know how some of your cut muscles were already knitting themselves back together?¡±

    Terry panicked internally and it must have shown on his face because the elder commented, ¡°it¡¯s alright dear. You can tell me nothing can harm you here, not even Jack¡¯s brutes. You have my confidence and attention.¡± She smiled genuinely as far as Terry could tell, but her previous studious look put him on edge. So, he went with a half-truth.

    ¡°It was a monster,¡± Terry lamely said.

    ¡°A monster healed you?¡± the First Nations elder asked incredulously.

    ¡°Yeah, a bat that sucked blood and then used something from that to heal me,¡± Terry explained. ¡°I don¡¯t know where it came from or even what it was. I thought it was another thing hunting after me. It killed a trio of goblins and then disappeared just before Priss arrived like a heroine.¡±

    ¡°From the report I heard from her, you handled yourself rather well for a defenseless Veiled One,¡± the elder said kindly. The conversation hitting a valley as Terry did not offer anymore details and the elder not asking for more.

    ¡°Thank you for taking care of me and my pains,¡± Terry said with a tired voice. He was already feeling exhausted from the effort of staying awake and talking.

    ¡°You¡¯re very welcome dear,¡± she answered kindly. ¡°You look exhausted, get some rest. Shaman¡¯s orders.¡± Terry agreed wholeheartedly he was tired, enough that he didn¡¯t catch the strange word choice. He did, however, see the wicker rocking chair start slithering like a snake as the woman stood up. The strands of vine that composed the chair began to weave themselves into the fabric of the robe the elder wore. Once the process was complete the blue robe gained a latticework of green veins throughout it. With the wicker rocking chair gone the room now looked exactly like a standard, sterile recovery room.

    Seeing the surprised look on Terry¡¯s face, the elder gave him a smirk. ¡°You¡¯re Unveiled now dear, that small bit of magic won¡¯t be the strangest thing you see from now on if I were to guess,¡± she said with a wink. At the door to the room she spoke once more. ¡°Get some rest while you can dear. I¡¯m not sure what Jack will decide to do with you, but being well rested will only help.¡± She then slipped away and closed the door. Terry watched the closed door in silence for a time. Before he could think further on his situation or the elder¡¯s words, Terry fell asleep once more.

    The next time Terry woke up the room was covered in the inky veil of night. Only faint illumination came from monitoring equipment at the bedside and a low shimmer beneath the door. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Terry felt a weight shift against him. Glancing over, Terry saw another person laying on the hospital bed with him. They comfortably laid on their side and snuggled up to the contours of Terry¡¯s prone form. Familiar dark hair ran down from the head rest on his chest and the scent of an orchard pleasantly stole the sterile air from Terry.

    As Terry gently moved some hair from Priss¡¯ face and tucked it behind her ear, an eerily familiar voice spoke. A voice that did not belong here. Its baritone did not fill the air¡¯s silence, but rang in Terry¡¯s mind.

    This is the first sleep your mate has taken since crossing the Veil with her people. It would be best to let her rest peaceably.

    Terry scanned the room for the source of the voice, doing his best not to jostle Priss awake. He saw nothing at first. However, something new within Terry¡¯s instincts guided his gaze to a corner of the room. Once looking there, Terry froze up as he saw familiar grey eyes staring back at him. Had the creature of his nightmares moved on to waking terror now? Was he still asleep?

    Calm Alpha, be calm. I mean you no harm and there is no way for me to do so regardless. Search within yourself for what is new to your sense of self, but as comfortable as if it were always there. Answers are easier found this way. The grey eyes intoned with its calm voice inside Terry¡¯s mind.

    Terry didn¡¯t feel the usual sense of dread associated with the grey eyes now that the initial moment was gone. Deciding that the lack of usual fear might be a good thing, Terry heeded the words of the grey eyes. There was something to them that was calming him down. That was a first. Closing his own eyes, Terry brought his thoughts and awareness into an introspective quest. He wasn¡¯t entirely certain what he was looking for. The grey eyes said to seek something new, but known, or something like that. So looking for the odd and out of place wouldn¡¯t work. What about a change in perspective? Nope, still seeing the world from his own point of view.

    A sigh of consternation escaped Terry as ten minutes, then an hour, went by. Priss shuffled a bit in her sleep at the disturbance before wrapping an arm around Terry and settling back down. A chuckle echoed at the edge of Terry¡¯s mind. He glanced towards the grey eyes with irritation.

    ¡°Not helping,¡± he whisper-yelled.

    Wasn¡¯t trying to, the voice replied. Look for parts of you that go beyond yourself, but are still part of you.

    ¡°Yeah, that makes a whole lot of sense,¡± Terry quietly grumbled.

    Give it a try, regardless.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Terry huffed. He then tried sensing for himself beyond his self¡ªwhatever the zen nonsense meant. Then the damnedest thing happened, it worked. Almost immediately after searching for himself beyond what he perceived as himself, such as his body, Terry found what he could describe as a resonance. It was a familiar echo that had no tangible or simple connection, not like the¡­ not like the Sanguine Bat he conjured from the Fate¡¯s Hand card. With that thought, more memories, those associated with the magic he, Terry, had used to survive the goblins, came back with clarity. The sensations, emotions, and bonds Terry felt with the vamp bat and the fog came back and he was able to compare those to this resonance.

    Though Terry still didn¡¯t know what he was doing, then or now, he did have an understanding of the difference between his bond with the grey eyes and the vamp bat or fog cloud. The connection with the grey eyes was far more intimate. Terry¡¯s mind brushed against thoughts that were not his own as well as emotions that were not from him, but a part of him. Right now the grey eyes¡ª

    Winter, the other half of the resonance supplied. I am Winter. You and I are bonded as mage and true familiar. In many respects, we are the same entity now.

    You can hear my thoughts? Terry questioned with a thought of his own.

    Only when directed towards my half of the bond. Though there will be a bleed of thoughts and emotions from time to time.

    So this means I¡¯m a mage, right? A wizard?

    Of course. Though I do not know the accepted words that this culture uses to identify those connected to magic. The grey eyes, no, Winter, answered with humor. Though your mate has worked tirelessly for two days to keep that fact a secret. For those of her kin in this den are concerned, you are a regular person who was taken hostage.

    How is that the story? Terry asked, curious about what Priss had been up to since he blacked out. And how do you know this?

