Part 6

Monsters

“Priss,” Terry said with a trembling voice, “what is that?” It was a solid question to ask. His background in fantasy novels and card games offered no useful context for the creature pushing it way through the underbrush towards them.

The creature moved with an alien grace. If given a sensible comparison it was a kind of cat; a cat that stood five feet tall on all fours. One could suppose the head was feline at one point in its ancestry. Ears were in the proper place, but were long and angular. Its mouth didn’t have a lower jaw but four mandibles that released in separate directions when opened. Each mandible housed a neat row of viciously sharp teeth. Which were proudly displayed when it hissed.

The entire body was covered in a black chitin that melded into gray flesh at the joints. Most disturbing element of this being were the tails—or perhaps tentacles were more accurate. Four grayish tentacles sprouted from the rear of the creature. Each tentacle held teethed suckers at their ends that reminded Terry of a lamprey’s mouth. Overall, Terry was not prepared to deal with this shit.

Priss finally looked over her shoulder and swore.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Kind of hoping you knew that bit of wisdom,” Terry unhelpfully replied. “Damn thing is nightmare fuel.” The horror creature slowly moved towards them. Its body lowered into a crouch as it prepared to pounce on the pair. Priss slowly rose to her feet, not taking her eyes of the creature. She firmed her grasp on the sword and buckler.

“Think you can move at all?” she asked without looking back.

“Not really,” Terry answered, “at least not fast enough for it to matter.”

“Then we fight,” Priss said matter-of-factly. “Can you use that card to do something?” She gestured to his right hand subtly as she continued her starring contest with the nightmare beast. Confused, Terry looked down and saw he was holding the True Familiar card. He hadn’t pulled for it with his intent, last time he tried to pull a card with a blue echo they stayed exactly where they were; so how had it ended up in his hand now?

“Not sure, think I tapped out of magic power while fighting the goblins in round one,” Terry replied, “might have more magic by now. Not really certain how this magic thing works at the moment.” Priss opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as the creature leapt for her and Terry. It cleared the ten foot gap between them with a single bound—claws outstretched and mandibles open with an unearthly yowl.

Priss raised her buckler swiftly and thrust it forward. The four mandibles latched onto the shield and tried to violently rip the barrier side to side and take Priss’ arm with it. Priss, however, had the good sense to release the shield and avoid having her arm forcibly removed. She didn’t avoid one of the claws from the beast though. Her left thigh received two nasty gashes as the claws ripped through her leather armor and easily dug into her flesh. A brief cry of pain was all the attention Priss gave the wound before retaliating by swiping her short sword at two incoming tentacles.

The blade glowed green on its cutting edges as it sliced through the first tentacle. The second tentacle only had a quarter of its width severed. It was still a threat, but it lost much of its alacrity. Blue blood flowed out of the wounded tentacles and a pained growl rumbled around the buckler. The nightmare cat jumped back and avoided a thrust from Priss’ sword. After a moment of fighting the buckler the creature dropped the shield to the ground and began circling the humans.

“I think it is trying to get to you,” Priss said as she shuffled to continue acting as a barrier for Terry.

“Why do you think that?” Terry asked.

“Treefolk told me that a creature from the Scar was seeking you out. This, thing, isn’t local as far as I know. How’s that magic coming along?”

Terry jumped as a he realized he was supposed to be doing something. He had been both mesmerized and terrified while watching Priss’ brief exchange with the monster. She has said what she did wasn’t magic, but her actions seemed too much for that to be the case.

“Magic. Right. Doing that,” Terry absently replied as he brought his focus to the card in his hand. It gave off the visual and sound of blue. Terry still didn’t understand how he knew he was hearing colors, but now was not the time nor place to figure that out. The intent of pouring power into the card and releasing the magic of it flowed from Terry. Terry’s tub of magic power, however, was basically dry. A small amount of magic seemed to have recovered, but it was nowhere near enough. That didn’t stop Terry from continuing to pour magic and his intent into the card. It had to work like the novels and shows he read. Moments like this were breakthrough moments. All he had to do was exceed his limits and sour towards the heavens—or something like that.

Terry's tub of magic, as he referred to it at the moment, began cracking. It was destroying itself under the demands for more power. Each fissure and rupture felt like the violent tearing of something important underneath Terry’s skin. This doesn’t feel like a breakthrough.

Terry screamed. Terry screamed in pain. Terry screamed in more pain than when the goblins assaulted him. His voice gave out and his body only spasmed briefly before the pain locked his muscles. The experience was simply too extreme. Terry blessedly dropped consciousness.

As Terry’s cries of suffering surfaced, Priss whipped her head around instantly. A moment later she knew that was a mistake. Before she could correct her folly the nightmare cat attacked. Its claws dug into her sides and two circular incisions painfully announced where the tentacles latched on to her shoulder and back. On reflex alone, Priss swung her sword across the front with all her remaining qi. The solid impact and resistance against the blade’s edge as it dug into the creature informed her that she probably stopped another attack, however briefly. She continued ignoring Terry’s screams to focus of her immediate threat. Terry would have to wait.

