ã€ŠStormboundã€‹


 Chapter One

    I awoke to a burning smell. I knew the smell was from something burning, though what the fuel was I couldn¡¯t place. Upon sitting up, I realized that I would need more physical exertion before gaining any form of answer to my questions, as I appeared to be at the bottom of a hole. It was an odd shaped hole, reaching out from the center as if a multi-limbed star. The hole was not particularly deep, though, and upon standing the ground was at my waist height, meaning I got a perfect view of the destruction beyond.

    The world in my immediate vicinity appeared to have been smote by some angry god. The very dirt was charred black, let alone the benches and other furniture nearby. And the bodies - HURK!

    After dry heaving a bit, I managed to contain my gag reflex enough to look once again at my surroundings. Indeed, multiple charred bodies lay sprawled all around, many on the ground, though some few entangled with the charred rubble that must have been either benches or pews.

    With that thought, it clicked inside my head. I pushed myself up out of the whole, looking around me, and became certain of it - this place was, or had been, some sort of religious site. There were the pews in rows, the melted remains of what should have been some sort of candle holders, and, behind where I had awoken, a cracked altar. Two bodies lie next to the altar as well, one clutching a somehow undamaged dagger.

    Yes, the dagger, upon inspection, appeared to be the only thing other than myself that was untouched by whatever had occurred here. For I was truly untouched, my simple woven garments sooty and dirty, but unsinged.

    My curiosity peaked by a fellow survivor, inanimate though it might be, I moved closer to the altar and attempted to retrieve the dagger. Three crumbled fingers and one dry-heaving session later, I had the dagger in my grasp. It was ornate, the sort of thing designed more for its aesthetic than its practicality, but there was a sort of weight to it. Something about the dagger picked at my mind, attaching an importance to it beyond what I could readily explain. I just knew that this dagger was more than it seemed.

    Unable to get any answers past that, I decided to carry the dagger with me. I still didn¡¯t know where I was, or how I got here-

    It was then that it struck me. I couldn¡¯t remember. Not just the circumstances around how I got into that hole, I couldn¡¯t even recall my name! My age, my family, my circumstances, none of it! Panic overtook me then, and it took a good ten minutes for me to pull myself back together.

    I took stock of my situation. I had amnesia, and appeared to be the only survivor of some catastrophic explosion of some sort. Checking my pockets, I was dismayed to find a lack of any coinage, meaning the only things I had to my name were the clothes on my back and this ornate dagger I¡¯d picked up. Thus, I drew up a plan of action.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Step one - scavenge. I spent the next thirty minutes or so digging through the remains in the area, attempting to find anything of value. Truth be told, I probably could have done it in half the time, but the dry-heaving is my excuse. If I had had anything in my stomach at the start of this, there was little doubt it would have been all over the place by now.

    Anyways, I had some luck. There were a few coins that had managed to survive the doom that befell this place, and one of the bodies had actually been thrown free of the charred area by a shockwave. Though still dead, the man¡¯s chainmail armor and shield would serve him no better in death than they had in life, so I stripped him of those and threw them on. The armor itself was loose, making it harder to move in, so I quickly removed that. There was a chance I would see combat, but I was more confident in survival if I could move about freely than if I was forced to be taking hits due to a poor-fitting armor.

    Interestingly, his weapon was not in its sheath, though that likely meant it had just gotten thrown from his hand and over the ledge during the blast.

    Oh, that¡¯s right, there¡¯s a ledge. In fact, this crazy religious site appeared to be located on a cliff above the ocean.

    Alright, moving on to step two then - find food. None of the perishables had survived, or there hadn¡¯t been any food in the area to begin with. Regardless, that meant that these people didn¡¯t live up here. Luckily, there appeared to be a path leading down the cliff away from the sea. I started moving down that, before realizing that, with the incredibly overcast skies, I would need some light to avoid a tumble when moving down the path. So I backtracked and, using the dagger, managed to pry loose a board from one of the pews, then lit it using the fire on that same pew, crafting myself a makeshift torch. It wasn¡¯t perfect, and I would have to watch and be careful to find a replacement before it burnt itself out. On that thought, I took the time to extract two more boards and looped them onto my belt. Then I made my way down the path.

    It was a steep path, but manageable in my simple, leather boots. I was grateful to have woken up without needing a new set of clothes, as the rest of the clothes back there hadn¡¯t been in serviceable condition, and I didn¡¯t relish the idea of navigating down a cliffside path barefoot.

    I managed to make my way to the bottom of the cliff path without incident, and found the path led deeper inland, away from the sea. Not seeing a better choice, I continued to follow the path. After thirty minutes of travel, I still hadn¡¯t seen signs of habitation, but the path also had yet to cease. Taking confidence in that fact, I pressed onwards, though by now my stomach had recovered enough to start making its dissatisfaction at being empty heard. I was also starting to notice my growing thirst.

    It was only five minutes later, though, that I realized there were lights up ahead. Cresting a small rise, I saw a town at the end of the path, abustle with noise and glowing with torchlight. Smiling at the sound of humanity, I realized that I¡¯d gotten steps two and three switched around.

    So! Time for the new step two - find civilization!

 Chapter Two

    Now, I had a very important thing to decide upon as I approached the civilization before me: what to do about my apparent amnesia. I was currently heading towards a town that, for all I knew, could be the most wretched hive of scum and villainy I¡¯d ever see. Also, I couldn¡¯t discount the possibility that someone here would recognize me, as the only path out to that weird religious site I¡¯d woken up in led directly to here.

    So what to do about it? Simple, I planned on faking it. The idea was to roll with whatever the situation gave me, whether it was a supposed old friend or a bitter nemesis. I mean, not like I had a better option, right? What was I to do, throw myself upon the mercy of the first person I encountered, hoping they would be a noble soul willing to aid me instead of someone willing to use my ignorance to their own advantage? If there was one thing I knew about myself, I was a cynical bastard. Actually, come to think of it, that probably is the only thing I knew about myself. Alright! Defining character trait get! I am now self-referencing as the cynical, amnesiac bastard.

    Anyways, putting aside my reasonless cynicism, with my plan of action made, I approached the town gate with a bit of confidence.

    It was a simple gate, made of wooden logs, and there was currently a single man in simple chainmail standing outside it. The gate itself was ajar, and the guard was paying little attention to his surroundings, currently cleaning one of his nails with a penknife. He had a spear leaning against the wall next to him, within arm¡¯s reach, but with my years of combat experience, I could tell this guy wasn¡¯t formally trained. Hell, even a farmer could have realized that.

    He glanced up as I approached, and I offered him a friendly wave and greetings, ¡°Hello.¡± Oh! I¡¯ve got a nice voice! Pleasantly deep and mellifluous! I now realized I hadn¡¯t spoken before. I wonder if I can sing at all?

    My distracted thoughts were interrupted by the glare and unwelcoming grunt. ¡°Yer still alive, ¡®uh?¡±

    Alright, worst case scenario. This guy knows me and doesn¡¯t looked pleased to see me. Roll with it!

    ¡°Why, of course I am alive! Good sir, did you expect otherwise?¡± I feigned indignance as best I could.

    The guard snorted, ¡°Otherwise? A lone halfwit with naught but the clothes on his back takin¡¯ on the strongest, powerfulest cult ¡®is side of the Sorlath Mountains? Me ¡®n halfa militia had a pool runnin¡¯ on how many pieces ye¡¯d be sent back to us in. Guess¡¯n Ralf¡¯ll be right happy to know he won, with his bet on yer body being whole.¡± The guard shook his head, ¡°So, what happened, chicken out? Get lost? Hard to do, cult¡¯s lair¡¯s a straight shot down that path.¡±

    Hmm. Information that I could use just kept flowing out of this guys mouth. A veritable fount of intelligence, if you ignore the lack of intelligence. Also, I am not liking the recklessness of the past me he is describing. Well, keep on rolling, keep him talking, and maybe I¡¯ll learn more.

    ¡°Is that really what you all thought of me? A defenceless fool? Then why did none of you stop me from trying? Is this town filled with heartless bastards?!¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The guard rolled his eyes, ¡°Spare me your outrage, mage. We all knew ye had the gift. Defenseless, ye were not, but the Doom Cult¡¯s not something no sane man would take on, let alone by hisself. So what happened?¡±

    More and more information, though this info was worrying. He called me mage, and I had some info on that tucked away, somehow untouched by the amnesia. What is and isn¡¯t affected seemed arbitrary at times, but I was blessed to know this chunk of information.

    Magic can be accessed in multiple ways. Some did it through the power of gods, taking on roles such as clerics or paladins depending upon their relationships with their gods. Others communed with the elements, bearing titles such as druids or shamans, while others still made pacts with magical beings, such as the infamous warlocks did with demons. But none of them would be called mage. No, that title denotes one of two distinct possibilities in the realm of magic.

    The first is the sorcerer, a being who, for some reason or another, has a font of magical power inside him. They are able to wield magic like a third arm, though they are limited in what forms that magic might take by the nature of their magic¡¯s origin. Seeing as I haven¡¯t felt this third arm of magic, I doubt this is the one I had been.

    Which leaves the wizard. While more versatile than the sorcerer, as a true wizard can access any school of magic, the power of a wizard comes not from within, but without. They study for years to learn the arcane rituals and incantations required to shape the world around them. Theirs is a power granted through knowledge, a power that only grows with study and memorization.

    And thus we come to my dilemma. If I truly had been a wizard, then a wizard I was no more. For all that knowledge was gone, either locked or erased from the vaults of my mind. I could no more remember an incantation than I could my name. I still had the intelligence of a wizard, as my thoughts were ordered and my thinking precise, but I lacked the knowledge of the arcane that once accompanied that intelligence.

    An involuntary sigh escaped my lips. Then, remembering my current situation, I quickly shook my head, turning the sigh into a gesture of disappointment as best I could. Stick to the plan, keep rolling with it. I am now a wizard of some unspecified amount of power, and I must be confident enough in that fact that none shall trifle with me!

    ¡°Oh ye of little faith,¡± I forced a smile to my lips. ¡°I,¡± I paused, gesturing myself, ¡°have vanquished your little ¡®Doom Cult.¡¯¡±

    A quick glance at the guard confirmed his disbelief in my claim. Thinking quickly, I needed some form of proof. I had taken two things with me from the supposed cult¡¯s lair. The shield was nondescript, well-made but nothing to signify it as having belonged to the ¡®Doom Cult¡¯. The dagger, on the other hand¡­

    ¡°And now, behold!¡± I quickly thrust forth the dagger, ¡°The Doom Cult¡¯s cherished ritual dagger. Blessed by their greatest priests, it is now my prize!¡±

    The man moved forwards, glancing over the dagger. His eyes froze upon its hilt, and he looked back up at me slowly, eyes wide. ¡°T-that truly¡¯s a dagger from the Doom Cult! Yer serious? Ye killed the lot?¡±

    Alright, I needed to get moving before they started asking questions. In fact, though I would likely have to spend the night here, due to the fading light and my lack of desire to rough it when it could be easily avoided, it would probably be a good idea to get away from this town that knew the past me before they started asking too many questions. Not to say I didn¡¯t want to reconnect with past me and relearn my past, but the cynic in me spoke strongly against allowing others to know my secret and thus take advantage of me. Besides, were I to stick around, there would be an expectation of my possessing a power level far beyond what I have so far been able to call upon.

    With that in mind, I decided to get the ball rolling with my departing words, ¡°Indeed, they¡¯re all dead. If you don¡¯t believe me, send some men to examine the site of the battle. They¡¯ll find nought left of the cultists but ashes, I¡¯m afraid. Oh, and I¡¯m afraid my services are desperately needed elsewhere, and after a night¡¯s rest I¡¯ll have to be off first thing in the morn.¡±

    And with that, I left the guard staring at my back in awe as I passed through the gates and into the town of Tattlebrook.

 Chapter Three

    I managed to secure myself a room at the inn with no mentionable hassle (I was lucky to have enough coin cobbled together from the cult¡¯s corpses), and retired to a simple room for the night after taking a simple meal of bread, stew, and ale. The room was sparsely furnished, but there was one furnishing that caught my eye the moment I entered the room: a mirror.

    Finally, a chance to examine my appearance. I was traveling about in a body I had no knowledge of - was I handsome? Ugly? Intimidating? What color were my eyes? Did I have any interesting scars? As I stood before the mirror, all these questions were answered.

    My face was¡­ somewhere between plain and handsome, I suppose. Not so pleasing as to be eye catching, but more symmetrical and square than your average John. Were I to place my apparent age, I¡¯d say late twenties? Maybe a youthful early thirty. I had green eyes, and my hair was brown, just barely too short for me to have noticed it without a mirror, and currently unstyled and a bit shaggy, though I had doubts whether that was my past preference or just a result of whatever happened to me with the Doom Cult. A short beard adorned my face, and if it weren¡¯t for the gate guard recognizing me at first glance I¡¯d have questioned that too.

    I had no scars to speak of, at least on my face. That thought actually led to another, and before I knew it I had undressed to examine the body beneath my clothes. Here, there were a few scars, though all were faded and smooth, the trademark sign of magical healing.

    My body, itself, was not particularly athletic. Oh, I definitely hadn¡¯t led a sedentary life before this, but there was little muscle on my frame, giving me a wiry build. I was lucky to be only five foot eight, as a taller height might have made me look gangly.

    But there was a greater discovery waiting upon my body. All along both arms coiled blue tattoos. They were jagged and erratic, but mirrored across my body, and appeared to snake up my arms to meet in an ornate design on my back. I couldn¡¯t tell exactly what the back tattoo looked like without a second mirror, but it dominated the top third of my back.

    It was a curious tattoo, one that seemed to almost shimmer in the light. Magic, I decided, something my past self had placed there for some reason now lost to amnesia. I could feel some sort of connection to the tattoos, but was unable to make anything of it. Shrugging, I moved towards the simple bed and lay down.

    I needed to plan for tomorrow, figure out what I needed to buy and where I wanted to go, but my body had other ideas. Despite being awake for only half the day, fatigue washed over me like a wave over a crab, and within seconds of laying my head down I was asleep.

    --

    I awoke to a burning smell. I knew the smell was from something burning, though what the fuel was I couldn¡¯t place, though something tickled at the back of my mind. Upon sitting up, I realized that I would need more physical exertion before gaining any form of answer to my questions, as I appeared to be at the bottom of a hole. It was an odd shaped hole, reaching out from the center as if a multi-limbed star. The hole was not particularly deep, though, and upon standing the ground was at my waist height, meaning I got a perfect view of the destruction beyond.

    The world in my immediate vicinity appeared to have been smote by some angry god. The very dirt was charred black, let alone the benches and other furniture nearby.

    The shocking visage somehow jarred my memory and the events of the last day came flooding back. What? I was back at the cultist¡¯s lair? How? Had I traveled back in time? Was I stuck in some sort of loop? Or was-

    ¡°This is a dream,¡± the answer came in the form of a melodic voice from behind. I spun in the hole, looking towards the altar. There, atop it, sat a woman of such enchanting beauty that words literally failed me at that moment. Imagine, if you will, the most perfect woman you could possibly think of. Now take that imaginary woman, place an imaginary sack over her head, and toss her into the imaginary river because she wouldn¡¯t even begin to touch the same realm of beauty as the woman before me. This woman was so beautiful, that she had somehow inverted the concept of attraction - she was so incredibly gorgeous, that I felt no desire to approach, as if by encroaching any further upon her visage I might stain that beauty with my imperfection.

