“Ow!” yelped the bandit as his knuckles got flicked after missing his shot.

He scowled, rubbing his hand while the others chuckled. They were playing targets with daggers, aiming for a swinging stump hanging from ropes.

His companion, grinning, took his own shot and hit the mark dead-center. “Maybe next time, don’t miss,” he taunted, to the chorus of laughter from the others.

“Psst. Psst. Serriah!”

Serriah’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry. Borromeo’s face hovered, his expression tense as he tried to wake her without drawing attention. She realized they were bound, seated on a hard floor, the walls around them formed from solid, dark wood. A crude yet oddly sturdy makeshift cell.

“Borromeo!” she whispered, forcing herself to focus. “Where are we? Are you okay?”

“Easy, one question at a time,” he replied quietly, glancing around. “I think we’re at the bandits’ base. Feels like a cave, but…” he trailed off, eyeing the polished wood beams around them. “It’s too bright and…, well, a bit too refined…, for a cave, don’t you think?”

"We need to get out of here," Serriah muttered, “I’ve got an idea.”

She turned, calling out, “Hey! I need to take a piss!”

A bandit approached, shoving a rough, deep wooden bowl through the bars. Serriah glared, feigning indignation.

“This is how you treat women?” she snapped. “Don’t you have a mother? Or a sister? Or a wife?” Her tone softened, almost pleading, her eyes wide with false vulnerability.

This made Borromeo rolled his eyes to the heavens.

The bandit hesitated, visibly softened by her words, inching closer. But just then, another figure entered—a mage, cloaked in dark robes. His presence alone seemed to drain the air of warmth. On his cloak’s clasp was a distinct sigil: a dark horned owl, glinting in the dim light.

"Enough!," the mage’s voice cut through.

The bandit quickly retreated, chastised by a cold stare. The mage’s voice, dark and laced with authority, broke the silence.

Without a word, Borromeo spat on the ground, the spit landing at Ebonclaw’s feet. His defiance was met with a flicker of cold amusement from the mage.

“Foolish,” the mage muttered, stepping forward. The air around him grew heavy with an ominous crackle. “Lucky for you, we have use for you. Fulgara!”

In the blink of an eye, the mage raised a hand and released a surge of dark, purplish lightning. The spell shot out like a whip of doom, crackling through the air and slamming into Borromeo’s chest.

Borromeo’s body seized up with the brutal shock, his vision blurring as electricity coursed through him. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his legs nearly buckling beneath him. He barely managed to stay upright, but the overwhelming pain made him nearly lose consciousness.

Serriah’s heart raced as she helplessly watched Borromeo convulse, but she knew better than to provoke the mage further. “Stop it!” Her voice shaky but defiant.

Themage lowered hand, the lightning fizzling out as Borromeo slumped against his restraints, barely conscious. “Next time,” the mage warned, the tone cold and unfeeling, “you will learn to respect your situation… and I am your situation… I am Ebonclaw…”

Serriah’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll regret this.”

“That’s what all they say, dear…,” as Ebonclaw turned away.

Serriah's mind raced as she tried to think of a way to turn the situation to her advantage. She was still bound, but the bandits were careful this time, no unnecessary movements, no carelessness. When she asked for water, they hesitated but eventually relented, wary of her intentions. The chains around her wrists clinked as one bandit cautiously unclasped one hand.

Serriah quickly passed the bowl to Borromeo, allowing him to take a sip, and then drank herself. She was thirsty, more than she'd admit, but the bandits scoffed when she tried to ask for more.

Borromeo, weak but conscious again, struggled to sit up. He grimaced in pain, but his mind was clearer now.

“So, how did you manage to talk to that bandit like that?” he asked, still sounding somewhat dazed. "If not for the mage, that bandit would’ve opened the door.”

Serriah shrugged, still trying to figure out what had happened. "I don't know… Maybe I'm just charming? Or maybe I hit a spot they couldn't resist."

Borromeo gave her a skeptical look. "I think there's something more to it..."

Serriah tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

“I think you have Elderglint,” Borromeo said.

"Elder what???? Im’ not that old, young man!"

"No. Elderglint. It's Vitalum Resonance theory," Borromeo huffingly said. "All creatures have some affinity to mana. Some can control it, and manifest in spells like mages. Others, can't, but their bodies are highly receptive to it. There are people who can grow plants easily, for instance. Greenthumbs, anything they plant is sure to sprout, grow and have fruits.”