The nightmare cat’s lower mandibles were missing and a nasty, bloody line ran across its chest. Blue blood flowed from the wounds freely. Oddly though, it did not cry out in pain this time. The nightmare cat watched Priss patiently, out of sword’s reach. Then the teethed tentacles dug into her flesh further. Priss stumbled at the increase in pressure from the attached appendages, but remained steadfast on her feet. She raised her weapon to step forward and strike her opponent and found that she couldn’t. Her strength was flagging, decreasing with every passing moment. The two tentacles of the nightmare cat that were attached to her were now siphoning energy directly from her body, like an energy leech.

Priss had been wondering how this creature was so easily wounded by her attacks and now she had an answer—the creature attached its suckers to its prey and drained their stamina until there was no energy left to defend themselves with. That was exactly what was happening to Priss right now. Granted, she did not start this fight at her best. She had sprinted along yellow tree pathway the Treefolk created for her and then held nothing back when dealing with the goblins. Foolish that was. Priss knew that something else was coming for Terry. Hell, goblins were not even on the list of things surrounding Terry that the Treefolk mentioned. Priss fucked up and was now paying for her haste and lack of foresight.

A flash of orange light reflected off the creature and the surrounding forest-scape. It came from behind Priss; where Terry was laying on the ground. A breath of silence filled the surround forest, then crackling, wild energy began snapping at the air. It sounded like the tesla coils that power plants used running out of control.

The nightmare cat glanced in the direction of the crackling sound. After a moment it yowled and took a bounding leap towards it. Priss was still attached via tentacles and got dragged along. She swung her sword at the tentacles connecting her to the creature, but she had now qi left to reinforce her swing and her physical strength waned with each passing moment. Wherever this creature was going, she was in for the ride until completely drained.

Suddenly, the nightmare cat stopped. Priss twisted to avoid colliding with the creature and stumbled onto her knees. She looked up to see what had forced her foe to stop. Ok, foe might be a generous term for this situation. Priss was completely at its mercy. Her captor. Well that wasn’t kind to Priss’ pride; let’s just go with foe. They just had the upper hand for the moment. Once Priss’ sight registered what she and her foe were looking at, she too understood the pause.

Terry, poor beaten and battered Terry, laid on the ground face first. She saw new blood trails running from his ears and down the side of his face from his eyes.

Oh no, what did he do?

Priss heard Moonsister Yarrow warning her mages before performing magic that when already taxed on mana reserves that it was better not to and rely on the Masons and recover. There was some sort of danger associated with overtaxing a mage’s mana reserves that Priss didn’t know about. She could have asked, learned more about how the strength’s of her fellows at Crescent Dawn worked, but she hadn’t cared then. She hadn’t cared and now her apathy was reaping the consequences on Terry.

This is my fault.

The giant orange-rimmed portal crackling and snapping with angry energy near Terry proved that he had succeeded in her request. To his further detriment.

The nightmare cat starred at the portal to nowhere without moving. A quiet voice that Priss almost didn’t catch sounded from the other side of the portal. It was a desperate and familiar voice.

“…strong enough for just that.”

It couldn’t be Terry she heard. He was laying unconscious next to the portal. But the voice distinctly sounded like Terry when he was beyond stressed and overwhelmed. As she tried to think of a logical reason for this a rich baritone voice sounded from the portal as well. Its sound was distorted and broken up and Priss only caught a few words.

“…I accept… and forever after that.”

Even in this dire situation, she very likely to die to either the nightmare cat or whatever was in the portal, Priss flushed with incredulity. She did not want to hear anyone say that to Terry, even the shouldn’t-be-Terry voice in the portal. Priss didn’t have much time to investigate the root of those thoughts and emotions as a crunching sound began to erupt from the other side of the portal. The sound came one after another, like footfalls through frozen snow.

What came first through the portal was the sight of two gray disks with a black circle in the middle of each. The disks hovered in the upper third of the portal. Since the portal was probably thirty feet or so tall, that was quite a height. Priss gasped as the nightmare cat’s teethed tentacles bit further into her. The creature had gone stock still and rigid. Much like Terry when he was starring at it. Much like when prey caught sight of a predator.

Priss glanced back at the portal and saw the black circles contract as they seemed to focus on her.

Shit. Those are eyes.

For eyes to be that large, what was the true size of the creature attached to them?

“Release her foolish one, you have erred in ways you do not comprehend and her essence will not cure your madness,” the baritone voice rumbled from the portal. The nightmare cat reacted with a retort of hisses. The hisses sounded off due to the missing lower mandibles and Priss would have taken a measure of joy from that in another situation. The hisses were completely unintelligible to Priss, but not to the eyes apparently.

“Truly a shame then,” the voice continued and the crunching sound resumed. “In time you could have gotten your own rift key and joined the Pack.” The crunching got louder and something new appeared from the portal.

It started with a thick column of white-gray fog. Another joined beside it and the fog began condensing and gaining a new texture. The base of the fog columns widened and grew four elongated tendrils from the base. Those tendrils curved, hardening into black claws that were soon covered in black fur that was lightly covered in white. It reminded Priss of a light dusting of snow over asphalt.