    Now, poetic ramblings on her beauty aside, I am ashamed to admit that I had at this point completely forgotten anything that was going on before this very moment. Forgive me, for despite my intelligence, I am male - we all have some defective wiring up there that just short circuits with certain stimuli.

    The gorgeous being before me giggled at my slack jawed stare, then snapped her fingers, and suddenly it was as if a pressure had been lifted from my mind, freeing some of my faculties. Indeed, she was still a perfect beauty, but something had been taken away, or hidden. She was still gorgeous, but no longer was she divine.

    Oh shit.

    Is that what this is?

    ¡°Indeed, you have the right of it,¡± the woman intoned. ¡°I am a Goddess. One of the Triumvirate, in fact. Oh, those are the three highest Gods, in case your amnesia stole that away as well.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    I was kneeling on the floor at this point. A GODDESS visiting me in my dreams?!? Not to think ill of her, but that meant a great many things, possibly, and all those things would only further complicate my situation. Unless-

    ¡°I am afraid not. Your memories are, sadly, lost forever, as the manner in which they were taken prohibits their return. But I am getting ahead of myself. All that will be explained.¡± She rose from the altar, and suddenly we were no longer in the cult¡¯s lair, we were in a throne room, and I was standing once more. The throne was ornate, made of silver and gold, and bedecked in cloud motifs. It was then that I noticed her dress had changed. Gone was¡­ whatever it had been before (I was distracted!), replaced by a regal, billowing robe, that seemed to end in literal puffs of cloud. Lightning and droplets of water streak intermittently down is pitch black fabric. And low cut of the neck, OH! I had to summon all my will to tear my eyes from that cleavage.

    The Goddess approached me, and I froze, stock still, uncertain what she intended. She reached an arm up to one of my arms, stopping her hand just shy of my arm that I was just now noticing was bare. She moved around me, hand hovering just above my tattoos.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± she hummed, like an artisan examining their work. ¡°Yes, I think it turned out quite nicely.¡± After appearing on my other side, she nodded, then returned to her throne, relaxing back upon it. ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure you have many questions, but keeping a link open, even to a champion such as yourself, is a costly expenditure, so I¡¯m afraid this will have to be more a lecture than a question and answer session. Understood?¡±

    I nodded my head.

    ¡°Good,¡± she smiled. ¡°Alright, so let¡¯s begin with a little bit of backstory, to catch you up to speed. You, a wizard of the ninth circle, decided to singlehandedly wipe a cult off the face of the planet for some reason. No, I don¡¯t know why, I¡¯m afraid I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to you before you attacked the cult.

    ¡°Anyways, you attacked the cult, and succeeded in killing their high priest, but his remaining disciples managed to knock you out. Keeping you magically unconscious, they performed a ritual to their dark god, Olto Skila. They then sought to use you as a sacrifice, plunging a dagger into your heart. As you lay dying, however, a powerful Contingency spell you had placed upon your body activated, triggering a casting of the Open Greater Pact spell.

    ¡°Now, since you¡¯ve lost all memories related to magic, that spell name likely means nothing to you. Indeed, it would mean nothing to anyone other than the old you, as it was a custom made ritual you had created at some point. I only know the details because I spoke to Caim, God of Magic, whilst waiting for you to sleep. What the Open Greater Pact spell does is offer some form of payment to a Greater being of unspecified nature. The first Greater being to accept the offered payment must then perform a boon of equal value to you. This means anything from a Demon Lord to a Void Father could have answered your call. You¡¯re very lucky I was paying attention, though, and had a vested interest in stopping the Doom Cult. So, I took your payment and delivered righteous Divine judgement upon those assembled, sparing you and healing your wounds.

    ¡°But the problem is thus: you set up this Contingency to cast when you were defenseless, and being the intelligent Wizard you were, determined that it would be highly likely for you to have nothing left on your body in such a state that you could offer up as payment.

    ¡°So you offered up the one thing you would always have possession of: Knowledge.¡±

    I was gaping at this point. ¡°That means¡­ I did this to myself?¡± I said in disbelief. ¡°I caused my own amnesia?!¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± the Goddess nodded. ¡°You likely weren¡¯t certain what knowledge would be taken from you, but it was your own spell that caused your current predicament. It did, however, succeed in being the last resort spell you needed it to be, though. Were it not for Open Greater Pact, you would not even be breathing right now.

    ¡°Regardless, upon healing you, I realized just what was happening, and, not wanting your reward for ridding the world of such an evil to be the loss of all your talents, decided to bless you with my favor.¡± She gestured towards my arms, causing me to look down at the tattoos.

    Suddenly the Goddess frowned, and for a split second I panicked as I started to fear I had done something to displease her. ¡°But,¡± she continued, ¡°your skill for wizardry does not appear to extend to sorcery. So, I¡¯ve decided to give you a small little boost.¡± She motioned with her hand, and suddenly my own hands were ablaze with pain. Blue light covered them, seeming to coalesce atop them, but my mind barely registered that over the burning agony that existed at the end of my forearms. I huddled down on the ground, clutching them to me, but the pain only intensified.

    And then it was gone, as quick as it came. Huffing, trying to somehow catch my breath inside a dream, I looked down at my hands. Nothing had changed on my palms, but on the back of both hands there were new tattoos, a single rune just below the major knuckle on each finger. They were the same blue as the tattoos upon my arms and back.

    ¡°There, it is done. You should now have more ease when attempting to summon the font of sorcery I have blessed you with. Also, I would recommend you keep the ritual knife you found - the fact that it took your life once before ties it strongly to your being. It should function as an excellent focus for your spellcasting.

    ¡°Now, finally, we come to the future. I do not wish to use you as a pawn, champion, however, you are now a bit of a responsibility of mine, so I would like to offer you some advice. Three days west there is a major town by the name of Platston. There, you will find a gathering of adventurers in the tavern, five nights hence. They could use your help, and you there¡¯s, should you so desire it.¡±

    Suddenly, the dream seemed to ripple, and the Goddess looked up. ¡°Ah, it appears time is up.¡± She started moving back towards the throne.

    ¡°Wait!¡± I cried, suddenly finding the courage to speak. ¡°My Goddess, what might your champion call you?!¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, her back still to me, ¡°I suppose I did forget introductions. I am the Goddess of the sky, weather, and the elements, the third seat of the Triumvirate, Auriel.¡± She took her seat upon her throne and looked back at me, somehow unaffected by the tremors that were making me sway about the room. A mysterious smile lit upon her face, and she dropped a final bombshell with her parting words, ¡°I wish you good luck, my champion, for, as a divine channeller, you will desperately need it.¡±

    The dream collapsed.

 Chapter Four

    Surprisingly, I did not wake immediately after my visit with the Goddess. No, it was morning when I finally opened my eyes, and I had received that dream in the early hours of my sleep, as I could still faintly recall the separate, completely normal dream I had been having just prior to waking. Something to do with birds and tar pits.

    It was only after a few moments of shaking off the morning haze that my dream with Auriel returned to my mind, in surprising clarity. I took a moment to go over it, and upon recalling the portion where I gained new tattoos, glanced down at my hands. Indeed, upon each finger lay a new rune, identical to those bestowed upon my during the dream visit. This fact alone was enough to convince me of the reality of said visit. I could feel a connection to these runes, similar to the one I felt to the tattoos along my back and arms, but this connection felt more fully formed. I tentatively focused my will upon that connection, and suddenly felt a small drain upon the wellspring of power inside me. Sparks of electricity sprang into being at my fingertips, and I inherently knew that I could shape them into any form of magic I so desired.

    Satisfied that the gift Auriel had given me worked, I released the connection and the sparks ceased. I then continued to go over the visit, finally recalling the Goddess¡¯s departing words. I felt myself go cold as I remembered what she had called me. Divine channeller. That was a title I still remembered, a title and a curse. The title did not denote a type of spellcaster, such as wizard or warlock, but rather was a description of a specific way a sorcerer gained their font of power. Divine channellers gained their powers via a blessing from the gods, making them somewhat akin to a non-martial paladin. However, they had neither the paladin¡¯s oath nor the cleric¡¯s faith, giving them little in the way of restraints when it came to using their powers.

    But the most troubling part about divine channellers was not their nature, but their history. Some centuries past, a decree was passed down from the Triumvirate and spread amongst the mortal believers - no more divine channellers would be blessed. They were to be considered the ultimate heretics, and any lesser divinity that ignored that decree soon found their chosen channellers hunted down and slain.

    The decree was necessary because, due to the lack of anything binding divine channellers to their god¡¯s will, they were prone to going mad with power. As they had their own personal wellsprings of divine power, they were able to grow in strength enough to rival the very gods that blessed them. In fact, seven times throughout the history of the realm divine channellers sought to usurp one god or another, and thrice had they succeeded.

    So what would possess one of the three Gods of the Triumvirate to break the very decree they once passed down? Was my life truly so precious as to merit such a thing? Could it have been the nature of the Open Greater Pact spell that forced her into such a decision? If so, what was to keep Auriel from smiting me where I stand? Was the spell so powerful as to assure her protection even after she had saved me?

    I rubbed my temples, stopping that line of thought. Such questioning would get me nowhere. I rose from the bed, glancing once more at my reflection in the mirror as I ordered my thoughts. I focused upon the facts I knew.

    I was blessed by the Goddess Auriel, who I knew to be Auriel because, as a part of the underlying nature of their beings, Gods and Goddesses did not misname themselves.

    I now had the displeasure to belong to a select group of people whom the major churches actively hunt and eliminate as heretics, though Auriel¡¯s reasons behind inducting me into said group remained unclear.

    I was once a wizard, but am now a sorcerer, and have been blessed by Auriel again to aid me in the use of my sorcery powers.

    My amnesia was lost due to the Open Greater Pact spell, and apparently cannot be returned due. Or Auriel is lying to me, but I could think of no reason for a god of the Triumvirate to lie to a single mortal.

    And, finally, there was a town three days west from here by the name of Platston. There, five days from now, I could find a party of adventurers that would in some way aid me. Auriel was vague about why, but given the time constraints I wasn¡¯t surprised.

    I thought about Platston. It would be fine as a first destination, even if I didn¡¯t decide to meet up with the adventurers. I could use it as a reason for my departure, and it wasn¡¯t like I had a better idea of a first target. Hell, I didn¡¯t even know what country I was in at the moment. Perhaps a map was in order¡­This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Shrugging, I glanced about the room, grabbed the dagger and shield I had left leaning against the wall, then made my way out of my room and downstairs. The sun was just drawing into the sky as I stepped out of the inn. I had asked and been informed by the innkeep that the town of Tattlebrook had neither a horse nor a mapmaker, a saddening revelation. That meant my journey would be on foot, a thought I did not relish. As I made my way down the uncrowded road, I stopped upon hearing a call of ¡°Masta¡¯ mage! Masta¡¯ mage!¡± coming from behind me. Turning around, I was greeted by the same guardsman I had spoken to the night before. He looked much worse for the wear, likely due to his apparent lack of sleep. Settling back into the the persona I had adopted last night, I arched an eyebrow.

    He visibly flinched at my displeasure. ¡°P-please, masta¡¯ mage, I don¡¯t wish ta delay ye, but the mayor wanted to thank ye for yer aid. He were h-hopin¡¯ to meet wit¡¯ ye b-before ye left. W-would ye m-m-mind?¡± The man seemed to shrink inwards under my gaze, his stutter growing progressively worse. Inwardly I marveled at how much I had cowed the man from my performance the evening before. He had transformed from a standoffish thug to a quivering puddle of a man. Unless¡­ Ah! That actually made more sense. Perhaps he had been the one to investigate the cult¡¯s lair. Attributing the destruction wrought there to my magical powers would definitely make a more sensible explanation for his sudden timidity. But I was getting sidetracked.

    I considered his message. While it¡¯s true that I did not desire to stick around very long, a reward would certainly not be unwelcome. I had little in the way of personal possessions at the moment, and while my current persona could not rightly ask for a monetary reward, perhaps this mayor could solve either of the map or horse dilemmas I had recently come upon?

    ¡°Alright,¡± I nodded, ¡°I will see your mayor. But we must go, now. I assume that is not a problem?¡±

    ¡°N-no!¡± the guardsmen¡¯s face lit up upon seeing me not displeased by his message. I don¡¯t know what he was so afraid of. I wasn¡¯t particularly miffed by his attitude last night, nor am I the type to ¡®shoot the messenger.¡¯ Or, at least, I¡¯m not now. Who knows what I was like before yesterday?

    The guard quickly turned away, moving with haste back towards the center of the village, and I followed, at a slower pace that the guard soon realized and matched. The mayor¡¯s house was only a few houses down from the tavern, actually, and looked no larger or grander than the other buildings on its street. The guard went up to the door and knocked, shouting, ¡°Mayor Brandley, I¡¯ve brought master mage!¡±

    WIthin seconds, the door swung open, revealing a balding, slightly overweight man well past middle age. He bustled out of the house, saying, ¡°Ah, master wizard, glad am I to see yer return.¡± He offered a hand to me.

    Well, it appears past me interacted with this guy. Means I have to cut this conversation short. I shook his hand, saying, ¡°Indeed, I have returned successful, but unfortunately cannot delay. Word had come that there is something brewing in the town of Platston that needs my attention posthaste.¡±

    ¡°I see, I see, of course, master wizard, I would never seek to delay ye,¡± the man professed. ¡°I only wanted to offer ye our sincerest thanks for ridding us of that wretched Doom Cult and ask if there were anything we might grant ye as a reward? I¡¯m afraid we haven¡¯t much in the way of rewards hereabouts, but¡­¡± he trailed off, looking at me with questioning eyes.

    I paused, putting a pondering expression upon my face. A moment later I said, as if I had just thought of the idea, ¡°Oh, actually, there is something you might provide me. As I said, I am needed in Platston as soon as possible and, while, normally I would just conjure a portal to take me there, I fear all my reagents were destroyed during my battle with the Doom Cult. As such, it would greatly assist me in my journey to have both a horse and a map of this region. Would you, perchance, have either of those?¡±

    ¡°Why, of course!¡± the mayor cried, ¡°I am sure that one of the patrol horses could be granted, and I myself have a copy of the surrounding area that I would be happy to gift ye as a reward, master mage. Here, I¡¯ll just be a moment.¡± The mayor then moved back inside the house. True to his word, he was back less than a minute later, a rolled parchment in hand which he promptly thrust forwards. I took the proffered map and unrolled it, examined it for a minute, then nodded. It would be plenty for my travel, as it detailed the roads leading to all the nearby towns as well as the major features such as forests, rivers, and mountains. ¡°This will be fine,¡± I said, rolling the scroll back up. ¡°And the horse?¡±

    The mayor turned to the guardsman, ¡°Now, Randolf, take master wizard here to the stables and give him the nicest horse we have. He deserves as much for saving us from that Doom Cult, eh?¡±

    The guardsman nodded fervently, then turned to me, ¡°It¡¯ll be right this way, master wizard.¡±

    And as I followed him to receive my new present, I found a smile upon my face. I was feeling confident, finally. I had some answers, a direction, and, soon, a horse to take me there. Though it wasn¡¯t as good as suddenly remembering everything, today was starting a good deal better than yesterday had.

    I could only hope that such good luck would hold on my way to Platston.

