“You sure you’ll be alright?” Gugora asks. “Fairwood is a big city.”

“I got back fine last time,” I say. “Don’t worry! Talia will let me stay at her place again.” Probably, if I ask her. She’ll want to hear more about the new ‘clues’ I found, anyway.

“Just don’t forget the ingredients,” Iski says. “You sure you won’t forget?”

“I won’t forget,” I promise, shaking the bag she’s lending me. It jingles with coins. “Not that you’d let me. That list was very thorough.”

“Can’t waste a trip to the city,” Iski says with a shrug. “Don’t go getting arrested again this time.”

I grin. “No promises on that one.”

Gugora lightly pats me on the shoulder, though with his giant hands it still about knocks me over. “Stay safe.”

“Okay, Dad.” I immediately regret it. Loss twists in my gut, and my own dad comes unbidden to my mind. Gugora’s eyes also flicker with some emotion at the word, but I awkwardly turn away before I can identify it.

“Be back tomorrow,” I say, trying to throw a nonchalant wave over my shoulder as I start away from the inn, even as my stomach is still doing summersaults. I shove the feelings down, way down, as I make for Fairwood. No time to dwell on the family I’ll never see again. No time to think about Gugora or Iski. I’ve got the mission to focus on. It’s kill or be killed, I remind myself.

Since I left early, I make it to Fairwood a little after noon. Touching the bark of one of the four giant trees that mark the entry to the city, the magic lights up just like before, and the vines carry me up into the canopy.

The city is an absolute maze of bridges, platforms, and treehouses bubbling out of the trunks like mushrooms on a log. No matter where I look, I can’t see an end to it. Does the city extend as far as the rest of the forest? I wouldn’t be surprised.

Through a good amount of trial and error, I manage to backtrack my way to Talia’s property. When I try to open the gate, however, nothing happens. Maybe Talia took me off the “approved users” list after I left.

Seeing little other options, I head over to the trunk that the path is wound around. The bark looks rough enough that I think I can climb it to get over the fence. I stuff my hand between a gap in the rough surface and push myself upward. Sure enough, it’s pretty easy to scale. These fences aren’t very secure, are they? Once I’m fence-level, I start to shimmy my way over.

A blur of movement is the only warning I get before a branch swings down out of the tree and smacks right into me. It rips my grip from the bark, and then I’m airborne. I have the briefest moment to feel surprised before the ground rushes up to meet me.

I slam into the path and go rolling.

[8 points of Bludgeoning damage sustained.]

I groan, rolling over and pushing myself up to my knees. Vines are hanging down over the gate, slowly undulating back and forth like a watchdog looking for an intruder. Okay, then. I won’t be sneaking in that way. Guess that also explains why Cyros was out here waiting for me when he ambushed me.

Limping back down the trail, my pride bruised almost as bad as my tailbone, I glance around for anyone who might have seen my failed attempt at a break in. Luckily, it seems no one was present to notice my embarrassment.

“Hey,” I say, stopping at the first person I see. The dryad looks up at me. “Do you know where Talia is? Er, Talia Greenhand.”

“I suspect she’s at the arena,” the dryad says. “That’s where everyone is these days.”

“Right, the arena.” I pause. “And where is that exactly?”

They lift an eyebrow. “New to town?”

“You could say that. So, the arena?”

The dryad points me in the right direction and I head off. Too bad—I’d wanted another chance to snoop around her library before meeting up with Cyros tonight. Maybe I can convince Talia to swing by after she’s done working. What does an academic do for a day job, anyway? Surely she can read books from her house.

As I follow the dryad’s directions, there’s more and more people about. I mean, that shouldn’t be surprising, given I’m in a city, but the bridges are clogged with people, the air filled with harpies. Man, that guy wasn’t kidding when they said everyone’s here these days.

Stuck in the foot traffic, I shuffle up a spiraling set of stairs, taking me into the treetops. When I reach the top, I have to shield my eyes from the sun suddenly bearing down on me. I squint at my surroundings through the bright light, then stop in my tracks.

“Whoa.”

Arena is an understatement. An enormous wooden field has been built into the treetops, benches ringing the perimeter like a sports stadium, the tallest trees of which loom over the field like viewing towers. The arena itself doesn’t look new, but the seating is under construction, with dozens of dryads raising further wooden benches and branch scaffolding with plant magic.

Someone jostles me from behind, and I stumble forward, realizing I’ve been holding up traffic.

“Is this where the Gods’ Tournament will be?” I ask the nearest passerby.

The harpy nods. “Where else?”