Serriah shook her head, not following. "Even non- fruit bearing? I still don’t get it."

Borromeo sighed, trying to explain it in simpler terms. "I’m being serious here, right?... think of it this way. People with mana receptive bodies can use mana and manifest without realizing it. Like you, for example. Your voice. You can influence people with your words. It's like a mind to vocal bond—a way of connecting with others' minds and making them do things without them even realizing why."

Serriah’s eyes widened, the pieces slowly clicking together. "Sorry, just trying to make light of out terrible situation? You think I'm a mage too?"

"Not actually…, but…, hmm…, yes," Borromeo said. "You’re not like a regular mage, but you have something like an affinity. If I'm right, you can make people listen to you... maybe even more than you realize."

Serriah’s mind buzzed, trying to process the idea. "How am I supposed to use that, though? We're stuck in here with no way out."

Borromeo gave her an encouraging look. "Better to take a chance than do nothing, right? Just focus… Serriah. Focus on the bandits and their minds. Try to get them to trust you, to listen to you."

Serriah didn’t quite know how to focus her thoughts, but she took a deep breath and started. The first few attempts were nothing—just words that came out jumbled and ineffective.

"Think about what they know," Borromeo coached. "Something that they can relate to."

Serriah’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to manipulate the situation without raising suspicion.

“So... what’s your name?” she asked the young bandit closest to her. The question was simple, nonchalant, like they were two strangers meeting for the first time.

The bandit looked at her warily, eyeing the cuffs on her wrists. “Why do you care?” he muttered, his voice rough from lack of sleep.

“Just wondering,” she said, her voice light, her gaze soft. “You know, I’m a bit bored. Don’t know how much longer I can sit here in this place without hearing some decent stories.”

That seemed to loosen him up. He shrugged, clearly uncertain but also willing to oblige. “I’m… I’m Tarl.”

Serriah smiled. “Serriah,” she replied. “I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories about me, but I don’t really know anything about you. So, what brings you to this…, lovely…, place?”

Tarl hesitated, his eyes flicking to the other bandits in the room, but they were busy with their own quiet conversations or sharpening their weapons. With a small sigh, he leaned back against the wall, clearly settling into the conversation. “I’m here 'cause there’s nothing else for me. Grew up in the city…, city’s rough, y’know? Had to make a living somehow.”

“Ah,” Serriah nodded knowingly, her voice smooth as she pressed forward. “I get that. Life’s tough in the cities. People are so busy, always in their own worlds.”

“Exactly!” Tarl leaned in a little, warming to the conversation. “And the job pays well enough. Got me a nice room at the inn... when I’m not here. But this... all this?” He waved his hand at the dimly lit room and its rough surroundings. “Not exactly the life I imagined.”

Serriah smiled sympathetically, the faint glow of Elderglint urging her on. Borromeo was nodding encouragement.

She leaned forward, engaging him with soft, sincere eyes. “So you’re not in this for the money alone?”

Tarl glanced at the other bandits, but no one was paying attention. The youngest one, a nervous-looking lad with a short sword at his side, was sitting in a corner, fiddling with his dagger. “I guess you could say I’m in it for the camaraderie too,” Tarl continued, voice low. “You find a group of people who’ll stick with you, you can forget about the rest. Don’t matter if you’re stealing or robbing or whatever…, they got your back.”

The warmth in Tarl’s voice, the familiarity in his tone, made Serriah pause. This wasn’t just a job for him. He was trying to find belonging. She knew it wasn’t the time to push too hard, but the Elderglint flowed steadily inside her, giving her the subtle edge she needed.

“Must be nice,” she said softly, letting the words linger. “But it’s hard to find that, isn’t it? True loyalty? I’m sure there are some who’d betray you if they had the chance.”

Tarl’s eyes darkened slightly, and he shifted uncomfortably. “You’d be surprised. Some of us here, we got... a bond. Not everyone’s cutthroat, even if they act like it.” He chuckled, looking over at the other bandits. “You should see Hakeem try to play it cool. Can’t even hide his affection for the others, even when he’s complaining about it.”

Serriah let out a soft laugh, and soon, the two of them were sharing banter, the bandit’s defensive walls breaking down little by little. She could see it in his eyes, he was starting to feel like he was talking to a friend, not just a prisoner.

“So, tell me about Hakeem,” Serriah asked, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m curious. Is he always like that, or is he just grumpy today?”

