The cold has seeped to my bones, and I need some privacy, so I walk past the dorm and head straight for the baths. My teammates are sleeping, so I have it for myself. I draw a thread of essence from the Else to weave a movement ward across the hallway, so I’ll know if anyone comes.

I leave the lights off, walking by the glow of a small cube of Else-glass. Some types of magic are easier in the dark. Some mages use sensory deprivation tanks, but I find them too boring.

I strip by the pool and sink into the blessedly warm water. Where I grew up, on the Golden Coast, the sea was almost this warm in summer. I spent many lazy nights floating in rocky pools with my friends, watching the stars and the broken moon. My parents always got angry, they said it was dangerous, that a demon could fall on us.

It makes me laugh, now. If a demon fell into my sleepy village, what difference would it make, being on the beach or inside our flimsy wooden houses? There’s only one real protection from the horrors of this world - power.

Enough for reveries. It’s late, I’m tired, and once again, I’ve a job to do. I close my eyes in the half-darkness, and let myself float freely in the warm water.

The Council taught us a score of focusing rhymes, of mind tricks, of paradoxes which should ease the mind into the Else.

None works as well as the forbidden, whispered rhyme that most of us end up using. Keidesek’s own words, or so it’s said.

I claim the gift of magic,

I claim the Art of the Veil.

My eyes shall see the Else,

My hands shall tear the Veil.

Green light seeps into my vision, outlining the pool, the baths, my own body. I see the beautiful pattern of small waves bouncing against the pool’s sides, I see the mesmerizing convection spirals of hot air above the water. Walls are harder to distinguish, they’re too still, but soon I can make them out as faint, translucent outlines. The Moon is just below the horizon, a roaring, gaping red wound in the green infinity.

I expand my consciousness into the Else, and soon I see the flickering sparks of dozens of minds - the people living in the base. Most of them are dim, sleeping, but some give off the colorful motes of dreams.

I can’t tell mundanes from each other, I was never good at it. But I recognize Sorivel’s mind, faintly blue and bound by black chains. And the mages, of course – a yellow spark for Loannu, a fainter blue for Kadosh, and the blazing silver of Za Ruik. I never see Jaeleri, he’s probably too weak – Forgotten Enemy, I’d doubt he’s even a mage at all, if I hadn’t seen him use minor spells.

I take long breaths, letting my perception expand more and more - trying to ignore the ice-cold black of all the silver in the base, and the confusing maelstrom of the theta suppressor. I begin to perceive things outside of this room, of this base, too. The tiny green streaks of snow falling, the small movements of birds and rodents scuttling in the dark.

I don’t usually need all this preparation to enter the Else, of course. I can Reach in an instant - by now, it’s second nature. But todayI must plunge deeper than usual, and it pays to do it properly.

I was one of the first in my class to be able to Reach the Else at will. But one of the last to learn how to dive into its depths. My representation of the Else is one of movement and shapes, not the mind-trippy shit so many mages try to describe. It’s convenient, and reliable – but it’s always hard to convince myself there’s a Down which is not a simple direction.

The world is lies and shadows,

but I have seen the light.

past time and words and death,

I reach and claim my right.

Immediately, fatigue seeps into my bones, as if I’d been walking for hours. It’s one of the reasons I make sure to keep fit – until I’ll disincarnate, magic will drain my physical energies.

I repeat Keidesek's rhyme, again and again, focusing my perception on the deep currents of the world. The Else tinges a darker green, and the walls of the ThauCon base disappear – everything is now the vast, lazy currents in the sky and below the ground. And the Moon, of course, brighter than ever, surrounded by a host of multi-colored stars.

“I’m Althea Zoanni. I’m Althea, Initiate of the Council of Mages. I’m Althea, student of Master Reiel. I’m Althea, who walks the Hidden Roads. I’m Althea, who seeks Master Reiel.”

I picture my mentor in my mind – tall and stern, her body long turned to golden light. With a piercing stare, always judging, but with a half-hidden smile.

There’s a road in front of me now, a twisting ribbon of dark green glass. I’m floating in the hot pool, unmoving, but that’s far away – in the Else, with bare feet of green essence, I touch the green road, and walk.

