“Ira! Wake up, old man!” The yell was accompanied by rapid knocking against the door. Despite all the noise the man just turned in his bed and continued to sleep, blissfully unaware of the world around him.

The knocking ceased and someone mumbled something that Ira would never hear on his side of the door, even if he were awake. Shortly afterwards the voice yelled again; this time it carried with it a dangerous intent of violence.

“If you won’t open this door I will!”

As no response came from the room beyond, the person that had so valiantly tried to wake the man by normal means sighed before giving the door a vigorous kick. The door obligingly detached from its hinges and fell to the ground with a loud thump. In the doorway was a woman in armour who, after blowing a few errant strands of blonde hair out of her face, directed her vermillion eyes to the man that still slept peacefully on his bed.

How he was able to sleep through all of this was beyond her, but it also mattered little at the moment; she needed him awake. Reaching out, she grabbed the blanket covering the man's body and, with more force than necessary, pulled it off him. Ira, who was wearing his traditional magician's robe, tossed and turned, trying to find where his beloved covering had disappeared to. His fruitless search took a while, but before long he opened his eyes only to spot a rather annoyed looking woman glaring at him.

“How can you sleep through all of this?!” she demanded. Ira just yawned. He knew it was pointless to argue with her once she got agitated, he was too old for that. Besides, he had been asleep! He had no idea what he had missed. Though, knowing that Laelia didn't usually get this upset over small matters, and also knowing that she understood how much sleep meant to him, whatever it was had to be highly important.

Ira braced himself for a prolonged lecture, but to his relief Laelia did not speak any more. Instead, she simply glared angrily at him. He heaved a sigh before responding. “And what, pray tell, have I...” His voice trailed off as his skin started to itch and his stomach started to churn, hellbent on emptying itself right then and there. Someone had done something seriously big or really – really – wrong. “Missed,” he finished weakly.

It had been a long time since he last felt something like this, and back then it had ended with a lot of people dead. The only hope he had was that this something different. He could do without another war against a self-proclaimed ‘Demon Lord’. Dealing with those – or the Heroes – was, and would always be, a pain.

“Oh, so now you notice it!” She was about to continue but a raised hand from the nauseous mage stopped her.

“Do we know what caused this?” While his insides were in turmoil, he would not waste his time with tending to mere physicality. There were more important matters to consider; something on this scale was bound to impact the monsters that called the nearby forest home.

“Not really, no,” Laelia responded, shaking her head. “All we know is that it came from the ruins.”

“Oh.”

Ira directed his eyes to the floor as he thought, trying to recall what the [Grandmaster] had told him about these ruins. As his memory was failing him and he was not inclined to waste more time he only had one option left. A wave of his hand, and a small expenditure of mana, produced a small rift. He reached in, and a few heartbeats later he pulled out a leather-bound tome.

A few years – or decades if he was honest with himself – ago, he wouldn’t have had to use this book, but living for one and a half centuries did take its toll. Moreso when you were not of a naturally long-lived race. Magic could do a great many things. If you ignored the constant danger you needed to put yourself in to keep the title, becoming a [Guide] was beneficial to your health. But, in the end, long life or no, you were still mortal.

Opening the book revealed a mess of papers that had been haphazardly pinned to the various pages. Laelia just shook her head upon seeing the chaos. “How does this thing even help you remember anything?” The old mage chose to ignore the woman in favour of turning the pages of his book. About halfway through the chaotic pages, he paused to read a note that had been written in an excessively cursive script.

“Oh,” he repeated, his shoulders slumping.

“That bad?” the armoured woman inquired, shifting her weight to the other leg. In response, Ira just nodded; if his guess was right this could be disastrous.

The ruins housed one of the oldest known [Catharat Crystals] and those tended to attract monsters, especially the older ones. Not just any monsters, as well – no common murderous bunnies or bigger wolves – but fresh, unknown beasts. Whether they were created in some manner or summoned from elsewhere, nobody quite knew, but the results were the same: the sudden appearance of undocumented evil monsters that were leagues stronger than the natural flocks.

Multi-headed hellhounds, living trees that wanted to eat you or, especially bad, those stabbing horses someone had dubbed 'unicorns'. Of course, there were many more creatures that would be attracted to these crystals. The abrupt rise in the ambient mana could only mean that the gem had summoned something quite dangerous indeed. Either that, or the crystal had actually been destroyed. The latter option was unlikely, as nobody would be stupid enough to actually brave their way through the ruins to get to the thing.

Ira’s eyes opened wide as he recalled a very important bit of information. He turned to Laelia who was having a hard time standing still. “Didn’t Inerlius take that Vinmaier brat and his mentor into the ruins a couple of weeks ago?”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She stopped, seemingly frozen in place as the significance of the matter dawned on her. Ira understood her feelings all too well. Should anything happen to that snobby noble, there was no telling what sort of retaliation would happen once his family found out.

But he had been accompanied by Inerlius and his friend, hadn't he? Together they should be able to survive most things that called the ruins their home. Should they find themselves in a bind, Inerlius was capable of getting them out.

Or, at least, that was the idea. The teleport did have a lengthy chant and, should Vigil deem the one trying to cast it unworthy, it could fail. Not that he would deny the ever-pious paladin; for that to occur something extraordinary would have to happen.