 Chapter Five

    This is likely the part where you expect to hear about misfortune befalling me the second I stepped out of town as if in direct response to that closing line. But, no, sorry to disappoint you, but I had tempted fate and fate declined. This could only mean that all my journeys in the future would be as tranquil as my three day journey to Platston!

    Yes, you read that right, I¡¯m doubling down! Bring it on, fate! I¡¯ve got a Goddess watching over me, and you don¡¯t scare me a lick! Ahahahahah!

    Ahem.

    Allow me a moment to patch up this hole in the fourth wall.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    There. Now, as already said, my travel from Tattlebrook to Platston was uninterrupted by any sort of event. And, yes, the fact that it took three days whilst riding a horse I hadn¡¯t known the existence of when receiving the three-day prediction from Auriel definitely solidified the omniscience of my new patron deity in my mind. Need to work hard not to piss her off in the future.

    But, the lack of exciting, if cliche, events during my three day journey did leave me with an abundance of time to test out my new sorcery abilities.

    On the first day, I spent most of my time just practicing summoning the power at will. I reasoned that, in some sort of situation that I might need my new powers (like combat), I would likely have little time with which to bring them to bear. Meaning that, any sort of exercise around using my powers would need to be prioritized lower than the practice of summoning them to begin with.

    So I whiled away the hours working at simply bringing the sparks on my fingers to life as fast as possible. My day started with a lag time of a second or so before they would appear, but by nightfall I was able to conjure them almost as fast as I could think. I thought that was a fast improvement, but I¡¯d no frame of reference to base it upon. There was also the question of how much the new runes atop my fingers were aiding me in my growth and casting, a question likely only my patron could have answered.

    Regardless, I then spent the next day practicing simple manifestations when I was riding, and saved the more explosive and powerful stuff for when I paused for a meal (I had secured some simple rations on my way out of town).

    By the middle of the third day, I had managed to form a number of what I thought were powerful spells. Now, allow me to take a moment to explain another key difference between sorcerers and wizards. Wizards cast formulaic spells that influence the world around them in carefully defined ways, leading to named spells such as Contingency and Open Greater Pact. They do something in a very specific way, and cannot be made to generally do other things.

    Sorcerers, however, don¡¯t attempt to change the world around them, they simply channel their power from inside to out. It means they have a great deal more control than wizards on what any spell they might cast could do, but they sacrifice the versatility and utility of a wizard spells. Even had I known how to cast either the Contingency or Open Greater Pact spells, there was no way I could have done so using the powers I had as a sorcerer, for neither had anything to do with the font of lightning powers inside me.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    My font was a curious thing. On its surface, it appeared to be pure lightning power, as if I had been a normal storm-based sorcerer. But, deeper, there were hints of divine radiance that peeked through the lightning. I made very sure not to touch that part of the well - were I to start throwing around divine energy in the nature of a sorcerer, it would be a dead giveaway of my identity as a divine channeller. So I kept within the bounds of my patron¡¯s elemental alignment: the storm. That was the facet of her divinity that had risen within me, and it was easy to pass myself off as just another storm-based sorcerer.

    Anyways, I had created a number of custom spells that I felt semi-confident in bringing into a fight. I created three simple spells and two more complex spells, the difference being the simple spells were weaker, but quicker to cast and less draining upon my well of power. There was a reason for a sorcerer creating spells, I had quickly discovered. Though I could concentrate and will my energy to perform whatever feat I might require of it, it was incredibly draining and required intense concentration. By mentally creating a construct such as a spell and formulaically defining the procedure to manifest the associated phenomenon, I was able to, through practice, build it into something closer to an autonomic task. It was as if I was creating a set of muscles that performed that spell and then practicing to improve my muscle memory.

    My three simple spells I could conjure almost as quickly as I could manifest my energy. I had designed each to handle a particular aspect of combat - one for a ranged attack, another for melee, and the third as a defensive tool. My two complex spells served a distinct purpose each. One was a more powerful version of my ranged attack, such that I could channel energy into continuously to increase its power, while the other was more of a utility spell, a way to effect the battlefield without blowing things up. Who could say what forms of combat I might find myself in? Perhaps I would need to perform an escape. The second spell was perfect for such a theoretical situation.

    And so it was that I reached the town of Platston while considering further forms of magic that I might formalize into spells. I looked up from my pondering as my horse drew near the gates. Platston was a much larger town than Tattlebrook - whereas Tattlebrook had only a handful of buildings and a single town square, Platston had at least two major squares, one just inside the gates I was entering.

    I passed through the gates unchallenged by the watchful guards, who seemed more on guard against monsters than any individual humans. The square inside was dominated by a small fountain, and various sellers hawked their wares around it.

    Glancing at the signs around the square, I immediately hit upon a dilemma I had worried about prior to my arrival. When speaking of this town, Auriel had said I would find the adventurers in ¡°the tavern.¡± She did not specify which tavern, and though I had hoped to find only a single tavern in Platston, my hopes were dashed. Already I could see the signs for two different taverns on separate buildings around the square. The Hog¡¯s Head Tavern¡¯s sign bore the face of a snarling pig, while Tavern On The Square¡¯s sign had a simple square as its symbol. Both were open, and though the time was not yet late enough to account for a large crowd, I saw patrons move in and out of each establishment. Meaning that, in this square of the town alone, there were two taverns.

    It made some amount of sense, really. From what I gathered eavesdropping on bypassers¡¯ conversations, this area appeared to be a hotbed for inexperienced adventurers. There were fae of many kinds in the Lindon Fae Woods to the northwest, abundant ruins in the Sorlath mountains to the east, and primordial threats in the Bogdown Swamp to the south. Not to mention the numerous abandoned strongholds in the area from the looks of the map. Such havens were like magnets to bandit and monster alike.

    And what better business to run in a town of adventurers than a tavern, the quintessential starting point to any adventuring party¡¯s journey. Hell, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there were three more taverns in this town. Which brought into question which tavern I was to meet this fated group of adventurers at.

    After a few minutes of mental debate, I sighed and approached the nearest tavern - Hog¡¯s Head Tavern. There was really nothing for it. My only hope was that my patron Goddess would reappear in my dreams and clarify my destination.

    Perhaps my luck will make a difference.

 Chapter Six

    The Hog¡¯s Head Tavern was not some run-down, rough and tumble business, as you might imagine when envisioning a meeting place for adventurers. No, it was a well-kept establishment, with a polished bar, a cozy dining area, and inn rooms above that I soon learned were simple but fair when it came to their ten copper price. After securing a room, I returned downstairs in search of supper. By now the dining area had filled to some extent, with all the booths being full, leaving only the large, semi-communal tables or the bar as seating possibilities. None of the tables were crowded, but I was in no hurry to make new friends yet. I wanted a day to read the feel of the town as best I could. Having little knowledge on the average trustworthiness of adventures, I didn¡¯t want to make a mistake and get conned into some back-ally confrontation that resulted in me losing my meagre belongings. I had my magic to protect me, sure, but I didn¡¯t want my first field test to be in a one versus many situation, if at all possible.

    So I settled on the bar. While not an unsocial position by nature, it would likely reduce the chances of being set-upon by a group of people, and I felt more confident in fending off solitary conversations than the communal opposition I would face around one of the tables.

    Yes, that¡¯s right, i considered it an opposition. I don¡¯t know what my social disposition was like before my amnesia, but it was damn well looking like I had awoken as a heavy introvert.

    As I made my way to the bar, however, I happened to glance at the furthest table from the door, and suddenly found myself making eye contact with a pair of electric blue eyes.

    She was leaning back in her chair, balancing upon it with ease. Her auburn hair was long, cascading down the back of her seat to hang halfway down her seatback. She wore simple leather armor over her clothing, designed not to hinder her movement in any way. Her age couldn¡¯t have been over thirty-five, unless she had some non-human blood in her, which was not readily apparent. As our gazes crossed, I watched as a look of surprise came over her pretty face, and understood why immediately.

    I knew this woman, somehow. It was an incredibly disorienting feeling for an amnesiac to experience, but there was a kinship to her that I could not readily explain. There was something almost primal about her, as if some inner part of my very being was drawn towards her. It wasn¡¯t necessarily an attractive force, though I had to admit I wouldn¡¯t discount a romantic possibility if things were to unfold in that direction. It was more like the feeling one gets upon meeting an old friend that they¡¯ve forgotten, but whose face tickles your brain as you try to recall.

    I forced myself to turn away, which was easier than I expected, and moved towards the bar, sitting upon one of the unoccupied barstools. The bartender came up, took my order, then shuffled into the back, and I chanced a look, furtively as I could over my shoulder.

    She was still watching me, openly amused by something. A smirk gave her face a knowing look, and I immediately turned forwards, starting to sweat a bit. What was going on? Had I been ensorcelled in some manner? Perhaps a charm spell when I wasn¡¯t looking? But why? And when? I hadn¡¯t seen any incantation or felt any weave of magic. A magical item, perhaps?

    Were there a romantic tint to the compelling force a romantic man might have classified it as ¡®love at first sight.¡¯ I glanced again, finding her sparkling blue eyes full of mirth as she returned my glance. She was chuckling silently now, some unknown joke likely at my expense.

    Then she leaned her chair forwards and moved to stand, prompting me to swing my head back about, attempting to play it cool. As if that was still an option.

    She did not hide her approach to the bar, her steps light but distinct, and it was all I could do not to panic as she slid into the barstool next to me. ¡°I take it I¡¯m the first stormborn you¡¯ve met since your awakening,¡± an almost lyrical voice said from my right.

    I looked at her in surprise, seeing her now up close. She still wore the smirk upon her face, and her voice was full of good humor. At this distance, her bright blue eyes seemed almost alight. No, scratch that, as I watched I was able to see what looked like arcs of blue energy dance around her pupils. Her eyes were literally alight.

    Her previous statement still took a moment to register, though. ¡°St-stormborn?¡± I asked, finally, immediately ashamed of my accidental stutter.

    She nodded, ¡°Indeed, it¡¯s the name among sorcerer communities for those of us graced by the storm. An ale,¡± she said as the bartender came over with my previously ordered meal of fish, bread, and mead.

    ¡°You see,¡± she continued, watching the bartender produce her ale, ¡°each stormborn has a rather unique electrical charge about them. To most it¡¯s imperceptible, and its weak enough that it doesn¡¯t affect anything normal magnetic charges might affect. But when two storm sorcerers are within a room, they¡¯re both able to instantly know. There is a magnetism between them that cannot be explained by words, a kinship that goes beyond family or friendship.¡±

    The bartender returned with her drink then, and she took a deep swig of it. When she put it down with a satisfied sigh, she again turned to me, her blue eyes vibrant in their curiosity..

    ¡°Now, I feel that same magnetism towards you, mister stranger. And you haven¡¯t been able to stop checking me out since you caught sight of me. So either you fancy a tumble in the hay or those sigils on your fingers mark you as one of my own. Which¡¯ll it be then?¡±

    I gulped. This¡­ I had not expected this. Glancing down at the runes on my hands, I hadn¡¯t even realized they might be obvious clues to my identity. I need to buy gloves, as soon as I deal with this woman.

    My gaze turned back to her. Ever since I had entered this room she had been in control of the situation. She was playing with a full deck of information, whilst I was relegated to the hand left to me. I needed a way to turn things around.

    Suave! Think suave! Charm her off her guard! That should catch her offbeat.

    I cleared my throat, feeling my voice drop into a lower range than normal, ¡°Well, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve got me pegged. Though I hope my inclusion in the latter doesn¡¯t preclude me from the former.¡± I smiled the most suaviest smile I ever did smile then. Or at least, I tried.

    A dumbfounded look played across her face as she processed what I had just said. Then she burst out laughing in a raucous belly laugh that drew more than a few stare from around us.

    I was taken aback at her reaction, and a bit disappointed in my clear lack of suavity. I glanced around, disliking the amount of attention we were now receiving, then turned back around, facing forwards, already feeling my cheeks coloring. I flinched a bit when I felt her arm around my shoulder, and turned back to my neighbor as she wound down from her fit of laughter.

    ¡°Ohhhh, I think I¡¯m gonna like you, fledgeling. I did not see that coming, not at all. Such an amazing transformation from frightened paranoiac to suave debonair would catch anyone off guard! Oh, but I¡¯m getting ahead of myself.¡±

    She then released her grip upon my shoulders and turned in her barstool to me, reaching her right arm across her body to offer me a shake. ¡°We¡¯ve not yet had introductions, have we? My name is Keidra Stormcoil, of the Stormcoil clan, Officer of the West Tempest guild, and storm sorcerer of sixteen years.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    I stared at her proffered hand, my thoughts racing. I didn¡¯t have an accompanying introduction, and something told me that any poorly thought out lie would be seen through by this electric-eyed beauty. There was something inside me that already trusted her, as if in defiance of my normal, baseless cynicism. I wanted to pass it off as the effects of that magnetism I felt towards her, but it felt like something further.

    Still, with no avenue out of this that wouldn¡¯t cause a scene and generate even more unwanted affection, not to mention there was a chance of her being part the aforementioned party that was supposed to aid me, I decided to try an honest approach.

    Woah, woah, woah, quiet down! I can hear you screaming at me from here! Yes, I know, one pretty face asking my business and I fold. But it¡¯s not just that! I swear! For one, I¡¯ll not be saying a word about my divine situation, that¡¯s on a higher confidentiality level than anyone is ever likely to get. I¡¯ll just talk about the whole amnesia bit and see where it goes from there.

    Also, she¡¯s really, really pretty. Looking from afar I couldn¡¯t tell, but up close, man, how is she not surrounded by suitors?

    So shut up! Yes, I now know I have a weak spot for a pretty face. But you¡¯re just a figment of imagination dreamt up by an amnesiac as a coping method. You¡¯re not real! So be quiet while I spin my sob story for this fine woman before me.

    Ahem.

    I took her hand, shaking it while saying, ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Keidra.¡±

    This brought forth a raised eyebrow. ¡°Usually,¡± Keidra said with a hint of amusement, ¡°this is the part where you would introduce yourself.¡±

    I sighed, releasing her hand. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, sipping her drink. ¡°And why can¡¯t you, might I ask?¡±

    ¡°Well, sadly, I appear to have been afflicted with a severe case of amnesia.¡±

    ¡°Amnesia?¡± she said, her disbelief evident. ¡°Riiiiiiight.¡±

    I shook my head, ¡°It¡¯s always the same reaction, I should know better by now. No one believes me.¡±

    ¡°Alright, fine, saying I take this ¡®amnesia¡¯ story as truth, what¡¯s the first thing you remember?¡±

    ¡°That would be waking up on a seaside cliff. I was sitting in the middle of a charring on the ground reminiscent of a lightning strike.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying you got struck by lightning, survived, and lost your memory?¡± Suddenly her skepticism had lessened. She look upwards in thought. ¡°Indeed, I¡¯ve heard of such a thing happening to some when they first awoke to their powers.¡± Her gaze returned back to me, ¡°But that amnesia all faded within a day and they were back to normal. You¡¯re saying you still don¡¯t have access to you memories?¡±

    I shook my head. ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t affect all my memories, but I can¡¯t recall anything prior to that, not even my hame. Thus I have no name to give you.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm...¡± Keidra pondered for a moment my story before asking, ¡°and how long ago was this?¡±

    ¡°Four days ago,¡± I answered honestly. ¡°I came here to Platston to see if there was anything that might jog my memory. This being the largest town in the area, it¡¯s likely I passed through here before I lost my memory.¡±

    ¡°Sound idea,¡± she nodded, ¡°but I take it you¡¯ve had no luck with that.¡±

    I shook my head.