Tarl snorted. “Oh, Hakeem’s always like that. He’s the kind of guy who complains about everything but would never leave the crew. Trust me, I’ve seen him.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Serriah smiled, continuing to steer the conversation with ease. Her charm, amplified by Elderglint, worked subtly, almost imperceptibly, weaving a comfortable, easy rhythm between them. The tension that had once filled the air had dissolved into a warm camaraderie. The other bandits were no longer a threat, and for a moment, the cell almost felt like a makeshift living room rather than a prison.

The time passed quietly, with Tarl sharing more stories about his time on the road and the bandits’ various escapades. Finally, the time came for the bandits to take up their stations. Tarl, it seemed, was assigned to guard duty.

"Looks like I'm on watch," he said reluctantly, glancing over at the others. The older bandits, a rough crew of grizzled men and women, made their way toward their respective resting spots or training areas. They seemed content to leave Tarl to watch over the prisoners.

As Tarl turned to head toward the prison door, Serriah’s mind raced. This was the moment she had been waiting for.

“Tarl,” she called quietly. “Before you go... could I get a little water?”

He paused, considering her request. There was a slight hesitation, but after a moment, he nodded and moved to fetch a wooden bowl from the corner of the room. As he did, Serriah’s focus sharpened, and she sensed the right moment to act.

As Tarl returned with the bowl, he handed it to her, still half-distracted by the conversation they’d been having.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice sweet, almost too innocent.

Tarl smiled back at her, his guard slipping once more. “No problem.”

That was when Serriah saw it—an opportunity to escape. The other bandits were preoccupied, and Tarl had been lulled into a sense of ease. But the chance wouldn’t last forever. She would have to move quickly.

Serriah focused, her voice soft but firm. "You’re tired. You need rest. It’s cozy in here you know. You’ll be able to sleep."

Serriah’s pulse raced as the moment for escape arrived. She couldn’t afford hesitation, not with Borromeo still trapped, not with the bandits closing in. Her heart hammered in her chest as she looked directly at the young bandit, her voice taking on a commanding yet soothing tone.

“Please,” she said, her voice low and persuasive, “open the door. Remove my cuffs. I need to move.”

The young bandit blinked, his confusion evident. But under the weight of her words, his resistance faltered. He stepped forward and, with an uncertain grunt, unlocked the cuffs on her wrists, his eyes flickering as though he couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. Serriah took a deep breath, glad to feel the freedom of her hands once more.

As he moved to release Borromeo’s chains, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through the tense air. “Hey! What’s going on in there?” The voice was sharp and accusatory, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

The young bandit froze, his expression shifting from confusion to panic as the spell she’d cast over him shattered. His eyes cleared, and for a split second, he seemed to remember his duty. But it was enough to give Serriah the push she needed.

“Go, Serriah! Now!” Borromeo’s voice was strained, almost desperate. His eyes burned with urgency, and Serriah knew she couldn’t wait any longer.

Her heart squeezed with regret, but she gave him a final, fleeting glance. "I’ll be back with help," she promised, her voice tight but determined.

Without another word, she bolted for the door. Her feet barely touched the ground as she sprinted, the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders. She collided with the young bandit, sending him sprawling to the floor in a flurry of limbs.

His eyes widened in surprise, and before he could recover, Serriah grabbed the wooden bowl and swung it upward, smashing it into the face of the approaching bandit. The sound of the wood connecting with bone echoed through the room, and the bandit staggered back, dazed and groaning.

Serriah didn’t hesitate. With the immediate threat taken care of, she darted past the now unconscious bandit, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she raced up the narrow corridors. The flickering lights from the torches on the walls seemed to guide her path, each step carrying her further.

Serriah emerged from the hollow base of a massive oak tree, its trunk so wide and towering that it could’ve easily housed an entire family. The towering oak stood proudly against the sky, its bark glowing softly in the light of the early morning sun, casting a golden sheen over the landscape. Her eyes adjusted to the bright, shimmering light, dazzled by the surreal beauty of the scene. The tree’s trunk was hollowed, creating rooms within, and a spiral staircase wound its way up to the very top of the tree, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding area.

As she took in the sight, Serriah felt a sense of awe, but also confusion. She had emerged from the base of this massive tree, which had clearly been repurposed as a home. The trunk was far too large and solid for any regular carpenter to hollow out on a whim—this was no ordinary shelter. She could see similar trees around her, their trunks carved in the same fashion, each one transformed into its own peculiar home. It was like a village of giant oaks.