A wind is blowing, cold and angry. It carries voices, too, but I ignore them.

I never encountered a wind this strong, in the Else. It watches. With every step, I’m more tired, and I feel more exposed.

“I’m Althea Zoanni, Student of the Path of Motion, student of the Path of Glass. Initiate of the Council of Mages,” I say, like a challenge now. “I walk the Hidden Roads. I seek Master Reiel.”

If my teacher isn’t sleeping, she might not sense me. I was never much good at Else-casting. And since it’s technically mind-magic, the Council barely teaches it.

The wind blows stronger, and stronger. Cracks appear in the road in front of me, cube-shaped bits of glass break off and are carried away.

This is not a place for doubts.

“I’m Althea Zoanni,” I repeat, “The world is lies and shadows, but I have seen the light. I walk the Hidden Roads, and they shall take me to my mentor.”

Confident, sure of my power, I take a step forward, and the damn road has better hold me, or I’ll be angry.

The winds quiets a little bit, cracks stop spreading along the glass road. I keep walking, and who cares if I’m getting tired and heavy, I can sleep in tomorrow.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

There are emerald clouds above and below the road, now – it’s normal to see them, deep in the Else, but these are dark and heavy, like storm cells. There are things inside, moving in and out from the mist.

Not my problem. I keep walking.

One of the clouds is closer now, though, its fuzzy border almost touches the road. And something inside it is pushing out, bristly tendrils reaching for the road. I feel its pressure against my mind, a whisper at the edge of my hearing. I collect my power, gather light into my hands…

“Go away, Nameless,” a voice calls, calm and sure and vast as the sky. “Go back into the depths, or I’ll draw you out and cast you beyond the Last Horizon.”

A different road crosses mine, now. This one is golden, narrow and straight. A woman made of gold essence stands where our two paths meet.

The thing in the cloud shrieks with fear and anger, then its tendrils withdraw, and the wind abates. There’s perfect stillness, now. Even the clouds are dissipating, as Master Reiel walks to meet me.

She made most of the effort, of course. I wouldn’t be able to walk the Roads beyond the province of Rakavdon, let alone all the way to the Glass Tower. But after all, she’s older and vastly more powerful than me - a Master of the Path of Folding.

We walk until we stand in front of each other. She’s a statue of golden glass, glowing with power, and yet stable, perfectly controlled. It’s like watching the sun given human form. She even wears a perfect copy of a Council dress uniform, buttons and all – the best I manage is a shapeless green tunic.

“Your coherence isn’t very good, Althea,” she says, looking critically at the cracks on my road. “I can tell you haven’t practiced projection lately. Your power has grown. But your focus is still erratic.”

“It’s good to see you, Master Reiel,” I say.

Her mouth tugs a tiny bit upward.

“Likewise, Althea. Even if I still think you should come back to the Tower.”

“You don’t mind getting my reports, though,” I point out.

She sighs. “It’s such a hard balance. Sending you into the world, where you can be useful. Or keeping you here, where you’re safe and can grow your power. I’ll use you where you are. But I’d have kept you here longer, if it were up to me.”

She stops and gazes at the sky around us – now a mix of green and gold. She doesn’t look happy.

“The Else is troubled,” she says. “More so than I expected. I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk the Roads anymore, even in projection.”

“Yeah,” I say, “that thing was going to eat me raw, wasn’t it?”

“You could probably have fought it off,” she answers “But I’d rather not test that hypothesis. And next time, you could encounter something worse. Until the Else calms, we’ll have to stick to Material communications, limiting as that is.”

“Well, that’s what I was going to report about, anyway,” I say. “It looks like we have a problem with d-“

“Althea,” she interrupts me, raising an eyebrow.

“With denizens of the else,” I go on. Smooth.

I report what Vakris told me, almost word by word. I have a good memory for horrible stuff.

“Hm,” Master Reiel says, thoughtful. “We’ll definitely snatch the boy. He’s both dangerous and useful. But even if he’s clearly a natural Conjurer, he couldn’t have called two demons by accident under normal conditions.”

“Two? Not three?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. “Is your wit degrading already, far from our halls of learning?”

