Wizarding Founders - Ban on Dark Magic

Many years ago, before Grovewell and all other Magical Plazas were founded, fear had gripped the whole country. The Nullkins, England’s non-magical population, had begun to witness horrors too grotesque to ignore. The disappearance of children and livestock, bloodied remnants of ritualistic scenes, and the unmistakable presence of dark magic began to surface across rural England. Dark practitioners, driven by the hunger for power, performed blood and bone magic and rituals, leaving behind macabre symbols carved into flesh and earth. This wasn’t mere superstition —the Nullkins had real cause for their fear.

It was John Barlow, a visionary wizard from London, who first saw the coming storm. John had witnessed the witch trials intensifying more and more; where innocents had been dragged into the fire along with true witches and wizards, most of them novices or too weak to be able to free themselves by magic. But now, the magic that had once been practised in secret was laid bare by the grotesque acts of the dark sorcerers. The Nullkins responded with fire and pitchforks, hunting witches not out of fear of the unknown, but from proof left by blood or bone sacrifices. Towns became battlegrounds, and innocent witches and wizards were forced into hiding.

Deep within the ancient woods of Temple Newsam, John summoned England’s most formidable sorcerers—both from the powerful Clans and Covens throughout the country. These witches and wizards, though wielders of extraordinary power, seamlessly moved among the Nullkin, their ordinary clothing masking the depths of their abilities. They led dual lives, working their subtle craft in the cities and villages, carving out reputations through enchantments hidden from the sight of non-magical folk.

For generations, magic had passed quietly from parent to child, along with powerful magical artefacts imbued with immense energy. Rituals and spellcasting, once conducted deep into woods and remote places, now took place in the magically hidden halls of their covens. Each coven, under the guidance of a High Priestess or High Priest, maintained a veil of secrecy to protect its most novice members from the fear-fueled persecution of the witch trials.

Clad in robes adorned with ancient symbols, runes or sigils of illusion, endurance and protection, witches and wizards gathered in silence. Their garments, transformed by magic when their powers were summoned, bore visibly intricate runes—shields against any sudden threat. These runes, woven into the very fabric of their robes, disguised their true nature from the prying eyes of Nullkins. The robes, long and flowing, concealed pockets where they kept smaller tools— notebooks, canes, fans, rings, staffs, or wands, each enchanted to amplify their magic.

When travelling, many added cloaks in colours that signified the elements they commanded—scarlet for fire, emerald for nature, and sapphire for water. These cloaks, more than mere garments, channelled the sorcerer’s connection to the elements, while ensuring they remained undetected in the mundane world. Even among their peers, only the most skilled could fully conceal their presence, moving like phantoms, unseen yet ever watchful, ready for the call to action.

Tonight, the forest was thick with towering trees, their branches twisting together in such a way that not even the moonlight could fully penetrate. John stood at the head of the small round table, they conjured for the gathering. John’s tall, slightly bowed frame etched with the passage of seven decades spent steeped in the mysteries of magic. His weathered face, lined with the trials of his long life, bore a wisdom that seemed to echo through the night air. His grey hair, neatly groomed, swept over his shoulders, while his piercing blue eyes, sharp and reflective, caught the flickering flames from the bonfires surrounding them, their warmth and light dancing across his features. His intricately embroidered sapphire robes, adorned with protective runes, shifted gently in the night breeze as he addressed the gathering, his presence commanding yet serene, a figure who had seen much and endured more.

"We are on the edge of oblivion," John’s voice rang out, echoing through the clearing. "Witch and Wizards across the country face extinction—not only from the persecution of the Nullkins, but from those who would betray us from within, revealing themselves by practising the most obscure and malevolent type of dark magic."

The gathered crowd fell silent as John spoke, each face marked with the fatigue of a life lived in secrecy. These were the few who dared make the perilous journey to the ancient woods of Temple Newsam, skilled witches and wizards, most of which were the High Priestess or High Priest of their covens, capable of cloaking themselves from the watchful eyes of patrolling authorities and casting magic without drawing unwanted attention. Their numbers had dwindled over time, yet they were a diverse assembly, varying in age, gender, and race, united by the burdens they carried. The weariness in their expressions was undeniable, the toll of unseen battles etched into their features, as they stood awaiting John’s words, their hope and fear hanging in the cool night air.

Among them stood Bakari Mwando, tall and commanding, his deep brown skin catching the light of the surrounding flames. His intense golden eyes glimmered with the knowledge of ancient magic, accumulated over years spent travelling the world. The green jewel atop his ebony staff, entwined with symbols of his homeland, pulsed softly, a powerful conduit for the protective spells of his ancestors. The golden runes etched into his dark brown robes flickered in the firelight, their glow a reflection of his mastery over defensive earth magic. Every inch of Bakari’s presence spoke of resilience and purpose, his journey carved into the runes that adorned his staff, a tool forged to protect and fight against the injustice he had long faced.

"The evil dark practitioners," Bakari rumbled, his deep voice resonating with the importance of his warning. "have made us all targets. Their reckless hunger for power has led them to bind dark magic through blood and bone, offering sacrifices to malevolent forces beyond our world. By seeking control, they have enslaved themselves to spirits of pure evil. Now, the Nullkins hunt us down, driven by fear and suspicion. If we do not rid ourselves of this corruption, we will not survive the upcoming persecution."

To Bakari’s right stood Arin Sorrell, his platinum blond hair catching the faint glow of the moon, its brilliance a stark contrast to the deep red of his ornate robes. The silver runes intricately woven into the fabric shimmered with latent energy, a testament to his mastery over wards and protective magic. Arin’s presence, imposing yet composed, radiated an air of authority, his intense gaze scanning the gathering with quiet vigilance. In his hand, he gripped a finely crafted cane topped with a softly glowing orb, with intricate carvings on its dark wood. His very presence seemed to anchor the circle, offering reassurance to those around him.

"We need a place of refuge if we want to survive this," Arin’s calm but authoritative voice cut through the tension. "A sanctuary where we can protect ourselves from the Nullkins. If we do not act soon, our magic will fade, hunted and destroyed by those who do not understand it."

Beside him, Maira Veylon nodded in agreement. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back in elegant waves, a striking contrast to her fair, porcelain skin. Her sharp green eyes, glowing with ancient knowledge, took in every detail with a calm yet commanding gaze. Known for her unmatched mastery in transformation and illusion magic. Her black robes, lined with crimson runes, shifted lightly in the firelight, while a silver serpent-shaped amulet rested against her chest, its moonstone core glowing faintly, an ever-present reminder of the dangerous magic she commanded.

"I am a practitioner of dark magic myself," she said, her voice soft yet unwavering. "But my brothers and sisters, in their reckless quest for powers no human should wield, have tainted the name of dark witchcraft. Blood magic, bone magic, sacrifices, and vile rituals—they have cast the worst of magic into view, and now the Nullkins fear us all. If these practices are not banned, sanctuaries will deliver us no salvation, we will be forced to live in fear. We can no longer allow this."

Linnea Blackwell, the youngest among them, stood quietly at the edge of the circle. Her fair complexion, lightly dusted with freckles, and calm blue eyes reflected the serenity she drew from her deep connection to nature. Known for her mastery of healing magic, Linnea had always devoted herself to using her gifts to heal both magical creatures and those in need. Dressed in simple green and brown robes that mirrored the woods itself, she carried an unassuming yet powerful presence, her silver ring with a dark obsidian stone faintly glowing, channelling the natural forces she commanded with ease.

"I must agree with Maira, though it pains me," Linnea said, her voice steady and calm. "However let us not forget that magic is rooted in life, in the natural world that sustains us. It is drawn from the earth, from the very forces of creation. We cannot allow those who twist it toward destruction to pull us all into ruin. We must stop them, strip them of their power before they destroy everything we stand for."

John stepped forward, his voice clear and resolute as he addressed the gathering.

"Let it be known from this moment on, a new law is forged—a law that will bind us and protect the future of our magical community. The practice of dark magic of blood and bone rituals, is henceforth forbidden. The practice of dark rituals to summon dark forces beyond this world, is also henceforth forbidden. The practice of dark sacrifices, performed to enhance dark magic or to appease spiritual entities, is henceforth forbidden under the new magical laws. Any who dare defy these laws shall face exile, or worse, be hunted by their own kind and stripped of their own dark power. The dark practitioners have brought ruin upon us, exposed us to dangers we can no longer ignore. Now, we close the door on these vile practices forever."

“Aye!” Around him, the gathered witches and wizards—about fifty in number—nodded in unison, their agreement resounding without a word spoken.