    I followed your mate for most of that time. Her kin were concerned a ¡®monster wolf¡¯ would be a threat to you and everyone on this side of the Veil. She convinced her kin that I was something called a bonded mana beast and that I took a liking to the injured you. That I protected you and then make a mana bond instinctively. To be fair, it isn¡¯t terribly far from the truth, but it satisfied her kin enough not to kill me and let me stay near you.

    You can die? Terry asked in horror.

    Yes and no, Winter answered helpfully. It will hurt, but I will just be sent back into the darkness until you open another rift gate for me. I can never truly leave. Terry was surprisingly relieved to hear this. The resonance he felt with Winter already became natural to him. If it were to leave, he would feel less than whole.

    I think we talked a bit before I, summoned you? Conjured you? I¡¯m actually not sure of the jargon for magic either, but anyways, you said something about a pack. Can you explain that? Terry asked, excited to finally get some answers for once.

    Every alpha has a pack, and you are the Alpha of our pack.

    Didn¡¯t you say we could be considered the same entity? How does that compute?

    Winter sighed mentally, which Terry heard, then replied. We can be considered the same for our souls are bound together. We will never contest each other for control of the pack. We are both the leader. Think of us as different perspectives of the same entity. You are the human aspect, bringing logical and morals to our decisions, and I am the power and symbol of our pack. Well that answer just brought about more questions for Terry.

    So what does one do with a pack? Terry ventured to ask, hoping for more comprehensible answers.

    Build it up with strong members, create a den, and establish hunting territory that the pack lives off and defends from others. Winter replied. Terry thought that answer was very¡­ interesting. Winter seemed to be incredibly intelligent, but there were certain concepts that seemed hardwired into his perspective. He sounded like a wolf.

    Winter, what kind of familiar are you?

    A true familiar, I thought we covered this already.

    No, well, yes, but not what I was referring to. What is your physical form?

    Ah. My physical form at this mana level is that of a wolf. My physical form is a reflection of your character and soul. Your loyalty and desire to protect allowed my form to manifest into what is thought of as the embodiment of those traits, Winter answered helpfully for a change. This also helped Terry understand part of Winter¡¯s weird perspective. Part of Winter¡¯s logical was rooted in how wolves processed the world. Or, at least, that was the theory Terry had to go on for now.

    How do we do all that then? Create a pack, build a den, establish territory. That all seems like quite a bit. I have no idea what I¡¯m doing magic-wise, or with anything else really. Terry asked, hoping to understand the mission his familiar seemed set on.

    The pack will grow the more rift gates you command. Creatures from the dark place will respond, as I did, and you can assert your authority as Alpha and add them to our pack if they are worthy. The rest will come with time. We are surrounded by predators right now and need to proceed cautiously. Winter replied with a mental yawn. Terry yawned himself, getting rather tired. This mental conversation was talking a toll on him.

    Alright, one last thing. What are rift gates?

    Rift gates are beacons, summons for things from the dark place to enter your reality. Your mate showed me what your rift gates look like, the were rectangular and had images on both sides. Winter answered with another yawn, this one Terry heard with his ears.

    Hmm, that sounds like my Fate¡¯s Hand cards. Which makes sense since I called the vamp bat and the fog from them during the goblin attack. There called rift gates, huh? Terry pondered what this could mean for him. After debating for bit he decided he didn¡¯t know enough to actually understand his position. He needed more answers that were from someone other than Winter. Thanks Winter. See you in the morning?

    Of course.

    Terry felt the mental equivalent of eyes closing to signify the conversation was over from Winter. Before would soon follow suit, but before he did, Terry looked down at the sleeping form of Priss snuggled up against him. Now that he remembered clearly, it was difficult to match this sleeping beauty, or snoring beauty, Terry mentally amended as she let out a small snore, with the warrior woman that saved his life is the Scarred Wood. Priss had moved with a lethal grace that came from years of endless and intense practice and purpose. There had been no hesitation on her part to end the goblins nor had she paused before standing between him and that nightmare cat.

    Priss¡¯ life had secrets, more than most it seemed. Terry knew that. Had known that there was more to her life than he was a part of. He had decided that as long as those secrets didn¡¯t harm her then it was alright, he wouldn¡¯t make a fuss. But now he knew better. He knew that Priss¡¯ secrets put her directly in harm¡¯s way. Clearly she could take care of herself a whole lot better than he could himself, so there might not be much ground for him to stand on, but Terry was afraid. What if she encountered something too much for her incredible skill? Sure, they were both young by the standards of most, but Terry knew that Priss was the best partner, friend, and love he could have asked for or dreamed of. Better than either of those actually. She was more than all of that. If Terry was to be alright with Priss¡¯ secrets he needed to know she would be safe when something more than she could handle alone came for her. He needed to become her partner in her Veiled and Unveiled life.

    And to do that, I¡¯ll have to become a mage.

    Morning greeted Terry with a kiss. After taking a moment to understand what was happening, and another to enjoy it, Terry opened his eyes to Priss¡¯ face scant inches from his own. ¡°Morning,¡± she whispered while creating space and studying his face. Though her usual morning rituals of taming her hair and freshening her face had not been done yet, Priss still looked beautiful to him. Even though her hair looked like a veritable rat¡¯s nest. How the transformation transpired, Terry had no clue, her hair had not been like that in the middle of the night.

    Right now those beautiful features were marred with hesitation and doubt.

    ¡°Morning beautiful,¡± Terry replied as he raised a hand and ran it through her hair trying to get rid of knots. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You look pensive.¡±

    ¡°Leave it to you to use difficult words so soon after waking up,¡± Priss chastised as she leaned her head towards his attention with a small smirk. That smirk looked much better than the doubt on her face.

    ¡°What?¡± Terry faux whined, ¡°it was the first words to come to mind that matched the look on your face.¡± Priss sighed, closing her eyes for a moment then opening them to address Terry. A distant and serious look on her face now.

    ¡°Guess I can¡¯t really hide my feelings from you.¡±

    ¡°You do tend to wear them on your sleeve.¡± That earned Terry a smack on the arm. Priss tried to maintain her distant and serious look while keeping eye contact with him. There was a struggle of some kind, and she ended up looking away and down. She refused to look back up.