She frowned. “Who could think of such an idea?” It wasn’t just the size and complexity of the trees that intrigued her—it was the mystery of who had crafted them into homes. The sense of craftsmanship, the effort to repurpose nature in such a unique way, suggested a level of thoughtfulness she hadn't expected from the bandits she had been held captive by.

The soft crunch of leaves underfoot snapped her from her thoughts. She glanced around, noticing the faint silhouettes of the other oaks in the distance, each one like a towering fortress in the wild, their hollowed trunks standing out against the forest backdrop. Serriah didn’t have much time. She needed to figure out where she was and what her next move would be.

From the top of one of the towering oak trees, a bandit leaned over the edge, squinting through the dense foliage. He nudged his partner. "Do we have any female members?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

The other bandit, clearly annoyed, gave him a look. "Are you for real?."

The first bandit pointed toward the ground below. "Then who's that?"

His partner looked down and, spotting Serriah trying to make her escape, grunted in recognition. "You dolt! That's the woman we captured." he spat.

Their voice rose sharply as he shouted at her, "Hey!"

The bandit scrambled to pull a string connected to a system of bells that hung within the hollowed-out oak trees. The sound of the bells echoed through the grove, signaling the alarm to the others.

"The woman escaped!" the bandit yelled, sending a rush of panic through the camp.

Serriah’s heart raced as the alarm echoed through the trees. She could hear the bandits shouting, their footsteps closing in. In her panic, she made a quick dash through the underbrush, weaving between the trees. But one bandit was quicker, his hand snapping out and grabbing hold of the edge of her skirt.

Without thinking, Serriah spun, using the dagger she had taken from the bandit she had kicked earlier in the groin. She slashed at the fabric, slicing through the skirt where the bandit had caught it, narrowly freeing herself. The fabric fell from his grip, and she darted away.

The bandits were almost upon her, but she didn’t hesitate. She rolled a rotting log down into the stream below, the weight of it causing a huge splash. The sound was enough to mislead her pursuers, and she ducked down, hiding beneath a thick layer of fallen oak leaves.

She held her breath, praying they wouldn’t see her. The bandits ran past, their footsteps heavy but fading as they followed the sound of the splash, heading downstream. When the silence returned, Serriah waited a moment longer, then slowly crept to her feet. She made her way upstream, moving carefully and quietly, her heart still racing but determined to put as much distance between herself and the bandits as possible.

She ran aimlessly. Just as she ran past a huge oak, arms grabbed her. One cupping her mouth , muffling her voice and the other dragging her.

At the Explorer’s headquarters, it was just moments after the first light cracked when Jarek was almost finished tending to the drakesteeds when a piercing screech echoed from above. He looked up to see one of ravens descending swiftly, wings cutting through the crisp air. The bird landed precisely on the messenger perch outside the birdiery, its sharp talons clicking against the wood.

Jarek approached, “Well, hello, friend… What news do you bring?” He retrieved the spectralcast secured to the raven’s clutchsaddle.

The magical projection glimmered faintly as he brought it to the Slab. As the message began to play, his lips curled into a smirk—initially pleased with the contents. But as the report progressed, his expression darkened, the smirk fading into a grim.

Abandoning his task, Jarek sprinted towards the meeting hall.

He burst through the heavy wooden doors, startling Eldrin and Gaius, who were deep in discussion about a mission progressing south of the Whispering Forest.

“Jarek, what—” Eldrin started, but Jarek interrupted, slamming the spectralcast device onto the center of the table. “Look at this,” he said urgently.

The three gathered around as the spectralcast activated, projecting a glowing, lifelike hologram of Lyt Windwalker. His stern face bore a grim intensity as he delivered his report.

"The mission’s progress has been smooth," Lyt began. "Arch’s performance has exceeded all expectations. His adaptability, decision-making, and leadership sit atop all standards for passing a Traveller mission."

For a moment, a flicker of pride passed through Eldrin’s face. Gaius nodded appreciatively. But then Lyt’s tone hardened.

"However, we’ve encountered an emergency. The Cane Bandits ambushed us. Among them is a soulcaster. While we managed to fend off their initial attack, the apprentice mage, Borromeo Leobn, and Serriah Lutt have been captured. Attempts to send messenger parties for reinforcements were intercepted; the bandits turned them back and appear to have blocked the ends of the road. Their strategy is clear—they aim to isolate us."