    After a moment of pondering, she looked over to me. ¡°Would you mind,¡± she asked a bit hesitantly, ¡°if I were to probe your font with my own power? As a sort of verification that you¡¯ve had your powers for only four days?¡±

    That would be problematic. Were I to allow her to examine my font, there was a chance Keidra  might see beyond the storm energy and find my divine power, outing my true nature.

    ¡°I would, actually. First off, magnetic attraction aside, I don¡¯t really know you, or trust you, yet. Secondly, I don¡¯t know for sure if I had my font before the amnesia or not. There¡¯s a chance that the lightning strike that did this to me had nothing to do with me awaking my powers.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair, I suppose. Alright, then how about if we were to go to local notary and sign a magical contract verifying your story?¡±

    That suggestion left me puzzled. ¡°Why would I sign a contract with you? Why do I need to prove this to you, anyways?¡±

    ¡°Oh, sorry, I got ahead of myself again. Well, as I said before, I am an Officer in the West Tempest Guild. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve heard of the Four Major Guilds, with your amnesia, but basically the Four Major Guilds are major organizations that dominate the politics of the greater Windsea area. The Tempest Guild is a subsidiary of one of the Four Major Guilds, and it is largely made up of clans and factions of storm-based alignment.

    ¡°I was hoping to induct you into the guild as my Ensign. As I said before, I think I like you, and with you being a novice stormborn, I can help you as you grow into your potential. Should you be willing to sign a magical contract that verifies your story, I would be able to lay to rest any fears I might have around your backstory. Should you regain your memories along the way, hopefully by then we¡¯ll have enough rapport that whoever you were still wants to remain in the guild. If not, hopefully we can at least part on friendly terms.¡±

    ¡°Why would you do that for me? It seems like I get all the benefits.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Like I said, I like you. And the West Tempest Guild is always looking for new blood. Even if you don¡¯t join any of the clans, you can¡¯t undervalue the worth of a single extra stormborn. We¡¯re a rare breed of sorcerer, but the destructive powers available to those of us at the peak is rivalled only by twelfth circle wizards. Even if you never make it that far, you¡¯d still be a valuable asset.

    ¡°That¡¯s not to say we¡¯d be only using you, though. Joining a guild, any guild, is a quick way to get rid of the backstory problem you have. Few will ask further when you introduce yourself as an Ensign in the West Tempest Guild. Plus, you¡¯d receive my guidance, and if you one day surpassed me, you could seek further guidance from those higher in the guild. Though,¡± she added drily, ¡°don¡¯t expect me to let you pass me up. I¡¯m still a growing sorcerer, myself, you know.¡±

    ¡°So what do you say?¡±

    Well. It seemed almost like divine providence. I walk into the first tavern I see in this town and happen upon a gorgeous fellow storm sorcerer who not only wants to recruit me into her guild but also offers to give me pointers? If I weren¡¯t sent here by a literal deity, I might suspect her of setting me up. But, with Auriel directing me here, the string of coincidences made me feel more confident in my answer, rather than less.

    ¡°Where do I sign?¡±

    A bright smile bloomed across Keidra¡¯s face, making my breath catch. ¡°Fantastic!¡± she said, banging the counter. She quickly grabbed her glass and raised it to me. ¡°A toast, then, to our future cooperation.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow, ¡°I thought you still had doubts?¡±

    Keidra shrugged, ¡°I¡¯ll worry about those later. For now,¡± she nodded to the drink in her hand.

    Smiling, I raised my own glass, clinking it with hers, before taking a hearty gulp. She then proceeded to drain her glass, before setting it down with a sigh of content.

    ¡°Now,¡± she said, rising from her chair, ¡°I¡¯ve got some things to get squared away before the night is done, so how about we plan on meeting here for breakfast tomorrow morn. I¡¯ll have everything squared away then and ready for your induction to the guild, once you sign that contract.

    ¡°But first,¡± she paused her motions, eyes coming back to me, ¡°I¡¯ll need something to call you. Hmm. It¡¯ll have to be a nickname of some sort, can go around calling you Johnny then have you wake up remembering your name is Paul without people asking questions. So something simple, but of obvious origin, so you don¡¯t have to make up a backstory reason for it.¡±

    Keidra examined me from bottom to top then, making me slightly uncomfortable from her scrutiny. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, ¡°I¡¯ve got it. The marks upon your fingers. They¡¯re obvious enough to draw attention and unique enough to merit a nickname. So how about ¡®Runes¡¯?¡±

    Runes. I tried it out in my head, then said it aloud. ¡°Runes. Runes. Yes, I rather like it.¡± I nodded.

    ¡°Fantastic!¡± Keidra cried again, her smile once again bright upon her face. ¡°Well, then, I¡¯ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.¡± She then made her way out of the tavern, but not before glancing over her shoulder to quip, ¡°Oh, and to answer your first question, you need the latter to have any chance at the former.¡±

 Chapter Seven

    True to her word, Keidra met me for breakfast in the dining area of the Hog¡¯s Head. The only problem was the difference in our definitions of the ¡®morn.¡¯ I, as the sensible, logic-driven amnesiac, took it to mean the time in the day when the sun had just freshly risen over the horizon. As such, I roused myself shortly after the sixth hour and readied myself for the day, greeting the innkeep downstairs some minutes before the seventh hour. I then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, with delicious blood sausage and flatcakes, before settling in to wait for my new acquaintance.

    You might imagine my displeasure, then, that it was not until well after the ninth hour that Keidra trundle down the stairs into the dining area, hair still in disarray from her sleep. As I opened my mouth to give voice to my dissatisfaction, however, the lady in question sent me blood-chilling glare that left no question as to whether conversation was a before- or after-breakfast activity.

    She pulled up a chair at my table and proceeded to dig in to the meal subsequently brought by the innkeep. As Keidra ate, in an attempt not to anger the grouchy lioness, I tried to divert my attention elsewhere, ignoring the reignited magnetism towards my fellow stormborn. It was still there, but seemed to be weaker now that I had acknowledged her existence.

    I looked around the dining hall, and though it was much less packed than last night, there had been people going in and out in the hours I¡¯d been waiting, and a certain thing had struck me about the clientele. Whereas everyone I encountered in Tattlebrook had been outwardly human, Platston seemed to be much more diverse in its population, likely due to the large adventurer presence. Indeed, I¡¯d seen elves, dwarves, gnomes, demonkin, dragonmen, beastmen, and even a pair of purple, horned people whose race my amnesia must¡¯ve claimed. That or they were unknown to me even beforehand.

    What little I¡¯d retained about the profession of ¡®adventurer¡¯ made this discovery of little surprise. The Adventurer¡¯s Union was a multinational organization that had sprung into being via the collaboration of five of the largest guilds some centuries past. It had evolved in the time since, becoming a presence in any settlement of moderate size, such as Platston. The AU served as an intermediary between the government, the guilds, and the adventurers themselves, and resulted in interguild collaborations that would not have been possible in the AU¡¯s absence. Not only could the government and guilds organize quests through the AU, private citizens and other organizations could request adventurer help through the AU as well.

    My musings were interrupted by the clatter of silverware, and I turned back to my new companion to see her mopping her face with a napkin. She glanced my way, then said, ¡°A moment, and we¡¯ll be off.¡± I nodded in response.

    Keidra then closed her eyes and placed her hands upon her head. I watched in growing awe as her previous bedhead suddenly sprang straight out of her head, as if each auburn strand had been pulled straight individually. After a brief moment of her having a halo for hair, the strands suddenly dropped, as if weighted down. Her hair was suddenly soaked through, clinging to her skull, but it was only a moment later that her tresses seemed to float into the air, as if propelled by a nonexistent breeze. By the time ten seconds had passed, and the false breeze had ceased, her hair was once again the perfect mane she had worn when first we met.

    Suffice it to say my jaw had hit the floor about halfway through this demonstration. So when she reopened her eyes to my awestruck expression, a teasing smirk leapt to her lips. ¡°What?¡± she asked as she rose from her chair. ¡°It¡¯s only magic.¡±

    I followed after her out onto the street, mind still coming to grips with the Keidra¡¯s little spectacle. I knew that Keidra was a storm sorcerer, and clearly I was, too, due to the aforementioned magnetism. However, my font of power only contained lightning magic, with some divine buried deep at its core. What Keidra had just performed had been a combination of lightning, water, wind, and maybe even fire magic.

    How had she done it? Sorcerers were not like wizards or other spell casters - they only had access to that which their font granted them. A fire sorcerer could try for a thousand years and never conjure a drop of water.

    But that was the thing. Every time Keidra had spoken of herself or her kind, she had referred to them as either ¡®stormborn¡¯ or ¡®storm sorcerers.¡¯ Storm, not lightning. And a storm was many things. Sure, there was the flashy lightning bits, but those were only present in thunderstorms. What about just good old rain storms, or even snow storms? Was it possible that a storm sorcerer had access to more than just lightning? That then raised the question of whether or not I had access to more than lightning.

    ¡°Keidra,¡± I spoke up, deciding to voice my question. Though we weren¡¯t bound by contract, yet, there was still a chance that she might answer my question, considering she was planning on becoming something of a mentor to me if everything goes to plan. Still, I decided to hedge my bets, focusing on something even a normal storm sorcerer might ask if they did indeed have access to more magics than I. ¡°How were you casting a fire spell?¡±

    She looked back, slowing just enough to be within conversing distance. ¡°Hoo, now that¡¯s an interesting first question,¡± she said, one eyebrow raised. ¡°Veeeery interesting. Also a question that you might ask regardless of if your story true or false. But, since you¡¯ve already committed to following me to the notary, I¡¯ll do you the service of assuming your tale is true, and give you a beginner¡¯s lesson as we walk. Don¡¯t worry, this one¡¯s a freebie,¡± she winked.

    ¡°So, if you truly are new at this, then I¡¯m guessing your font is probably just a giant pool of a single type of magic, likely lightning if your triggering event was the lightning strike you spoke of.¡± She glanced my way, and I nodded an affirmative, causing her to grin before continuing. ¡°But a true storm sorcerer has access to to the full breadth of a storm¡¯s power, not just the lightning bit. So how do you get access to all those other pieces? You convert them.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    She stopped and turned to me, holding out one hand. As I came to a stop, sparks leapt from her fingertips into the air, coalescing into ball lightning that floated just a few inches above her hand. ¡°You¡¯re actually pretty lucky that I¡¯m your teacher in this case, as my base element is also lightning. One thing you should know, going forwards, is that your base element will always be the easiest element for you to manifest for spells. Regardless, as I said before, you have to convert your lightning magic into other forms of magic in order to access them. I¡¯ll give you a demonstration, but this is largely just a practice-makes-perfect kind of thing.¡±

    With that said, she focused on the ball lightning above her palm. As I watched, from the bottom, a ripple passed through the ball, and where it passed, lightning turned to water. In less than a second, she had a globe of pure water floating above her hand. Then another ripple passed through the ball, and she had a miniature tornado sphere, before another ripple, this one much slower than the rest, and she had a ball of flame.

    Keidra let out a breath after this final transformation, and then closed her hand, allowing the ball of fire to wink out of existence. She then turned and started walking again, and I fell into step as expected.

    ¡°As to your original question about fire, that one took me a while to figure out, and is easily the hardest transformation I know of. But fire is nothing but heat, and heat plays a large role when it comes to any sort of precipitation. I wouldn¡¯t recommend trying to figure that one out, until you¡¯ve got the others down, though.¡±

    We lapsed then into silence as we walked, and I focused inwardly. Examining my font, I concentrated upon the lightning element, willing it into my hand. I manifested it upon my fingers, just simple sparks, but an obvious effect nonetheless, and then set about testing it. Willing it to change, simply imagining it as water element, was my first trial. I admit to not being surprised when I found that nothing occurred - had it been that easy, I doubt Keidra would have thought it difficult.

    My next attempt was to manipulate the lightning magic in a pseudo-physical way. I pulled it apart, pushed it together, twisted, poked, and prodded it in any way I could imagine, but to little effect.  By the time we reached the notary¡¯s office, I had exhausted every form of manipulation I could come up with.

    But I forced my mind out of this new conundrum as Keidra led me through the process of signing a magical contract. I admit, I had been a bit nervous about the whole thing, considering what i had been holding back around the origin of my powers, but the contract Keidra had drawn up didn¡¯t seem to care much about what secrets I might have.

    Magical contracts allow multiple parties to come to an agreement, and once all required parties mark it in blood, all parties involved will know if anyone worked in any way against the terms outlined in the contract. Here, we were using it as a bit of a truthsayer, in that the portion of terms I agreed to were that I claimed the backstory of having woken up on a seaside cliff with no memory and access to lightning magic, and should I be lying the contract would be void. Keidra even let me craft the details of my claim, allowing me to make sure that it was all true, though only half the whole truth.

    One complete magical contract and a very pleased Keidra later, and we were heading out the gates to find a place more suited to my sorcery debut. Keidra led me to a small clearing a minute off the main road, then spun around. She was still beaming, her delight at having acquired a novice for her ensign obvious.

    ¡°Right! First thing¡¯s first, let me take a look at your mark,¡± She gestured to my hands, moving forward to take them in her own. She held them up, glancing inquisitively at the runes upon my fingers. ¡°Hmmm¡­ I admit I haven¡¯t heard of a sorcery mark such as this before.¡±

    ¡°A sorcery mark? You say that like it¡¯s more than just a cosmetic feature of sorcerers.¡± I had retained some knowledge of sorcerers, but, while I knew that most sorcerers had physical changes such as my back tattoo or Keidra¡¯s eyes, they weren¡¯t anything other than cosmetic changes.

    ¡°Oh! Right, forgot that¡¯s not common knowledge. Well, what you¡¯re talking about is a vicious rumor that all the various sorcerer clans spread as much as they can. Now that you¡¯re a sorcerer, though, you get to be let in on the big secret: sorcerer¡¯s marks are more than just superficial things; they alter you at a physical level, in some manner. Most sorcerers have only one, some have more, but each one takes a distinct form and can reappear on other people, granting the same benefits. As such, they¡¯re actively tracked by most sorcerer clans, with the first known bearer being able to name them as they so choose.¡± She pointed to her eyes, which even now sparked with blue lightning. ¡°Mine, for example, are known as the ¡®Kinetic Gaze¡¯. They give me an enhanced perception, especially with regards to my dynamic vision. They¡¯re a pretty strong mark, as far as visual marks go, in that they even allow me to track lightning as it is forming. It makes it fantastic for directing my attacks.¡±

    Keidra then motioned down towards my hands. ¡°But I¡¯ve never seen anything like this in the clan¡¯s archives, which means you¡¯re likely the first storm sorcerer this side of the Valmerian Sea to possess such a mark. That¡¯s a bit of a double edged sword, really, as it¡¯s likely you don¡¯t have a common, weaker mark, else the clan would have seen it, but it means we don¡¯t really know what it does for you.¡±

    I nodded. Truthfully, I already did know what it does for me, though I wasn¡¯t about to admit it and attempt to lie my way out of how I came about that information in such a short period of time. But this did bring up the topic of my true sorcerer mark. Thinking about, I couldn¡¯t find a reason not to sharing it with my new ally cum teacher. Not only would I likely learn more about it, but should I not mention it and she learn about it in the future, it would only result in souring our relationship in some way. The only reason she hadn¡¯t seen it so far was because my long sleeves managed to cover the whole tattoo, but in combat, especially if I were ever wounded or around sharp, slicing instruments, that could easily change.

