Vigdis woke with a jolt, the faint crunch of a step cutting through the quiet. Her instincts took over. Rolling smoothly from her bedroll, she grabbed her axe, the cold steel familiar in her hands. She rose into a low stance, her muscles tensed for a fight.
The night air brushed against her skin, a reminder of her vulnerable state. She was dressed in only her shirt—a plain, threadbare thing barely long enough to cover what it needed to. Standing, it brushed her upper thighs but left her arms, legs, and much of her back exposed to the cool breeze. She felt the shift of fabric against her skin, but there was no time to dwell on her state of dress.
Her green eyes locked on the figure at the edge of her camp. A boy—or rather, someone who looked like one. He was slight, perhaps sixteen, with a wiry frame and sharp, angular features. His dark hair was unruly, falling across his forehead, and his clothes were strange—a patchwork of mismatched materials that somehow looked deliberate, precise. His boots were pristine, too clean for anyone who lived out here.
He stood calmly, his brown eyes scanning her with a detached curiosity. Not the hungry, lecherous gaze she was used to fending off, but something else entirely. Something colder, more calculating. His eyes lingered for a beat longer on her frame, and his lips curved slightly.
“You’re a big girl,” he said, his tone even, almost clinical.
Vigdis didn’t flinch. Her fingers tightened on the axe as she straightened, fully aware of how the movement tugged her shirt against her body. The boy didn’t react to the shift—at least, not in the usual way. His gaze wasn’t that of a gawking fool; it was like he was measuring her, assessing her like one might a finely made weapon.
Her eyes flicked downward and caught the glint of something in his hand.
Her map.
Her chest tightened, anger flaring hot and immediate. “Drop it,” she said, her voice low, the command sharp enough to cut through the night air.
The boy tilted his head slightly, considering her words. He glanced down at the map in his hand, then back up at her. His face betrayed nothing—no smugness, no fear, only calm curiosity.
“Come and take it,” he said quietly. His voice was steady, not mocking, but there was an unmistakable challenge in his tone.
“If you think that axe will solve this, go ahead. Let’s see how far it gets you.”
Vigdis’s temper snapped at his words. Without hesitation, she lunged, the axe whistling through the air as she swung with deadly precision.
But the boy didn’t dodge. He dissolved.
One moment, he was there, and the next, he vanished in a swirl of gray-black smoke. Her axe cleaved through empty air, her balance faltering slightly as she completed the swing.
The smoke coiled and re-formed behind her. She felt it before she saw him—his presence impossibly close. A finger tapped her bare shoulder.
“This way,” he said.
She spun, the axe raised, but he was already a step back, standing just outside her reach. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t gloating. His expression was calm, almost detached, as though he were watching pieces move on a game board.
Her heart pounded, her chest heaving from the exertion of the swing and the rush of adrenaline. The night air felt colder now, biting against her exposed skin, but she forced the thought away, keeping her focus on him.
“You came to see me,” he said, his tone low, steady. “Well, let’s talk.”
Before Vigdis could react, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The world shifted.
In an instant, the forest, the cool night air, and her camp disappeared. The ground under her bare feet turned solid and cold, smooth like polished stone. Vigdis’s breath hitched, her grip tightening on the axe as she instinctively dropped into a defensive stance.
They were indoors.
The room around her was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her eyes darted across the space, trying to make sense of it. One side of the room looked familiar—or at least recognizable—dominated by an alchemy table covered in flasks, bubbling liquids, and neatly labeled jars of dried herbs. Animal skulls and strange, twisted bones hung from the walls, alongside bundles of feathers and talons.
But the rest? It was incomprehensible.
A sleek, black surface ran along another wall, with glowing monitors that pulsed faintly with strange symbols and lights. A pair of metallic devices—speakers, though Vigdis wouldn’t know the term—sat on either side, humming softly. Coiled wires snaked across the floor, connecting things she couldn’t name.