"I am afraid, however, that laws alone will not shield us," John continued, "We must create refuges, sanctuaries, hidden places where we can practise our magic in safety. From this day forward, we will create Magical Plazas and they will be our refuge—concealed havens deep within England’s remote forests, shielded by powerful wards from the eyes of the Nullkins and any who would seek to harm us."

The crowd of wizards and witches stirred uneasily, their voices hushed as they exchanged hurried words amongst themselves. A ripple of concern passed through the gathered sorcerers, eyes darting to one another. Arin, standing next to John, his brow furrowed in confusion, raised his hand for silence. He spoke, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of uncertainty.

"John, you speak of these Magical Plazas as sanctuaries for the whole magical community... but how do you intend to create them? The scale of such a feat—it would require immense power, planning, and time. Surely, this is not something one can accomplish alone."

"You're right, Arin. This is no small task.” John looked sternly around the group, he started to pace and voiced what was going on his mind, “The Plazas…. They will require more magic than any one of us can muster alone… It will be a great feat of both coordination and sacrifice. I envision each Plaza hidden deep within remote forests, fortified with wards so powerful that not even the most skilled dark practitioner or lost Nullking could breach them.” He stopped and gazed upon the gathering resolve in his eyes, “For this to succeed, we must find a way to pool our strengths."

John’s voice lowered as his gaze swept across the gathered witches and wizards, his expression stern but pleading.

"I will need volunteers. Those willing to dedicate themselves to this cause, knowing the risks. Once word of this spreads, those who practise the forbidden arts will seek revenge. They will try to destroy what we will build. And we must be prepared to face that."

The hall fell into a deep silence, the tension palpable as John's words lingered over the group, their meaning settling between them like an unspoken challenge. None dared move or speak. For many, the fear of retaliation was too great, their faces marked with uncertainty.

Then, after a long pause, Arin stepped forward, his footsteps measured but purposeful.

"I will help you, John.” He said, reaching for his cane—an ornate artefact, humming with stored power—and placed it firmly on the round table in front of John. “Together, we will forge these sanctuaries, and we will protect our people, no matter the cost."

John looked at Arin, a faint smile of gratitude forming on his lips. Before he could speak, Maira stepped forward, her eyes glowing with determination. She carefully removed her silver serpent amulet, the moonstone at its centre pulsing with magic, and placed it beside Arin's cane.

"My powers are yours. A dark witch against the evil dark magic. Those who wield it will never set foot in these sanctuaries. I will make sure of it."

Linnea followed Maira, she removed her ring and bowed to each one of them before speaking.

"Our magic must be a shield for those who are vulnerable.” Her face was calm but resolute, “I will help you achieve that."

She placed her obsidian ring on the table, her fingers trembling only slightly.

Bakari stepped forward next, his golden eyes filled with quiet strength. He produced his ebony staff out of his long sleeves, its green jewel glowing brightly, and placed it alongside the other artefacts.

"For the liberty of our kind, I will stand with you all." He added simply.

John scanned the faces of the rest of the group. But no one else moved. Fear still lingered in their eyes, and the threat of dark practitioners weighed too heavily on their hearts. John gave a slight nod, understanding their hesitation, before he turned back to the four who had stepped forward.

“We few, then.” He placed a short staff, intricately designed with twisted wood spiralling upward to a glowing orb onto the table. “We will seal this magical contract together. To create these Plazas, to protect our people, and to ensure that no evil dark magic shall ever breach the safety of these havens. We will carry this duty until our last breath."

As the five magical artefacts hummed with a collective surge of energy, they all extended their hands over the table. A soft glow enveloped the room as the magic surged upwards. John began the incantation to seal their bond, and as their powers intertwined, a magical contract formed—a vow that could not be broken.

"From this day forth, we are the Founders. We are the ones who are bound to the creation of the Magical Plazas, to guard and protect the magical society until death takes us."

The glow intensified, solidifying the pact. There was no turning back now

Wizarding Founders - Foundations

The summer night was cool and still, bathed in the ethereal silver glow of the full moon hanging high over the ancient woods of Temple Newsam. The heart of the forest seemed to breathe with life, as a fierce wind swept through, rustling the treetops. The air was full with the scent of moist earth and decaying leaves, a reminder of the wet summer that had soaked Leeds, leaving the ground saturated . This place, untouched by Nullkin eyes, thrummed with an otherworldly power. Tonight, the air itself was thick with magic, natural and raw, amplified by the brilliance of the moon above. Temple Newsam’s dense, untamed woods had always been steeped in ancient magic, but tonight, under the light of both Lammas and the full moon, its potency was undeniable.

Nine long years had passed since the Founders first gathered, each year filled with perils, secret meetings, rigorous study and meticulous preparation. They endured countless attacks in the aftermath of both the ban of dark magic and the creation of the plazas as the news spread through England's magical community. And so, they started travelling mostly together throughout the country, gathering knowledge and making sure their new magical laws were being enforced. During their travels, they came across a vital piece of information, an information that would aid and increase their powers ten fold.

That’s why they had chosen this night—this perfect alignment of celestial power. It was a night when the full moon and Lammas converged, marking a rare moment of immense magical energy. Now, under the luminous gaze of the moon, they stood ready to create the first foundation of what would become the first Magical Plaza. The time for planning was over; the time for action had arrived.

Anticipation was palpable as the five founders—John Barlow, Arin Sorrell, Bakari Mwando, Maira Veylon, and Linnea Blackwell—stood in a circle, facing the immense task before them. They had chosen to work in complete secrecy that night, determined to lay the foundation for something powerful without drawing attention or risking interference from potential attackers. They knew they were being watched—spied on and trailed from a distance. But they were clever, weaving false leads and abruptly changing their plans, using the ancient magic of phoenix feathers to discreetly communicate updates and mislead their pursuers.

Hours prior to the meeting, on his way to the woods in Temple Newsam, Bakari stopped to set up camp, even though the dark silhouettes of the ancient oaks and yews of Temple Newsam woods loomed only a few kilometres away, their gnarled branches stretching like twisted arms, casting long, eerie shadows upon the ground . He set a trap, feigning sleep at the campsite. He awaited an ambush, knowing full well his enemies would strike under the cover of darkness. When the time came, he single-handedly faced two witches and a wizard—dark practitioners skilled in bone magic, hailing from the treacherous moors of Pendle Hill, a place still notorious for its vile witchcraft. With swift precision, Bakari struck them down, impaling his attackers with such a force that their spells scarcely had time to leave their lips.

Bakari was not a man to be trifled with. Though often silent and reflective, when he made a decision, nothing could sway him. He was not the kind to waste time playing cat and mouse with witches and wizards of such low calibre. The creation of the first Magical Plaza was too critical, too perilous to risk being compromised by bone and blood magic users. The power that the five Founders were about to summon required absolute focus, unwavering trust, and a bond that could not be broken.

Tonight’s ritual was fraught with danger, but Bakari and the others knew that failure was not an option. Their task—to establish the foundation of the Magical Plaza and its wards—was more than just a magical undertaking. It was the key to fortify and protect their kind from persecution and from evil practices.

"This is where it all began," Hours later, John’s voice finally cut through the stillness, steady yet carrying the depth of the moment. "The heart of Temple Newsam, in this very clearing we first stood as one, where we have sealed our magical contract. It is here that the first Magical Plaza will be born, where the magical community will find sanctuary for centuries to come."

His tall frame, though slightly stooped with age, seemed almost timeless under the moonlight. His grey, well-kept beard and hair gave him a stately, almost regal look as he held his short staff tightly, ready for the task ahead.

"It’s nearly midnight," Maira said, her voice laced with urgency. "The magic will be at its peak soon, and we must act swiftly." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she observed the gathering mist around them.

“The alignment of the full moon and Lammas tonight,” she continued, “is no ordinary conjunction. It’s an auspicious convergence of celestial forces—especially potent for spells of protection, nature manipulation, and transformation. On this night, the veil between realms thins, and the full moon amplifies the earth’s natural energies.” She swept her arm across the scene, indicating the ancient trees of Temple Newsam, their gnarled branches seeming to hum with life.

“Yes. Keep that in mind, ” Linnea added, her voice grave with warning, “when our coven reaches the zenith of our powers as the clock strikes midnight. Our magic will be amplified, combined with the influence of Lammas and the full moon. This is what will allow us to channel mystical energies beyond our usual limits.”