    So I spoke up, ¡°Actually, since you¡¯ve mentioned it, I think I might have two marks. That or there¡¯s more to the mark on my hands. It¡¯s a little hard to tell, honestly.¡±

    ¡°Hard to tell?¡± she gave me a quizzical look.

    I rolled up one of my sleeves showing off the bright blue tattoo on my forearm. ¡°Yeah, they kind of go all along my arms and up my back, so I¡¯m not sure if the runes on my hands are just an extension or not.¡±

    Keidra¡¯s gaze turned intense then. ¡°Strip,¡± she ordered.

    I was taken aback at the sudden change in tone. ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°Strip!¡± she said again, this time even going so far as to step forwards and start unbuttoning my shirt.

    I fought her off, embarrassed, saying, ¡°Alright, alright! Give me a second!¡± I then proceeded to doff my shirt and turned around, spreading my arms out to my sides and looking over my shoulder at her.

    Keidra screamed.

 Chapter Eight

    Alright, I need to apologize. I ended that last chapter in a manner that you might misinterpret solely to create a pseudo-cliffhanger. It was a weak cliffhanger to begin with, and it doesn¡¯t do anything more than confuse you by putting it that way. I am sorry, and I won¡¯t let it happen again.

    You see, when I say that ¡®Keidra screamed¡¯, I am exaggerating. At best it was a shriek. Well, maybe more like a sudden cry. An exclamation? A gasp. A gasp! Yes, let¡¯s go with that.

    So, Keidra, upon seeing the tattoo on my back, gasped. It wasn¡¯t a loud gasp or anything that might have been mistaken as anything louder than a drawing of breath. Just a gasp.

    Phew.

    This fourth wall is probably going to get pretty abused in the future.

    Ahem.

    Now, after gasping, Keidra fell silent. I attempted to turn around and look at her but she put her hands on my shoulders and ordered me to stand still. A moment later, she finally said, ¡°I can¡¯t believe it, you¡¯ve got the ¡®Thunder Body¡¯ mark.¡±

    ¡°Is that good?¡± I asked. Thought I thought it probably was good, due to her not acting disappointed or revulsed or screaming at its revelation, there was a quality to her voice that left me unsure. She seemed somewhere between mystified and confused, and I would have expected her voice to be tinged with excitement if it truly was a good mark.

    After a moment¡¯s pause, she shook her head as if to clear it and turned me around to face her, ¡°Yes, of course it¡¯s good,¡± she said, assuaging my fears. ¡°It¡¯s actually a very famous mark in my clan¡¯s history. It was one of the two marks the founder of my clan bore, and is easily one of the most powerful marks in my clan¡¯s archives. It¡¯s just very surprising seeing it on an outsider in the clan, especially since no one since the founder has born this mark.

    ¡°The ¡®Thunder Body¡¯ mark allows its bearer to transform physically into lightning. With sufficient control, even a lethal wound can be avoided by turning just the targeted area into pure lightning. Additionally, using the ¡®Thunder Body¡¯ mark, the founder was said to be able to maintain body-enhancement magic indefinitely, and with no cost to his reserves of magic.¡± As she spoke, I could feel my excitement building.

    ¡°Unfortunately,¡± she continued, ¡°the ¡®Thunder Body¡¯ mark, while a high-ranked mark, is a growth-type of mark, meaning that for the current you, it has few uses. Right now, you likely only have access to its most basic ability.¡± Upon seeing my sudden swing of disappointment, she hurried on. ¡°That¡¯s not to say its most basic ability isn¡¯t powerful, though, as for the ¡®Thunder Body¡¯ that means you are immune to any kind of lightning or thunder based damage, which includes sonic damage.¡±

    ¡°How do I grow the powers of my mark then?¡± I asked.

    She shrugged, ¡°It varies depending on the mark. I can say that most marks of the growth-type simply grow in power as your font increases. But, until I look at the record we keep back in the clan, there¡¯s no telling whether that¡¯s the case for you mark or not.¡±

    Well, this is definitely an exciting revelation. Though I¡¯m a bit disappointed that I won¡¯t get the full benefits for the time being, knowing that I have such a power to look ahead towards is rather motivating. I just hope I don¡¯t have some ridiculous requirement to grow my mark. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°So my follow-up question would then be how to increase the amount of magic in my font.¡±

    Keidra shrugged again, ¡°It¡¯s mostly a time thing. There is an exercise I can show you to help your font grow, but it really only improves its growth speed by a few percent. And that¡¯s only if you practice it daily.¡±

    ¡°Time, huh?¡±

    She nodded, then clapped her hands together, ¡°But enough of that, now that we know your mark isn¡¯t the type to push your training or development in a specific direction, let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve already come up with.¡±

    I tabled my thoughts on the idea of a mark pushing someone¡¯s development in a particular direction and stepped forwards, willing my power to my fingers. I said, ¡°So, I¡¯m not sure how your clan and all the other sorcerers do it, but I¡¯ve got a total of five spells, three of which are simple, easy to use spells, and two of which are more complex and draining, but more powerful as well.¡±

    ¡°Oh? You¡¯ve already figured out the difference between lesser spells and their standard counterparts?¡±

    I stopped my manifestation and looked at her, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We tend to divide spells into three broad levels when it comes to sorcery. Unlike wizards with all their circles, a sorcerer generally can power up any spell to whatever power level they want simply by feeding it more power from their font. The three levels are more a way to refer to spells that are quick to manifest, spells that require concentration to manifest, or spells that require collaboration to manifest.

    ¡°We call these levels lesser spells, standard spells, and greater spells accordingly. That¡¯s not to say a lesser spell could not be cast in collaboration, or a greater spell couldn¡¯t be practiced enough to become equivalent to a lesser spell. It¡¯s just guidelines, because mortals like to classify.¡±

    Alright, so that means I had three lesser spells and two standard spells. ¡°Well, then here are my lesser spells.¡± I quickly demonstrated my ranged, melee, and defensive lesser spells, then looked to Keidra.

    She was nodding her head approvingly, ¡°Very good, you¡¯ve got three lesser spells down in such a short time with your powers. Most newbies take a lot longer to get them that practiced. Let¡¯s see the standard spells.¡±

    I demonstrated quickly my two standard spells, and she again looked pleased. Then she asked a question I wasn¡¯t prepared for. ¡°What names have you given them?¡±

    I looked at Keidra blankly. ¡°Names?¡±

    She nodded, ¡°Yup, naming your spells is important if you ever plan to work with an adventuring party. Unlike wizards, we sorcerers each have unique ways of handling our magic. For an adventuring party, this is a lot harder to plan around than a wizard who can write out a spell list of standardized spells for their allies to peruse. I could tell you the names of the techniques in my family that your spells are closest to, but your spells are all different, so you¡¯d be best off coming up with your own names.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t I just start using your family¡¯s spells? Are they a closely guarded secret?¡±

    Keidra shook her head, ¡°Not really, but I wouldn¡¯t recommend changing. For a sorcerer, discovering your own ways of magic is the best way to promote growth. In the past there were clans that tried to force strict regimens and standard spellcraft upon their descendents. What they quickly discovered was that sorcerers raised in this way stagnated in their growth very early on. Each sorcerer¡¯s magic is unique, so their spells should be as such, too. Even the family spells I just mentioned are only references, I don¡¯t use any of them myself, though they are decent naming inspirations, I¡¯ve found.¡±

    Names, huh? I looked down at my hands, remembering the five spells I had come up with, but no easy names leapt to mind. After a few moments, I looked back up at Keidra, saying, ¡°I think you¡¯d better tell me those family spells you mentioned. Something tells me that I¡¯m bad at naming things.¡±

    ¡°Then, as a way of training, I¡¯ll show them to you in a live combat situation,¡± Keidra said. She held up her hand and lightning coalesced around it.

    I gulped. I suddenly had a veeery bad feeling about this.

    Keidra smirked.

 Chapter Nine

    One day¡¯s worth of training later, and I was slumped feebly atop one of the inn¡¯s tables. The dining room was loud with the sounds of dining, but I was oblivious to all that. At that very moment, my entire being was pain.

    After a painful lesson in how much stronger she was, with the excuse of helping me name my spells and giving me a few pointers around how to further develop them, Keidra had taught me the previously mentioned family training technique that sped up the growth of one¡¯s font. It was an interesting technique, essentially forming a circuit of magic throughout your body and circulating it as long as possible until your font ran dry.

    But neither the combat nor the training technique were responsible for my current state. No, that hellish training came only after I had drained my font and we stopped for lunch. Then I saw Keidra¡¯s real face. I saw the demon that lives inside her very soul!

    For three hours after lunch, I was put through every form of physical torture imaginable. Whether it be running laps, doing push-ups, dragging logs, climbing mountains, or even physical combat, my new demonic superior dragged me through hell.

    What? I can hear you saying, Does she plan on making you into some sort of martial sorcerer? Are you to pick up a weapon and go toe to toe with the barbarians and paladins?

    Shudder.

    Thankfully, no, such a plan was not on the docket. Keidra claimed, though I still have my doubts, that this training is basic training to get into the physical shape required of all adventurers. According to her, those in the more physical line of work perform physical torture upon themselves several magnitudes greater than what I went through.

    Shudder.

    And I had the delightful pleasure (her words, not mine) of accompanying Keidra on this training regimen every day for the rest of my career among the West Tempest Guild. The moment she said that she also got a look that told me explicitly that any request to leave the guild would be denied.

    Shudder. I want to cry, but there are too many muscles involved with that. So I¡¯ll just lay here, on this blissfully flat table¡­

    My thoughts drifted back to the advice she had given after our spar. My three simple spells I could conjure almost as quickly as I could manifest my energy. I had designed each to handle a particular aspect of combat - one for a ranged attack, another for melee, and the third as a defensive tool. My two complex spells served a distinct purpose each. One was a more powerful version of my ranged attack, such that I could channel energy into continuously to increase its power, while the other was more of a utility spell, a way to effect the battlefield without blowing things up.

    Having said that, Keidra chided me for using explicitly those spells during the spar. She emphasized that one of a sorcerer¡¯s most powerful tools is their flexibility. While practiced spells were quickly manifested and good for coordination, they could not cover every situation, which meant not limiting myself to them, just preferring them.

    I glanced up at the sound of something hitting the table. Keidra stood in front of me, having returned from her little errand. There was a flat metal thing in front of my nose, and the she-devil had a grin on her face. Curious, I focused all my willpower to force my body upright to get a better look at the metal thing.

    It was a medallion, of a sort - a metal coin with a long bit of lace strung through it. Upon the coin was a blue tornado, though it descended from the right to touch the left edge. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your guild medal,¡± she replied, plopping into a seat across from me. She fished into her shirt and pulled out an identical one, hanging around her neck. ¡°With it, and your lightning magic, any member of the Tempest Guild will recognize you as a member of the western branch. And members of the other Major Guilds will recognize you as well.¡±

    So it was a form of guild membership proof. And the fact that the tornado pointed left likely signified me as a West Tempest Guild member. ¡°But what¡¯s to prevent someone from looting a corpse and using their medal to pose as a member?¡±

    She snorted, ¡°I take it item attunement wasn¡¯t a part of the surviving information?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Well, basically after you spend a bit of time with that thing on your body, it¡¯ll attune to your astral body. For most magical items, they only operate for their attuned wielder, and cannot be attuned again until that original wielder dies. Guild medals, however, don¡¯t have any function - instead, when their user dies, the medal splits, marking the original bearer as dead.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    I nodded in understanding. So it was a single-owner magical item. ¡°And if it¡¯s stolen?¡±

    ¡°The color fades if its more than five feet away from its attuner.¡±

    ¡°They thought of everything, huh?¡±

    ¡°Well, of course,¡± Keidra leaned back in her chair as I put the medal around my neck, tying the lace behind me. ¡°Guilds have been around for decades now. There¡¯s been plenty of time for them to refine their operating procedures.¡±

    A waitress came by and took our dinner orders, After she left, Keidra leaned forwards, ¡°So, I think now that you¡¯re officially part of the Guild it¡¯s time to let you in on the big plan, my ensign.¡±

    ¡°Plan?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yup! You didn¡¯t think I was in town for no reason, did you? Platston isn¡¯t exactly close to the West Tempest HQ, and I¡¯m pretty high up in the pecking order to be traipsing around this stomping ground, if I do say so myself. Not to mention Rendal- but I¡¯m getting ahead of myself again. Anyways, I¡¯m here for a reason, and it¡¯s time for you to hear that reason.¡± With that she leaned back from the table and shut her eyes.

    And then she sat there. Yes, just sat there. I gave her a moment to collect her thoughts, but then that moment passed and I gave her another. Then another, and another after that, until I finally said, ¡°Were y-¡±

    ¡°Shh!¡± she shushed me. A bit taken aback, I shut up and waited more. One more moment later, she finally raised her hands and released something. I didn¡¯t see what it was she released, but realized immediately after that thought that I could no longer hear the other patrons in the dining area. I looked around, and they were all still there, but when their lips moved, there was no sound.

    ¡°I just forced the air not to allow sound through in a small radius around our table. It¡¯s no barrier to physical entry, so our waitress won¡¯t be hindered, but now we can talk in private. To be honest, the permission of solid objects makes it more difficult than just barring everything.

    Anyways, as I said, i¡¯m in Platston for a reason. And that reason is zombies!¡±

    She stopped, looking at me as if awaiting a reaction. I blinked. That was the extent of my reaction.

    Keidra deflated, ¡°Aw, how come you¡¯re okay with zombies? Most non-adventurers at least flinch at the thought.¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°No clue. Amnesia, remember? Most responses are without a discernible reason.¡±

    Keidra briefly hung her head, ¡°You¡¯re killing me, Runes.¡± She looked up, eagerness in her eyes once more.

    ¡°So, I¡¯m here for zombies, or more specifically, their maker.¡±

    This got my attention. ¡°A necromancer?¡± She nodded to my question.

    Necromancy was a touchy subject for a lot of people. While not exactly outlawed, its use was frowned upon outside of certain religious orders. There were some gods whose faithful served on the mortal plane long after their death, and there was even a minor god that was patron of the undead. Thus, though rare, necromancers were not inherently criminal.

    But a rogue necromancer, one who used the art in pursuit of power or worldly riches, was incredibly dangerous. When not limited by their faith, they could raise an entire army from a single town¡¯s graveyard. Foes that died in battle could be brought back to unlife to fight for the necromancer. Wars had been fought between nations and a single necromancer, and I could remember (for some reason, amnesia is annoyingly selective) hearing from someone (this is the selected part; no idea from whom) that there was an island nation full of the undead, a past kingdom toppled by a single lich. A lich, by the way, was a necromancer who turned themselves into undead. Nasty being.

    ¡°So I take it you¡¯re not the only one after this necromancer?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, I know you¡¯re strong, but a necromancer could have a veritable army at their beck and call.¡±

    Keidra shook her head, ¡°Nope, that would indeed be a suicide mission. I¡¯m planning to meet with the rest of the team tomorrow night. This¡¯s actually a group effort by the Four Major Guilds, with the Pantheon Guild spearheading the effort, due to the rogue having once been one of their members. Their Vice Guild Master, Rendal Forst, is the real leader of the operation, though the other two guilds aren¡¯t skimping on their contribution. The Martial Extreme Guild has sent Daruin Stonejaw, armsmaster of the Stonejaw clan, and the Sylvan Arcana Guild has sent us Fel¡¯an Ellandern, an eleventh circle wizard.¡±

    Wow. I had actually heard of one of those people (or at least I remembered hearing¡­ godsdamn amnesia¡­). Fel¡¯an Ellandern was said to be the greatest arcanist of his generation, and was expected to become a twelfth circle mage before the end of this decade.