    ¡°Priss, look at me, tell me what¡¯s got you so concerned you aren¡¯t even looking at me,¡± Terry gently said. Priss slowly brought her head up to meet his gaze and he saw a gentle, sad smile. The corners of her lips quivered, like she was anxious, and then she looked away again.

    Changing tactics, Terry brought his hand down to her jawline. He gently rose her head back up and leaned forward, which turned out to be rather painful due to his injuries, and kissed Priss¡¯ nose. ¡°Talk to me Priss. I already knew you had secrets before. Don¡¯t starting building walls now that I¡¯m learning some.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t hate me?¡± Priss asked quietly, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at Terry as bravely as she could in her fragile mindset.

    ¡°What?!¡± Terry gasped in surprise. ¡°No. Of course not. Why would you think that?¡± Terry was genuinely surprised that Priss was concerned about this. Priss could be a vulnerable person when things included animals or trashy romance novels, but he did not think that she would be concerned about this.

    ¡°Because I lied to you. Kept secrets. Tried to change you. Anyone would hate someone for doing all that to them.¡±

    ¡°I will tell you this again,¡± Terry said patiently, his thumb drying away a runaway tear from her cheek. ¡°I knew you had secrets. I just didn¡¯t know what some of them were until recently. I trust you to know if you omitted or avoided telling me the truth it was more for me than for you. And I have changed since meeting you. Not due to your wishes, but by simply being a part of your life. A part I will still be regardless of learning a few secrets.¡± Terry had not planned any of that out, but it felt like the perfect thing to say in this instance. Perhaps, since it stemmed from honest feelings, nothing more or better could be spoken.

    Priss looked at Terry, doubt and hope now warring across her face. She said nothing and the space between them grew heavy with silence. Terry waited quietly while Priss went through her emotions and came to a conclusion. Patience and silence were often times the best solution when there is nothing helpful to add. Too bad others do not follow this best practice all that often.

    The heavy silence broke with a pair of large, black and white furred paws landing on the edge of the bed. Startled by the intrusion, Priss and Terry looked over. A massive wolfhound with black fur covered in a layer of white stood against the bed at eye level with the two humans. Terry had never seen Winter in his lupine form before, but he knew the grey eyes that stared back at his. Then the damnedest thing happened. He spoke. Aloud.

    ¡°I tire of the Alpha and his Mate speaking in circles and avoiding the true topic of concern.¡± Winter¡¯s mouth did not move, so how he spoke aloud was a bit of a mystery. Before Terry could put more thought into the quandary the familiar continued. ¡°Alpha,¡± Winter moved his head as he addressed Terry, ¡°after what you experienced and learned about your Mate¡¯s secrets, will you still hunt and den with her?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Terry sagely asked. The question was just more evidence that despite Winter¡¯s intelligence, some wolf-ish perspective was hardwired into him. Winter sighed heavily with exasperation. Not the way people project emotions and motivations onto animals to humanize them, but actual exasperation that conveyed frustration.

    ¡°¡­ do you still trust her?¡± Winter rephrased after taking a moment to think. Ok, maybe the wolf-ish perspective wasn¡¯t as hardwired as Terry suspected. Firming himself into this serious conversation and away from straying thoughts, Terry looked from Winter to Priss. She tried to put on a calm mask over her face, but there was real worry etched into the creases around her eyes.

    ¡°I trust her,¡± Terry answered, more to Priss than to Winter by way of unwavering eye contact. ¡°Never stopped.¡± Before Priss could reply to Terry¡¯s words, Winter¡¯s head swiveled and he addressed Priss.

    ¡°Do you still wish to hunt and den with the Alpha after learning what he is?¡± This time Winter¡¯s question did not need translation. Priss hadn¡¯t looked away from Terry as the wolf asked the question to her. Her eyes remained locked with Terry¡¯s, and he looked back. Moments stretched into seconds as Priss¡¯ silence lingered.

    ¡°I,¡± she started, pausing, then blinking hard. She opened her eyes and spoke with a smirk, ¡°I think he is going to need a lot of work to keep up with my hunting and my den, but he¡¯s worth the extra effort and patience.¡± Terry smiled back at her grinning face, happy to see she finally addressed her internal debate. He reached out with his hand to take up one of hers, and gave it a squeeze.

    ¡°Good,¡± Winter said with a huff as he dropped to the floor. ¡°Now stop trying to figure out if you¡¯re still mates and move on to something more productive; like where the best hunting grounds are. These dried pellets they¡¯ve been trying to feed me are for prey and completely unsatisfactory.¡± Winter went back to the corner he had been previously occupying and curled up, tucking his nose under his fluffy tail.

    Priss and Terry lightly laughed at Winter¡¯s words, and then went back to looking at each other quietly for a time. Both kept straight faces, becoming a small contest of will. Priss cracked first. Her lips quirked and another chuckle of mirth escaped.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Terry asked with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle of his own.

    ¡°Did our dog just give us relationship counseling?¡± she asked with humor glittering her eyes and escaping her lips yet again.

    ¡°Our dog?¡± The other eyebrow joined the first in being raised now.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°Yes, our dog,¡± now Priss had a single eyebrow raised as she stated this with finality.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recall you calling him forth from an endless void and passing out before getting to see it happen,¡± Terry playfully sniped back. He knew this was a faux argument. But having it would bring some normalcy and lighten the tense mood previously saturating the room.

    ¡°What?¡± Priss asked, a flash of real concern lighting across her face, ¡°you called Winter from the Void?

    ¡°Uh, oh, wait¡­ that makes sense I guess. You are a void-sourced mage after all,¡± she continued, mumbling by the end. Deciding sidestep the ¡®my versus our dog¡¯ conversation, Terry asked a question.

    ¡°What does that mean anyways? I thought magic was just magic. And how is it different from what I saw you do in the forest?¡± Terry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Priss put a finger on his lips to stop the flood.

    ¡°Hold on there,¡± Priss commanded. ¡°That is already a lot to ask. Let¡¯s start there.¡± Priss got up and retrieved her slate from the bed. The rectangular piece of glass-like material could be attached to a forearm, as most were when used, or lain on a surface, as Priss was doing by placing it at the end of the bed. Terry gave her a questioning look when she glanced back to him. ¡°I find this information is better digested with visual aids,¡± Priss answered to unspoken query.