“However beware,” Linnea warned, her expression darkening. “These energies aren’t to be trifled with. The alignment tonight can overwhelm even the most experienced casters, if not properly controlled. You must guide the magic—let it flow through your magical artefacts, not through your body. Our amulets, our talismans, they’re the conduits. Let the magic surge through them, and only through them. If we fail to contain it, the magic will consume us.”

Her gaze swept across the circle of the founders, each gripping their own enchanted relics, faces shadowed with both anticipation and fear. They nodded silently in response, reassuringly looking at each other.

“We’ve planned for this moment for 9 long years.” Arin said in reassurance. “The wards we’ll create tonight will be able to protect this plaza for centuries to come.”

A shiver ran past their circle. All of them closed their eyes, they felt it – the power, the energy, the pleasure that the Lammas midnight brought by enhancing their magical attunements. They glanced at the stars overhead, the full moon directly above. John nodded once more, then turned to the others, his eyes sweeping the group.

"It’s time. Each of us has a role to play. We need this Plaza to be undetectable by the blood and bone practitioners and the Nullkins as well."

They exchanged determined glances, they knew what to do. Each of them had sacrificed much to reach this point. But this night was about more than just survival—it was about hope for a future where magic could thrive in secret.

Linnea Blackwell stepped forward, her bare feet sinking slightly into the damp soil of the clearing and the green and brown robes she wore, blended seamlessly with the towering trees that surrounded them.

"The trees will offer us both physical and magical shelter," she murmured, her voice soft. Her gaze flickered with quiet determination as she knelt on a patch of bare, moist earth, fingers brushing the soil reverently, almost as if communicating with the land itself.

"The woodlands have long been our protectors," she continued, voice steady. "They’ll grow as close as possible in a circle around the Plaza, forming a natural barrier that no Nullkin will ever be able to penetrate. Their roots will intertwine beneath us, connecting with each other, enhancing the wards casted on them and fortifying our defences."

As her hands sank deeper into the cold, rich earth, Linnea whispered the incantation that would awaken the forest’s trees into life. The dark obsidian jewel of her silver ring glowed, responding to her chant.

“Arbores Consurge... Nexus Naturae... Vallum Vitae!”

Her voice took on a rhythmic cadence, each word reverberating in harmony with the pulse of the earth, a sound like a deep heartbeat beneath her feet . Slowly, the ground trembled. The roots responded to her call, glowing faintly as the magic flowed through them.

Around her, the trees stirred to life. Ancient oaks and elms that had stood tall for centuries stretched their branches toward one another. New saplings, seemingly summoned from the very essence of the earth, pushed their way up through the soil. Their trunks thickened, branches creaking as they twisted together, forming an interlocking wall of wood and leaves. The trees obeyed Linnea’s command, weaving themselves into an impenetrable circle of protection, their roots growing deep and wide beneath the surface.

The Vallum Vitae, the Wall of Life, was a grand high level spell, crafted by Linnea herself. It created no mere physical barrier, it was a conscious, living defence, bound by Linnea’s profound connection to nature and flora magic . The trees would not only stand guard but would also aid any protective wards, for their roots and branches would act as conduits for any defensive magic .

The air surrounding them shimmered with latent magic, as the trees were growing and positioning themselves. As planned, John went into action, raising his staff. His eyes closed briefly as he concentrated on the flow of the moonlight’s strengthening power.

“We will need a spacious room… For that my Spatii Immensi Enchantment will suffice.” he said firmly, his voice carrying a note of pride. “This clearing is way too small for what we must achieve, I will finally be able to cast the Boundless Reach Enchantment to its full potential.” He added more to himself than to the others.

Without hesitation, he muttered a complex enchantment under his breath, drawing upon the ancient powers of spatial expansion . John’s staff’s crystal glowed a bright red light, while he drew a circle in the air, and when the red lines of the magical circle touched, the very fabric of reality seemed to stretch. John pierced the circle with his staff, his lips moving nonstop and stood there holding it like a torch. Instantly, the clearing grew, expanding beyond what the eye could see. The distance between Linnea and the others increased even though none of them had moved.

Arin, Bakari, and Maira watched in awe as the space within the forming circle of trees grew larger and larger, becoming a vast expanse. The magical red circle above them, started to shrink its size slowly, coming closer and closer to John’s outstretched staff, as the space inflated. From the outside, the grove would still appear as a simple patch of woodland, but within, it had transformed into a vast arena, large enough to house hundreds . The trees themselves, running around the expanding clearing, continued to grow taller, their branches bending to form a partially overhead canopy that casted the clearing in shadows .

Linnea, still kneeling with her hands deep in the soil, finally opened her eyes and inspected her work.

“Graceful,” she whispered, though her voice echoed in the immense silence of the newly formed space. Noticing that, she stood up and realised that the others were not there anymore. They stood a kilometre away, in the centre of the new enlarged clearing. She looked aghast and waved to their tiny figures far away. Noticing her waves, with a flick of his wrist, Arin summoned her to join them, and in a heartbeat, she felt herself being pulled gently toward the centre.

She landed gracefully in front of the group, blushing slightly as John gave her a confident smile.

"Nicely done," he said, sounding a bit tired. Linnea returned the smile, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of the enchantment she just performed and the quiet moment that passed between them.

Bakari Mwando stepped forward, breaking their shared glance. It was his turn now. His dark skin gleamed in the low light as he walked barefoot, drawing a circle around the group with his staff . He moved with the surety of one who understood the earth, each step deliberate as if he was following instructions whispered to him by the forces beneath their feet. He positioned himself in the middle of the circle.

“Stay inside of this circle and be quiet, please.” He informed firmly and with a single flick of his staff, he started his enchantment. Around them, on the edges of the clearing, the trees continued to slowly form a living, thick wall, their trunks growing close together but leaving narrow gaps between them. Linnea’s enchantment was still in effect.

“Petrae Nigrantes Surgite…” His voice rang out with authority as he chanted and the soil beneath him responded to his presence as though recognizing its master. A deep, resonating hum rippled through the air, vibrating with the primordial energy. The ground shuddered strongly around them, as rich black marbles began to rise from the soil, leaving big openings scattered on the ground. Yet, inside of the circle, not even a grain of earth moved.

“Surgite Ad Cingulum… Fatum Sculpite!” Bakari's voice thundered through the night. A pale green magical charge flowed from Bakari’s staff to the stones, dancing between them as they ascended in unison and moved as if alive. They shot across the huge clearing like cannon balls, slipping into the gaps of the growing trees with a deep rumble, each piece reshaping itself fitting perfectly into the gaps, forming an unbroken circle of stone and living wood - a seamless, protective wall around them.

Light from the moon glinted off the polished surface of the marble, power seemed to radiate from the wall, an invisible force pulsing outward like a heartbeat.

Without stopping, Bakari’s deep voice rumbled with authority as he lowered his staff towards the ground, its emerald stone gleaming brightly.

“Invocatio Lapidum Cingentium…, or The Stonecraft Invocation is surrounding us with physical walls.” He positioned his staff exactly on top of the circle line drawn by him on the moist dirt.

“Now, the earth itself will give forth our foundation.” A visible green and earthy brown magic current surged from the ground, curling around his staff.

“Terra Excita… Saxa Ascendite… Fundamenta Fatis Natis!" He closed his eyes while chanting, letting his staff go. It stood there, like it was glued to the floor.

The grassy ground shook more violently as massive slabs of marble, granite, and other stones began to sprout out of the soil. Closing the holes that the black marbles have left and moving like wails floating on the sea. The stones, each unique in colour and shape, started to form four mosaic roads on the floor, stretching themselves towards the encircled edge of the clearing, only leaving small gaps where the earth and weeds were still visible.

"The Ground-forged Invocation brought up stones that will ground us, fortifying the soil we walk on. Invocatio Terraefabricata is a natural barrier to any attack from below. I will keep up guiding the spell. As we’ve discussed you can now move freely over the formed stone floor." Bakari said, his voice filled with conviction as the newly formed stoned roads reached the edges and began to expand, filling in the gaps on the moist grassy ground of the clearing.

Maira, Arin, John and Linnea left Bakari’s circle behind and walked down the stone road leading to the north. They headed back to the newly created living wall of thick tall trees and embedded black marbles, checking the progress so far. They still could hear Bakari’s chantings coming from the centre of the clearing.

“What about the magical entrance to the plaza? Wasn’t it also a sort of an alarm, warning us of any unwanted entry?” Arin said, his voice steady but with a subtle urgency. His keen, pale eyes scanned the towering wall of trees and black marble in front of them, evaluating the barrier they had erected, as his fingers absently traced the runes on his coat.

Maira Veylon stepped up beside Arin, her dark long robes billowing gently in the cool night air.