    A decidedly non-feminine hand placed a tray down at our table, accompanied by a masculine voice, ¡°I do hope you weren¡¯t gossipping about me.¡±

    I turned towards the voice.

    Keidra screamed.

 Chapter Ten

    Sigh.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    Apology time again. Not even two chapters later and I did it again. I know, I know, I have a problem, I¡¯m working on it. It won¡¯t happen again.

    So, if you haven¡¯t figured out what the hell I¡¯m talking about, I forced another cliffhanger, with the exact same line of ¡®Keidra screamed.¡¯ Yes, it¡¯s true, go look at the previous chapter, see my shame in all its glory, I can wait. No, seriously, go.

    Did you go? You saw it. Alright, now, this time, I really forced that cliffhanger. I mean, there probably wasn¡¯t a need to, there was already a bit of a cliffhanger with the mysterious newcomer. But I did it anyways.

    It¡¯s a compulsion, I swear.

    I think I¡¯m just gonna leave this hole here. Seems like I¡¯ll be using it in the future. Maybe get a window I can open and close or something...

    Regardless, Keidra did not scream. Keidra didn¡¯t yelp. Keidra didn¡¯t squeal. Keidra didn¡¯t say a word, because the man had approached over my shoulder and she had seen him coming. While I was lost deep in thought, she had already been looking in his direction.

    I, on the other hand, jumped at the new sound, already having been accustomed to the silence provided by Keidra¡¯s sound ward.

    The man who brought our food to the table was a rugged, outwardly human individual somewhere in his thirties. He had brown hair and a square jaw, naked of stubble. His blue eyes were set into a handsome face, and he gave off a feeling of perfection, as if the gods themselves had sculpted him from the earth. He was wearing a suit of armor, symbols bedecking the plate. A shield hung on his back, a sword at his hip.

    ¡°Glad to see you made it, Rendal,¡± Keidra smiled. Something about that smile irked me.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s my duty to see this mess cleaned up,¡± Rendal said, pulling up a chair. His movement was fluid, almost unearthly. There was no wasted motion. It was weird.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Keidra nodded. She then looked my way, ¡°I was just informing my new ensign of the state of our party.¡±

    ¡°New ensign?¡± Rendal asked, curiosity on his face. ¡°You found a fledgeling storm sorcerer out here? And at his age?¡±

    Keidra beamed back, ¡°Yup. Just ran into each other at the bar last night. I gave him my pitch and bang! New member.¡±

    Rendal scrutinized me, saying to Keidra, ¡°Cinnar always did say you stole her luck. Guess there¡¯s more truth to that than I gave credit.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Keidra laughed.

    I was feeling very put-upon by this new member at the table, especially since his analyzing stare seemed to be staring into my very soul!

    Rendal suddenly grinned, and I flinched. Oh gods. Goddess. Whoever¡¯s listening, please don¡¯t let him be able to see my soul. I¡¯ve got a font there that is tantamount to heresy and I don¡¯t like the look of those symbols on this guys armor. Most people that walk around with that many symbols are part of some sort of cult or religion and DAMMIT WHY CAN¡¯T I REMEMBER THE SYMBOLS OF ANY GODS!?!

    ¡°He seems green,¡± Rendal said, not turning his eyes from me.

    ¡°As I said. Sorcery is unique in that one can awaken it at literally any point in life. I once heard of a man who awoke to fire sorcery on his deathbed. Saved the family the cost of a coffin by turning his bedchamber into a pyre.¡±

    ¡°Guh. That was a dark joke, for you.¡±

    ¡°Well I can¡¯t help it that I¡¯m feeling dark when you¡¯re giving my brand new, gem-in-the-rough recruit the shits. He¡¯s not a criminal, he¡¯s not undead, so drop it, Rendal.¡±

    Rendal smirked at this, amused, and finally removed his gaze from me. I sagged back in my chair, gasping for air. Sweat streamed down my face and I felt incredibly faint. The two continued their discussion, but I didn¡¯t absorb any of it.

    I had just been stared down by a being of unfathomable power. As if the gods themselves had taken weight of my soul.

    I think I¡¯m going to be sick.

    An indeterminate amount of time later, my nausea passed, and i managed to tune back into the discussion.

    ¡°-wants me.¡± Rendal was saying. ¡°Marriage is the only way to tie one of my nature to your clan, and your father is a wise man. It¡¯s only a matter of time.¡± He smiled at Keidra.

    Keidra smiled back. ¡°Well, I wish you luck with that then. I¡¯ll be looking forwards to the results.¡±

    Marriage? What? She was talking about marriage with him? He was going to ask her father?

    I¡­ I couldn¡¯t handle this. This was just¡­ too much. I mean, I know I don¡¯t have any claim over Keidra, but I though- And then this guy comes over and just-

    Damn it, I can¡¯t think! I pushed away from the table. ¡°I¡¯m going to get some sleep,¡± I mumbled at Keidra¡¯s surprised look.

    ¡°You¡¯re not going to eat?¡± She asked as I turned away.

    ¡°Not hungry.¡±

    As I moved towards the stairs, I passed through the ward and flinched as sound abruptly assaulted me. Shaking my head, which was the source of a quickly growing headache, I continue moving, but was stopped when Keidra placed my forgotten plate in front of me.

    ¡°Take it with you, you may not feel like eating, but your body needs it.¡± Her tone was sympathetic. Pitying.

    I don¡¯t know why, but I couldn¡¯t look her in the face right now.

    I took the plate, mumbled something to Keidra, then moved back up the stairs. Inside my room, I sat down on the bed. The food had no taste to it, my mind still somewhere else.

    So Keidra already had someone courting her, someone who was planning to ask her father about marriage. It hurt that she led me on like that, and that the revelation came from a third party, her future fiance, no less, but it was good to have that out of the way. Now I could just treat her as a mentor. I just needed to kill the budding feelings, right? That was easy enough.

    So shut up heart. You can¡¯t love her.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ...

    Sleep was a long time in coming.

 Chapter Eleven

    Chapter Eleven.

    Keidra screamed. And this, this was a real scream, a scream of pain, of bone breaking agony. A blood curdling scream that snapped my head up, eyes wide, adrenaline already pumping.

    She was five feet away from me, hands grasping the large, pointed, blood-soaked bone that protruded from her chest. It was a massive bone, larger around than my forearm, and I could see its connecting bones behind her, originating from the ground behind her.

    As I watched, stunned, the bones pushed out of the ground, the earth sloughing off the moving skeleton of a massive beast, likely mammalian in origination, but not distinct enough for me to draw any conclusions.

    A high-pitched cackle came from the edge of the clearing, and out, into the light of day, stepped a small humanoid. Gray in complexion and likely shorter than my waist, he wore purple robes and had a shock of black hair. A goatee adorned his pinched, weasel-like face because of course the villain has a goatee.

    This, obviously, was Reginald Umberthatch. The Carrion Lord.

    ¡°So sorry to drop in like this, dear Keidra,¡± Reginald said.

    ¡°Reginald,¡± Keidra said his name like a curse, through gritted teeth. Her eyes started glowing before the skeleton that had impaled her shook its hand, sending her gasping in pain.

    ¡°Ah, ah, ah, we can¡¯t have that, can we,¡± the gnome said. ¡°I¡¯m so glad I managed to surprise you. I¡¯m sure that little band Rendal¡¯s gathered will be shocked when they see you¡¯ve changed sides!¡±

    ¡°Over my dead body,¡± Keidra said.

    Reginald laughed, ¡°Oh, Keidra, you make it too easy! No, I shan¡¯t rise to the bait. Oh, but I must! It¡¯s just sitting there, I have to.¡± He grinned wickedly, ¡°That, my dear Keidra, was always the plan.¡± He finally looked my direction. ¡°And who¡¯s this chap? I¡¯ve not seen him at any of the gatherings. A newbie? Hired help?¡±

    ¡°Runes,¡± Keidra gasped, her eyes looking to me. ¡°Run!¡±

    ¡°Oh, you can¡¯t really believe I¡¯d allow that, can you?¡±

    Reginald snapped his fingers, and I heard rustling at my back. From the trees behind me stepped two skeletons. Looking around the clearing, I saw many more stepping out of the trees, ringing me in.

    I turned back to Keidra. ¡°Go!¡± she shouted, more force behind her voice. ¡°Find Rendal!¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Kill him,¡± Reginald said, and the skeletons advanced.

    Shit.

    This. This was bad. Very bad. Keidra had told me that the necromancer was too much for me to handle, and that had been at the idea of tagging along with their whole party. Fighting him, and his minions, that was way above my power level.

    Damn it. I didn¡¯t like the idea of leaving Keidra with this maniac. Shit, he was a necromancer, and he had literally just bragged about how he was going to kill her then defile her corpse by raising her as an undead.

    But what choice did I have?

    If I fought, there was basically no chance of me surviving this encounter. I die, Keidra dies, Reginald spirits our bodies away, and Rendal and the rest of the party are left none the wiser.

    If I ran, I might, might get away. Platston is only a minute away, and I might, miraculously run into Rendal just inside the gate, and he might miraculously be accompanied by the rest of the adventuring party. We could then run back to this clearing and attempt to take down Reginald.

    But Keidra still dies.

    Keidra still dies.

    Dammit.

    Dammit!

    DAMMIT!

    ¡°Runes!¡± Keidra shouted. I held her gaze. She was pleading with me. Pleading with me to go. There was a resignation in her eyes. A preparation for something.

    Shit.

    The skeletons closed in. I spun backwards, lightning at my fingertips. The two from the forest behind me had reached melee range, and I shot out both of my palms. A wave of electric energy burst forth, my Static Palm Strike in action. The skeletons seized up, and I dashed between them. Tears clouded my vision as I sprinted into the forest.

    I was leaving Keidra, the first friend I made, the first person I trusted, the woman I maybe almost kinda loved, to die.

    To my right, three more skeletons attempted to chase me, these ones armed with bows. As they drew, I swung my right arm, releasing a wave of lightning towards them. It dissipated in the air, but a shockwave reached them, knocking them back a step. Had I the time or the ability to care, I might have marveled at the thunder I had just conjured. I had neither.

    I kept sprinting, my legs burning as I pushed them harder than ever before. The town was only a minute walking, which meant that it had to be a fraction of that while sprinting, right? Ahead I could see the end of the forest, and the road beyond.

    Then something heavy landed on me, dropping me face first into the dirt. After a short skid, I struggled to my feet, but a boot pushed me back down to the ground. ¡°Mmm, looks like someone¡¯s caught the master¡¯s interest,¡± a feminine voice said above me. I tried to look above me but the boot on my back kept me pinned to the floor with a supernatural strength.

    Then I heard a massive thunderclap, and the world trembled. I looked back towards where I had left Keidra, the source of the thunderclap. Maybe she had escaped? Could she be fighting back?

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not good,¡± the woman above me said, and with the pressure of her boot lessened, I was able to get a look at her. Immediately, my sight was drawn to the large bat wings at her back. She turned to look at me, saying, ¡°Well, my job ends here.¡±

    Then her other foot kicked my face, sending me into the abyss of unconsciousness.

 Chapter Twelve

    I awoke to the biting cold and a piercing headache. The first few seconds of consciousness were a muddled daze, until the memory of what had happened came back to me. I surprised myself by not instantly panicking upon recalling the events leading up to my knockout, especially since I was lying flat on my back, staring up at a dark stone ceiling with a fair number of stalactites.

    Ignoring the pounding in my skull, I forced myself into a sitting position, a decision that I instantly regretted due to a quadrupling of said pounding¡¯s intensity in response. Placing a hand to my forehead, I warily surveyed my surroundings.

    I was in a large room, easily forty paces across either direction. It appeared to be naturally formed from stone, which lead me to believe I must be inside some form of cave or cavern. There were five torches upon the walls, all lit with and eerie green flame that somehow did not mar the color pallette despite its otherworldy tint. The only obvious furniture in the room was a desk and chair in the center, and numerous large cages along the walls to my right and left. A single exit lay on the wall opposite me, an opening without a door that looked to branch left and right.

    A trio of zombies stood outside that door.

    Well. I guess that means I¡¯ve been captured. Trying desperately to remain optimistic about my situation, I examined the details of my captivity. I was not chained to a wall, nor was I inside one of those cages. Instead, I was in the center of a circle of runes. About five feet in radius, the runes appeared to have been carved into the stone floor, and a telltale glint of magic was present in each. Surprisingly, I was able to read the runes, as if I was reading sentences in common. The ones around me appeared to be an intricate working of rules that ultimately culminated in a single thing.

    ¡°Is a storm sorcerer without his storm still a sorcerer?¡± A mellifluous voice asked from my left. I jerked my head up (which set the headache back to full force) and looked towards the cage the sound had originated from. A moment later, a man¡¯s face pushed through the shadows and up to the bars. He was young, looking in his late teens, though the sharp tips of his ears lent doubt to any age-guessing I might do. Not full elven, his face was too square and cheekbones not pronounced enough for that. Fair hair cascaded down past his shoulders, and not a lick of hair adorned his face, though I¡¯d place my bets on elven genetics over habitual shaving. His eyes were green, and had a playful mirth to them, and his lips were turned up in a teasing smirk.

    The mixed-blood stared at me for a moment. I, still dealing with re-entering consciousness, was unable to form a witty comeback. Or any comeback, really, it seemed my body prioritized cold and calculating analysis over clever repartee when it came to waking up parts of my brain.

    ¡°Glad to see you on your feet, newbie,¡± the man finally said. ¡°Name¡¯s Garrick Slant, of the bardic profession, and it is my unfortunate honor to welcome you as the newest resident of the dungeon of the Carrion Lord. We¡¯ve seen a lot of turnover of late, so it¡¯s nice to have fresh blood in the neighborhood.¡±

    ¡°You''re¡­ rather glib for a prisoner,¡± I said.

    The man shook his finger back and forth, clicking his tongue, ¡°Ah, .y new friend, but that''s where you''re wrong! A prisoner I am not! Nay, the mighty Carrion Lord has employed my services as his personal historian. I chronicle his every triumph so that his fearsome legend might be accurately passed down to the masses. For centuries to come, my tales shall be sung across the land striking terror and-¡±

    ¡°He''s the necromancer¡¯s pet,¡± said deep voice from a cage to my right. My head snapped in that direction (gah, my head!), peering into the shadows. I saw what looked like a pike of metal contained within, flinging weakly in the unholy light. When there was no movement towards the bars, I glanced back towards Garrick, who was glaring towards the offending cell himself.

    ¡°Who¡¯s our disapproving neighbor, neighbor?¡± I asked.