    ¡°So you¡¯re going to lecture me with a slideshow?¡± Terry teased, ¡°that unimaginative presentation medium will garner the disinterest of your audience and no one will pay close attention.¡± His tone altering to mimic the voice of the Speech and Communication professor they shared freshman year at Fallsbend University.

    Priss lightly smacked the top of Terry¡¯s head as she admonished him, ¡°oh shut it. I¡¯m using the slate for a display board.¡± As she spoke the slate projected a white, opaque rectangle above it. Before the advancement of holographic projection technology a whiteboard would be comparable to this.

    ¡°So,¡± Priss began, her voice taking a lecturer¡¯s cadence, ¡°I don¡¯t know everything about magic, not my personal field of expertise, so let me start with what I know best and move onto what I have a basic grasp of.¡± With this Priss wrote <u>QI</u> on the left side of the display board.

    ¡°I thought we were talking about magic?¡± Terry helpfully piped up.

    ¡°You asked what the difference between you and I can do are, and to do that you need to know what I can actually is,¡± Priss said patiently. ¡°I gave you a general rundown of what I can do back in the Scarred Wood, but It would probably be best to visit it again.¡± Terry nodded his head in agreement and Priss got started.

    ¡°Qi is an internal energy flows through our bodies and allows those who can access it willfully to perform physical feats that are generally consider superhuman. Such as jumping vertically several stories from a standing position, lifting a literal ton of weight without much effort, or moving several miles in a minute at the pace of a light jog,¡± Priss lectured counting her examples on her fingers.

    ¡°That sounds more like Superman than anything else,¡± Terry commented.

    ¡°Those examples are outliers mostly. They are possible for those of cultivate qi within them, but very few can accomplish those feats. The more common examples would be having the speed of an Olympic sprinter without losing any stamina, or lifting a large piano was a warm-up. The more superhuman the ability, or, rather, the capability, of a qi user the fewer actual people there are of that caliber,¡± Priss explained while writing a few new things on the display board.

    ¡°So it¡¯s like a pyramid, or an ecosystem?¡± Terry asked while she wrote on the display board. ¡°The higher you go up the pyramid, or the more dangerous creature in the ecosystem, the fewer there actually are?¡± Priss turned back to Terry, now done writing, and nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s a fair comparison. There are different designations for the different levels of ability in regards to qi cultivators as well as mages. Each region of the world has different words that basically refer to the same thing.

    ¡° Like I told you before everything happened with the nightmare cat and Dr. Ramirez, I am a Mason, an American practitioner of qi. So I¡¯ll explain this by using our words.¡±

    ¡°Jargon,¡± Terry quietly muttered to himself.

    ¡°What was that?¡± Priss asked far too sweetly. Terry knew it was a trap, but he couldn¡¯t help himself. Using the proper words, or more precise words, rather, was a quirk of his.

    ¡°Jargon. It refers to language that is used in the context of a specialized field. Like medicine or any science really,¡± Terry explained and then waited for the verbal retaliation. Priss just narrowed her eyes and continued.

    ¡°Yes, well I will the words of our region to keep things simple for now,¡± Priss restated in challenge. Terry wisely kept silent this time. ¡°Qi cultivators and mages are separated into five general levels of strength. Each level is more powerful than the previous by an ever-increasing margin.¡± Priss moved to the side and revealed what she had wrote on the display board.

    <u>Mason Tiers of Strength</u>

    Novice

    Squire

    Knight

    Champion

    Hero

    ¡°This list goes from weakest tier to strongest, if you couldn¡¯t infer that yourself,¡± Priss added once Terry had a moment to study the display board. ¡°Each of these tiers has three general distinctions between them: Lesser, Median, and Principal. In their simplest form, Lesser is the weakest, Median is the middle, and Principal is the strongest. There are no hard lines between these distinctions; more of a general understanding of strength. A Lesser Novice will most likely lose a fight against a Median Novice, but there is no guarantee. Strategy, circumstance, and overconfidence have caused the downfall of many higher tier Masons before.¡± Terry¡¯s attention was now firmly on Priss¡¯ words. This sounded just like the web novels he read before going to bed or on a slow day at Cardstock.

    ¡°Like in your comparison before,¡± Priss continued, ¡°the higher in strength you look, the fewer examples there are. Most Masons are in the Squire tier by the time they can¡¯t advance any further. It depends more on the Mason Organization if their average is Median or Principal. The gap between Squire and Knight is usually one most Masons never cross.¡±

    ¡°How long does it take to get there? And what tier are you?¡± Terry asked as he drank in every detail his girlfriend provided him.

    Priss smirked, as if she just hooked the fish. ¡°Depends on the person whether they grow quickly or not. Qi cores are usually unlocked around age fifteen and you start at the bottom,¡± she informed Terry. ¡°I am a Median, or Principal, depend on who is judging, Squire,¡± she added proudly.

    ¡°Wow!¡± Terry exclaimed, ¡°you¡¯re already at the average for most Masons and you¡¯ve only been doing this since you were fifteen! That¡¯s awesome!¡± Priss had the good nature to abashed, lower her gaze in embarrassment then looking up to respond.

    ¡°Well, no actually. I¡¯ve had my qi core since I was five years old. Father forcibly unlocked it to give me more time to cultivate qi. That was actually rather dangerous of him to do, since someone that young doesn¡¯t have a good enough understanding of their own body yet and can do permanent harm with qi overload.¡± Terry¡¯s eyes widened at the news.

    ¡°That sounds incredibly dangerous! Why did he do that to his daughter?¡±

    ¡°Because he wants his child to stand at the pinnacle of Masons, maybe even amongst qi cultivators globally. Better chance of that happening if I learned to instinctively use qi at a young age,¡± Priss said with something Terry couldn¡¯t really identify in her voice. She quickly added, ¡°it worked out in the end. I¡¯m probably the best at manipulating my qi aside from Father and maybe Gus. I have a good chance of being one of the best Masons in a decade or two.¡± Terry placed a thumb under his chin and thought about Priss had said. It sounded like she was forced into this path by her father. He didn¡¯t know much about Mr. Daniels, but it sounded like poor parenting to Terry.

