“Cassius!” Petra shrieked and nearly flung herself over the edge.

All eyes searched the white froth below them, but saw no Cassius. Petra spun away from the edge, tripping and sliding down the hill as she searched downstream. Aidan followed after her, but Syra kept her arm outstretched.

“What are you doing?” Aidan asked from the next safe landing. “Help me look for him!”

But she didn’t budge. She gripped at the cliff’s edge, stomach pressed into the mud and hand clinging at the empty air. It was shaking. And it was glowing.

A cry escaped Aidan’s lips as a sparkle hovered just above the rotating blades. Syra clenched her fist and her arm muscles bulged as she pulled her arm back. Inch by inch, the sparkle grew, until a drenched and choking Cassius was lifted from the water.

“Be ready to grab him!” Syra’s face was red and the skin on her arm shimmered as red lines veined outward.

It burns.

She gritted her teeth and blinked back tears as her body screamed from the inside. The usual warmth was now like fire, and her blood simmered from the surge of mana passing through them.

It’s too much…too much at once. I can’t…I can’t keep this up.

The skin on her forearm began to steam and sizzle as Cassius floated closer.

“Aidan, I can’t—" she screamed and her arm shook.

“You have to! Just a little more!” Aidan pressed himself to the ledge and reached out, waiting for the chance to grab him. “Just a little more…now pull!”

Syra flung her arm back and Cassius flew upward, just high enough for Aidan and Petra to pull him onto the ledge. She slid down to the ledge and collapsed into a shaking ball, crying and gripping her arm, while Aidan and Petra fussed over Cassius as he coughed up the last bit of water.

“Thank Draco, you’re alive!” Petra threw herself over her brother.

“Yes, but how?” He wheezed under her weight.

Aidan pointed to the ball that cried and smiled at the same time.

“You really have gotten heavy, you know.”

Cassius stared at the burn lines that travelled up her forearm—red and blistering from the inside. She held her screams in, but his own skin stung as her waves of pain hit like needles.

“Are you alright?” Syra asked, seeing his pained expression. “Are you hurt?”

She gripped his forearm and pain sliced through his arm. He yipped and yanked his arm away, recoiling into ball himself.

“Easy,” Syra leaned over, careful to only touch his sleeve, “just let me look at it.”

From under his tattered sleeve, black lines veined from the festering bruise on his forearm.

“What the hell is this?” Petra asked, grabbing his wrist for a closer look. “This wasn’t from the fall—it’s spread too far.”

Cassius winced from her touch and pulled his arm away, “Nothing, just a…rash or something.”

“That is not a rash.” Petra reached for his arm again, but he turned her away. “Oh, good Lord, Cassius. Just let me look at it. When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Syra and Aidan watched in silent awe at the mother hen bawking at her injured chick.

“Cas, I’m serious.” Petra prodded his shoulder. “You could be poisoned. Why didn’t you just say something? I could’ve—”

“Because I don’t know what it is!” Cassius snapped back. “And neither would you. So, there was no need to bring it up. We have way more pressing issues.”

Petra’s mouth wagged.

“Those ‘pressing issues’ require all of us to be alive, foghead. What if it got worse? You really think Marrak would go easy on you because you got sick?”

“Of course not. I—"

“Syra, you’ve met other Empaths, right?” Petra asked, startling her sister.

“Well, yes, but none with…this. Worst I’ve seen is a fever, but that was because he was too stubborn to go see anyone.”

“You hear that? Too stubborn. He was too stubborn, and he got worse. That sound like anyone we know?”

“Enough, Petra.” He groaned and covered the bruise back up. “I get it, I’m sorry. But this is why I avoided it—your worrying just makes it worse.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Which is exactly why we need to find out what it is. We don’t even know if it’s curable.”

“Oh, it is. But just barely.”

The clatter of stones was followed by an out-of-breath Blyth skidding his way down to take a long gander at Cassius' wound.

"Give me that." He snatched up Cassius' arm and twisted it this way and that, and one sniff sent his head reeling.

"Goodness, boy, do you even drain? You've absorbed way too much!" He gripped his wrist tight and glared down at him, "I don't know what kind of masochism you're into, but this...this festering will bring no one pleasure. And it certainly won't help them, not in the long run."

Cassius' winced and Blyth relaxed his grip, but kept a disappointed eye on the veining bruise. "You should've just told them. Or me. For Erd's sake, I could've at least let you borrow my cat.”

Cassius' brow twitched, “Your…cat?”

"You have a cat?" asked Syra.

"What's a cat?" asked Petra.

“Oh yes! A purebred Plumpkin from the finest northern line. A might chunky perhaps, but I find most good filters are.”

“Filter?” asked Cassius.

Blyth just shook his head, “Nevermind, we'll talk conversions later. Right now,” he glanced up to where Leti held Tarsi at knifepoint, “we need to find Stahdler, then get you healed up.”

***

By the time they arrived back in town, Stahdler’s guard was freshly posted and disturbed by the scene that approached the commander's cabin.

“You have a lot of explaining to do”, Stahdler leered at a shackled Tarsi after Leti described the events at the waterfall. He stood as rigid as the wooden columns around them, still garbed for travel, and Syra couldn’t tell if his sour expression was truly from anger or his braids being too tight against his head.

