Leyla’s eyes remained firmly fixed to the steam rising from her cup of tea, hands guiltily in her lap as she sat in the seat to Teacher's left at the large table in the dining room. Zeptik had reclaimed his constant perch on Teachers shoulder, clinging to his robes like bad luck. The imp absently clutched his own cup of tea in a foot, one toe daintily extended.

Mirriana had meanwhile abandoned her glamor. The rough spun dress vanished to be replaced by hard, dark scales that covered her legs down to her cloven hooves and extended upwards to just below her ribcage, which was now wrapped with her batlike wings for modesty. The succubus sported a cheeky grin as she stood two steps behind Teacher on his right side, her gaze predatory and unblinkingly locked onto Blackstone.

Blackstone himself sat straight-backed and impassive opposite the Teacher. He nodded politely and took the tea cup in front of him, pausing only for the briefest of moments to appreciate the aroma before taking a sip. He gently replaced his cup before speaking for the first time since being released from Zeptik’s Puppet Sigil.

“The tea is lovely, thank you. You have been a surprisingly gracious host…”, he trailed off momentarily and met Teachers gaze with an effort of will, “However, I cannot help but wonder why I am still alive?”

“You aren't worth kill-”, Mirriana began before Teacher’s skeletal finger twitched upwards ever so slightly and she slammed her mouth shut and studiously stared straight ahead.

“My apologies for her rudeness”, the desiccated corpse at the head of the table replied politely, his voice unconcerned, “You acted appropriately for your station, though foolishly. You will be released, unharmed, with a message to bear to your superiors on my behalf shortly.”

Leyla squirmed in abject guilt as Teacher turned to face her, fel light glowing where his eyes had been. He was clearly dead, his body withered and nearly skeletal. The only thing that seemed to have been spared the ravages of whatever had happened to him was, oddly, his long and luxurious hair; a striking shade of lavender she'd never seen before she'd met him. He wore the same armor he'd worn the day they met; a breastplate, bracers, and shin guards all made of the same oily looking dark metal over tattered robes.

A staff of immaculate onyx wood carved with thousands of hair-thin runes and interconnecting sigils floated languidly in the air directly behind him. Never far from its master, Leyla knew that Virax was resting within the weapon. She was silently grateful that the Riftwalker was recuperating. Virax was terrifying and had no concept of personal space.

“Leyla, I am saddened by your lack of obedience”, the words made Leyla’s ears burn with shame even as Teacher continued speaking, “...however, I must commend you for a successful summoning. Zeptik is no mere Imp.”

Zeptik himself seemed torn between wanting to continue glaring at Leyla and his desire to gloat about the roundabout compliment. He settled on a haughty, superior stare down his nose as he sipped his tea. Mirriana rolled her eyes a bit and Blackstone quietly stared. The man had said little but was paying rapt attention, his eyes darting to every little detail as if to memorize it.

“A certain amount of ambition is to be expected of a good student. The timing is…unfortunate, but I am reasonably impressed. When my business is concluded here we shall return to the Tower and you will perform your first contract.”, Teacher tilted his head slightly as he finished, expecting a response.

Leyla gaped speechlessly back at him, her mind a storm of emotions. She had thought she would be punished, surely, for the disaster her little spat with Zeptik had caused. She'd have cried for days after something like that even a few years ago, before Teacher had rescued her. After the events that brought them together it was still sad, just…nothing to cry about.

“T-thank you Teacher. I won't disappoint you like this again. I'm so sorry.”, she mumbled out as she wrung her dress to death in her lap.

“Do not be so quick to thank me, Leyla. Your actions today have allowed me to see that I have not been properly challenging you. We will see to it that you have more appropriate responsibilities”, he paused slightly and brought his hand to his chin in thought, “We will discuss this matter at length later. Leyla, you may retire to one of the other rooms for the night.”

Mirriana shifted a nearly imperceptible amount of her feet as Leyla stood, and the withered skull turned to face her before nodding and gesturing assent. She speared Blackstone with one last brilliant smile that never reached her eyes as she moved to take Leyla comfortably by the shoulders and guided her out of the room.

Zeptik nimbly bounced from his perch onto the table, somehow setting his teacup down in the process without spilling a single drop. He plopped down and took over Mirriana's self assigned duty of glaring at Blackstone, who calmly took another drink of his tea and returned the gaze.

“You must excuse her, she is a truly exceptional talent but still a child.”

“Most of my soldiers had children as well”, Blackstone replied in a decidedly impolite tone. Zeptik openly goggled at him, furiously glancing between his master and Blackstone to see if any offense was taken.

