“Well kid, you’ve really put us in a horrible spot,” Isobel said after another splattering of curses.

She, like Leland and Sybil, was floating motionlessly as the backdrop of the Void rushed by. Bundled in her ratty cloak, she twisted and craned, anything to touch something. Yet, such was the way of the Void. There was no ground to stand on, no trees to brush against, no sky to gaze into. There was only white, infinite and indomitable.

Leland, for what it was worth, was not panicking yet. He had been to the Void several times by this point. But while those were willing trips between the mortal realm and that of a Lord’s domain, this was far from that. No, this was something far more malicious – forcibly teleported, by a Witch.

His main concern was where the Witch was sending them . He doubted she had the power to take them off world, which didn’t soothe him in the grand scheme. For all he knew, they could be traveling to an active volcano or the depths of the ocean. Either way meant death for him and Sybil and a probable horrid maiming for the Huntress.

Leland peeked out of the corner of his eye, finding the Huntress staring intently at him like he had just stomped on her foot. He chose to look away, finding Sybil instead.

The Princess, wearing her divine artifact mask, floated along like a tourist in a new city. She spun around, looking everywhere and anywhere. Soon she realized everything was the same white mess and returned her gaze to the others.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice passing through the mask like it wasn’t even there. It was an expressionless slate with only two small circular grooves cut part way into the ivory.

“The Void,” Leland and Isobel said at the same time, both frowning then looking at one another. Isobel scoffed and looked away.

“This is the Void,” Leland then clarified with a shake of his head. “As in where Harlen and the Reflections live when they are not haunting Ruinsforth.”

“Ah,” Sybil whispered before taking another twirl. “Forgive me, but how did we end up here? M-my memories are hazy…”

Isobel and Leland shared a glance.

“Well, the Harbinger was going to kill us all—”

“Not true,” Isobel interrupted.

This time it was Leland’s turn to scoff. “The Harbinger was going to kill Glenny, Carmon, and I. Instead, I made a deal with him.”

“But you are dumb and didn’t think of the Witch.”

Leland spun to her. “Insulting someone’s intelligence only insults your own. You wouldn’t have fared any better in my position.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Again, not true. I, for one, would never have been in your position. I think things over before I do something dumb.”

Recoiling, Leland spit back. “Then why are you here? If I remember right, you didn’t even try to help protect Sybil. Where was the barrage of arrows? Or were you afraid of the Harbinger?”

She snorted. “Harbingers. With an ‘S.’”

Leland went red and looked away. “That doesn’t mean any—”

“Last time I checked, Harbingers were enemies of the state. Kill on sight for all Inquisitors.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, puffing his chest and doing his best to stand tall despite currently floating. “Then you better kill your Queen and Sybil!”

Before Leland had finished speaking, Isobel had already begun her next statement. She quickly went silent, her eyes darting between the children with her.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” Leland snarled. “Not all Harbingers are evil.”

Before Isobel could respond, Sybil butted in. “Please stop. No more talk about loyalties or being evil. We are all allies here.”

They both grumbled at that.

“Thank you,” the Princess continued. “Now then, what happened with the Boneforged Monarch?”

“Convergence,” Leland answered after a beat of silence. “She stood within you and then you became transfixed.”

Sybil’s shoulders suddenly went taut. Her hand whipped to her face, mask rather, touching it like a newlywed admiring their ring. The mask hid her emotions quite well, but even the others saw the hesitance grow.

“Then why—” She didn’t finish the comment, instead pulling off her mask.

Instantly the light of a Lord rushed the void, bending the seams of reality to better fit the will of the Monarch. White mixed with the gray glow, burning an image of a female face into the nothingness of the Void. The Lord had no expression, but that didn’t mean she was a statue. The Lord looked around, finding Leland and Isobel interesting enough to gaze upon.

Instantly both of them crumbled. Still floating, both were saved from smashing into the ground, but that didn’t mean the weight of divinity didn’t hurt. Leland’s skin was the first to fail, bleeding away with flecks of black dust. He wasn’t being burned, but rather decayed, like a corpse lying in the elements.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Sybil snapped the mask back on, profusely apologizing. She crossed the space between herself and Leland, helping him back “up.” He flinched away.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he muttered, quickly summoning his grimoire from his hand and pressing his palm into the open page. Violet magic radiated from his finger while sparks of green highlighted the aspect of the spell – Touch of Regeneration.

“You mind sharing,” Isobel muttered after seeing Leland poke his own chest for the sixth time. He scowled, healing her as well.

“Sybil, can I see your hand?” Leland then asked.

The Princess didn’t hesitate, holding out her arm. While she expected healing, that was not what Leland did. Instead he inspected the back of her hand, looking for a tattoo.

“You don’t have a Lord,” he concluded. “You still don’t have a Legacy.”

“It’s part of the ritual,” Isobel quickly spoke. “I don’t know all of the details, but obviously this” she waved her arms around, “wasn’t how the Royal Dream was supposed to go.”

“So how does she—”

“I don’t know.”

“You know something. You are her guard.”

“Not so much. I was only there because I was being punished.”

“For what?”

A whirl of a smile befell Isobel’s face. “Protecting you.”