The eyes drew closer next. Before the breached the boundary of the portal more fog poked through near the eyes’ level. That fog transformed into a black nose attached to a large muzzle covered with the same black-grey fur as the leg. Soon the rest of the head emerged from the portal as well as part of the body beneath. The creature’s head was the size of a compact car and clearly canine.

Fuck. This thing puts any dire wolf I’ve fought to shame. Terry summoned that?

The features of this dog were more aligned with a wolf than any domestic breed. Sharp ears twitched at every sound, the pointed tips of fangs teased their presence beneath black lips, and its ever-emerging form was lithe with trimmed muscle hidden with fur. Clearly the portal was indicative to the size of the wolf-monster because as it fully emerged most of the portal was filled by the frame of this creature.

Though this was quite a bit to take in, the wolf-monster fully emerged from the portal in just a few seconds. The sheer size and presence of the beast just seemed to stretch out the moment. It looked down at the nightmare cat and a growl rumbled from deep within its chest as it spoke again.

“It is a shame foolish one. You stand below your better, a true predator, and you fail to accept your place or fulfill my commands. That, and you harm the Pack Alpha’s mate, you were destined to be nothing more than a cursed example of what happens to prey that believes to be hunter.” Before the nightmare cat could respond or flinch the giant wolf-monster lunged forward with its jaws unhinged. The teeth sank into the chitin of the nightmare cat as if it were not there. The majority of the feline monster disappeared when the jaws completely shut. All that was left was a torn rear leg and tentacles still attached to Priss. The massive wolf swallowed with a big gulp and then turned its attention to Priss.

Shit, shit, shit! There is no way even father and Yarrow could fight this thing off. I’m screwed. Terry, I’ll be joining you soon.

“Hold still mate of the Alpha,” the giant wolf-monster said without moving its mouth. “These tentacles must be removed with care or further damage will occur.” The statement made Priss realize she was shaking. But not in fear. Definitely not in fear.

The wolf-monster approached and opened its mouth slightly. Two white trails of mana weaved through the air towards Priss. She went rigid and prepared for death. Death did not come. The white trails of mana connected with the tentacle remains. Those remains began cracking and then falling off her in pieces. Like icicles melting off of a roof. The process took a few minutes, but once complete, Priss was totally free of the teethed masses, and she was utterly exhausted. This whole day had been an ordeal so far. She collapsed in a heap onto the ground as her legs realized there was no more energy to even stand.

After a quiet moment Priss looked up at the wolf-monster. It had already moved to Terry’s side and was sniffing him. Panicking at the sight, Priss stumbled to stand on shaky legs and with pure determination raised her weapon.

“Stay away from him.”

Alright, that sounded pretty feeble to her. She could only imagine how it looked in her bloodied condition. Priss started swaying as her balance was out of reach and fell forward.

Right. Blood loss is a thing.

She did not smash into the ground as she expected. An oversized muzzle of black and white fur caught her and began gently guiding her waning form to Terry’s collapsed body.

The wolf-monster set Priss down next to Terry with far more kindness than she expected from such a creature. Not that Priss was an expert on monstrously oversized wolf monster social habits. She had a general idea where to stab and that was usually enough. Once Priss was in reach of Terry she grabbed his side and rolled him closer to herself. He was in rough shape. Blood had run freely from his ears and eyes, his skin a sickly pale, lips were a shade of purple she had only seen when he got the flu real bad, and he felt more cold than he should. Cold bodies were not good.

“Terry… Terry, sweetie, wake up. It’s over now. Please get up. We have so much left to talk about. Like how you got a dog without asking me about it. Isn’t that the sort of thing couples decide on together? I don’t think we have a yard big enough for the one you brought home… Terry, sweetie… please…” Priss had started by holding onto Terry’s shoulders as she tried to shake him awake, but slowly lowered herself onto his prone form; her arms wrapped around his neck as she began silently sobbing into his chest.

A deep, threatening growl forced Priss to raise her head an undetermined amount of time later. The wolf-monster stood above her and Terry with plenty of clearance in a defensive posture. In the direction the wolf-monster’s ire was pointed at was an ever-growing cloud of smoke. It smelled like a campfire and undulated with gray and black colors as the shape of a man formed and broke free of the smoke. Priss immediately recognized Dr. Ramirez, Terry’s prior creative writing professor, the smoke mage the Treefolk warned her of, and a mage of the Arcanists as the stylized lion broach pinned on his jacket suggested. He walked forward with casual confidence as he took in the scene before him.

“Fascinating,” the mage said to himself but clearly enough for Priss to hear, “a conjured creature that defends its summoner even when in an unconscious state. I am curious how Terrence accomplished that without any formal training in that particular school of magic.” He stopped moving forward and placed a thumb under his chin as he continued muttering. “The creature seems to have a higher than average intelligence for a conjuration and is flushed with mana, if size is any indication. Perhaps it is a contracted beast. Though Terrence has had no chance to dip into binding contract spells. Could be natural talent. Too bad, fool boy shattered his mana reservoir to conjure whatever this beast is.”