“Oh yes, my recent creation, the Watchful Gate Cloak. I almost forgot. Sorry…” She smiled faintly and she directed her attention to the largest black marble stone on the northern side of the clearing, nearest to them.

“The Custodia Portae Vigilantis cloak will be able to alert us to any unauthorised presence passing through the entrance. I’ll reshape the stone and while doing it, I’ll weave the ward into the entranceway itself.”

Her fingers twitched slightly as she touched the moonstone on her silvery necklace and with a subtle wave of her other hand, the huge black marble stone began to twist and reshape itself under her command. Strings of energy surged, flowing from the moonstone weaving around her casting fingers and towards the reshaping marble. The surface smoothed and stretched upward, forming into a grand archway that seamlessly fit with the living wall of trees and marble. As it reshaped, the strings of energy seemed to carve runes that would be swallowed by the stone, leaving no marks behind its smooth surface. Now, it stood as an archway and a focal point for the future plaza, elegant yet strong.

“There,” Maira said, sweat forming in her temple. She stepped back to admire her work, her voice tired yet filled with quiet satisfaction. “A warded entrance befitting such a place.”

The archway gleamed in the moonlight, standing as both a gateway and a sentinel for the enchanted vallum vitae.

“Maira, if you don’t mind, I have an idea,” said Linnea smiling, standing nearby. “I’ll add something to it. My own Vallum Silenti Vigilia.”

Maira nodded in understanding as Linnea touched the stone of her ring and closed her eyes, drawing from the power encircling and flowing through them. She stepped forward, placing both hands on the archway, and whispered an enchantment. From the base of the arch towards the outside of the clearing, bamboo saplings began to sprout, their thick stalks weaving upward to form a tunnel-like entrance. The branches arched overhead, creating a natural ceiling.

"Now we have a proper entrance hallway," Linnea said, stepping back, satisfied. Maira nodded to Linnea admiring her work and Linnea explained her intentions to the group. “The Silent Sentinels Wall is a powerful charmed wall and it will act as a first in-and-out-bridge, with witches and wizards travelling in and out to its beginning. When an unwanted presence is detected, the sentinels silently close off the passage, trapping the intruder within their grasp, holding them in place without harm but preventing escape. It’d give us enough time to act.”

“Nice improvisation. I think we are almost finished laying the foundations for the future plaza.” John said loudly as he noticed Bakari walking towards them, his enchantment to lay the stone floor across the whole clearing clearly over. “We still need to seal this clearing magically. Especially the entrance and its hallway. We will need strong illusions, cloaks and wards.”

“Ah! Finally is my time to shine! I’ll take care of the illusions with dark magic!” Maira exclaimed, seeming eager to use her magic against the evil dark magic practitioners. She paused and turned around, unsure if she remembered correctly. “Umbra Sigillum will take care of our problem, I reckon?”

She looked at Arin, her gaze inquiring. they both have created that spell, best to be performed by a dark caster. He simply nodded in affirmation. She smiled and turned to the wooded wall, her fingers gliding smoothly as she traced intricate runes up in the air before her. The serpent amulet around her neck came alive, its emerald glow intensifying. As her movements continued, the runes materialised before her, shimmering with a pulsating purple light, each symbol weaving itself into the fabric of the dimly lit space.

"These Shadow Seals will hide and cloak this Plaza in plain sight, I will place them in each stone and at each entrance," Maira said, her voice low and concentrated. "They will also serve as an outside warning system—an alert to us if anyone approaches by foot and with ill intent."

Hundreds of runes shone brightly in front of her, some changed their shape continuously and others came in and out of focus. Maira raised her hands towards the runes. Then she performed some complicated gestures, touched her moonstone and threw her hands rapidly towards them. They responded immediately, streaking through the clearing like small purplish shooting stars swift and vibrant. The runes darted toward the archway, and toward every stone of the walls. Upon contact, they fused into the surface, embedding themselves deeply, as if sinking into the very essence of the structure and forming a protective barrier.

Arin Sorrell stepped forward, he placed his free hand gently on Maira Shoulders. His magical artefact, a masterfully crafted cane, its shaft carved from blackened oak and inlaid with silver filigree that spiralled toward the top. At the crown of the cane rested an orb, encased in ornate metalwork, glowing faintly with contained magical energy.

"Nice job, Maira. You should rest. Now it’s my turn," he murmured, his voice low but determined. "Let us place the shields, barriers and wards against those who are not welcome in this plaza."

Wizarding Founders - Magical Wards

The full moon still hung high above the ancient woods of Temple Newsam, casting a silver sheen over the Magical Plaza’s foundations, where the founders gathered around Arin. Each face, etched with experience and weariness, turned toward him in anticipation. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, deep breath, feeling the pulse of magic surrounding him.

“Laminae Telluris… Nexus Antiquorum…. Revelamini!” His lips moved in a soft chant, barely audible at first, the words rolling from his tongue in a melodic rhythm. The ground hummed, alive with the currents of ancient power that flowed unseen beneath the earth. His eyes snapped open, and they shone a vivid, unnatural green—an eerie glow that caught the attention of all present, not sure of what Arin was attempting to achieve, they stared.

"There," Arin whispered to himself, looking at the mosaic stone floor before him. "I can see them." He looked around, his gaze following something invisible. The others shared weary glaces, as they witnessed Arin’s strange green eyed appearance, moving around and following something they could not see.

His feet moved with purpose, following invisible lines, only visible to him. His arduous study and travels proved once again right. He could see them, as clearly as the books had promised. The ley lines surged beneath them, glowing faintly underneath the earth, only the shimmer of their ancient and potent energy flow was visible through the damp earth and stone laid across the floor. But it was more than enough. Arin followed the flow toward the centre of the Plaza’s Foundations. It went on a straight line, from north to south, passing the newly erected entrance archway, weaving beneath the tree roots, a source of unimaginable power. Arin’s sharp eyes followed the course of the energy, and he nodded to himself. His steps quickened as he decided on where to cast his protection spells. He could hear 4 pairs of steps following him closely.

“Prepare yourselves,” he said, without looking at the other perplexed founders, his voice steady. “I will wield strong magic to create these wards, they will be powerful and everlasting. You should stay close to me and try not to interact with the energy flow.”

“Bakari,” He said, producing a tiny book from his pocket and handing it to Bakari, without stopping to follow the lines. “If anything goes wrong, you can follow the instructions in my handbook. The spells I will be casting are detailed written on the pages sixty-seven to eighty.”

Bakari accepted the book, without hesitation. As Arin arrived at the same spot Bakari had drawn a circle on the moist soil before. Now the circle was a vivid colour of a mosaic stone floor. He stopped and looked around. The flow of the ley line branched in different directions.

“Interesting,” He muttered and finally looking up he added an undertone. “Brace yourselves.”

As he spoke, his appearance took on a mystical air. His already sharp features seemed almost ethereal in the moonlight and the green glow of his eyes, casting shadows on his face. He raised his cane high above his head, its worn wood gleaming, and taking aim, with a single, powerful motion, he drove it into the ground between the space of two stones at the exact centre of the mosaic circle. A resounding thud echoed through the clearing as the tip of the cane struck the earth, the runes etched into its surface glowing with an intense reddish and greenish hue.

“Virtus Terrae, Vinculum Vitae…” Arin started to chant immediately, his voice grew louder, more insistent, as he chanted the words repeatedly.

“Nexus Telluris… Fatum Cinge Nos…”

His hands gripped the top of the cane, his knuckles white, his skin shimmering faintly as the magic coursed around him. The ground beneath him trembled, responding to the surge of energy. His entire body began to glow with a radiant greenish aura of power that spread outward from where his cane was embedded in the earth.

“Animum Da!”

From the point of contact, visible vines of pulsating green and red light began to snake their way across the ground, winding their way through the roots of the trees and the ancient marble stones that formed the perimeter of the plaza. The vines seemed to spread while curling around each stone, and each rune etched to it, casted by Maira, glowed intensely. The magic expanded onwards, alive and sentient, twisting and curling like the branches of an ancient oak. They reached the Vallum Vitae and each vine glowed brighter with every passing second, their tendrils darting upwards anything it touched and wrapping around the archway, the bamboo wall, the black marble and the trunks of the towering oaks, encircling them all in a protective coil of light.

Then, with a sudden burst of raw energy, the first ward was cast. A brilliant explosion of red magic erupted from the base of Arin’s cane, expanding outward in a dome of fiery light that enveloped the entire plaza. The edges of the stones beneath their feet burned with the intensity of the magic, searing them with new intricate, glowing runes—symbols of protection and concealment. The wards took hold, anchoring themselves to the very essence of the grove, embedding themselves deep into the fabric of the land.