Leland didn’t fall for the bait. “I see.” He turned to Sybil. “What was supposed to happen after the Convergence?”

Sybil then recounted what Aunty P. and her mother had told her before leaving for Ruinsforth. If the Convergence was successful, she was to be taken back to the castle at once, likely by a teleporting artifact Aunty P. carried, for the remainder of the ritual. What that entailed, she didn’t know.

While a dead end, it got Leland thinking. “Do you still have the item that you used to kidnap Glenny to the mountain ?”

“What?!” Sybil yelped.

“That’s worse than it sounds, and yes I do.” Isobel said with a level of smugness. “But do you really think me that shortsighted that I wouldn’t have thought of that the moment I realized where we were?”

Leland didn’t answer the question. “So it doesn’t work?”

“Out of range.”

“So we are stuck… and probably heading to our deaths.” Leland didn’t want to state the obvious, mainly for Sybil’s sake, but she had the right to know.

She took it in stride. “You’re a mage, get us out of here!”

“It’s not that easy. I have no dominion over the Void, let alone am powerful enough—”

“Oh shut it kid,” Isobel interrupted. “You are a Harbinger, time to act like it.”

Leland glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it? Harbingers are beings no one wants to fight. They bend and break the rules, case in point never dying like our rotting friend.”

“I don’t see how—”

Isobel reached out and slapped Leland. “Do magic!” she screeched.

Luckily, the Lord of Nature’s contract hadn’t expired and Leland was able to heal the fracture in his jaw. “My magic is different—”

Another slap.

“Stop that!”

Another.

“Huntress please,” Sybil spoke, stepping between her and Leland. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“No,” Isobel quickly mulled, passing the Princess with a gentle push. “Leland got us into this mess, he’s going to get us out.”

Another slap sent him rushing backward in space. He didn’t actually go anywhere, the Void being absolute in all directions, but that was beside the point. Many things crossed his mind while Sybil yelled at the Huntress, none of which Leland wanted to think about.

What a mess, he thought, finding solace in looking at his Legacy tattoo. The bird was stationary, which wasn’t unexpected. The Lord of Curses usually didn’t assist him in times of need unless he truly needed it. Which, well, meant a few things. Leland was either to do nothing and let the future play out, or he already had the tools to course correct.

Contacting a Lord was out of the question. He was already in the Void, and contacting a Lord would mean separating from Sybil and the Huntress. There was no guarantee that he would be returned to them afterward, and Leland knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he abandoned them.

So what did that leave? None of his other curses or contracts looked particularly useful for breaking out of the Void… but then again, he was a Warlock, not a mage. He didn’t use magic in the same way. Could that be exploited?

What had Harlen said about the Void? That it “connects all,” that it is the “space between.” Was that exploitable? If so, how?

Cantrips. Obviously.

Always on the backburner, cantrips were a part of magic untethered by Legacy lines. They were teachable, learnable, and adaptable. But that didn’t mean they were easy, nor useful in this situation. Was there a cantrip that could affect the Void?

No, no. That wasn’t the right line of thinking. Leland chided himself, realizing targeting the Void was wrong. How could he be so dumb? How many times had he seen his dad workshop attunements for portals or threads between space? Literally minutes ago the Witch and his dad had battled for control over his, Sybil’s, and the Huntress’ bodies using spatial lines.

Leland smiled to himself as he activated another contract, the Lord of Chameleons. The contract was simple, his perceptions would be enhanced based on what he needed most. And right now, he needed to see mana.

Which he did.

The white infinite space suddenly transitioned to a dusty realm of misting blue and radiant purple. Stemming mainly from the violet halo above his head, Leland suddenly found himself in a personal rainstorm with flickers of space acting as lightning.

He hoped his mom was okay.

But that wasn’t what he needed to think about. Resolving himself, Leland peered through the storm of mana at Sybil. Her mask canceled all semblance of visible magic, acting like an island in a world dominated by tidal waves. The effect was quite helpful, allowing Leland to see the more subtle intricacies.

But what did he do now?

The question loomed, he was out of practice and inexperienced. But then again, he wasn’t trying to forgo the Witch’s spell fully, nor was he trying to dismantle it without anyone noticing. If anything, Leland was just trying to—

A shockwave rippled through the Void, a dim shadow against the world of white.

“Kid?” Isobel asked.

“Shut it! I’m concentrating!” he yelled back, hands outstretched like a carpenter sanding the flat of a table.

Mana and magic twisted around his fingers, churning with the small amounts of lifeforce he amplified through his fingertips. The cantrip in question created a small lick of flame, like that of a candle, but Leland didn’t rush to ignite the framework. Instead he felt around, touching the density of specific areas of space.

There was a threshold, he quickly found, of mana density that would react. It was foreign mana, not his own nor like his dad’s . It was the Witch’s, he was sure.

He severed the threading, pushing it apart with lifeforce.

“Kid—” Isobel asked again before abruptly cutting herself off. A wave of discord rushed through hers and the other’s bodies.

Hackles raised, Isobel quickly reached for Sybil, pulling her close. But when she went to do the same for Leland, the Void abruptly stopped.

They appeared in a salty brine, dozens of meters below the surface.