Dr. Ramirez took another step forward and the wolf-monster growled throatily. The mage paused and looked directly at the beast. “Oh hush up with all that showmanship. Your time is limited now that you’re no longer being fed mana. Just move aside quietly like a good beast so I can deal with this.” The wolf-monster did not move aside as demanded by the mage. It instead crouched lower and kept its hackles raised. It was odd that the creature was so protective of both her and Terry. Priss didn’t know the specifics of how summoned creatures operated, but part of her was glad that it acted in this way. The wolf-monster, however, could not help Terry get out of his current state. So Priss raised her voice in desperation as she spoke to the Dr. Ramirez.

“Can you help Terry? Can you fix his mana reservoir?”

Dr. Ramirez looked down at Priss in confusion for a moment before recognition struck him. “Ah! Miss Daniels, the vaunted Daughter of the Sun,” a slight twist of his lips and words forming a sneer. “How fortuitous to make your acquaintance on this side of the Veil.” The look in the mage’s eyes were not friendly.

Might have been a mistake talking to him. Dangerous talking to any Arcanist.

Priss was having second thoughts about garnering attention from a foe of her family’s organization, but she was committed at this point; Terry needed help that she couldn’t provide herself. “Can you help Terry?” Priss pleaded once again in what she hoped was a more powerful voice than she felt. The growing grin coated in a bully’s glee on the Arcanist’s face did not comfort the hope Priss fostered. He took another step forward and smoke began surrounding Priss, Terry, and the wolf-monster.

“Oh, no, I am afraid I cannot afford any assistance to Terrence at this time,” the sneer present on Dr. Ramirez’s face spreading into something darker as he spoke.

“Why not?! He is still breathing! I’ve seen and heard of mages doing things beyond imagination! You have to fix him!” Priss no longer illusioned herself with propriety or having a position of power in this discussion. If begging a mage, an Arcanist, for help would save Terry then so be it.

Dr. Ramirez took yet another step forward, the smoke continuing to encircle them. “You see, Daughter of the Sun,” another step, more smoke, “when I arrived at the trial scene of my candidate—an up and coming void-sourced mage that could offer hope and position for our kind—I discovered that his girlfriend from the Veiled World as a Mason spy,” he spat out, with extra venom around Mason. Tendrils of smoke began from at the fringes of the encircling smoke and reaching for the trio. “This Mason spy weaseled herself into my candidate’s life and got close enough for him to lower his guard. Now, as his powers finally manifest into something conscious and wonderful, did this Mason spy fulfill her true duty. She eliminated the threat by murdering someone that trusted her when he was nothing more than a lost and confused boy in a world he did not know existed. All in the name of the Veil.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“That’s not—”

“It was a shame,” he continued, interrupting Priss’ defense, “that I arrived too late to save my fellow, young mage’s life. He had the potential to raise up the Arcanists into something beyond a bullied regional institution.” The surrounding tendrils of smoke began forming broad, leaf-shaped points. There were more than Priss could count.

“Don’t worry though,” he continued as he raised his hand like preparing to signal a firing squad, “there was something I could do about all this. Tragic as my necessary actions were. I could avenge my fallen fellow and carry the Merlin’s favor away from the hands of the Masons. With that I could rally more of my kind to the cause and break the chains that bind us to the unworthy oversight of Masons!” The professional decorum gave way to hysterics as the mage finished his monologue.

He is going to kill me. He will kill me and no one will know what actually happened. No one will know and a war will start of because of that. Fucking great.

Priss struggled to move. She had to stand up. Had to at least try and defend herself and Terry. Like hell Priscilla Daniels was going out of this life without bloodying the nose of her killer at least. Priss struggled to move, getting on one knee and then collapsing back onto the ground. Dr. Ramirez cackled at the sight. She hated this mage. This monster.

The monster laughed as he spoke with a sinful smile, “I’d ask if you have any last words, but you died in a savage battle, like an animal, like what every Mason deserves.” The raised hand fell forward. Priss had no qi left, so she did what felt right in her final moments—she dropped and held onto Terry. At least she would be with who she loved at the end of all things.

The end of all things felt rather cold. Priss didn’t put much stock into theories of what the afterlife was like, she was a more tangible evidence kind of woman, but was it too much to ask for a warmer eternal rest?

An ear shattering howl forced the realization that she would have to wait a bit longer to get answers regarding the afterlife. Once the howl subsided Priss opened her eyes and raised her head to survey why she wasn’t dead. Now, Priss wasn’t an expert on magic by any imaginative stretch, so when the mage said the wolf-monster wasn’t long for this existence she assumed it would disappear or be unresponsive. The fact it had been crouched defensively over her and Terry this entire time and she hardly recognized that proved she was not in the best shape. What she saw once opening her eyes, though, was impossible to miss, even as fatigued and beaten as she was.

Thank God this thing is on our side.

Priss’ mouth was held slightly agape at what she saw. Frost covered the ground at the wolf-monster’s feet and was slowly expanding outward. A thin flurry of snow swirled around them with about two or three feet in height. As the bladed smoke tendrils lunged to deal a death blow an opposing length of frost erupted from the flurry barrier. The two forces clashed and the smoke and frost dissipated. This occurred in dozens of places in the same span of time, continuously. It was an amazing display of control by both parties, but more so for the monster-wolf. After all, its defensive strikes were all reactionary.