“Seems like it’s still being fixed up,” I say. “Is that why there’s so many people here?”

He gives me a funny look. “Not hardly. They’re here to sign up—or watch others sign up out of curiosity.”

“That’s today?” I ask, surprised.

“Every day this week,” the harpy says. He heads off—rather purposefully, I’d note—before I can ask him anything else.

Well, might as well snoop around while I’m here. This is where Maru will be the day of the tournament, after all. I’ll need to familiarize myself with the ins and outs of this place.

I start to circle around the path I’m on, near the top of the seats, looking down into the stadium. There’s a small crowd down there, though I can’t make out the details of what they’re doing.

I wander the grounds, making half a loop around the arena before heading down the benches. They’re almost like bleachers, in that there’s hollow space beneath the wooden seats where I can see more foliage below. Possibly a good place to hide, assuming it doesn’t just drop straight through the forest. Something to investigate later when I have some rope.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

As I wander the stadium, approaching the field at its base, I gradually get the feeling I’m being watched. I glance around as goosebumps prickle my arms, unsure if it’s just my imagination. The group of people on the field are closer now, and one seems to be looking my way: a human girl, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, wearing round black glasses.

Echo, Check, I think, focusing on the girl. I can’t even say why, she just gives me the willies. Uneasily, I continue my approach toward the bottom, circling around the stadium seats.

Check? I say again, realizing Echo hadn’t replied.

[—]

[Lisari: Level 21 human alchemist,] Echo replies. [She is a visiting academic from Hearthstone studying under Talia Greenhand.]

As I reach the field, the girl remains facing the direction I’d been, however, rather than following me around. And as I get closer, I can see why. Embarrassment floods through me at the realization: she’s blind.

“Sal?”

I turn to find Talia stalking over in my direction.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I came to visit you,” I say. “Went to your house but you weren’t there. What are you doing here?”

“The council hired me as a consultant for the architecture,” she says, gesturing around the stadium. “Apparently they need a historian to get the decorations right. Don’t want to offend a god.” Her tone is dismissive, almost sarcastic: I guess she’s just as impressed with the gods’ bullshit as I am. “You should have given me notice you were coming.”

“How?” I ask. “If I wanted to send a letter I’d have to walk it to the city anyway.”

“Fair point.” She’s looking anywhere but at me, clearly distracted. “We should move this discussion somewhere private.”

I suppose rumors around her sister’s murder are probably not best discussed in public.

“Lisari?” Talia calls.

The girl turns in our direction, a breeze accompanying the motion. Leaves swirl around her as she heads over to us, brushing against the ground and clothes of those she passes.

“Professor?” Lisari asks. The wind dies down and the leaves come to a rest around her: I’m not sure what she’s doing, but it’s clearly some kind of magic.

“I’m heading inside if you care to join,” Talia says. “Sal, this is Lisari, a visiting research associate from a sister academy come to help with the tournament preparations.”

“I couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity,” Lisari says. “It isn’t every day you meet a god, is it?”

“Yeah,” I say flatly.

Lisari tips her head at my tone.

“You two might have something in common to chat about,” Talia quickly cuts in, perhaps suspecting I was about to go on an anti-god tirade in public. “Lisari might be able to help you with your magic, Sal. Her area of study is Alchemy, which has a good bit of overlap with your Poison affinity.”

“Poison? How interesting!” Lisari says. “I could definitely offer some reading suggestions.”

“Yeah?” I say.

“Of course.” She smiles. “Always happy to have an excuse to talk about my passion. Oh, but where are my manners? It’s a pleasure to meet you!” She holds out a hand.

I almost don’t shake it—I’m not looking to make friends with any god fangirls—but she can’t be all bad if she’s willing to teach me some Poison magic. I clasp her hand and she grins, shaking it much firmer than I was expecting.

“Come on,” Talia says, gesturing for us to follow. “You two can chat on the way.”

I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should help Lisari, but a breeze picks up once more and she strides confidently after Talia. For a moment, I wonder if I was wrong about her being blind. I catch up with them both, glancing at Lisari and trying to get a good look at her glasses. They’re thick and black, completely obscuring her eyes.

“You’re wondering about these?” she asks, tapping the lenses.

I startle at being caught staring and quickly glance away. “Um, yeah… Sorry. Wait, how did you see that?”

“I didn’t,” she says with a chuckle. She raises a hand, and a leaf swirls around her fingers. “Well, not with my eyes, anyway. Wind magic helps me sense my surroundings. I can ‘see’ pretty much everything around me within a small range as long as I have my wind moving. Where people are, which way they’re facing, the expressions they’re making. The only real downside is I can’t read books. But I’ve other ways to work around that.”