    Garrick harrumphed, ¡°That hunk of metal is the Carrion Lord¡¯s most recent fascination. The man¡¯s trapped in a cursed suit of armor, and the Carrion Lord is attempting to turn him into a living armor without removing the curse. Apparently it¡¯s harder than it sounds.¡± Garrick shrugged and turned back to me. ¡°All that magic stuff goes a bit over my head.¡±

    ¡°So I take it, then, that you¡¯ve no knowledge of the nature of my trappings?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ah, in fact, that is a subject I can expound upon in length, my good friend! The Carrion Lord has explained to me in much detail the effort he has gone to capture those who sought to vanquish him. Though, I must admit I am surprised to find the famed storm sorcerer Keidra Storcoil of the Tempest Guild is not of the fairer sex.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not- I¡¯m not- Call me Runes. Keidra is my¡­ commanding officer in the guild. I¡¯m¡­ not sure what happened to her after Reginald attacked.¡±

    ¡°Reginald?¡± the bard asked.

    ¡°The Carrion Lord. His real name¡¯s Reginald something-thatch. Amber? Umbra? Umber. Umberthatch.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well, I think I¡¯ll keep with ¡®the Carrion Lord.¡¯ No reason to the man dangling my life in his hands.

    ¡°Anyways, the runes trapping Runes, oh that name will be so much fun, were designed specifically for a storm sorcerer. The Carrion Lord already knew the identities of party pursuing him, so he took great pleasure in designing holding wards specifically to bind each member of the party. For Keidra, he designed a warded cell that would negate every aspect of her storm sorcery. That¡¯s the cell you¡¯re in now. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°The cell to your left was designed for Rendal Forst, with both physical-restraining binds and divine obstruction wards. The two to your right were created to house Daruin Stonejaw and Fel¡¯an Ellandern. Daruin¡¯s is an overly convoluted one - it basically takes his hands and feet and places them out of phase with our reality, on top of physcially restraining the rest of his body. Fel¡¯an, on the other hand, is to suffer both a silence ward and a curse that somehow inhibits his spellcasting abilities. I¡¯m not sure how that one works, when the Carrion Lord expounded on it he started using big magey words well outside my vocabulary.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a spell matrix encryption ward. It basically takes a spell formula and mixes it up.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ you can read that?¡± Garrick was surprised. ¡°I thought you were a sorcerer, not a wizard.¡±

    ¡°I am, and don¡¯t ask.¡± I bent down to look at the runes currently confining me. After a moment, I stood back up.

    A sigh escaped my lips. As I thought. The ward would prevent me from manifesting any storm magic. That means I had a decision to make. I looked at Garrick. ¡°Are there any other occupants of this dungeon?¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve got a look in your eye, newbie. Found a flaw? A loophole to get you out of that cage?¡±

    ¡°Nope. The spellwork here is flawless. I doubt even the strongest storm sorcerer could conjure a spark inside this array.¡±

    I looked over to the other occupant in the dungeon. ¡°Armor-man. You got a name?¡±

    A brief moment of silence, then, ¡°Jaric.¡±

    ¡°You up for an escape?¡±

    Another moment of silence, then I heard his armor scraping against the ground as he rose to his feet, coming forwards into the light at the bars of his cage. The man inside the cage was encased in a suit of pitch black metal plate armor. And he was massive, easily over seven feet tall. The armor itself was of exquisite craftmanship, looking as clean and pristine as the day it was forged. Magic items always looked brand-new. Something about the magic just froze them in time the instant they were created. They could be damaged or marred, sure, but they would always revert back to the beginning, given time.

    A pair of glowing red eyes peered through the eyeslits on Jaric¡¯s helmet. There was no opening for his mouth other than some vertical slits meant for breathing. It brought to mind a question of how he ate and drank, but I filed that curiosity away for a more appropriate time.

    I took a deep breath. This, what I was about to do, was stupid. Incredibly stupid. But desperate times¡­

    It was this or hope to be rescued. And given that I had been captured by a necromancer, I knew that the duration of my stay was not planned to be as the living. In fact, I was surprised I hadn¡¯t just been killed and turned back in the forest. Maybe Keidra had hurt him enough he wasn¡¯t able to perform before she got away.

    If she got away.

    I took another deep breath, then let it out slowly. I looked both of the other occupants in the dungeon. ¡°I need to know two things going forwards from both of you. First, are either of you tied to a religion?¡±

    Garrick shook his head. ¡°No more than any other mortal. I pray when I need to but I don¡¯t hang around temples much¡±

    I looked Jaric¡¯s direction. ¡°Once, but no longer. The gods failed me.¡±

    That was¡­ ominous. But good for me, in this current situation.

    ¡°Secondly, I need an oath from both of you. An oath on whatever you hold sacred, that you will never, ever, in your life, death, or undeath, reveal what I am about to show you.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t escape here alone. I knew that. There was a reason adventurer parties were more common than solo adventurers. Survival rates of groups were much better than soloists. And breaking out of this necromancer¡¯s lair was going to be a harsh challenge.

    So I had two options, wait and hope for rescue, or find a way to trust these two people and attempt to make it out of here alive. While not impossible, something in my gut was telling me rescue wouldn¡¯t make it in time. I was deliberately ignoring the root of that feeling. But I heeded its warning.

    What I was asking for wasn¡¯t some magical contract. I couldn¡¯t write one of those even hadn¡¯t I been locked up in an anti-magic cage. This was just me, a mortal, asking for another mortal¡¯s oath.

    Yeah, I hear you. Where¡¯d the cynic go? Why are you suddenly so willing to trust?

    I¡­ don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll be honest, Keidra changed something in me. I was with her for a matter of days and yet I feel a different person than I was before. I opened up to her, I trusted her and let her in. And she rewarded me for it.

    So call me a fool, call me an idiot, call me naive. For all intents and purposes, I was in my formative years. I was rediscovering both the world around me, and myself.

    ¡°I swear upon my voice that whatever you reveal in aiding us in our escape, I¡¯ll take to my grave,¡± Garrick was the first to speak. I somehow knew he would. Despite his surface cheeriness, the man obviously hated it here, hated being under Reginald¡¯s thumb, hated watching people enter the dungeon and then disappear. It was in his tone when he joked about ¡®new blood.¡¯ It was in his eyes when he spoke about chronicling ¡®the Carrion Lord¡¯s¡¯ escapades.

    Garrick wanted free.

    I looked over to Jaric. He had a gauntlet on his chin, looking pensive. A moment later, he returned his gaze to me, speaking, ¡°Should you release me from this cage, I will do everything in my power to aid you in escaping here, and shall not speak of any secrets revealed in the process until my soul is unmade. I swear this upon my brother¡¯s grave.¡± I met his eyes through the slits of his helmet, glowing with an intensity that had not been there before.

    Jaric, too, wanted free.

    I took one more deep breath. That was it, then. I closed my eyes, reaching inside. ¡°Garrick, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not able to answer your original question.¡± Deep, past the stagnating storm power inside my font, to the glowing core in its depths. ¡°If one takes away the storm from a storm sorcerer, I would assume they wouldn¡¯t be able to do much of anything.¡± I grasped the power at the center of my power, dredging it to the surface, spreading it through my body. ¡°Without the storm, they¡¯d be powerless. No more than an ordinary mortal.¡± A rush of vigorous energy spread through my very being. I felt, in that very second, more alive, more aware, more complete than ever in my brief, amnesiatic existence. ¡°But you see¡­¡± The power, the divinity rushed to my fingertips, and I willed it forwards. It broke through the ward, shattering it into pieces, a beam of pure radiance that flashed instantly across the room, smashing into the trio of skeletons in the hallway, vaporizing them instantly.

    I stepped through the hole in the now-crumbling ward, looking at the awestruck expression upon my new companion¡¯s face. ¡°...I¡¯m not really a storm sorcerer.¡±

 Chapter Thirteen

    This was the first time I had channelled the divine portion of my font. It was a sensation beyond what I could have imagined, a high that made me feel night invincible. I hadn¡¯t planned to destroy thezombie guards with my initial blast, just break through the wards. But, as I summoned my holy power, I knew, instinctively, that I could do both, easily. The undead were an anathema in the eyes of the divine, raised without the blessing of a deity. Such beings could not bear the brunt of divine magic - its effects were magnified tenfold. And I just knew this.

    This was what it meant to be a divine channeller. This power, the power of the gods, was a part of my very being, mine to command.

    I reeled myself back in from my power trip as I heard Jaric speak. ¡°You¡¯re a divine channeller,¡± he said, disbelief evident in his tone.

    I nodded. ¡°That I am.¡±

    He laughed, then, a reaction outside my expectations. It was an uproarious laughter, as if the man had just heard the funniest joke of his life. I was taken aback, unsure how to react to his reaction. ¡°Oh, fate, you fickle, magnificent bitch,¡± he said, finally calming himself down. ¡°Runes,¡± he continued, ¡°My offer still stands, though I¡¯ll add something further to it. Should you so desire, I will be your shield for as long as you have need of me.¡±

    Still trying to gain my bearings around this man, I asked, ¡°Alright, but can I ask why the sudden offer?¡±

    ¡°Suffice it to say that your very existence uplifts my spirits. A divine channeller after all these years! Who is your patron deity, if I might be so bold?¡±

    Well. Hmmm. I guess it¡¯s not like withholding that information would gain me anything. Regardless of who made me a divine channeller, I would be hunted by the other cults and killed on sight. ¡°Auriel.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so the wind goddess is playing fast and loose with the rules? It suits her far better than the blind obedience she¡¯s had of late. So? Will you take me up on my offer?¡±

    It was odd, but Jaric spoke of the gods with a familiarity that spoke of a past relationship. Though from his reaction at my god-cursed existence, I doubted the remains of that relationship resembled anything even remotely cordial. I considered his deal. As far as adventuring goes, having a dutiful ally that could engage in melee to keep foes away from me was an offer too good to refuse. Assuming his sincerity - damn it, what the hell happened to my cynicism around these two?!? - I could not come up with any reason to turn down his unsolicited addition to the deal.

    I nodded in agreement, and the big man-in-armor clapped, ¡°Magnificent! Well, then let¡¯s get to escaping this necromancer, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± I said, moving forwards and summoning my magic to destroy the lock on his cage. But before I could act, Jaric did something that put my jaw on the floor. He reached through the bars of his cage, gauntleted arm reaching out halfway past his forearm, grabbed the large, iron lock, and squeezed. There was a grating squeal as his hand closed into a fist, then he let go, and the crumpled, useless lock fell to the floor with a clatter, his cage door slowly swinging ajar.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    He stepped out of the cage, standing tall in front of me. Seeing my disbelief, the big man shrugged, red eyes aglow with mischief, ¡°The cage could never hold me, but I never could have escaped the necromancer¡¯s minions alone. With you here, though, we stand a real chance.¡±

    Jaric then looked at the other dungeon occupant''s cell, saying, ¡°You¡¯re being uncharacteristically silent, bard.¡±

    His sentence drew my attention back to Garrick. Gone was the awestruck expression, replaced instead by a contemplative look. ¡°Hmm?¡± he said, startled back into the present by Jaric¡¯s words. ¡°Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of a name.¡±

    ¡°A name?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Why, of course! Every good adventuring party must have a name. The good ones go down in legend! Take the Cloaks, for instance. They¡¯re more well known than the Four Major Guilds! Practically a household name!

    ¡°And this,¡± he gestured to those present, ¡°Is the beginning of the next legendary party. As such, we need a suitable name. It has to be a name that references your divinity, but doesn¡¯t give it away. One such that, when the world knows your story, the name will fit, but won¡¯t cause us undo attention until that day comes.¡±

    I could only stare at Garrick in disbelief. He cocked an eyebrow at my expression. ¡°What? You don¡¯t think this is the beginning of a legend? Runes, you¡¯re the first divine channeller in centuries! I don¡¯t yet know how this tale ends, but I know it will go down in history. And as a devout follower of Liturnia, goddess of stories, it is my pleasure - nay, my duty to chronicle your tale.¡±

    My eyes narrowed, ¡°I thought you said you weren¡¯t a worshipper.¡±

    ¡°I lied. It¡¯s a bardic skill. But that doesn¡¯t make me your enemy, Runes-the-nameless. Liturnia chooses no side, nor does her flock. We simply seek to collect and spread the stories of the world. My vow still stands, unaltered, though I would like to add a rider clause as our iron-bending friend has. Though I am no shield, I am no stranger to a blade, and if you¡¯ll have me I¡¯ll be at your side, an ally till the end.¡±

    I looked to Jaric, ¡°Is all that true about Liturnia?¡±

    Jaric sighed, and I could almost hear the eye-roll as he said, ¡°She is known amongst the devout as the Ultimate Observer. Some joke that the world could end and still she would not act. The bard speaks true about his faith, though his devotion might still be called into question.¡±

    It was now my turn to look contemplative as I considered the potential third member of our new party. Honestly, I should have said no right away. Garrick was manipulative, unpredictable, and a self-admitted liar. But¡­ Damn it, if this sudden bout of trust wasn¡¯t divine intervention, I don¡¯t know what the hell else could explain it.

    I took a deep breath, then sighed. ¡°Alright, welcome to the team. Now, are you coming out of that cage or do I need to blow the hinges off?¡±

    ¡°Why, whatever could you mean, new best friend? I¡¯ve not the strength of our towering ally, and you¡¯ve yet to unlock my cage.¡±

    I gave him a good, long stare.

    Garrick deadpanned.

    Then, he grinned. ¡°Ah, look, he¡¯s learning!¡± he exclaimed, pushing open the door to his cage effortlessly. ¡°There may be hope for us yet, Jaric! Oh, and I¡¯ve just thought of the most perfect name!¡± The man stopped in front of us, his facial expression begging us to ask the question.

    I rolled my eyes and glanced at Jaric. As one, we turned and walked out the door.

    ¡°Ah, wait! Don¡¯t you want to hear the name! It¡¯s fantastic, I swear! One might even call it legen-¡±

    ¡°Shut up, bard."

 Chapter Fourteen

    ¡°Fine. That name is fine, Garrick. Now, can you please focus on the present? Are you sure this is the only path to the armory?¡±

    I was whispering to my new allies whilst looking around a bend in the tunnel towards a large cavern. We had moved through the cavern complex at the bard¡¯s direction, as he was the only one who had ever had anything like free roam of the place. He had directed us deeper inside upon Jaric voicing his need to reclaim a weapon of import. According to the hulking man, he would be thrice as effective in combat with said blade in his hands. At the moment, Jaric bore only a rusty shortsword scavenged from the ashes of the zombie guards, while Garrick had picked up a shortbow and some arrows.

    The cavern complex itself was of interesting lore. Garrick had mentioned in passing that this was once the hall of an ice giant king, which explained the massiveness of all the tunnels and rooms. No furniture of giant size remained in the few empty rooms we¡¯d passed, though, so it was entirely possible that the bard was, again, lying.

    Garrick looked disappointed at my lack of interest in his proposed name, the sixth of its kind voiced in the few minutes since our departing the room. He then smiled, a gleam in his eye, and said, ¡°Well, don¡¯t you worry about the name then, I¡¯ve just thought of an even greater one. But you asked for my focus, so my focus you shall have. There is, indeed another path to the armory that avoids this room, however it would take us past not only the Carrion Lord¡¯s laboratory chamber, but also past Lavory¡¯s playroom. As such, I thought this was the lesser of two evils.¡±

    ¡°Lavory?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Oh, have you not met? She usually accompanies the Carrion Lord on his expeditions outside. You¡¯d remember if you had. About this high,¡± he raised his hand to nose height, chin height on my own frame, ¡°blonde, beautiful and,¡± he moved his hands into a cupping gesture around his chest, motioning up and down, ¡°bouncy?¡±

    Ignoring his innuendos, I thought back. I had seen a woman, briefly, before passing into unconsciousness. I couldn¡¯t recall the color of her hair, but one aspect of her had stuck with me. ¡°Does she have bat-wings?¡±

    Garrick¡¯s expression lit up, ¡°Ah, the very succubus herself. Indeed, though she tends to hide those when not mid combat.¡±

    ¡°I thought Reginald was a necromancer, not a warlock.¡±

    Here the big man spoke up, ¡°Demon summoning is not exclusive to warlocks, they¡¯re simply the most common of demonologists. Any wizard worth their salt could summon a demon.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Garrick, frowning, ¡°though it¡¯s this one¡¯s eagerness that is most concerning. Most demons, in the tales, a begrudging slaves for their masters. They tend to turn on their summoner the moment they get the chance.