A glance across the way showed Dr. Ramirez in dire concentration. Sweat beaded down his face and soaked through his clothing as his assault was precisely countered at every strike.

“What are you waiting for?” Priss croaked, her voice hoarse from the stress of all that transpired. The wolf-monster was intelligent, had empathy (she thought), and could speak. Priss hoped that meant it understood her words and would maybe even listen.

“The more power I use the less mana will be available to offer the Alpha’s mana repair,” the creature replied concisely. Clearly it wasn’t able to take too much attention away from the defense effort. The fact it had the capacity to reply at all was kind of frightening. Before she could inquire further the wolf-monster continued. “The longer this continues the more difficult the repair will be.” Priss had no idea what a mana repair was, or how it was done, but there was enough context to allow an accurate inference.

“What do you need to end this?” Priss asked, determined to not be as useless as she felt. Part of her, though, was rebelling at the fact she was conspiring with a genuine monster. No, that wasn’t completely fair. The real monster in this forest was the mage across the way.

“Normally, nothing would be necessary, but a distraction against the prey would be helpful.” Rather full of itself this wolf-monster was. Then again, the nightmare cat’s demise and the casual display of arcane control told tale of real strength. Ok, maybe it was self-confidence the wolf-monster had.

“Won’t be anything useful, but I can get you a small distraction,” Priss said as her fingers probed the handle of her short sword laying nearby.

“A moment is enough,” the wolf-monster replied. Priss nodded at the creature’s words, realized it couldn’t see her doing so, and then her fingers found what they sought. Her thumb pressed the magical formation engraved into the handle of the weapon and she channeled the final drops of qi she had into it. Her weapon began the process of condensing its size and Priss raised her arm up. She curled her arm back and threw the shrinking weapon towards the mage. The sword continued downsizing as it spun in the air. Smoke tendrils attempted to intercept it, but between the continuing decrease in size and the counters of frost blasts the projectile flew unimpeded. Just before reaching the thoroughly concentrating mage the sword returned to its docile pen form and struck Dr. Ramirez in the nose.

The mage recoiled from the pen’s strike, nothing damage, but distracting nonetheless (it was a rather heavy pen), and his smoke lapsed into stillness as his concentration was interrupted. That interruption was all the wolf-monster needed. Blue-white frost exploded from the swirling flurry in the form of dozens of coin sized shards of ice. It all followed the path of the sword-pen and impaled the mage’s face.

Priss didn’t look for too long, but the misty spray of dark red told the tale of Dr. Ramirez’s fate. Were that not enough evidence, the surrounding smoke quickly thinned out by a breeze over a few minutes. Just like that a mage died. Just like that a man died and Priss didn’t feel any regret for her part. Her current situation was rather stressful; maybe the regret came later.

If Terry saw that he would feel so vindicated. It was the pen, not the sword, that won the day.

Priss chuckled at the absurdity of her thoughts. Here she was laying beaten and battered on the ground next to her mage boyfriend in the Veiled world next to a house-sized wolf-monster and her thoughts focused on how the pen was mightier than the sword. Stressful situation indeed.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the wolf-monster finally moved. It stepped forward and turned around. Then, after laying down and facing Priss, spoke, “Your assistance in the hunt is appreciated Mate of the Alpha.” The voice filled the air without its mouth moving. That fact was both fascinating and terrifying.

“I’m the Mate of the Alpha,” she fluctuated her tone as she said that bit, “because I’m dating Terry?” But before getting an answer he shook her head and pressed on for more immediate concerns. “What needs to be done to heal Terry? This mana repair you talked about.”

“Normally I’d say he’s completely fucked,” a new voice said. “That much structural damage to a mana reservoir is neither reversible nor repairable. Kid should be dead, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.” The voice was light and cheery, despite the dark content of its speech, with a soft English accent that dipped into American West Coast a bit. Both Priss and the wolf-monster jumped at the sound and looked towards it.

A portal rimmed in completely solid purple and black energy led to what seemed to be the inside of a bedroom. It was painted with a gaudy color scheme of dark reds and black. A stainless steel pole was connected to both the floor and ceiling just right of center of the portal’s frame. The pole was near what looked to be a bed with a layer of rumbled sheets mimicking the room’s tragic color scheme.

The person who spoke was a… Priss quickly looked away with a blush due to the fact the man was not wearing any clothing aside from a pair of boxer briefs with the image of a banana in a rather targeted location. As the man stepped fully through the portal the wolf-monster began growling defensively once more.

“Down boy,” the man chuckled kindly. Priss looked back up and saw his hands up in a placating gesture. Priss determinedly kept her gaze above the neckline. She only drifted lower once. Ok, twice. “I’m not here to harm your bonded or his girlfriend. I’m actually here to help unlike that bigoted popsicle over there.” He said, gesturing towards Dr. Ramirez’s body. Now Priss was looking at him instead of the ground she was finding it hard to be impressed. He had a mess of black, curly hair that hung crude ringlets in front of his eyes. The muscle definition that Priss was used to seeing in the men around her, well the Masons anyways (Terry was getting there, but hardly put real effort into improving his physique), was not there. He was soft, his muscles hanging off his bones rather than hugging them. He hardly looked like a mage who could…

“You tore open a rift in the Veil!” she accused heatedly. Her instincts as a Mason appalled at such blatant disregard for the safety of the Veiled World. She somehow doubted that the Veiled World location of the portal was secured as any rift site was supposed to be.