Without hesitation, Arin unleashed the next wave of defensive magic. One after another, the spells came in quick succession, adding layers upon layers of magical barriers. His feet slowly lifted from the ground as the sheer force of the magic being enhanced by ley line's power buoyed him into the air. He hovered above the earth, his eyes still glowing fiercely as the magic swirled around him in a whirlwind of fire and light. His voice unwavering and reciting chant after chant. Words of power that seemed to resonate through the crackling air.

A column of bluish light shot into the sky from Arin’s cane, piercing the heavens and expanding into a glowing orb that hovered high above them, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the entire clearing. The orb pulsed with energy, its light reflecting off the rows of black stones etched between the trees that formed the natural boundary of the plaza, sealing it shut like a lid atop a sacred vessel.

Rings of flame began to emanate from his cane, expanding outward to form a massive magical circle beneath him, then passed through the other founders, like they were made of air. They felt it but it didn’t harm them. Runes inscribed within the circle glowed with an intense, fiery brilliance, each one, a symbol of warding and protection.

"...In aeternum," Arin intoned, his voice resonating with finality. The words lingered, potent and unbreakable, locking the magic firmly into place.

The flames began to die down, the glowing tendrils of light retracting into the ground, their job complete. Slowly, Arin descended from the air, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the immense power he had just channelled. He landed softly on the earth, his feet touching down with barely a sound. He held on to his cane, still stuck to the ground, and slowly sat on the floor. The entire foundation seemed to finally lay still, the lingering scent of magic curling through the space, but the wards were visible from the inside, the layers upon layers forming a bluish see-through dome and they held firm, silently maintaining their protective embrace—strong, eternal, and unbreakable.

The other founders stood in awe, their faces a mixture of shock and reverence at what they had just witnessed. John, the eldest and most seasoned among them, stepped forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. Bakari, pale and silently, unsealed Arin’s magic book, the handbook seemed to expand and he flew over the pages, looking for the spells Arin just conjured.

"I have never seen such a portrait of high level magic in all my days!" His voice was filled with wonder. "How were you able to conjure and maintain such power?"

Arin, utterly exhausted, leaned his back heavily on his cane, which was still embedded in the earth. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with fatigue.

"During my travels," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I uncovered something... something ancient. Witches and wizards have been drawn to this place for centuries, not by chance, but because of what lies beneath our feet."

Bakari, reading Arin’s spellbook in awe, his dark eyes flashing with understanding, looked up and stepped forward.

"The ley lines," he said, his voice filled with realisation. "You found them? Did you tap into them?"

Arin nodded weakly, his eyes still glowing faintly green from the spell.

"Yes," he murmured, a small, exhausted smile playing on his lips. "The ley lines... I used their power to create the plaza’s wards and protective runes. Our magic now is powered by them. These wards will last for eternity. Any dark wizard who dares to cross the plaza’s threshold will be stripped of their powers... and destroyed."

"Brilliant," Maira whispered, a smile crossing her lips. "But this took a great toll on you."

With that, Arin’s strength finally gave out. His eyes fluttered closed, and he slumped against his cane, falling into a deep sleep, his body spent from the overwhelming power he had just wielded.

Linnea, already kneeling beside Arin, placed her healing hands on his forehead.

“He won't be able to repeat this anytime soon,” she said, her voice soft but concerned. “It took too much out of him. He is extremely weakened.”

“Then it falls to us,” Bakari said, his voice filled with resolve. “Ley lines are actually one of my areas of interest. If we work together, basing ourselves on Arin’s findings,” He held Arin’s book up for them to see. “We can tap into them without suffering the same consequences he has. And we will be able to expand this Plaza, outside the convergence of Lammas and full moons, creating living quarters and structures to house all of us.”

The founders exchanged glances, their hearts filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension. They nodded, their resolve solidified. They had laid the foundations of the first plaza and decided to name it - Grovewell, the first step in a long journey. The magical community would endure, hidden from the world, protected by the very earth and ley lines beneath their own feet. Arin, Bakari, Maira, John and Linnea, the founders of the plaza, had witnessed the birth of something extraordinary — but they knew that their work was far from finished.

Expansion of the Plazas - Ley Lines

The ley lines, those ancient and mysterious rivers of magic energy, flowing unseen beneath the earth, were the lifeblood of the Founders’ grand plan. Their power surged through the land like a network of energy, binding together locations that would soon become the heart of the magical world. Grovewell was but the first, however it was vital—a sanctuary of magic, hidden from the eyes of Nullkins and dark wizards alike.

Months had passed since the first stone was laid in Grovewell’s Plaza. Each Founder had contributed their unique magic to fortify and expand the Plaza, weaving their power into the very stone itself. Linnea and John worked together. They had woven the very trees and soil into the foundation of the Plaza. The timber-framed houses and stone-walled storage buildings that lined the outer edges of Grovewell, were not merely constructed—they were grown, coaxed into existence by Linnea’s deep connection to the natural world. John expanded the inside of those structures, grating them various spacious rooms, while the outside maintained its size. Each structure surrounding the plaza felt alive, their roots intertwining with the ley lines beneath the ground, powering them to the magic that flowed through the earth.

Arin, ever the meticulous protector, had carefully created wards into every building, every stone. His hands, calloused from years of casting, worked with precision as he carved runes of protection and concealment into the very bones of the Plaza. The air around him hummed with power as his wards came to life, forming an invisible barrier that would keep dark wizards at bay. No one could enter Grovewell with ill intent—not without feeling the sting of Arin’s wards.

Now, the last structure was nearing its grand completion—a circular chamber that stood at the heart of the Plaza, radiating magic. The Council Chamber was more than just a meeting place for the five founders; it was their home, a marvel of magical craftsmanship. Five towering spires encircled the main structure, each connected by powerful wards and enchanted runes, their magic pulsing faintly in the cool air. The spires, home to the Founders themselves, stood as guardians of the chamber, their magical protections woven into its foundation.

At the heart of the plaza, in the same spot where Bakari drew a circle months prior, this circular stone chamber was an architectural feat, seamlessly merging the ancient oak trees into its design. The massive oaks were taller than the spires themselves. They were created with Linnea’s nature magic, bent inward protectively, their branches forming a natural dome overhead, creating a canopy that shielded the chamber from the outside. Moonlight filtered through the leafy branches, casting an ethereal glow across the stonework.

Within the chamber, torches flickered with blue magical flames, casting a soft glow over the scene. Two grand fireplaces, embedded into opposite ends of the chamber, burned brightly, their flames sustained by a continuous enchantment. Their heat mingled with the hum of ancient power that filled the room, a silent testament to the strength and unity of the Founders who had built this sanctuary. The Founders convened around the round tablet that encircled a large stone map of England etched into the floor. The invisible ley lines converged and branched out deep beneath the map like the arteries of the earth. They knew they coursed there, and it was the perfect location to tap into them, if necessary.

John Barlow knelt at the centre of the chamber, his hand resting on the stone map. His face held a determined expression. He scanned over the map, tracing the points where their next sanctuaries could be created.

“We cannot rest,” John began, his voice low but resolute, echoing in the chamber. “Grovewell is nearly completed, but it is only the first step. If we open this sanctuary to the magical community and it falls, we must have others to stand in its place. The dark practitioners are out there, waiting for any sign of weakness.”

Beside him, Bakari sat in his chair, quietly reading a thick book about ley lines. His figure exuded a calm authority. His skin, dark as night, contrasted against the flickering blue light of the fire torches, while his sharp eyes reflected the glow of the ley lines drawn on the map beneath them. Bakari was a man of few words, but when he spoke, he was direct and precise.

“That’s true enough, John,” Bakari intoned, his eyes darting from the book to the map. “And to achieve that the ley lines will be our guide.”

John looked at him puzzled. He waved his hand over the map, a sweeping motion. The map beneath their feet shimmered in response, and dozens of greenish glowing points began to emerge over the map and connect with faintly shimmering lines.

“Look. Those bright cross sections of many lines. That’s where their powers converge the most. Those are the places we must aim for next.”

John and Bakari swept their gazes across the stone map, the lines of power glowing faintly beneath them. The cross sections were many, and only a few of them could be located hidden deep within ancient forests and sacred lands. They were places where magic had long slumbered, its presence forgotten by the non-magical world, yet still pulsing beneath the surface like the heartbeat of the earth.