He seemed to sense her questioning gaze and passed his judging eye over her, “As do you.”

“Pardon?” Syra stumbled in surprise as the icy stares of the guards turned on her.

“She didn’t know,” Leti said, stepping between them.

“Didn’t know what?” asked Syra.

“Didn’t you tell them? At the border?”

Leti’s eyes drooped, “I did not. My apologies, I didn’t think it necessary.”

Stahdler nearly left his seat, "You didn't think it was necessary?"

“Didn’t tell us what?” Syra asked again, now more frustrated than curious.

"For Erd's sake, Leti..." Stahdler fell back into his chair, massaging his temples. "Well, you might as well tell them now. Before they make it any worse."

Leti turned a solemn eye to her mage friend, “Magic is forbidden here. To use it without proper approval is illegal and warrants imprisonment. Or worse, depending.”

“Forbidden?” Syra’s jaw hung open and empty.

“How?” Aidan asked. “We ship mana stones to Falorn every year.”

“Out of bare necessity," Blythe said. "They worship different stones now. Dead ones.”

“But Blyth is a mage," said Syra. "And so was Rasu—”

“Blythe is under contract,” Stahdler corrected her. “A very loose contract according to him, but as long as he shares his work, they don’t ask many questions.”

“They’re just happy to be rid of me—don't want to admit that it's them and not the fish.”

“We know, Blyth. You’ve made your claim perfectly clear. Which is why you’re here.”

“So, you’d really hold us accountable for a law that you failed to warn us about?” Petra asked, resisting the urge to toss him across the room. “All we knew is that we were to come here to retrieve the shard.”

“The shard?” Whispers bubbled from the guards and Stahdler straightened.

“Leave us,” he commanded them, only speaking once they were alone.

“With respect, what does it matter?” asked Syra. “We are here for the shard, and that is all. We will happily leave when—"

“What does it matter?” Stahdler repeated. His arm fur bristled as his eyes narrowed on her. “Was it not magic that created those shards in the first place? Was it not magic that Gurn used to make his altar? Was it not, then, magic that led to Dorrak’s destruction and the death of thousands of dwarves? There were hundreds of nords in Dorrak that day. Some were kin. Ask them, what does it matter.”

He let his words steep in her ears and took a long sigh.

“Mana is a part of nature: it is as a part of the earth as wind is to the sky—this we know. But the use of it is not. Magic may seem like a kindly fire, but get too close or use too much and it has no mercy.” He pointed to the burn marks wrapped around Syra’s arm. “Even you have witnessed the risk of using too much at one time.”

“Too much of anything is bad for anyone. That doesn’t make it innately evil.”

“No, but it does invite overindulgence. People always want more. More food, more land, more power. Gurn could have been happy being the great alchemist that he was. But no. He wanted power. He wanted to rule his people—"

“He wanted to save his people.” A snarl threatened to scar Syra’s face and Leti placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I’m not going to praise his actions or debate whether magic is good or evil. But every book I’ve read speaks of the unrest Dorrak was going through at the time. Gurn was trying to find a way that he could help his people. Perhaps magic did make him evil—perhaps it was too much for him to handle and he went mad. That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that Marrak and the Black Thorn are in the same position. And if Marrak makes that altar, then we’re all as good as dead. So, instead of fighting over principles, why don’t we tackle the actual threat?”

Stahdler stared each of them down until his gaze rested on Leti’s reassuring hand on Syra’s shoulder.

“You will retrieve the shard and leave immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir."

“And no magic. I can’t have you calling attention to yourselves and getting the council involved. I doubt even Valen could save you then.”

“So, how do we get it if we can’t be seen?” asked Petra. “Surely it’s guarded.”

“It is. But the guard should be thin as everyone will be preoccupied with The Hunt. The shard is in a cave in the White Ridge Mountains. Unlike the Tal or the Kiithran, Dom actually sealed it away. The White Waste has devoured most of the land there, but a tunnel is maintained for posterity purposes—that will give you access. Leti will escort you to a safe location but stay within the western perimeter. Outside of that, I have no say. So, do not get caught.”

“Understood,” said the party.

“Good. Leti?”

“Sir?” Leti stood so rigid that Syra had a hard time believing they were siblings.

“Send word to Ariksi that we’ll be arriving after sunhigh, just in time for The Hunt. Hopefully this rain will clear by then.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and tell her to only expect you, Muhmuh, and four guests—you know how she is about dinner plans.”

Leti nodded but cast a suspicious eye towards Blyth, “You’re not going?”

Blyth wrinkled his nose as if to spit and waved his niece away, “I’ve had enough smoke and wine to last ten moons. And the last time I went I came back with a wife—now I have to deal with you two. So, no thanks. I'll stick to setting up nets.”

Leti just rolled her eyes with a sneer, “I’ll send her your regards, then,”

"I'll also need you to report on today's incident with Tarsi," said Stahdler. "The council might not trust your methods, but they do trust your judgement."

"Aiya, you know I hate paperwork."

"Blyth."

"Fine, but it'll be short."

"Thank you. Now, everyone get some rest. We leave for Falorn tomorrow morning."