“You think they caused this?”

The ageing mage stroked his beard in thought for a moment before replying. “Not knowingly, I believe. Maybe they got too close to the crystal causing it to feel threatened.” He paused for a moment, grabbing the simple wooden staff that leaned against the side of his bed. “But that is only a guess. Despite the effort the church and the other [Guides] have put into research, we still don’t really understand how the crystals work.”

Leaning on the staff, he pushed himself off of the bed. “Though I believe you didn’t wake me just to hear me talk about things you already know.”

Laelia turned towards the door as she spoke. “You are right. As much as I’d like to hear about the thing that makes this place as dangerous as it is, I need you to check the wards.”

Ira only gave a grunt in reply; he had spoken enough for today. Should other people hear him idly chattering away, they would leap on the chance to ask for stories or other nonsense. Better to appear as an unsociable and perpetually grumpy old man. The only people he talked to were his fellow [Guides] and the paladins from the church; those people knew that the time he had left was valuable. Though, conversely, these people were the ones he actually enjoyed talking to.

As they made their way to the walls, they got the usual nods and waves from the people that called the small village their home. Most of them were completely oblivious to the change that had transpired, only a few of the more experienced individuals gave Laelia and him a questioning look.

To some this might seem weird. Why would a bunch of people who couldn’t fend for themselves choose to live right next to a forest with very deadly monsters? There were many reasons, chief among them the presence of the [Guides]. The individuals that laid claim to that title often brought their families with them, knowing that both of the major faiths would send people for their protection. It also helped that the [Guides] themselves were more than capable of dealing with the few monsters that actually left the forest, and this knowledge allowed the common townsfolk to feel more at ease.

Ira waved their concerns away for now; better not to cause a panic. He was not quite sure if his gut feeling was right yet, he would have to wait a little while longer. Most of the time it was right, but he wanted to be certain before saying anything. You could not take back what was said, after all.

That was something every [Guide] knew well: nothing is ever truly forgotten.

Some people would use everything they could for their own gain, lies and misinformation being only a few of the more tame methods at their disposal. He himself would not fill the world with lies. He had sworn a binding oath to it. Like his fellow colleagues, he would do his duty to the world and record what had really happened.

Their mission was to find and preserve the truth, whatever it might be, just as the [Grandmaster] had for centuries. The Book of Legends would not accept lies.

The view of the slightly cracked stones that formed the wall of this small village signalled the end of their short journey. It was time to perform his promised duty. While the stones might have been showing their age, the wards that were meticulously engraved into them did not. Each and every one of them was in pristine condition, ready to fulfil their purpose at any time.

Ira directed his focus inward, drawing a strand of his own mana from the well within his soul. The tiny string of magic flowed along his bones, dancing its way over his outstretched arm and into the staff he held firmly in his hand. Once the mana had reached its target, the small cracks that were omnipresent on the aged wood glowed briefly before fading again and a dimly glowing set of circles formed in front of him. The tingling sensation that followed used to bring so much joy, but now it was quickly overturned by the fatigue that so relentlessly chased after it.

With a slight wave of his staff, the circles began to merge, forming an ever more complex formation that seemed to have a mind of its own. The old man’s magic twisted and turned before coming to rest as a construct that didn’t quite want to belong in this universe. Parts of it turned in on itself in ways that should not be possible and would give some of the more inexperienced folk a headache they would remember for the rest of their lives. Other sections only existed if you did not look at them directly, almost as if the magic itself felt ashamed for breaking the laws of this world.

Ira stuck his free hand into the centre of the magic he had just brought forth, long accustomed to the mind-bending nature of it. With a twist of his wrist, the entire thing came undone. It dissolved into myriads of tiny strands that were gently blown towards the numerous engraved runes on the old wall. Upon contact, they melted into the stone, leaving the runes faintly glowing.

Nodding to himself he drew on his mana again, this time directing it to his eyes. His view shifted as the mana altered his perception of the world. The colours he knew were replaced by ones he could never describe or comprehend, but he still knew exactly what they meant. A look at the wall revealed the ordered chaos that was the [Ward of Fortification], something he was intimately familiar with. He did invent it, after all.

Seeing that the ward he had set up all those years ago was still as ready as the day he had made it, Ira looked into the forest. What he saw caused him to tighten his hold on his old wooden companion.

Unable to hold the spell any longer he let the remaining mana out of his body. He grunted, shifting more of his weight onto staff as a fine trail of mist flowed from his eyes. The after effects of this specific magic were not something he enjoyed.

Laelia shifted her gaze between Ira and the wall, concern in her eyes. “You should really teach someone else to do this.”

He just shook his head. “Nobody wants to learn how to make wards anymore. Divine protection can do the same and is a lot easier to use.”

“If you say so,” she replied. Turning her attention to the wall, she gestured vaguely at the fading runes. “Is everything fine with it?”

“Of course.” Ira gave a dismissive wave. “But it will not be enough.”

“Not enough?”

Ira sucked in a breath as he stared into the forest again. What the [Grandmaster] had told him was true and, while he knew the woman was rarely wrong, he had still hoped that she would be mistaken with this prophecy.

This would be his last truth to record, his last contribution to this world.

“Yes,” he replied. “Nothing will be.”