In the center of the room stood the most striking object: a massive light. It was encased in thick glass, its structure an intricate web of metal and machinery. The lamp emitted a soft, golden glow that illuminated everything in a surreal, dreamlike haze. Something about it radiated power, a steady pulse that made her skin prickle.
The boy stood a few paces ahead, seemingly unaffected by the jarring contrasts of the room. He turned to face her, his expression as calm as ever.
“Well,” he said, gesturing to the space around them. “Shall we begin?”
Vigdis’s green eyes narrowed as she adjusted her stance, her axe still at the ready. The room made her skin crawl—not because it was overtly threatening, but because it made no sense. Her gaze flitted between the familiar elements of the alchemy table and the utterly alien glow of the monitors.
“What... is this place?” she asked, her voice colder than she intended.
The boy didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, watching her like someone watching a puzzle piece find its place. Then, with a faint smile, he said, “It’s where I work. That’s all you need to know for now.”
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Vigdis’s grip on the axe tightened, the weight of the room pressing on her like a physical force. Whatever this place was, it was unlike anything she had ever encountered—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to understand it.
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The boy—or whoever he really was—strode to the wall of monitors and flopped into a chair that looked startlingly mundane. It was a simple, spinning computer chair, one she might have seen in old-world ruins, though his was strangely pristine. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk as the monitors behind him pulsed with faint light. His whole posture shifted, losing the careful precision of a predator and settling into something far more casual.
It caught Vigdis off guard. He didn’t seem like an all-powerful Magician now—just a teenager with terrible posture.
He glanced at her, and his brown eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary before he spoke. “Well, don’t just stand there.” He waved a hand vaguely toward her. “Go get dressed. Not that I don’t like this look.” His lips twitched into a faint smirk. “But it’s distracting.”
Vigdis’s eyes narrowed. Her axe was still in her hand, though she hadn’t raised it again. Her green eyes swept the room, wary for tricks, and then she noticed something that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Another door.
She turned sharply toward it, her bare feet making no sound against the cold stone floor. It hadn’t been there when they arrived. She was sure of it. But now, it stood open, and beyond it was a small room. Her things were inside—her battered cuirass, her cloak, her trousers, even her crossbow.
Her gaze flicked back to him. He was spinning idly in the chair now, the toes of his boots tapping lightly against the desk as he turned to look at one of the glowing monitors. He didn’t seem concerned about her reaction.
Vigdis moved cautiously to the room, gripping her axe tightly as she stepped inside. Everything was laid out neatly, as though she’d arranged it herself. It felt wrong. She looked over her shoulder at him.
“Where’s my camp?” she asked, her voice cold.
“You’re welcome,” he said without looking at her.
Her jaw tightened, and she moved to the only window in the room. Peering outside, her breath caught. The clearing where her camp had been was empty—not just of her things, but of any sign that she’d ever been there. The earth was untouched, no firepit, no trampled grass, no marks in the dirt where she’d laid her bedroll.
Vigdis scowled, her fingers tightening on the windowsill, though not from anger this time. Her green eyes scanned the clearing below, her thoughts churning as she tried to make sense of what she’d seen. The teleportation, the strange room, the boy who dissolved into smoke—it all felt beyond anything she’d ever known.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. The words were reflexive, a way to steady herself in a situation that felt entirely out of her control.
The Magician glanced over his shoulder, his brown eyes calm. “And yet, here we are.”
It wasn’t a boast, nor was it dismissive. His tone was flat, almost detached, as though he wasn’t expecting her to understand yet. That lack of expectation made her irritation flare again, but she pushed it down. She wasn’t used to feeling off-balance, and this place—the glowing monitors, the seamless control of her environment—threw her completely.
She turned away from the window, muttering curses under her breath as she began pulling on her gear. The shirt clung to her as she moved, emphasizing her curves. The battered cuirass was stiff, sliding over her shoulders as she strapped it into place. She tugged on her trousers, the reinforced fabric fitting snugly around her legs. Finally, she threw the moth-eaten cloak over her shoulders, the weight of it comforting despite its sorry state.