The man sighed in exasperation before replying. “That is such a crass way of stating what I’m currently doing. See this?” He stepped to the edge of the portal and pointed at the perfectly still rim of purple-black energy. “Absolutely no mana bleed on either side. I simply lifted the skirt, I mean curtain, of the Veil and moved to the other side.” Priss opened her mouth to protest her concerns about security but was interrupted.

“Stop waxing yourself something elegant and get back over here. If I settle down I’m making you dance on the pole!” a powerful, feminine voice called from out of frame on the other side of the portal. The man sighed, dejectedly this time.

“As for your concerns about safety on the Veiled side I’m sure you have, Lily over there is more dangerous than anything these woods could muster I’m sure,” he said.

“Did you hear me!” the woman’s voice, apparently Lily, bellowed in annoyance.

“Yes dear!” the man snapped into action at the words, striding over to Priss and Terry. Priss wanted to get between him and Terry, not knowing what his intentions were actually. The man simply grabbed Priss by the shoulders and gently set her to a side.

“Let’s look at you first,” the man said soothingly, “Terry’s condition isn’t going to get worse anytime soon. The damage is already done.” His hands glowed with purple-black magic. One hand went to her forehead and the other just below her breasts. “Sorry for getting handsy,” he said as she sputtered and tried to remove the offending hand. “Need both to circulate energy through you. Get some healing and kickstart your qi replenishment.” Priss opened her mouth to snap at the man regardless, but a sigh of relief slipped out instead as she felt her body knit back together. Soon she was conscious of the energy flowing through her. It circulated through her qi channels and encouraged her body to begin refilling itself with her own power.

“Wow,” Priss half muttered before looking the stranger in the eye. “Who are you and what did you do to me? Healing magic is supposed to hurt like hell.” The man smiled at Priss as he removed his hands.

“A good mage can knit flesh back together; a better mage knows how to do it in a way that encourages fewer future injuries,” he said with a wink. Priss’ eyes widened at the realization.

“They do it on purpose? Those bastards!” she growled. The man just chuckled.

“As for who I am,” he continued with a pause, then leaned back and looked towards the portal. “Lily! What’s my name right now?” he yelled. Priss heard a drawn out sigh.

“Let me check your wallet. Where is it?”

“Black dress shoes, left foot,” he replied without thinking much.

“Got it!” Priss swore she heard fiendish glee in that voice. “Your name is Steve right now. Such a banal name. You can do better.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks Lily,” so-called Steve replied and then looked back to Priss. “Name’s Steve, and I know who you are so no need for introductions. Shall we get to Terry now?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes! Please help him. I have no clue what to do. But wait, didn’t you say his magic pool was broken for good?” Priss said in quick succession.

“first off, mana reservoir, not pool. Can’t go swimming in it. Secondly, I technically said, ‘normally’ fucked beyond repair. Terry here is luckier than just about any novice mage I’ve known in recent memory,” Steve answered with a bit a sass.

“How’s that?” Priss asked as she moved Terry’s bloodied head onto her lap.

“Because of the puppy here,” Steve answered as his thumb gestured to the house-sized wolf-monster. “You boy shattered his mana reservoir calling forth a familiar, and not just any, but a—”

“True familiar,” Priss interjected. Steve’s metaphorical sails had the wind taken from them as she supplied what seemed to be the correct answer. He quirked an eyebrow up in surprise and nodded.

“Aye, that’s why doggo here hasn’t up and vanished without a mana supply or gone on a rampage. How’d you know? Not to stereotype, but martials tend to not know much about magic, let alone enough to identify a sage tier spell.”

“Well I probably fit the stereotype still,” Priss confessed as she wetted her thumb to clean the blood from Terry’s face. “I only read the name on the card.”

“Card?” Steve asked with a tilt to his head.

“Yeah, looks like a card from Fate’s Hand, a trading card game we play,” Priss explained. “Pretty sure it is one of his attunements.” At that Steve became very still, his carefree expression mellowing into a cold, serious expression.

“Void-sourced mages don’t have attunements,” he stated simply. That bit of knowledge was news to Priss. She was under the impression all mages had attunements. Her ignorance was an ever-growing issue.

“I believe the Mate of the Alpha speaks of the rift keys,” the wolf-monster’s baritone voice said. Priss and Steve turned their heads to regard the creature.

“So, you are intelligent,” Steve half asked, half stated.

“Enough to know when to be insulted,” it shot back.

Damn, the dog must have a bit of Terry after all.

Steve chuckled with a shrug. “Fair enough. What do we call a high-minded creature such as yourself?” Before a reply could be made, Lily’s voice spoke from the portal.