    ¡°Are you ok with that?¡± he asked Priss. ¡°Basically being forced down a path that will take your entire life before you knew what it was?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Priss answered immediately and excitedly, ¡°I love it truth be told. A Mason¡¯s life is always exciting, filled with adventure and challenges! There are some bad and horrible things I have to deal with every now and then, but if I don¡¯t deal with it then who will have to suffer?¡± Terry¡¯s objections to Priss¡¯ situation died in the wave of enthusiasm she exuded. If she was happy with this, then he had no right to say anything more.

    ¡°So, what are qi cores?¡± Terry asked, moving the conversation forward again.

    She then turned to the display board and wrote three things below <u>QI</u>: Heart : Lungs : Lower Abdomen.  ¡°Qi cores are the location that is the focus of qi in a cultivator¡¯s body. Qi cores are called different things¡ªcores, sources, centers, or nexuses are the common ones. Though most don¡¯t call them ¡®sources,¡¯ due to magic, but we will get to that soon,¡± Priss answered.

    ¡°What are the differences between these locations?¡± Terry wondered aloud.

    ¡°Quiet you, I was getting to that,¡± Priss scolded Terry playfully. ¡°The location of qi cores affects the effect qi has throughout the body. Heart qi cores allow a martial to use any qi in the most efficient way possible. The qi core will mimic the heart and circulatory system and smoothly distribute qi when manipulated without extra effort or waste.

    ¡°A qi core in the lungs is actually split into two pieces. This reduces the overall amount of qi available at any one time, but has the swiftest recovery of qi out of any of the three locations. A lung qi core martial can basically use low to mid-level qi abilities endlessly because their qi doesn¡¯t bottom out.

    ¡°The last, and one you may be most familiar with, is the lower abdomen qi core location. In those xanxia web novels you read it¡¯s referred to as a dantian. It could also be referred to as a ¡®sea of qi,¡¯ which is rather on the nose. A lower abdomen qi core has the largest reserve of qi out of all the locations. Martials with this qi core location and pull off more powerful techniques and abilities earlier than they should because they can supplement skill and training with a sheer amount of qi.¡±

    Terry leaned back into his hospital bed. The back had been raised, so he was in a sitting position, still facing Priss. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of information to take in,¡± he plainly stated. Priss just nodded in agreement. ¡°What qi core location do you have?¡± He asked after taking some time to process the new information.

    ¡°Heart,¡± Priss responded. ¡°Father believed that the more powerful abilities and techniques could be learned at the appropriate time and being able to use qi more efficiently was a better long-term strategy.¡±

    ¡°Do you agree with that assessment?¡±

    ¡°I think he knows what he is talking about. Though it is frustrating at times. James, the mean hockey player,¡± Priss added with a smirk, ¡°is a Mason as well and has a lower abdomen qi core. He is thoroughly Lesser Squire at the moment, but he is able to pull off Principal Squire skills already. Not very often, nor in great succession, but that fact he can and I can only sometimes do so is greatly infuriating.¡±

    ¡°Oh, wow, I had no idea he was something more,¡± Terry said to this revelation. ¡°Are there anymore Masons I know but didn¡¯t know that detail? What about mages?¡± Priss puffed up one cheek as she thought about this.

    ¡°No other Masons that I¡¯m aware of. You know a few mages though,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Who?¡± Terry quickly asked with glee. Priss just smiled.

    ¡°You know one rather well. You lived with him for two years at Fallsbend University.¡±

    ¡°Marcus?!¡± Terry dumbly exclaimed. ¡°What? How? ¡­ I had no idea.¡±

    ¡°That is kind of the point,¡± Priss said gently, ¡°Veiled Ones, like you once were, are supposed to have no idea about all this. Might and magic is supposed to stay in tabletop and video games for them.¡± Terry smirked at Priss sly reference to an old game.

    ¡°So can Marcus do anything to help me learn?¡± Terry asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Priss honestly replied. ¡°There are a lot of politics involved between Masons and mages. Most of it isn¡¯t very good, animosity at best, antagonistic at worst.¡±

    ¡°Is that why the two of you didn¡¯t get along very well when you first met? Or for the next year and half?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Priss sighed, ¡°old habits and perspectives usually leave us at the grave. Though being around you help both of us see past those as best we can. It is more of a competition between the two of us rather than a fight at this point.¡±

    ¡°Why the bad blood between Masons and mages?¡± Terry inquired with a confused lilt.

    ¡°Well, it is more of bad blood between martials, those who use qi, and mages, in general,¡± Priss expounded. ¡°Martials are akin to a policing force for the Veil. Mages use power that originates from the Hidden World and with that power could tear open the Veil. Martials make sure that doesn¡¯t happen. This relationship inevitably leads to conflict. Martials and mages historically don¡¯t mix well.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s no good,¡± Terry complained, ¡°both sides are still people, there has to be examples of mixing between the two groups.¡±

    ¡°There are,¡± Priss acquiesced, ¡°but those are mostly Romeo and Juliet stories that end like Romeo and Juliet.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Terry dumbly said as he realized he and Priss were a martial and mage mixed together. ¡°Will we end up like Romeo and Juliet?¡±

    ¡°Not if we have anything to do about it,¡± Priss said with confidence, ¡°those examples usually ended earlier rather than later because one group or another caught onto what was happening. We have a couple of advantages: one, you were Unveiled prior and have no affiliation with a mage group and therefore won¡¯t have anyone trying to stop our relationship. Two, the mage who saved us cast a rather potent magic that seems to help hide what you are.¡±

    ¡°What kind of spell? And what mage?¡± Terry asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ll explain that later, let¡¯s move onto the generals of magic,¡± Priss deflected. Terry happily nodded, mollified.

    ¡°So,¡± Priss began, her lecturer¡¯s tone returning, ¡°I don¡¯t know everything, or even most things, regarding magic, but here are the basics.¡± She paused and wrote <u>MAGIC</u> on the right side of the display board. ¡°Before getting into the very little I know about magic, here is something I do know to be accurate,¡± Priss said as she wrote a new list next to the tiers for Masons:

    <u>Tiers of Power for Mages</u>

    Novice

    Apprentice

    Wizard

    Sage

    Archon

    ¡°In general, these are parallel to the strength tiers for Masons, including the sub-strength scaling of Lesser, Median, and Principal. Most mages that I work with are around Principal Novice rank. Though Moonsister Yarrow is a Principal Wizard, maybe even Lesser Sage. Never actually asked her.¡± Terry nodded along with Priss¡¯ words. Eagerly anticipating more information regarding magic. She saw Terry practically vibrating with excitement, ruefully shook her head, and continued.