John’s gaze followed the points of light. He raised his hand, pointing toward a glowing spot near London.

“Epping Forest,” he said.“Sherwood in Nottinghamshire, and The New Forest in Hampshire. These could be the next.”

At the edge of the chamber, Maira stood by one of the fireplaces, warming herself. She nodded in agreement, her serpent-shaped amulet glowing faintly.

“Sounds possible. John, we shouldn't forget that each plaza will need its own wards,” Maira said, her magic was one of illusion and transformation, but her mind was always focused on protection. She understood the importance of shielding the sanctuaries from prying eyes. “The Nullkins grow more fearful by the day, and the dark practitioners won’t stop. We must ensure the sanctuaries remain hidden. To achieve that, we must carefully study the next significant nights of magical power. The alignment of the full moon, the ley lines, and our own powers will be essential.”

“I agree,” Linnea replied. She walked around the table and knelt by John’s side. “We‘ll need to study the exact location and dates of a possible alignment. The ley lines are powerful, but their full strength can only be harnessed securely at the right time—on nights when the full moon and the earth’s magic are aligned.”

“That would be indeed more secure for us. I am quite sure that Arin would have been consumed by the sheer force of the magic, if our powers hadn't been enhanced by the alignment.” Bakari said, finally separating his eyes from the book, “We should begin with Epping Forest,” He continued, pointing to the brightest point in the map.

“You’re right!” John nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the location Bakari was pointing to. “There’s a dense ley line connection there, and it’s close enough to London to be of strategic importance, but far enough away to remain hidden.”

Arin’s brow furrowed as he considered Bakari’s words carefully. He was sitting across Bakari, peering down over the table to the map laid below. His posture rigid with apprehension.

“I’m not sure of that, we must remain cautious.” he warned, his voice low yet firm. “London’s full of dark wizards, we can’t know for sure which of them are evil casters. Now that Grovewell is about to open its doors to the community, we have no idea who might betray us. We must ensure secrecy—both in the dates and the locations.”

Bakari’s eyes caught the dim light of the chamber as he stood, his tall figure casting long shadows, the huge book grasped firmly in his hand.

"Aye, that is true enough, Arin," Bakari began, his gaze fixed on the great rounded marble wall that loomed behind the council table, "However, now let us advance further… now that I have found what I have been searching for."

His voice took on an edge of resolve, and without another word, he walked with purpose toward the ancient stone. The chamber, bathed in the soft glow of the torches lining the walls, fell silent as the other founders watched. They could sense the tension growing around them, an almost palpable force weaving through the space. Bakari placed his free hand upon the cold surface of the marble, closing his eyes in deep concentration. A faint hum began to resonate through the chamber, and the stone beneath their feet seemed to pulse in response to Bakari’s will.

“The ley lines fortify our protection, and that’s not enough to guarantee a longevity of an unwavering defence,” Bakari’s voice echoed through the chamber, breaking the silence, “The ley lines could also be used against us, by our enemies, or become a beacon attracting those seeking power. If the dark wizards learn of our plans, if they find another cross section, they could use the ley lines against us.”

Linnea, usually the most reserved of the group, took a step forward, her brown hair glinting in the flickering light.

"And what is it you intend to do, Bakari? Surely not tampering with the ley lines themselves?" Her tone was calm but carried a thread of concern.

Bakari turned to face them, his dark features illuminated by the soft glow now emanating from the wall.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“We must anchor the plazas to the ley lines. Tightly. Securely.” He extended his hand, the book started hovering in mid-air. Then, with a deft flick of his wrist, his ebony staff materialised, its polished surface gleaming.

“Are you serious? Do you intend to do it now?” asked Maira, perplexed.

“Yes. Our enemies won’t rest and we shouldn’t either.” He motioned his staff towards the wall behind him. “This rounded marble. The representation of Grovewell itself. This very same wall shall serve as the anchor—the ley lines will flow through it, like water through a watermill."

A murmur spread through the chamber, understanding dawning on the faces of the other founders. Yet, Arin’s expression remained steely as he stepped closer.

“Bakari, this is too spontaneous and it is extremely dangerous. You are not merely tapping into the ley lines as I once did—you plan to divert their flow entirely?”

“Yes, but only for a moment,” Bakari replied, his voice steady. “A brief detour—up through the circle and back down again. The ley lines will return to their natural course.”

Arin’s jaw tightened.

“I do not think this is wise. It is too dangerous.”

“That’s why I need your support,” Bakari pressed. "Follow my instructions, and we’ll make history.” He used the tip of his staff to draw pathways on the marble floor.

“John, see here” he said, showing the drawing on the floor to John, “you’ll help Linnea to guide the lines, splitting them and guiding them from my staff into those pathways.“

“Linnea,” he turned toward her, “once I diverted them, you and John will contain and then guide them, shaping the path while they flow. They must follow through the soil, toward the rock and then back down again.” He continued, while checking the book for details.

“You’ll have to invoke the magic by reciting the ancient tongue… Can you do that?” He showed her the lines of the enchantment.

“Yes. I am fluent.” Linnea said, memorising the lines.

“Perfect! Ok, then, Arin and Maira, you’ll lock the flow in place with powerful sigils and runes.” He showed them the drawings in the book.

“Arin, mind, you’ll have to carve the containment sigil into the stone with magic. There is no other way, do not interact with the ley lines while you carve the sigil. Concentrate on your own magic. Do you reckon you’re able to do that under pressure?” He asked sternly, his black eyes locking Arin’s blue ones.

“Certainly.” Arin held his gaze and lifted his chin slightly showing his conviction. Bakari, satisfied with his answer, turned to Maira.

“Maira, listen, create guidance and containment runes to ensure that the flow goes around in circles, this is crucial, the ley lines must circle the sigil before flowing back down.”

“I got it, it won’t be a problem.” She answered, already getting ready for action, knotting her long black hair into a bun.

Bakari positioned the book in front of him. It floated slightly up and down. Opened on the instructions page Bakari needed. He stood tall in front of his fellow founders. He looked at each one in turn and said calmly and reassuringly.

“Take your time and cast with caution. Don’t interact with the powers of the ley lines, we aren’t tapping into them, we aren’t guiding them, we’re simply guiding them. The flow should be like a watermill—an endless loop, circling in the stone and letting the ley lines flow back to their original path."

The founders exchanged hesitant glances, but one by one, they nodded in agreement. They moved to their positions, forming a circle around the towering marble wall. Arin and Maira flanked Bakari, while John and Linnea stood opposite, shoulder to shoulder, each bracing themselves for the immense magical task ahead.

“Bakari, are you ready?” John's voice broke the tension, laden with the risks of what they were about to undertake.

Bakari nodded solemnly, his grip tightening on his staff. He raised his outstretched arms forward, his both hands one over the other, grasping the staff. Its sapphire gem shone brightly. He began to chant repeatedly in a low, resonant voice, the casting words flowing from his lips like a river of magic.

“Laminae Telluris… Animum Da. Nexus Antiqui, Surge… et… Obedite!”

The chamber trembled as Bakari’s magic surged down from the staff, reaching deep into the earth, coaxing the visible flow of the ley lines upward, while their overflow spread through the floor, like spilled water. The runes carved into Bakari’s staff flared to life, their light pulsating in rhythm with Bakari’s chant. Slowly, tendrils of red and green light began to wind their way up from the overflow, like the roots of an ancient tree seeking sustenance. The ley lines seemed to respond to Bakari’s call, branching off slowly.

“Linnea!” Bakari’s voice boomed across the chamber, urgency in every word. “Enchant them!”

Linnea stepped forward, her long, flowing gown brushing the stone floor as she placed her ringed hand atop Bakari’s staff. She whispered an incantation in the ancient tongue, each syllable resonating with the primal magic of the earth.

“By root and stone, by soil and sky,

I call the ancient powers nigh.

Let ley’s light rise and follow through,

Guide the path I shape anew.

Up through earth, ‘round rock and tree,

Flow, old magic, at my decree.”

A deep hum filled the chamber, growing louder as the ley lines responded to Linnea’s guidance. The red and green tendrils of light surged swiftly upward. Bakari let go off his staff just in time. The energy began twisting around Bakari’s staff and coiling through the air. The ground beneath them throbbed with power as the overflow of the ley lines began to pulse in time with Linnea’s repeated chants.

The overflow of magical energy, spreading around the room, swirled slowly toward Bakari’s staff, the green jewel embedded at its top, glowing brighter, containing the ley line’s flow underneath Linnea’s outstretched hand.

“It’s working!” Bakari shouted over the rushing of wind and energy.