“Steeeve,” she voiced extending the vowels in a sultry cadence, “what’s your favorite book and who wrote it?” Steve and Priss glanced towards the portal. Priss became horribly embarrassed and terrified at the same time for what she saw.

The woman standing in frame of the portal was an exotic, inhuman beauty. She was lithe with deeply tanned, almost red, skin; long raven black hair that flowed over her shoulders and to the small of her back; her eyes were the shade of midnight with twinkling specks of rubies throughout. Her outfit was so revealing that a California beach girl would blush at the sight. Priss didn’t look long, but there was just enough black leather to wake up the imagination, but not enough to work it tirelessly. It was positively sinful.

“Le Morte d’Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory wrote it a bit after we met. Kept me entertained after your hissy fit in Paris some time afterwards,” Steve easily replied while shamelessly taking in the view. “you realize we are kind of in public, right Lily? Poor Priscilla is red as an apple with just a glance.”

Lily giggled in a manner that seemed to deceive how confident the woman was with herself and her body before replying. “Just for that little reminder about Paris, I’m going to get something real nice for myself. Have fun playing doctor, that boy is all sorts of broken. Also, I wouldn’t mess with that familiar too much. Closest thing to a god-beast I’ve seen since we visited Fenrir. Even you would have to get stretched out before a tussle,” Lily said, waggling her immaculate eyebrows suggestively. She then walked out of frame with a wave.

Both Steve and Priss looked back at the wolf-monster with a new appreciation, or apprehension. The giant dog seemed to preen a bit at the revelation. Something clicked with Steve as his head whipped back towards the portal.

“Lily, why did you ask that question? And what did you mean by ‘getting something nice’ for yourself?” Priss could hear the panic in his voice. Manic chackling was the only response.

“Kind of sounds like a security question for something,” Priss said helpfully. “Like what’s your favorite book or the name of your first pet. So, what’s yours?” The question raised to the house-sized hound. Steve looked torn between investigating what Lily was doing and staying where he was.

“The name I know for myself is Winter,” the familiar replied casually.

“Did Terry name you that?” Priss asked.

“No, Winter is what I am, so it is what I am called,” Winter answered.

“Fascinating,” Steve said with faux interest, haste filling in the gaps between words. “Show me these rift keys.”

“They are in the Alpha’s left jacket pocket. All five are present at the moment,” Winter said calmly, not rising to the haste in Steve’s tone. Priss reached out to the pocket in question and found five Fate’s Hand cards. The image of a magical orange-green vortex above an open hand swirled in a clockwise manner. All the cards Terry and Priss saw this morning—was that just this morning? —were there save one alteration. The True Familiar card changed.

Winter, Hound of the Storm

Class: Summon (True Familiar)

Winter is the True Familiar, soul-bound to the mage Terence White. For spells, effects, and other conditions Winter and Terence may be considered the same entity. Winter can never be truly banished and may exchange strength between himself and his mage; the inverse is possible as well.

Priss handed the cards to Steve and he spent a few minutes studying them in silence. He muttered to himself, but it was nothing intelligible.

“Alrighty!” Steve declared was he studying was complete, “these rift key things, attunements, playing cards, whatever are probably the best thing I’ve ever seen for a void-sourced mage.”

“Why’s that? And I thought you said void-sourced mage couldn’t have attunements,” Priss asked.

“Void-sourced magic has the potential to be anything, and that is extremely dangerous. An over-imaginative, or straying, mind can cause some real terror. Most void-sourced mages can only deal with concrete, simple things and ideas. It is difficult to grasp abstractions and attempting so usually ends poorly,” Steve lectured. “These cards are a blessing and a burden for Terry. They offer concrete, simplified descriptions for some highly convoluted magic. All he has to do is believe what the card says and supply the requisite mana. It is possibly troublesome because of two reasons: one, it could limit what he is capable of should he display real mental discipline and alacrity; two, if the card is mana charged and not used, anyone can use them.

“It is the latter reason that these cards aren’t attunements as you know them. Sure, the look like an attunement, and quack like an attunement, but at their core they don’t act like attunements. That’s the thing with void-sourced magic. Anything can be created or destroyed should the mage be skilled enough. Your boy here created attunement-not-attunements from something he was very comfortable with and maintained the rules of that inspiration.”

“So anyone could use these cards to perform magic? Even martials and Veiled Ones?” Priss asked with growing horror. If that were the case, a lot of terrible things could happen should the wrong people discover this.

“Yep. As long as they know what the card does, which it so handily describes, anyone could work the magic,” Steve replied matter-of-factly.

“Can it be safeguarded against? Can Terry not mana charge the cards? Could you take away his magic so he isn’t a mage anymore?” Priss asked in a growing whisper. She felt ashamed the moment she said it, but the words slipped out before she knew they were on her tongue. Damned unconscious thoughts. Steve surprised Priss with a glare that made her fold onto herself.

“If that is how you think and feel Priscilla Daniels, I can relieve you of the burden that is knowledge of Terry White. You will never recall him, and return to the path of the Mason set down for you by your forebearers. If you ever meet him again you would only see a mage to fear, subdue, or kill. Probably kill since he is a breed of mage that martials fear most and have a kill on sight policy with. Would you prefer that? It might be kinder to yourself than the alternatives,” Steve’s scolding made Priss shake with fear, sorrow, and guilt. A painful cocktail of emotions. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. Priss’ shoulders began shaking as sobs racked her body. She clutched Terry tightly as she cried.