    ¡°Magic is not ¡®just magic¡¯ as you said earlier. Like all things, magic comes from something. That something magic comes from is a source. Different branches of magic have different sources, and each source offers different kinds of magic potential to its mages.¡± Priss wrote NATURE-SOURCED on the display board.

    ¡°Nature-sourced magic comes from the world around us¡­ I think,¡± she admitted. ¡°I know a few nature-sourced mages and they primarily work with plants, animals, or the elements. Basically, don¡¯t fight a nature-sourced mage if they have terrain advantage. The environment is their weapon.¡±

    ¡°So, they are druids?¡± Terry pondered, trying to make connections with the context he had from books and games.

    ¡°Too narrow an identifier,¡± Priss shook her head. ¡°Druids are in harmony with, and maintain the balance of, nature. All druids are nature-sourced, but not the other way around. At least that is was Yarrow insists.¡± Terry really wanted to ask who that was, but did not wish to interrupt any further. Priss wrote PATRON-SOURCED next.

    ¡°Patron-sourced magic is probably the most variable. There are four commonly known patron types: demonic, angelic, fey, and eldritch. A mage becomes patronized by a powerful entity and gains a bit of their patron¡¯s power. Anyone with sufficient ability for magic can become patron-sourced, even if previously using another source.

    ¡°The problem is, patrons, even angelic, are the quick and easy path to power of great magnitude and they always have an agenda. Patron-sourced mages are the largest issue and the kind you will have the most contact with.¡± Priss closed her mouth quickly as she said that.

    ¡°What do you mean? Are patron-sourced mages that common?¡± Terry asked. Priss¡¯ eyes unfocused as she processed Terry¡¯s question. Before she could answer, tittering laughter sounded from the doorway to the room.

    ¡°No dear. She is simply repeating what she knows from her own lessons as a Mason,¡± the voice was from the First Nations elder Terry met previously. She now hobbled through the door. ¡°Masons mostly have violent contact with patron-sourced mages; their patrons usually have nothing pleasant planned. Masons that police the North American Veil have to stop such threats from crossing.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for explaining Moonsister Yarrow,¡± Priss said with a slight bow.

    Ah, one question down, Terry thought.

    ¡°You were doing fine child,¡± Moonsister Yarrow replied as she began to sit down against nothing. The green latticework in her robe swiftly extricated itself and became the wicker rocking chair Terry had seen before. ¡°Keep going. I can fill in any blanks. Also, when it is just us, or with Terry here, you can just call me Yarrow. Same goes for you as well young man.¡± Both youngsters nodded their head to comply with the command. Priss continued by writing META-PHYSIC SOURCED on the board.

    ¡°Meta-physic sourced mages are the youngest discipline of magic, but the most understood by mages and martials. It is best compared to science of the Veiled World, or the world you know best Terry. It comes in two forms: Alchemic, which uses reagents to create magical things; and formulaic, which rationalizes the process of spellcasting into formulas and algorithms. They are probably the slowest and least battleworthy mages, but are the most versatile.¡± Terry shifted on the bed, stifling another question.

    ¡°Go ahead and ask dear,¡± Yarrow said, seeing this.

    ¡°Are Meta-physic sourced mages related to alchemists from history?¡± Terry asked. Yarrow laughed right before answering for Priss, who looked lost at the question.

    ¡°That they are, very astute dear. During the Dark Ages and Medieval Periods of history, people in the Middle East discovered magic in objects and energy. They became known as alchemists. Sadly, the protectors of the European Veil heard of this and went on a quest to quell the alchemists. They became known as Crusaders ever since.¡± Terry was surprised that a major historical event had a magical perspective to it. He wondered what other events in the world did as well.

    ¡°Did they succeed?¡± Terry finally asked.

    ¡°Eventually no,¡± Yarrow said. ¡°Alchemists kept coming back because its greatest strength, and weakness, is its written legacy. The alchemists had notes and formulas for others to learn from.¡± Before Priss could continue the lesson, Yarrow continued speaking, like any old person who had a story to tell and was lost in the memory. ¡°Though alchemists from the Middle East are attributed to the creation of Meta-physic sourced magic, they were not the only ones that discovered the usefulness of reagents and formulas. For example, Asia¡¯s own alchemists and medicine makers discovered some of the most potent magical remedies to be known long before the Crusades started. They just don¡¯t like sharing their secrets. Always been isolationists.¡± Yarrow muttered this last bit.

    A glance a Priss showed a nonplussed look on her face. She did not appreciate the tangent that strayed from her lesson. Turning and giving her his full attention once again, Terry smiled like he had done nothing to annoy her. Priss huffed in irritation and then continued.

    ¡°The last source isn¡¯t really a source, but no one really knows much about it,¡± Priss said as she wrote VOID-SOURCED on the display board.

    ¡°Why isn¡¯t it a source but on the list?¡± Terry asked for the sake of appearances since Yarrow was in the room. He felt like he knew the answer. Intimately so.

    ¡°Void-sourced magic has no comprehensible origin. It essentially comes from nothing,¡± Priss explained cautiously.

    ¡°Why not ask a void-sourced mage then?¡± Terry genuine asked with curiosity. If there were others, maybe they could help him learn what to do with his magic. Priss gulped nervously as she stared at Terry. Yarrow answered instead.

    ¡°Because void-sourced mages are rare, and those that exist quickly go mad.¡±

    ¡°Why is that?¡± Nervousness layering itself in Terry¡¯s voice.

    ¡°They draw from nothing for their power,¡± Yarrow matter-of-factly explained. ¡°Nothing is the stuff of nightmares. Void mages cannot handle the abyss that stares back at them when they use magic. All go mad eventually. Time is the only factor.¡± A nervous chuckle escaped Terry as he glanced at Winter; his grey eyes looking back at him.

    ¡°Surely there are some sane void mages,¡± Terry half said, half whined as nerves go the better of him once again.

    ¡°Only one I know of,¡± Yarrow answered, ¡°and I¡¯m not sure he is all there regardless.¡±

    ¡°Who is it?¡± Priss asked interestedly. She must be more concerned about this than she let on.