“John!” His voice rang out, as he looked at John. “Your staff! Split the flow!”

John hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his staff gripped tightly in both hands. He thrusted his entire staff between Bakari’s staff and Linnea’s hand, where the surge of energy was gathering, revolving around itself. John let go of his staff and started to chant the casting words.

“Divide fluxum… Flue sicut aquae… utrimque sequere!”

Bakari and Linnea exchanged worried glances as John’s voice rang out in the charged air, as the same time Bakari shouted, his voice frantic with alarm.

“No! no! John, stop! This isn’t right!”

But it was too late. The Founders tensely watched as the streams of magic reached out, winding their way toward John’s staff, their movement fluid yet unstoppable. But then, something went awry. The magical flow, instead of entering John's staff, began to coil around it, like serpentine vines constricting their prey. The grip of the energy grew tighter and tighter, binding the staff with a force too powerful to contain.

“John, reverse it! It’s wrong!” Bakari’s instruction, however, came already too late.

A sharp, resounding crack echoed through the chamber as John’s staff splintered, the wood snapping into two jagged pieces. A shockwave of raw energy exploded from the broken artefact, rippling through the room like the aftershocks of a great quake. Bakari and his book were flung backward, his body crashing hard against the rounded marble wall. Maira, standing nearest to him, lost her balance and collapsed to the ground, her robes splayed around her.

John barely managed to keep his footing, his hand reaching out instinctively to catch Linnea as the force of the magic pushed them both back. Together, they leaned against the torrent of energy, Linnea’s face set in grim determination, her eyes alight with the glow of ancient power. The ley lines, uncontrolled and furious, threatened to tear through the chamber, their chaotic light filling every corner with a blinding brilliance.

Reacting quickly, Linnea pressed her other hand on the ring she wore, her knuckles white from the effort, and began to chant in that same ancient tongue, her voice firm and unyielding despite the energy swirling violently around her.

“Roots of earth, heed my call,

Slow the power, intertwine,

Let ancient veins in silence bide,

Pause your course, slow the flow,

Veins of old, rest in peace,

Let all motion gently cease.”

Her words carried a resonant power, a force that vibrated through the very stones of the chamber. The energy responded to her chant, the ley lines curling beneath her hand as though obeying her will. Slowly the chaotic flow began to halt, the glowing tendrils of magic bending to her control. An expanding energy bubble formed under her hands, pulsating with barely-contained force, but Linnea held firm, her repeatedly chanting unwavering.

John, his breath ragged, supported Linnea, his arms bracing hers against the relentless push of the ley lines. Sweat beaded at his brow, but his grip did not falter. Together, they were a bastion of strength, holding back the tide that threatened to consume them all.

At the far side of the chamber, Arin struggled forward, each step a monumental effort against the torrent of magic. His tall figure cut through the storm of energy like a ship braving a tempest, his jaw set with iron determination. His cane, carved with ancient powerful runes of protection, glowed brightly in his hand as he fought his way toward the growing energy bubble. His brows knitted in concentration as he raised his cane, pressing the tip into the seething mass of energy between Linnea and Bakari’s floating staff.

“Morari Temporis!"

The magic crackled at his words, the ley lines’ violent pulsing seemed to slow down, but Arin did not falter.

“Bakari! Instructions!” he shouted, his voice barely audible above the roaring magic. Bakari, who had managed to regain his footing, stood once more with the book in his hands, his staff still floating ominously.

“Syphon it, Arin!” He shouted reading the instructions “One branch at a time! Draw it into the pathway that I drew on the floor!” His voice was hoarse, but filled with urgency.

Arin closed his eyes briefly, his grip tightening on his cane. With a swift, calculated motion, he twirled his wrist, and the energy obeyed, slowed by his timespell. One branch of the ley line’s chaotic flow was syphoned off, the greenish light spiralling toward the base of the rounded marble wall. The moment the energy touched the stone floor, the reaction was instantaneous. The ley lines surged like a river unleashed, spreading throughout the floor in thick streams of pulsating light, the timespell broken.

“John! Linnea! guide the flow!” Arin’s voice rang out, commanding and sharp. He did not dare to break his concentration yet, as he continued to manipulate the flow, his wrist twisting in precise, controlled movements. Linnea closed her hand into a fist, and using her ring, she punched the marble stone floor. John placed his hand on her back, leading her his magic. From the place where her ring contacted the floor, cracks began to form, carving deep into the stone and up inside the rounded wall. They came back from the other side towards them, following Bakari's drawing into the marble. The flowing lines of energy were drawn to them, coursing into the cracks and up into the wall.

“The Sigil, Arin!” Shouted bakari, trying to contain and slow down the flux of energy emanating from the floor into his staff. Arin, exhausted from performing time magic, used his cane to support himself towards the rounded wall.

With a deep, guttural effort, Arin carved a sigil of magical retention into the marble with the tip of his cane. Each magical stroke seemed to meet resistance, as if the very magic fought against him, but Arin pushed through, his jaw clenched with the strain. As the final stroke was completed, the sigil flared to life, locking the ley line energy in place. The magic hummed through the chamber, and for a brief, fragile moment, everything was still.

Then the wall began to shake.

“Maira, where are you? We need the runes!” Bakari shouted, noticing the increasing danger they were in.

Maira, still recovering from her fall, scrambled to her feet, her ankle strained. She limped from behind the wall, her hand instinctively reaching for the moonstone pendant around her neck. With a single determined breath, she started to chant, her hands tracing glowing symbols in the air. Bakari stepped aside, giving her room as she approached the marble wall.

But their task was not yet done.

John and Linnea, recovering from their exertion, moved swiftly to complete the pathways for the ley lines, to return safely back beneath the earth. With focused precision, they wove a flow pattern from the base of the wall to its sides, guiding the ley lines toward their intended course.

Maira stood before the wall, her hands still glowing with residual magic as she conjured rune after rune, her movements swift and exact. Each rune connected seamlessly with the ley lines, binding the energy and ensuring its flow. A dozen runes now floated in place, glowing with the same green hue as the ley lines themselves. With the final rune placed, the energy shifted, its wild nature subdued, flowing like water into the path John and Linnea had forged.

The ley lines, now tamed, pulsed rhythmically, flowing in loops around the magical sigil carved by Arin, and then back into the earth. The air crackled with the residual hum of power, the ground beneath their feet still warm from the magic that had coursed through it.

With a final pulse of energy, the ley lines left Bakari’s staff, now anchored to the round marble wall of Grovewell’s Council Chamber. Faint green lines remained, glowing softly, as the ley lines settled into their new course. They would flow in a controlled loop around the sigil, forever bound to the plaza. The sigil glowed brightly and the Founders could feel it, the magical energy being generated by the ley lines’ flow, enhancing their own magical powers and the protective enchantments placed in the plaza.

The tension gradually eased, and the Founders released a shared breath, their shoulders relaxing as the moment passed. Arin and Bakari exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Maira lumped back, her face flushed but satisfied with their work, while John and Linnea slumped against the nearest chairs, their bodies drained from the exertion.

“Now… with this,” Bakari’s voice was hoarse but triumphant, “We’ve anchored Grovewell to the ley lines. No force of dark magic will be able to breach our wards.”

“Good one Bakari,” Said Maira, sitting on a nearby chair. “But next time you want to blow the place up, warn us beforehand.”

They all laughed.

John wiped a hand across his brow, his lips quirking in a weary smile.

“Aye! I’ll be needing to fashion a new artefact…” His voice was laced with sarcasm. “Bullocks.”

Expansion of the Plazas - Council Chambers

Roughly two years had passed since Grovewell opened its gates to the magical community, its hidden entrance nestled in a forgotten alley behind a pub in the heart of Leeds. Only those who possessed the right Casting Words – specific magical words, witches and wizards would use to cast spells – could activate the portal, a protective measure to ensure that Nullkins or bone and blood wizards would not slip through, unnoticed. The enchanted words, spoken in hushed tones, unlocked the shimmering gateway, leading witches and wizards to the sanctuary that Grovewell had become. The Founders had worked tirelessly, and now their efforts bore fruit as the magical world gathered under their protection.

The newly liberated novice witches and wizards, once imprisoned by the Nullkins, had found solace within Grovewell’s walls. Freed by the combined efforts of the Founders, they had been brought back from the clutches of darkness, their weary faces slowly regaining hope. Yet, despite this triumph, the Founders knew that Grovewell was but the beginning of their endeavour. The Founders, now known as well as Council Members, ruled the magical community who sought refuge in Grovewell. In the Council Chamber, the air seemed to hum with latent energy, the anticipation of what battles still lay ahead ever present. Its walls lined with towering stone pillars, each etched with protective runes that shimmered faintly in the flickering torch light. Behind them, encircling the chamber was a vallum vitae with towering thick oaks and grey marble stones.