“Zeptik, was it strictly necessary to kill his men?”

“They gave the boot to the girl, Master Kallio”, Zeptik replied crisply, “Mirri was livid. The only reason she didn't tear them all into a thousand pieces is that Pisshead here gave them the boot right back for it.”

Kallio regarded them both for a moment then nodded. Blackstone fumed silently at the assessment but did not speak. He set down his cup and pushed it aside with an air of finality.

“Who are you?”, Blackstone asked after a moment, the former bite in his tone replaced with frustration, “What are you?.”

“Your entire world is built on the bones of the Old Kingdoms, Blackstone. As were the Old Kingdoms themselves built up on the bones of the Eldest Ones. The Three Temples of Anba toppled for nothing more than hewn stone, long after the spray of the sea wiped them clean of their carvings”, Kallio voice growing in contempt as he spoke, “Used to build a simple wall, across a mountain pass to protect a nation of amnesiacs squatting in lands with history they do not even remember. Amongst a thousand other travesties in every one of the kingdoms of this age.”

Blackstone's eyes lit with recognition, “You're speaking of the White Wall of Anbarran? That's no simple wall, it's more than a mile high and the cliff faces it stands between are taller even than that.”

Kallio made a disgusted motion with his hand, and Zeptik sprung to his feet in anticipation.

“Show him.”

“Wh-”, before Blackstone could manage even a single startled exclamation Zeptik had snapped his overly long arms out to his sides before he clapped forcefully and thrust his arms upwards to the ceiling. A shimmering disk full of swirling color formed and quickly resolved into a view from a ship at sea before Blackstone.

An enormous bowl shaped harbor, surrounded by mountains that stretched up into the clouds and out of sight. In it, a city of pristine white stone, shot through with brilliantly glinting Mana Conduits, all connected, all pulsing out from one of three enormous pyramids spread equidistant around the city. Shafts of golden light speared upwards from the tip of each of the enormous buildings, vanishing into the clouds above.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

As Blackstone stared dumbstruck the clouds parted to reveal a palace of crystal suspended at the intersection of the enormous beams of light, tiny ships with sails made of material infused with mana arriving and departing like glittering birds.

With a sudden crunching sound the disk and the image of a forgotten era dissolved into dust. Blackstone leaned back in his seat and turned a stunned gaze back to Kallio as he observed him quietly from the head of the table.

“Blackstone's voice was incredulous, “The White Wall has stood for hundreds of years…I have seen it with my own eyes. Even the coastline was..”

“Indeed. Anban was one of the Twelve Jewels of the world then. A true wonder. I deeply regret burning it to the ground, but perhaps it is better. Anba would have been terrible in her wrath had she known what would become of her legacy.”, the flames of his eyes flickering dimly as Kallio spoke.

Blackstone sucked in a breath through his teeth and stood sharply. Pointing an accusatory finger at the armored corpse before him as Zeptik hissed malevolently.

“Lies! I will NOT be made a fool of! A single Spellcaster, no matter how powerful could not hope to-”, Blackstone was choked off with a grunt as the table slammed into the far wall and Kallio inexplicably gripped him by the throat. His legs dangled uselessly as he beat his fists into arms that felt unyielding as bars of iron. Golden runes formed around his hands and shattered into dust before being blown away by some unseen force.

A deep noise he felt with his bones more than he heard with his ears rippled out from the dark staff that still hung behind the creature. Purple light swelled within the array of runes as a terrible presence descended over the room.

“You asked me who and what I was, Blackstone, son of Blackstone, servant of King Angnar.”, Kallio remarked lightly as the man in question dangled helplessly in his grasp, “I am not a single Spellcaster.”

Wind howled through the room as dozens of portals formed in the air all around them in various colors. Hideous screeching and wailing, raucous laughter, sobbing, and screams echoed from them; muted as if from far away. Blackstone saw with horror that each led to a different location, each filled with leering, terrifying faces and twisted bodies as throngs of demons crowded the entrances to hurl insults and mockery at him.

“I am an army.”, Kallio said simply, his voice somehow overshadowing the cacophony of noise as if it simply did not exist, “This is my message for your vulture-king, perched atop the bones of better men.”

The portals winked out of existence as a wave of emerald fire flowed from the staff to form a ring in the air behind Blackstone as blood began to pound in his head and his ears rang from the strength of the grip upon his throat.

“Your people have built their foundations upon my bones, and I will have them back.”, Kallio gestured to the ring of flames and space wavered within it, shining like a mirage.

“I will come at dawn, and I will reclaim that which you misuse. Now begone.”