    ¡°They are only known as ¡®The Merlin.¡¯ Been around for near a millennium, I think. Goes around putting down other void mages before they go mad. Is honestly one of the main reasons the Veil hasn¡¯t had a major breach in such a long time. The Merlin eradicates threats that others couldn¡¯t comprehend before they happen. The martials of the world only have to deal with what they know.¡±

    Silence hung in the room after Yarrow¡¯s answer. Each occupant thinking about the information with their own context. Except for Winter, he yawned loudly, interrupting the quiet. Yarrow was the one who eventually spoke up with a question of her own. ¡°So why are we informing Terry about the general ideas of magic?¡± A penetrating gaze bore into the duo. Suspicion clear in her eyes. Priss was quicker to reply. Probably for the best. Terry had no idea the politics going on here.

    ¡°Terry wishes to still be a part of my life after what happened. He needs to know the basics of the Hidden World, the Veil, and magic to keep up,¡± Priss smoothly stated. It was honest, but held glaring omissions. Yarrow studied Priss¡¯ face, looking for the deceit, after a minute she relaxed into her rocking chair rather abruptly.

    ¡°I see,¡± Yarrow replied. ¡°He is a very dedicated young man since that is the case. He got battered rather nastily, so be sure to keep him safe moving forward.¡± Yarrow stood up, her chair becoming part of the robe again and strode out of the room. Before closing the door she said, ¡°I came to see how he was doing. By the looks of it he should be clear to go in a day or two. Priscilla, you should bring him around every so often in the future. I find myself curious about the beast bond he shares with the monster wolf.¡± The door closed after that.

    A tense minute later Priss let out a relieved whoosh of air. ¡°That was way too close,¡± she complained while flopping into a bedside chair.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Terry hesitantly agreed. ¡°Winter told me last night you were hiding what I am from others. But, that old lady strikes me as extremely intelligent. How did she not connect the glaring, bright dots about the situation?¡± Priss glanced at Winter, giving an appreciative look before answering.

    ¡°Magic,¡± Priss simply said. At Terry¡¯s incredulous glare she smirked then continued. ¡°After you passed out a mage showed up, half naked by the way, healed my wounds and then fixed your mana reservoir with Winter. I don¡¯t remember his name for the life of me, but he was with a woman named Lily. He said, before leaving, that he eliminated the suspicion of you as a mage as an idea. I had no clue as to the magnitude of that kind of magic, but Yarrow is evidence that it worked. The terrifying thing is she knows she doesn¡¯t know something, and is trying to figure it out. Most have just shrugged and moved on.¡±

    ¡°Priss the proceeded to recount the events which transpired in the Scarred Wood after Terry passed out. Terry listened attentively and did not interrupt the retelling until Priss was done.

    ¡°What card did he take?¡± Terry asked as Priss sipped on a water bottle pulled from a bag.

    ¡°Fate Sight,¡± she answered putting the bottle away.

    ¡°That sucks, I wanted to know what that did,¡± Terry groused.

    ¡°You¡¯ll get it back eventually,¡± Priss soothed. ¡°Plus, if that is the price for your life. I¡¯ll take it.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough, I guess,¡± Terry muttered. ¡°You still have that ring he talked about? The one Dr. R threw at me?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Priss nodded, ¡°but I¡¯m holding onto it for now. We are in the Infirmary at Crescent Dawn and I¡¯m afraid that ring may set off alarms if near you.¡±

    ¡°Why you think that?¡±

    ¡°It, like your cards, have some sort of connection to you. I get an inkling of it while holding them and I¡¯m not even a mage. No need to trip sensitive sensors or mages by the off chance they bloom magic with you.¡±

    ¡°Mages can sense magic?

    ¡°Yea, and sensors called Magcators, don¡¯t ask, I didn¡¯t name them.¡±

    ¡°Ok, if that¡¯s the case, how come Yarrow or these ma¡­ magcators¡­ didn¡¯t sense my magic?¡± Priss¡¯ eyebrows rose, silently judging Terry and his question. She turned the display board from her slate back on and gestured to the chart on magic sources. ¡°Void magic comes from nothing. How can nothing be detected?¡±

    ¡°Ok, fair,¡± Terry ventured to say before cautiously continuing, ¡°but then how are void-sourced mages found if they can¡¯t be detected?¡±

    Priss sighed before answering, ¡°void magic creates a huge displacement of existing mana when cast. It can be found by the fact nothing is suddenly there. Though you¡¯re magic seems to create, or call from nothing, not sure what the difference is. I can¡¯t really ask anyone I know either, that gives up the fact we are hiding what you are.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything that can help me get a grasp on this then?¡± Terry mused and complained. ¡°If I get good at this magic, then I can help you stay safe.¡± A narrow eye glare made him quickly follow with raised palms of surrender. ¡°I know! I know. You can take care of yourself. You always have and I don¡¯t doubt it. But you got to understand, I want to take care of you as much as you do me. This will help me do so without holding you back.¡±

    Priss looked at Terry hard for a moment, two moments, then her features softened. ¡°This is going to take some getting used to,¡± she confessed. Terry just nodded in silent agreement.

    ¡°Alright, get some rest,¡± Priss said standing up from the chair. ¡°Dave and Anne are worried sick about you. Once you¡¯re released, probably tomorrow, we are heading to Cardstock to visit them and give them some peace of mind. Father doesn¡¯t allow Veiled Ones in here, otherwise they probably wouldn¡¯t have left your room till you were discharged.¡± Terry agreed with all that, realizing how tired he was and feeling extremely grateful for having such good friends in Dave and Anne. He laid his head down to rest and before he could say a word to Priss, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

    The next day brought Priss and Terry into the front of Cardstock a little after two in the afternoon. Yarrow had shown up in Terry¡¯s recovery room at noon and spent an hour trying to figure out what she could not know. It was a pleasant experience, given her elderly charm and quick wit. Though she left wanting by the end of their conversation still. Terry, with the help of the Merlin¡¯s magic, had given nothing away. Priss walked in as he was discharged and they walked through the winter streets of Fallsbend to Cardstock.

    The shop was empty at the moment. This wasn¡¯t terribly odd, it was a Sunday afternoon during the freezing winter. Anne, Dave¡¯s girlfriend of forever, was behind the counter. When she saw Terry and Priss she squeaked and rushed to them. Anne wrapped Terry in a hug, which squeezed his ribs and flared his healing injuries.