“And the glasses?” I ask.

“I’ve been told my eyes can be a bit unnerving,” Lisari says. “I wear them for the benefit of others.”

I’m quickly reevaluating my previous judgments of Lisari. She might be a fan of the gods, but frankly, that seems true for most people here. I’m a little impressed with her, actually. She started with less than what most people have and was able to overcome it. Maybe I can do the same.

Talia takes us to a passage at the base of the arena that leads beneath the stands. Under the stadium is a whole new labyrinth of buildings, strung about the trees in the standard Fairwood style.

“You should stay down here,” Talia tells me once we’re out of the crowd. She leads the way over a network of swinging bridges toward a nondescript building labeled ‘Storage.’ “Probably not a good idea to be visiting this place regardless.”

“Someone told me people are registering to compete in the tournament,” I say. “Is that why you don’t want me here?”

“Indirectly, yes,” she says. “It would be wise to wait until this week is over before returning. Also, I’d prefer if you didn’t come see me while I’m at work. Our matters should be discussed at my home.” She glances toward Lisari significantly.

Message received: no talking about dead sister in front of the work colleagues. Not that I have real information to tell Talia anyway; it would just be more made-up crap from Cyros.

“So, Poison,” Lisari says as we step into the Storage building. “That’s such a unique affinity. I’m sure there’s some story there. Not inherited, was it?”

“I got poisoned,” I say flatly.

She chuckles as she wanders off into the room. “That’s one way to do it.”

Storage is a one-room building, like most the others I’ve been in, and it reminds me vaguely of Talia’s home library, except this one is four times the size and packed with all manner of junk. Flags, trophies, track equipment, cleaning supplies—no wonder Talia seems less than thrilled to be working here. They stuck her in the supply closet.

She and Lisari move toward a corner of the room that has been cleared away, mountains of junk stacked in makeshift walls around their workspace. This area looks a bit more scholarly, with tables covered in stacks of books.

“Poison,” Lisari muses, raising a hand. A breeze stirs in the room, fluttering papers. “Hmm, tricky. Perhaps it’s personal bias, but I think you could start with something closer to my field of expertise.”

She heads over to a cluster of books next to the table and crouches down next to them. Pulling a red stone on a chain from around her neck, she runs the necklace down the spine of a book. A quiet voice emitting from the stone begins reading the titles Lisari scans.

“Alchemic Theory. Advanced Circle Applications. History of Widengra. Of Alchemy and the Gods.”

I Check the device, curious.

[Amulet of Translation,] Echo says. [Enchanted to convert Common text into Common speech.]

Pretty handy. It’s interesting to see how magic has supplemented certain technologies we have on Earth. I wonder if they have anything that can help someone like me who has little-to-no mana pool to work with.

“Aha!” Lisari runs her hand down the spine of a thick, cracked leather book and pulls it from the stacks. Compared to the flimsy herb book I’d nicked from Talia’s place, this one is so heavy and dense it could probably be classified as a weapon.

“Try this,” Lisari says, coming back over to me. “It can be a bit advanced in places, but it starts with the basics and works up from there. I’ve found the content invaluable.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the textbook from Lisari—and nearly dropping it. Damn, this thing is heavy. I flip to the front page and check the title: An Exploration of Alchemy, it says. “You really think it will work with my kind of magic?”

“Not every spell, but many of them.” She quirks a smile to one side. “Of course, there’s only one way to find out.”

I return the grin. That’s my kind of learning. “Can we try here? Now?”

“Well, I don’t have all my equipment with me,” Lisari says. “But we could at least go over some of the simple spells together. It’s a little bit of potion making, a little bit of spell circles, and a lot of ingredients and ritual. You know, some people see alchemy as a science but I think there’s a certain artistry to it. From this chaotic mix of materials and practices comes some effect that’s entirely new. That’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“That’s enough philosophy, Lisari,” Talia grumbles from her desk. “If you two are done, then I could use some help with—”

A crack of thunder shakes the air, and the shelves in the room quiver, shaking off a layer of dust.

“What was that?” Talia says.

An icy fear lances through my chest. I grab the side of the desk, my legs suddenly weak, my head swimming as hot and cold flash through me in alarmed waves. It’s a sound I’ll never forget. A sound that still snaps through my nightmares right when I’ve convinced myself I’m no longer scared. The sound that precedes death.

“Maru,” I try to say, but it comes out as a whisper.