Taking a single step forward, Kallio easily tossed the armored man through the rippling space before allowing the portal to collapse. The arrays carved into the staff floating behind him slowly dimmed as his anger cooled. As he turned to regard the room, he briefly exerted his will once more. A pulse of light traveled up the staff as reality shifted weirdly around him and the dining room seemingly righted itself of its own accord.

A broken leg snapped itself back into place as the table flipped itself and drifted back to its original position. The chair he had been resting in reassembled itself as the other seats neatly arranged themselves in their proper places.

He stood in silence for several minutes, arms behind his back and deep in thought before letting out an explosive sigh and throwing his hands up in disgust.

“Gods I wish I could drink.”, Kallio snarled to himself. He massaged eyes he no longer possessed with a single hand before he attempted to pinch the bridge of his nose in what appeared to be force of habit as he clearly had no nose.

“Funny, I never once saw you drink while you were still alive, Master.”, Mirriana remarked as she entered the room after pausing to bow slightly, “I suppose we all take things for granted sometimes.”

Kallio repeated the explosive sigh before walking back to his chair and taking a seat. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and examining them for a moment before he turned his gaze back to Mirriana. She casually approached the table and sat next to him with a supremely unconcerned air.

“What would they think if they could see what has become of their works, Mirri?”

“Probably something like, ‘Gods, he escaped?’ or ‘What does it take to put him down?’ or…”, Mirriana began to rattle off glibly before Kallio snorted in amusement and cut her off.

“Flattery will get you nothing, Mirri. They may have betrayed me, but they were my friends once. We, too, would still be rotting forgotten in our graves if not for fate and Leyla’s impulsiveness”, he shot a glance down the hallway, “She sleeps?”

Mirriana nodded, “To be truthful I had intended to cast a sleeping spell on her but she was snoring before I'd even left the room. I left enough wards around it to deflect a direct Skyfall…and to keep her asleep for a day or so.”

“She deserves better. I am terrible with children. Do you suppose I should have waited to teach her Itrabraxis’ Binding?”, he turned his gaze on her more fully as he spoke, “It took me years and she seems to have perfected it in six months. I am at a loss.”

“You were making it up as you went along back then, almost everyone was. She has a ‘Teacher’ that can lay it out in a nice line for her. Also, it helps when the person who quite literally devised the methods instructs you. Not to mention we were fighting off rivals, Incursions, The Eaters and..”, Mirriana stopped speaking suddenly as she blinked and looked around.

“Master, where is Zeptik?”

Kallio’s toothy grin was two parts mischief, eight parts wicked anticipation.

____________________________________

Blackstone screamed as he fell through a vortex of green fire, tumbling wildly. Long arms with too many joints and clawed hands reached at him as he fell, one even managing to produce a long deep scratch on his breastplate before he fell out of its reach.

He had been falling for long enough to consider himself a dead man when he heard a riot of shouting voices. A single instant's warning proved too little; what felt like a mountain rose up and met him, rattling his bones and denting his breastplate as his vision went blurry. The rough cobblestone pressed against his face was strangely familiar.

Alarms both mundane and magical began to sound as he heard the heavy creak of timber and armored feet pounded up to him in force. Metal screeched as one of the figures slid the last few feet to him on their legs, seizing him by the shoulder and turning him to face them. Blackstone briefly registered the faces of men he recognized as fellow Imperial Guard, the castle gates framed behind them in the background. The grand walls and towers of the castle rose blurrily behind them into the night sky as everything tilted slowly to the right seemingly forever.

Multiple golden lights bloomed around him and for a moment he simply thought they were pretty before he snapped back to reality as his fellow soldiers healed the damage of the impact. Everything came flooding back with his awareness. The late night call to arms, the hurried precision teleport into the house, the breach of the girls room, the horrors they had found within.

Blackstone seized the man in front of him by the breastplate as the sound of their voices once more faded into the background, dragging him forward to look into his eyes as he spoke with great urgency.

“He’s coming.”

_____________________________________

A great ring of emerald fire appeared before the city gates as men began to point and shout along the wall. It spun, swirling larger and larger with each passing moment before suddenly ejecting a man in armor and dissipating quickly after. In the commotion of sending men to open the gate and with the quickness at which the event transpired not a single soul noticed the faint shimmer in the air that detached from the man just before impact.

In the mad rush to reach their wounded commander and discern what happened, nobody noticed the waver in the air bob and weave through the soldiers legs, no one saw it as it zipped through the gate and vanished into the castle grounds.

Zeptik preferred it that way.