    ¡°Ah, ah, ah. Please Anne, a little gentler,¡± Terry pleaded as he gingerly returned the hug. Anne released Terry and then moved over and hugged Priss just as fiercely. After letting go of Priss, Anne spoke.

    ¡°Dave and I have been so worried about you,¡± she said. ¡°After you never made it to breakfast Dave went out to your apartment to see if you were alright. We were so surprised to get a call from Priss later in the day saying you were mugged on your way here and needed a hospital.

    ¡°We tried to visit while you were recovering, but the private medical center Priss¡¯ family took you to wouldn¡¯t let us in, the bastards.¡± Terry glanced at Priss as Anne spoke. She shrugged, as if saying this was exactly what she had told him already.

    ¡°Thank you for being so concerned for me Anne,¡± Terry said once he brought his attention back to her. ¡°I was wondering if it would be alright to bring someone else inside? They are the one who drove off the muggers and kept me warm till help arrived.¡±

    Anne lit up at the words, ¡°of course! Let them in, let them! Why in the world did you have them wait outside in this weather?¡±

    As Terry went back to open the door at the storefront Priss warned, ¡°They aren¡¯t a person. A stray dog saved Terry and wrapped around him to keep him warm.¡± Anne¡¯s eyes widened is surprise. Priss just smiled and nodded. ¡°The creature must have found Terry familiar because it hasn¡¯t left his side since. It even stayed in the recovery room with him.¡± Priss smirked, both at her pun and knowing Anne¡¯s expectations were going to be wildly off the mark.

    Anne opened her mouth to respond and then proceeded to drop it the rest of the way to the floor as Terry and Winter came into view. She didn¡¯t scream. That was a good start. Not that screaming wouldn¡¯t have been an outlandish reaction. After all, Winter was a wild-looking wolfhound that out-weighed most teenagers. One lady actually screamed upon spotting Winter on the walk to Cardstock. Terry and Priss just chuckled. Priss had commented that might have been the first time she saw a dog larger than a cat in her life.

    ¡°The hell a wulf doin¡¯ in my store?¡± Dave¡¯s voice sounded from the back. He cautiously made his way forward, eying Winter and pulling Anne beside him defensively. Winter sat placidly next to Terry looking terribly bored.

    ¡°This is Winter,¡± Terry replied. ¡°He saved me from the muggers and kept the cold away until help arrived. Once it did, he refused to leave me and here he remains.¡± Dave nodded along and relaxed a bit.

    ¡°Winte¡¯ here won¡¯t hurt no one, yes?¡± Dave asked.

    ¡°Winter has behaved better than most house pets since I¡¯ve met him,¡± Priss answered before Terry could. ¡°We¡¯ve decided to adopt him as our dog since it would be a process to remove Winter from Terry it seems.¡± As to prove a point, Priss left her hand an open palm at hip height and Winter trotted over and got a head scratch.

    Traitor, Terry mentally sent through the resonance. Thought you were my familiar not hers. Winter had closed his eyes and leaned into the head scratches, trying to get a nail behind an ear.

    From my understanding she is the most important person in our lives. Keeping her happy with simples acts like this is the least I can do. Plus, she is the best at this, Winter replied with a growl of pleasure at the end.

    ¡°I see,¡± Dave said in response to Priss petting the traitor hound. He sighed then continued, ¡°alright. It would go against my hospitality to turn away Terry¡¯s savior. Especially one so well-behaved and loyal.¡± Terry huffed quietly at that. ¡°Come on ya¡¯ll,¡± Dave waved his hand towards the stairs leading to the upstairs loft, ¡°we can get a late lunch upstairs. We¡¯ll just close the store for an hour or so. No big loss there today.¡±

    Lunch ended up being an affair of cold cut meats, cheese, and crackers. Anne had gotten over her shock of Winter and quickly took a liking to him. She snuck handfuls of meat to the pooch when no one, well, when Dave, wasn¡¯t looking. Conversation topics were kept simple, not straying from hobbies and news about how the new Fate¡¯s Hand expansion was selling. Once everyone was settled and food put away Dave and Anne gave each other a look, then nodded.

    ¡°Terry,¡± Dave began.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°There was something Anne an¡¯ I wanted to discuss with ya the mornin¡¯ ya got mugged.¡±

    ¡°Ok,¡± Terry replied with a bit of hesitance, ¡°what was it?¡±

    ¡°Ya see, Anne¡¯s grandparents are retiring to warmer places and are leaving Fallsbend.¡± Terry nodded along, not seeing where this related to himself. ¡°Her grandparents offered to sell their house at a fraction of the value to us,¡± Dave continued. Pieces started clicking together for Terry. ¡°We took the deal and will be moving out of this loft soon.¡±

    ¡°If you need help moving, I¡¯ll be more than happy to help. No need to bribe me with lunch,¡± Terry added, thinking this the logical conclusion. Dave chuckled, but Anne spoke to continue instead.

    ¡°We want this space to not become storage; to still be vibrant and lived in,¡± Anne swept a hand, gesturing to the loft as a whole. ¡°We know living with your brother has fallen through and we couldn¡¯t think of anyone better suited to live above the shop. What do ya say?¡± Terry looked askance between Dave and Anne, unbelieving what he was hearing. Before Terry could respond, Priss spoke up.

    ¡°Yes, he would love to move into the loft.¡± Terry looked at Priss with a bit of heat. She met his gaze evenly. ¡°What?¡± You would have asked questions that would drag out their kind offer into the plainest, most obvious language possible when you already know exactly what they meant; then refused their kind offer because of some sense of self-reliance you don¡¯t need; next, they and I batter you down until you begrudgingly accept with conditions; we talk terms until yours are ignored; and, finally, reach the point of acceptance. I just skipped all that.¡±

    ¡°And you speak for me now?¡± Terry hissed icily. Priss¡¯ gaze stayed firm in front of his anger.

    ¡°I¡¯m speaking for us in this instance,¡± Priss said, gentleness entering her voice and features. ¡°After all, I¡¯m not living in the disaster of an apartment you had with Sean when the loft is on the table.¡±

    Terry opened his mouth to defend his disaster of an apartment when it shaped into an ¡®O¡¯ as what Priss said finally clicked with the rest.

    ¡°Oh.¡±