Lyt's hologram took a deep breath before continuing. "I have assessed the situation and elevated the mission’s status to Defender. As the ranking explorer, I am assuming full command. Reinforcements are imperative. Send them at first light."

“Zzzzt… Zzzt.” The projection flickered and faded, leaving the room in tense silence.

Eldrin took a sip from his mug, staring deep where the hologram was. Gaius muttered under his breath, pacing as the weight of the report sank in.

“We need to act now,” Eldrin said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The bandits won’t wait, and neither should we.”

Gaius stood” I will go… Eldrin.” “Of course, we’ll go. I’ll visit the King. Prepare whatever is necessary,” Eldrin answered with the nod.

“Come along, Jarek. Help me prepare,” Gauis motioned to Jarel as he turn to leave the room.

“What do we need?” Jarek asked. Gaius turned, his tone calm but resolute. “I will leave. You’ll stay here to run things. We’re expecting another raven… Hopefully, not as grim as Lyt’s.”

“What? Why? I can help…” letting out his frustration.

“Of course, you can help. There’s no doubt about that,” Gaius replied, his voice firm. “But if Lyt’s assessment is correct, and it almost always is… We can’t risk having the two of the unit’s best mages in the same danger. If something happens to me, you’ll need to step up.”

Their footsteps echoed through the hallway, Jarek’s quiet frustration lingering in the air as they continued to walk.

Tamsen was hunched over her desk, meticulously deciphering a coded message from Grimgor, her fingers tracing the cryptic symbols with practiced precision.

A knock at the open door broke her concentration. She looked up to see Eldrin standing there, urgency etched into his expression.

“Come with me,” he said briskly. “To where?” Tamsen asked casually.

“Lyt sent a raven,” Eldrin replied, tossing her a spectralcast device which she caught instinctively. “Watch it on our way. We need to meet the King.”

Without another word, Tamsen scrambled to prepare. She buckled her utility belt, threw on her cloak, and grabbed her mask, the well-worn leather fitting snugly over her face. Then, with quick steps, she followed Eldrin down the corridor, the faint glow of the spectralcast illuminating her path as she played the message.

“Are you certain?” King Alaric asked, his index and middle fingers pressed on his temple. While his other hand clutches a glass of Emberwine.

“Yes, my liege,” Eldrin answered firmly. “The Grimgor matter is a shallow thread, but the Heroad crisis is real. Many times has this explorer risked his life for the Empire. I trust him completely.”

“My King, I will go,” Grand Magus Elara interjected. “Moreover, they have my apprentice.”

King Alaric seemed to deliberate, his gaze steady, but Eldrin spoke before Elara could continue. “There is no need, Grand Magus. We will go, and the Hexplorer’s apprentice will accompany us.”

“You’re certain of this?” Alaric repeated, his tone edged with skepticism.

“No, my liege,” Eldrin admitted, “but Gaius completely trusts this apprentice. No one questions Gaius’ confidence in his students. If he vouches for the apprentice, then so do I. Besides, I will personally oversee this mission. Grand Magus Elara’s presence here in the capital remains paramount if the crisis escalates.”

Elara hesitated, clearly wanting to protest, but King Alaric turned his attention back to Eldrin.

“Very well,” Alaric said with a nod. “I have confidence in you, Head Explorer. For this matter, you will have martial control south of Illuminara. Use whatever resources you deem necessary, but keep this operation as discreet as possible.”

“As always, sire. Thank you,” Eldrin replied, bowing slightly.

“Denten,” King Alaric called to his attendant, “let’s prepare a message for our southern outposts to ensure they are briefed. Make haste.”

“Certainly, sir,” Denten responded.

With their orders clear, Eldrin and Tamsen exited the dimly lit backroom.

As they walked through the corridor, Tamsen finally broke the silence. “Why did you tell the King it would be Jarek going?”

“Just a precaution,” Eldrin replied drily.

“But that was the King, sire,” Tamsen pressed.

“Indeed,” Eldrin stopped. “But we weren’t speaking to just the King…” Looking back where they came.

“Is that why he was adamant to not let the Grand Magus watch the report?” Tamsen speaking in her mind.

Tamsen frowned, processing his words, but Eldrin offered no further explanation as their footsteps echoed down the hallway.