    ¡°This demon, though, seems to go out of its way to please its master. Yet, I¡¯ve seen no signs of her sleeping with him, which is bizarre for a succubus. It¡¯s the one way they typically assert any form of power. Could be an elaborate ruse to manipulate the Carrion Lord, but worrying if it¡¯s not.¡±

    I shook my head free of the speculation those sentences threatened to spawn. ¡°We¡¯re getting off track. So, this is the best route, then?¡±

    Garrick smiled again, a teasing look in his eyes, ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Runes, don¡¯t have the power to deal with this little group?¡±

    The ¡®little group¡¯ Garrick spoke of was the current residents of the room before us. It appeared to have once been a kitchen area, from the looks of the shelves and counters hewn into the rock. Inside, a quartet of zombies stood, aimlessly puttering about the room, while a pair of skeletons stood motionless in the center. The more concerning figure, however, was the largely-intact corpse sitting atop one of the counters. Its eyes watched the zombies move about, a definite glint of intelligence in its eyes. A ghoul.

    Ghouls were a stronger brand of undead than zombies or skeletons. Raised from fresh corpses, ghouls retained a portion of both the intelligence and the physical capabilities of their once-living selves. This one was a male in a suit of armor, a spear on the table beside him.

    I shook my head, ¡°Nothing to do with power. Actually, I¡¯ve still got quite a reserve of divine energy left, not even mentioning my storm magic, though I doubt that¡¯d be as effective against foes like these.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°You worry about the ghoul?¡± Jaric asked.

    ¡°Well, that, and¡­¡± I sighed, ¡°to be honest, I¡¯ve never actually practiced with my divine element. I mean, I¡¯ve had this power less than a week, and the majority of that time I was trying to hide the divine portion¡¯s very existence. Hitting those zombies before was easy, they were all clustered up in the same area. But, here¡­¡±

    Garrick and Jaric shared a look. Then Jaric turned to me, ¡°Do not worry about the ghoul, I will close with him and keep him occupied. Simply try to hit as many as you can with your initial attack.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to pick off what¡¯s left afterwards,¡± Garrick said. ¡°My aim¡¯s good enough that from this distance I should be able to land a few leg shots to keep them from running and alerting the rest of the place.¡±

    I looked at the two. They seemed to be confident that we could do this. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. ¡°Alright, ready?¡±

    Both nodded in return.

    Closing my eyes, I reached back into my font for the divine energy. I felt that same rush as before when it filled my body, leaping to my command. This time, though, I pushed that thrill away immediately, focusing instead on the nature of the power.

    Different from the jagged, unstable, electrifying feeling of my storm power, the divine contents of my font was more¡­ regal and overbearing. It was as if, by existing, it could force all other forms of energy to kneel and subside.

    I thought it would be difficult to shape it to my will, to create, instead of a beam of power, a burst of energy. After all, I had practiced with the volatility of lightning, not the oppressiveness of divinity. And while it did, indeed mean that I had to throw my lightning spells out the window, I was once again touched by that unnatural instinct. I simply knew how to bend this energy into the shape I desired. If it were any less useful, I¡¯d be concerned about this intuition.

    I opened my eyes, seeing Garrick flinch in front of me. Raising an eyebrow, he simply shook his head and motioned me forward. Shrugging, I looked at the big man, who nodded to me, then down at my hands, where a little orb of pure light was pulsing.

    ¡°Three, two, one.¡±

    At the end of my count, I spun around the corner, pushing my payload forwards. It flew like an arrow into the room, propelled by my will, and struck the ground right next to one of the skeletons. A golden dome silently blossomed in the room, instantly enveloping all its denizens and obscuring them from view. Then, an instant later, the radiance vanished, and I was jostled slightly as Jaric sped past me. As the magic cleared, I was able to see that, as intended, I had managed to hit every undead in the room. However, while the zombies and skeletons had been vaporized, their weapons only now clattering to the floor, the ghoul was made of sterner stuff.

    It was picking itself up off the floor, bowled over by the force of my magic. As it lifted its weapon from the table, I saw the damage its front had borne. The clothes it was wearing were intact, if rumpled, but the visible skin underneath looked as if it had just sustained the worst sunburn in the history of man. A pained expression adorned its newly torched face, the lips mostly burnt off by the celestial radiance.

    ¡°Intruders!¡± it garbled, its voice either damaged by its manner death, decay, or the radiation. I counted us lucky that its calls weren¡¯t loud enough to leave the room.

    And then Jaric was upon it, his shortsword swinging. He wielded it as I might a dagger, so large were his arms in comparison to the blade. Hacking down, his blade hacked through the spear the ghoul had raised in defense, splitting it in twain. He followed his downstroke with a punch, gauntlet smashing into the undead¡¯s midsection and sending it flying into the counter.

    However, the ghoul kept its grasp upon its spear, nerveless existence allowing it to shake off what would have winded a mortal fighter. It stabbed forth, spear seeking the gaps in Jaric¡¯s armor, but the big man shifted a fraction and the piercing thrust bounced harmlessly off his side.

    Then an arrow found its way into the ghoul¡¯s eye socket, and it crumpled to the floor. I looked to my side, and saw Garrick, bow in hand. He saw me looking and winked, ¡°Good aim, right?¡±

    Chuckling, I moved into the room. Jaric was kneeling over the ghoul, one hand holding its twitching body steady while the other used his shortsword to sever the undead¡¯s head. While ghouls were more dangerous than zombies, their nature required the use of the physical systems present in the originating body. As a result, an arrow to the brain or spinal cord could disable a ghoul just as easily as a man, while a zombie would just keep coming, animated purely by magics as it was. However, a ghoul would not truly die until its head was severed from its body, as Jaric was now ensuring.

    A moment later, and the big man stood. He looked to me, ¡°You did well, Runes. I did not expect all of them to be taken out, from the way you were talking.¡±

    I shrugged, ¡°I guess I¡¯m a natural.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Garrick said as he approached, having picked up a dagger from one of the zombies and strapped it to his side. ¡°Well, now that this room has been settled, shall we go see about getting your shield a sword?¡±

 Chapter Fifteen

    One hallway and three turns later, and we reached our destination. The necromancer¡¯s armory was much less structured than such a descriptor made me assume - weapons were scattered haphazardly about the floor, not in racks or on shelves as I had imagined. Though, given that the only wielders of said weapons were likely the risen dead, cleanliness and orderliness were likely not high on the list of priorities. Many of the weapons wielded by those we had fought so far were of poor maintenance, one handaxe even covered completely in rust.

    There was one exception to the chaos in the moderately-sized sideroom that the necromancer had piled his weapons in, though, and all six of our eyes were immediately drawn to it. Towards the middle of the room sat a stone pedestal, crawling with glowing runes and markings. Each glowed a separate color, pulsing and fluctuating each at its own rhythm. But it was not the pedestal that drew our attention. No, it was the massive greatsword floating in the air above it.

    Easily over five feet long, the blade was a dark black metal and wider than a foot where it met the hilt. Its straight blade was simple in shape, as was its crossguard, simply a metal plate between the dark blade and its crimson-wrapped grip. The pommel, however, bore the likeness of a roaring dragon, a motif that was mirrored by the dark red dragon coiling down the flat of the blade. The pommel¡¯s eyes were inset with a pair of rubies, glinting in the light of the everpresent green flames.

    ¡°Vrymstahl,¡± Jaric uttered, reverence and relief in his voice.

    My eyes were then drawn downwards, back to the pedestal, where arcane runes glimmered. They were legible even from this distance, and I realized once again how fortunate I was to have somehow retained this skill.

    As Jaric started forwards, Garrick put out his arm to stop the big man, ¡°Hold on. Tell us ¡®bout the runes, Runes.¡±

    I turned my attention to the bard, rolling my eyes at his cheeky grin. ¡°Well, they¡¯re not really a problem. All of them, at least the ones I can see on this side of the pedestal, appear to be focused inwards, either powering the levitation spell or trying to contain the sword. The containing spells all seem focus on lowering temperature - is it supposed to be a flaming sword?¡± Though the blade was currently free of flame, the majority of power was being concentrated in keeping it cold, leading to my question.

    Jaric snorted. ¡°That would be underselling it. Check the back of the pedestal, if you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±

    I stepped into the room and did precisely that. After confirming that none of the previously unseen runes were of dangerous magics, Jaric stepped up to the sword. ¡°I would recommend stepping back out of the room for this. Vrymstahl is likely to be a bit cranky after this treatment.¡± The big man watched as Garrick and I followed his suggestion, stepping back out of the room to observe, then turned back to the pedestal. Reaching a single gauntleted fist out, he grasped the massive blade¡¯s haft and pulled it from its rest.

    As Vrymstahl left the confines of the runes¡¯ magics, it burst into brilliant flame. This was not a normal flame, but a deep crimson blaze that practically ignited the air. From the hallway, Garrick and I were treated to a blast of air of a temperature more appropriate for a desert wind. It stole our breaths away, leaving us gasping.

    Unlike the unholy flames that served as illumination in these halls, Vrymstahl¡¯s fire cast the room in vibrant red. Its light seemed to dominate the unholy flames¡¯, stealing away the other colors and leaving the room lit in a scale from black to crimson.

    And then, as suddenly as it erupted, the flames dispersed. The room¡¯s temperature dropped slowly back down as Garrick and I panted, catching our breaths. Jaric stood like a statue in front of the pedestal, both hands grasping the mighty blade, holding it vertically in front of him. ¡°I¡¯ve calmed her down. Allow me a moment to commune with her and then we can press on.¡±

    Sagging against the wall, I slid down to the floor. Garrick did the same across from me, still panting. ¡°Well,¡± I said, ¡°that was interesting.¡±

    ¡°That was hellfire,¡± the bard retorted. ¡°It would seem that our armored friend has been consorting with demons, if he¡¯s able to control an artifact of such hellish nature.¡±

    I glanced at Jaric. I still did not know much about the man. Even his race was an unknown. And yet, somehow, I already felt I could trust him with my life. This was beyond the desperation that might be fueling me, a sense that no matter what the odds, he would be on my side. The same felt true for Garrick, those his martial support carried less weight. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Garrick,¡± I looked back to the bard, ¡°Is there any kind of effect in these halls that would make a man more trusting?¡±

    The bard frowned, ¡°Not that I know of. I, certainly, haven¡¯t felt anything of the sort. Why do you ask?¡±

    I sighed, shaking my head, ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just confirming a suspicion.¡±

    That meant that the most likely cause of my sudden willingness to trust was divine interference. The fact that a goddess was pushing me to trust the two did nothing to diminish my new trust in them - in fact, if anything, it increased it. This was about as close as one could get to having a divine reference without becoming a paladin.

    And considering my situation, I should likely be thanking Auriel for helping me overcome my preexisting cynicism to expedite my escape plans. I could only imagine how much time would have been wasted agonizing over whether or not to trust them while I was sitting in that cell.

    But, still. It was the principle of the thing. I didn¡¯t like anyone, divinity or no, mucking about with my mind. I would be having words with Auriel when next we spoke.

    As my ruminations came to a close, Jaric turned around. ¡°It is done,¡± he said, reaching the greatsword over his shoulder and releasing its haft. It seemed to float behind him, as if carried by an invisible scabbard strapped across his back.

    I took a deep breath as I rose from the ground, mirrored by Garrick across from me. ¡°Alright,¡± I said, ¡°then it¡¯s time for our escape.¡±

    Jaric nodded as he approached us. He looked to Garrick, ¡°What is the best route out of here?¡±

    Garrick pondered for a moment. ¡°Well, as I see it, there are two options of escape. One, we can try to make it out of the tunnels and into the mountains, but then it¡¯s still two days to the nearest town, which would give our captors plenty of time to find and retrieve us. Two, we can make our way to thee Carrion Lord¡¯s teleportation chambers and see if Runes here can make enough sense of the circles there to find a way back to town. The problem is that the teleportation chambers are on the other side of the complex, meaning we would have to likely fight our way through multiple caves filled with undead, and giving us a higher chance of being noticed by the Carrion Lord or one of his lackeys.¡±

    So the choice was between a quick escape followed by days of running and hiding, or a long, dangerous battle followed by what would hopefully be a teleportation directly to town. Had we a wizard, ranger, or some other member who might be able to obscure our departure, I would prefer the former. But there was no telling what tricks a seasoned necromancer like Reginald could pull out when it came to hunting us down.

    The other problem was Keidra. I had no way of knowing what had happened to her. That she hadn¡¯t been in one of the cells with us made me hope she had managed to escape. I was pointedly ignoring any other obvious explanations for her absence in those cells, as none of them helped my motivation or mental state. Assuming she had escaped, I now had valuable intelligence on the location of Reginald¡¯s base. Taking the first choice would potentially give Reginald enough days to relocate, or at the very least fortify his defenses. But, if I managed to figure out the teleportation circles, I could provide a backdoor entrance right into the necromancer¡¯s lair for Keidra and her party.

    I glanced at Jaric, ¡°I¡¯m assuming that new weapon of yours is effective against the undead?¡±

    He nodded his helm, red eyes shining at me, ¡°Indeed. Hellfire burns better than most other flames. Their bodies are desiccated - little more than tinder before a match.¡±

    ¡°How about you?¡± I asked Garrick. ¡°Got any special tricks or powers up your sleeve?¡±

    ¡°Well, besides my skills with the bow, I am an excellent narrator.¡± Garrick grinned and winked.

    Rolling my eyes, i made up my mind. ¡°We¡¯re taking option two,¡± I said. ¡°If we can make it back to town, then I might be able to turn our escape into a backdoor entrance for the party that has been hunting Reginald.¡±

    Both men nodded. As we turned to depart the armory, something caught my eye. ¡°Hold on,¡± I said, reentering the room and crossing to one of the piles of weapons. Deposited atop it was a ceremonial dagger of familiar design. I bent down and scooped up the weapon. Though I had forgotten about it before, I now recalled that Auriel had mentioned that this dagger could serve as a focus for my energies. When I had tried it with my lightning magic before, it had provided no clear increase over simply wielding the lightning by hand. But perhaps the goddess had meant it would assist my use of the divine energy I had? I couldn¡¯t imagine how, considering the ease with which I had bent it to my will in the prior fight.

    Regardless, the dagger was mine, though I was dubious to claim it as such given the sigil of the Doom Cult on its hilt. At the very least it could serve as a backup weapon in case my font ran dry during a fight. A pity I didn¡¯t see a serviceable shield anywhere in the room, though. I had left mine back at my room in the inn.

    Garrick raised an eyebrow as I returned, his eyes on the dagger now at my belt.

    ¡°Long story,¡± I said.

    ¡°Oh, but those are the best kind!¡± he grinned.

    I sighed, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when we aren¡¯t trapped in a dungeon controlled by a rogue necromancer and his pet succubus.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±