Vigdis stole a glance toward the main room, but the boy hadn’t moved from his chair. If he was watching her, he didn’t make it obvious. She grabbed her crossbow, checking it briefly before stepping back into the main space.
He spun the chair lazily to face her, one boot still resting on the desk. “Better?” he asked, his tone light.
“Let’s talk,” she said curtly, ignoring the question.
His smirk faded slightly, and he gestured to one of the monitors. “By all means.”
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Vigdis sets her crossbow down on the alchemy table and gestures toward it.
“This thing saved my life against some tar-like bird monsters. The bolts—it’s not just regular magic. What is it?”
The Magician straightens in his chair, glances at the crossbow, and nods thoughtfully.
“Not just magic, no. There’s something else there. It’s... old. A kind of power that predates most things people think of as magic now.”
He gets up, takes the crossbow with a surprising amount of care, and brings it to his workspace.
The testing involves a strange mix of old-world tech and alchemy. The bolt is placed under a digital microscope, its glowing tip magnified on a monitor. Strange symbols pulse on the screen as he works.
He combines liquids from vials, checks readings on an old, battered tablet, and occasionally mutters to himself.
While working, he explains.
“It’ll take a bit to fully understand this. But from what I can tell, these bolts are imbued with something tied to natural life force. Raw energy from... well, life itself. Not something most people have the ability—or ethics—to use.”
While the crossbow is being analyzed, he leans casually against the desk, watching her.
“That map. How’d you get your hands on it?”
Vigdis hesitates, then shrugs. “Took it off a raider. Why?”
He nods knowingly and explains.
“Those maps weren’t meant for people like you or me. They’re from the old world—a network of bunkers built before the Cleansing. Safe places, supposedly, where people could ride out the end.”
He pauses, then adds, “Thing is, the people who got into those bunkers weren’t exactly saints. The powerful, the ruthless—the kind who’d survive at any cost, even if it meant stepping on everyone else. Not the kind of folks you’d want back in the world.”
The Magician finishes with the crossbow for now, setting it down carefully. He turns to her, his tone shifting slightly—more serious.
“Speaking of survival, there’s something I could use your help with.”
Vigdis raises an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “Go on.”
He explains the situation:
“There’s a tribe of cannibals not far from here. Nasty ones. They’re territorial, and they’ve been harassing anyone who comes here looking for help. If they keep it up, it’ll be bad for everyone.”
He gestures to her axe and crossbow. “You’ve got the skills to deal with them. I’d handle it myself, but let’s just say... that’s not my style.”
Vigdis considers for a moment, glancing around the strange room again. The alchemy, the glowing screens, the massive lighthouse lamp—all of it feels too surreal, too much to process at once.
Finally, she nods.
“Fine. Simple enough. I’ll take care of them.”
The Magician smiles faintly, his posture relaxing.
“Good. I knew you’d be reasonable.”
Vigdis grabbed her crossbow and axe, the weight of them grounding her in this strange, surreal place. The Magician didn’t try to stop her as she made for the doorway, his attention already drifting back to the monitors, his fingers tapping idly on the desk.
“Handle the cannibals,” he called after her without turning around. “And come back when you’re ready to talk about that map.”
She didn’t respond, stepping briskly through the door before she could second-guess herself.
The shift was instant.
One moment, she was walking through the strange tower’s interior, the mix of glowing screens and alchemical oddities still fresh in her mind. The next, she was standing in the clearing where her camp had been, her breath catching in surprise.
The night air was cool against her skin again, the faint scent of grass and earth grounding her. But there was no sign of her camp—no bedroll, no firepit, no scattered footprints. The area was untouched, pristine, as if she’d never been there.
Her grip on the axe tightened. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see the tower looming behind her. But there was nothing. Just the endless trees, silent and unmoving under the night sky.
For a moment, she stood still, her mind racing. Then she exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. The Magician’s words echoed in her head.
Handle the cannibals. And come back.
Shaking off the lingering unease, Vigdis squared her shoulders and began walking, her steps steady and deliberate as she moved toward the task ahead.