She’s joking, but not completely. Master Reiel is convinced everywhere outside the Glass Tower is a wasteland of ignorance, populated by barbarians.

“The third one wasn’t a demon at all, was it?” I say.

“That’s very likely,” she answers, pleased. “Some demons are verbal and can be, or appear, quite reasonable and humanlike. But it’s much more likely that the kid’s accidental Calling attracted an Else-walking mage. Probably one of the Faceless Army. It’s even possible they were trying to be helpful.”

“How close did the Faceless have to be, for that to happen? In the real world, I mean?” I ask.

She sighs. “It’s the Material, Althea. This is the real world. And that question can’t be answered in any meaningful way, because they were either projecting, possibly from very far, or physically walking the Roads, in which case they were there, and nowhere in the Material. But for the limited purpose you meant with your question – that mage was likely acting within the borders of Rakavdon.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. My master could never give me a simple answer without lecturing me about the wording of the question.

“So, the Faceless Army is in the city,” I say. “Any idea what they’re doing here? They’ve no history of activity in Rakavdon, unless ThauCon is more wrong than usual.”

“ThauCon is correct on that assessment,” Master Reiel says, looking lost in thought. “As for what the Faceless were doing – even ThauCon should know it, by now. The Faceless Army and the Syndicate Cartel are fighting. Still covertly, but less and less subtly. We’ve confirmed fights in Valanes, Korasdon, River’s End and Landfall itself.”

“And what about the Lady in White? They were asking about it, after all.” I ask.

“We have no sure report of her involvement,” she says, “but we never do until it’s too late. I wouldn’t give it too much credit, though. The Faceless Army is obsessed with her, they’d swear she’s hiding under their bed.”

“So, what are the Faceless, or the Syndicates, doing here?” I press on.

“What anyone does in the dreary, frozen north,” Reiel answers, with a condescending little smile. “Looking for precursor relics. Or less likely, Thaumocracy ruins.”

I nod. Even ThauCon Realizes that - relics are the only special reason for magical factions to care about Rakavdon. “So are they fighting for some specific relic?”

Master Reiel doesn’t answer at first. She looks around, slowly, then opens her arms. A ring of lively flames surrounds us. It looks like real fire, except for the perfect golden color.

“I’m not sure,” she sighs, tired. “Whatever the two factions are doing, I think they’re stirring the Else. ThauCon is investigating, but they’ll share as little information as they can.”

“We’re not being exactly forthcoming, either,” I point out.

She looks at me, cocking her head.

“Less than three months as a Supporting Agent,” she says, “and already you take their side? Remember they’re not your friends, Althea. It will save you pain later.”

For a moment, I want to protest – it’s not a matter of friendship, it’s a matter of sharing vital information with allies. But whether I’m right or not, my master will never see the Agency as anything but an enemy.

“What about the other two entities?” I ask.

“The demon of silence,” she considers, slowly, “is especially concerning. We’ve met such beings in the past. They’re intelligent and dangerous. They serve some demon lord from the deep Else.”

“Great. How do I kill one?”

She laughs. “Of course that’s what you’d ask. The best I can tell you is that they get weaker in noisier, crowded places. They’re made of the space between words and thoughts. But truly, should you encounter one in the Material, avoid it. You’re not ready.”

“I’m here because I was deemed ready for service,” I say, a little annoyed.

Master Reiel raises an eyebrow. “You’re ready for the occasional rogue and to deal with unstable teenagers,” she says. I’m going to protest, but she stops me with a hand. “You’re powerful and resourceful, Althea. But you’re also twenty, and not even ad Adept yet. Any agent of the magical factions, or any demon structured enough to speak in words, will be more powerful than you, possibly by a wide margin, and more experienced. You must be aware of that. Don’t cross the line between confidence and recklessness.”

Maybe I should bite back my protest, but fuck it, I’m no longer in the Glass Tower. She can’t give me detention.

“They may be stronger,” I say, “but I have the guys with silver bullets on my side.”

“And you should never, ever rely on them,” Master Reiel says, cold. “Because you never know, in the end, who their bullets are meant for.”