“I,” sniffle, “didn’t,” sob, “didn’t.” Priss took a deep breath to control herself and then tried speaking again. She didn’t raise her face from Terry’s now tear dripped face as she spoke quietly.

“I didn’t want to mean what I said. I love Terry, and being around him is changing my outlook on mages. But changing who I was raised to be is hard. Impossible even it feels like. I love a mage that I was taught to fear. I jumped at the idea of changing who is he is so I could be more comfortable, and I am ashamed of that instinct.” Priss did not look up from Terry’s face. It seemed more of a confession to him than an excuse to Steve.

When Steve spoke once more it was far kinder. “That is wisdom I can admire in one so young,” he said. “Keep that in mind moving forward. It doesn’t make change easier, but it will keep your reasons in sight.” Steve placed a gentle hand on Priss’ shoulder. “Let’s get him fixed up so you can tell him that yourself.”

“What do we need to do?” Priss asked, finally looking back at the nearly naked man. There was compassion in his eyes when she did.

“Not much, truth be told,” he replied. “I mostly have to guide Winter’s mana and help it shape into a new mana reservoir for Terry.”

“Will that hurt Winter?” Priss asked with concern. Which is odd she thought. She only met Winter a short time ago, but knowing its connection to Terry made her protective.

“No,” Winter replied, “the Alpha and I are soul-bound. My strength is his, and his mine. It will not harm me, but I will be weakened while in an idle state.”

“In translation, if my theory is correct,” Steve said before Priss could inquire further, “most of Winter’s mana reservoir will become Terry’s, leaving Winter with less to utilize on his own. Terry should be able to empower Winter with mana like his spell cards; giving the pooch a temporary fix of power.”

“Is that right?” Priss asked Winter.

“It aligns with my instincts on the matter,” nodded Winter. A strangely human gesture.

“Excellent! Let’s get started,” Steve said with a clap of his hands. “Pups, start funneling mana to the kid and I’ll do the hard part.” Winter growled lightly, but seemed to comply. Priss couldn’t sense mana very well when she was rested and had qi, but she was recovering and exhausted. There was no chance of her knowing what was going on. So all Priss could do was watch. It largely amounted to Steve placing a hand on Terry’s forehead and chest, eyes closed and focusing. Winter’s eyes were closed as well, but a more visceral change occurred with the wolf. The house-sized hound began shrinking and the aura of cold which surrounded the familiar, something Priss was just now noticing, receded as well.

The whole process took a few minutes, but once it was done Steve raised his hands away and leaned back. His forehead was covered in perspiration; clearly what he did was more difficult than he let on. Winter, by the conclusion of the process had drastically changed. He was now the size of a normal dog; well, ok, on the larger side of normal. Winter looked like a wolfhound, more wolf than hound, that weighed at least as much as Priss did. The best part of this was Terry’s breathing had become stronger and stable. He was going to be alright!

“That should do the trick,” Steve huffed through recovering breaths. “The kid now has the mana reservoir equivalent of a sage tier mage, and it will only grow with use and time. Nature of void-sourced mages after all.” Priss’ eyes widened at that news. She didn’t know the specifics, but mages were categorized by their raw strength and arcane knowledge by tiers—like martials were—sages were somewhere in the upper-middle of those tiers she thought.

Priss opened her mouth to thank Steve, but a loud cash register chime sounded from the other side of the still open portal. Steve’s face went from confusion to terrified as realization dawned on him.

“Shit!” he shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Lily is on Amazon again, I have to go now.”

“What? Why is that bad?” Priss asked with a bit of incredulity. Terry was safe, but she needed help to resolve the rest of the situation.

“You don’t understand,” Steve replied frantically, “the last time she went on Amazon the credit bill was so astronomical I had to make everyone forget the name associated with the account to get away from it.”

“How does that work?”

“No time to explain. Lily! Darling! Please don’t do this again. I’m sorry I brought up Paris.” More cackling was the only response as Steve swiftly shuffled to the portal. He turned before crossing the threshold to address Priss.

“Here are Terry’s cards,” four Fate’s Hand cards floated towards Priss. “I’m keeping this one as payment for services rendered.” He flashed another Fate’s Hand card still in his hand. “I’ll give it back once I’ve decided Terry needs it or I’ve used it myself.

“Also, I removed suspicion of Terry being a mage as an idea. Only we know he is as of this moment. Use that information wisely.” Steve stepped through the portal and it began shrinking.

“One more thing!” he shouted, “that ring I gave Terry should help him figure out his first steps in understanding his magic. The payment for that is non-negotiable. Best of luck!” and like that, the portal blinked out of existence. Priss was now alone in this clearing with her unconscious mage boyfriend, his oversized wolf familiar, and the body of a mage from the Arcanists.

“Well boys,” Priss said to neither in particular, though Winter was paying attention, “what are we going to do now?”