Bakari, clad in robes of pale maroon adorned with fresh green runes of protection, stood near the sigil-etched round wall at the back of the chamber, his hand resting lightly on the ancient stone. His connection to the ley lines had deepened over the years. And now, as he studied the arcane lines of energy that converged beneath the Plaza, he could feel their rhythmic pulse, a heartbeat of the earth itself. His understanding of these ancient currents, had allowed the Founders to anchor Grovewell to the larger magical world, creating a nexus of power that flowed beneath their feet.

The high silvery doors to the chamber creaked open as Maira entered, her steps purposeful, the pale moonstone pendant at her throat, gleaming faintly in the low light. Her dark hair was twisted elegantly, a contrast to her tired eyes and worried expression. She walked straight to the heart of the grand room, where a massive stone table stood, parted only slightly in the front, allowing access to a large, detailed map of England carved on the floor. She looked at Bakari, knowing fully well why he was inspecting the wall, she smiled and silently turned to face the round table. Around this table sat a few sparse chairs, their arrangement intentionally, signifying that only the most powerful and trusted sorcerers would ever hold a seat here. The five most prominent chairs, larger and more ornate than the others, were positioned at the head of the table—reserved for the founders.

“Gather up!” she commanded, her voice resonating with urgency. The absent Founders—Linnea, John, and Arin— seemed to appear from nowhere, responding to Maira’s summons. Bakari stood where he was, but turned to face the other Founders, who took their places in the front of the arched table, their expressions a mix of determination and weariness.

Maira bent at the head of the table, her hands resting lightly on the ancient wood.

“We must be cautious and act quickly. The attacks we've endured the past couple of weeks were nothing compared to what’s being planned.” she began, her voice steady. “The dark practitioners are growing bolder with each passing day. Their rituals grow more brazen—there’s been increasing evidence of children gone missing, animals found slaughtered in the forests, and traces of blood magic left in their wake.”

Her eyes darkened as she continued.

“My spies just informed me that they’ve gained knowledge of our plans to build other Plazas, and worse still, they plan to strike while we’re at it. They’ve sensed that we’re drawing power from a formidable source, though they’ve yet to discover precisely from where.”

“How?! How did they find out?” Linnea asked, her breath catching in her throat. Her hand instinctively reached for John’s. He squeezed her hand in quiet reassurance, his weathered face drawn with concern. The years had carved deep lines into his face, and his once-grey hair had faded to white, a testament to the trials they have been enduring.

“They’re not exactly sure.” Maira said, pulling up her chair to sit down, looking tired. “But they’ve sighted a known scryer in Newmarket.”

The Founders exchanged worried glances. A scryer witch could represent a real problem. Their master in divination, often using reflective surfaces to gain insight into the future or uncover hidden truths, could represent a breach into their security. “It’s an elderly blood witch from the north. They think the bone and blood sorcerers have employed her services and that’s why we’ve found remnants of young sacrifices around the outskirts of Newmarket. We have to capture her bef—”

“Do your spies know of the source?” Bakari interrupted her, his voice low and calm, but resonating like thunder through the chamber.

Maira, taken aback, turned to look at Bakari and shook her head, frowning.

“No. As far as I know, only the five of us are aware of the ley lines and their connection to the Plaza.”

Her eyes swept over the group, lingering on each of them, as if seeking any sign of doubt.

“I’ve thought of that and I’ve taken precautions. Last night, I worked until dawn, cloaking the sigil’s wall with a new illusion and engraving a cloaking rune of my own creation into the wall. No one, besides us, who enters this chamber will be able to see through it, nor discern the true nature of this power.”

She turned around again and asked.

“I reckon that’s what you were expecting, Bakari?”

He nodded in affirmation.

“It’s an intriguing spell. It surely works.” He said simply.

Linnea, seated beside John, leaned forward slightly trying to glimpse the round wall behind Maira, her soft brown eyes wide with admiration.

“You managed all that in a single night?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of awe and concern. Her brown hair, tied back into a simple bun, allowed loose strands to softly frame her face, highlighting her quiet, understated beauty.

Maira offered a small smile but quickly returned to the gravity of the situation.

“Yes, I took advantage of last night’s full moon. Even so, it was not an easy task. But now, at least, we have bought ourselves some time. They may know of our power, but they will not easily understand it.”

John nodded slowly, his sharp grey eyes reflecting the flickering torch lights.

“Still, we must remain vigilant,” he said. “We know not if they will be able to find out when we will create the next plaza, but we cannot afford to be caught unprepared until then.”

“Indeed,” Arin said, sitting on John’s right. He waved his cane and summoned a scroll from one of the shelves lining the chamber walls. The scroll hovered mid-air for a moment before settling gently on the table before them. He unrolled it carefully, his fingers tracing the script they had written nearly two years ago—the instructions for the next sanctuaries.

"Our next destination will be Epping Forest,” Arin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he read the details aloud. “The earliest and most suitable time would be in two months, on Samhain. October 31st.”

At the mention of Samhain, a solemn hush fell over the chamber.John frowned, his silver-white hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at the scroll, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Why Samhain again?” he asked, his voice gruff with the question. “Î know that the full moon will rise that night… and we know it is a night of heightened magic, but still… It is a night more suitable for those with evil intent.”

Arin nodded in agreement, though his gaze remained fixed on the scroll before him.

“I know, however, it's going to be the earliest possible occasion to create a new plaza,” he explained. “Otherwise we will have to wait another year. On Samhain, the veil between the mortal realm and the otherworld will be at its weakest, so the magic of that night will amplify our spells—especially the protections we’ll need for the new sanctuary. This time we’ll cast the wards first, and bound your vallum vitae, Linnea and your Spatii Immensi enchantment, John, to my wards. If we cast in this order, we’ll guarantee no unwanted interruptions.”

A brief silence followed, the founders deep in thought, contemplating the magnitude of what awaited them. The journey to Epping Forest, the danger they would face, and the complex power they would need to summon.

Maira broke the silence, her voice sharp with conviction.

“Anyway, we must prepare ourselves, not only for the creation of the new Plaza but also for the threats that’ll surely come along the way. We can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves with magic during our journey, even if cloaked. Powerful blood wizards are watching, and spies already have their eyes on us.”

“Have you considered the possibility of dark scryers?” John interjected, his voice tense. “They may be scrying our future even now—using mirrors or far-seeing spells to watch us.”

Maira met his gaze and nodded solemnly.

“I have indeed. As I said before, the bone and blood sorcerers and their scryers weren’t able to pierce all the way through our wards yet. However they’ve been experimenting and growing more radical. That’s why the cloaking rune on the wall was of utmost importance. It’ll shield us from prying eyes.”

Linnea stood up, her eyes closed in concentration. She raised her hands, and the trees surrounding the chamber responded to her silent command. The runes across the chamber shone a bright red light. They started to pulsate rhythmically as the trees’ branches stretched higher, weaving together more densely forming a protective dome over the Plaza. The sunlight wasn’t able to shine through anymore.

“There, the trees’ magic in this chamber are now intertwined with your protective runes.” She murmured, her voice barely more than a breath, resonating with the power of the magic she commanded. “They’re forming a barrier that no scryer can ever penetrate.”

The air in the chamber seemed to hum with energy, a sensation that tingled against the skin of those gathered within.

“I can feel it. Linnea, we ought to do this to the chambers of the new plaza as well. The ley lines will aid and fortify us, and we must protect them, as well,” Maira said, her voice filled with steely determination. “If they fall into the wrong hands, all that we’ve built here will crumble to dust. We cannot allow that to happen.”

“You are absolutely right,” John interjected as he rose from his seat. His weathered hand reached into his robes, retrieving his new artefact—a finely carved wooden wand. Its surface was marked with intricate runes, softly glowing with latent magic. With a flick of his wrist, John strode forward, passing through the table as though it was vapour. He approached the map etched on the chamber floor, and as he waved his wand once more, a network of ley lines surged, glowing brightly.

He waved his wand over the map, a small figure of Grovewell appeared and a fine line lit up, shimmering across the map in vibrant colours, revealing the intricate path of energy leading up to four other powerful cross sections.

“These ley line cross sections,” John began, pointing to the brighter intersections glowing on the map, “will be connected directly to Grovewell. Our sanctuaries will be connected to each other, fortifying themselves once we anchor them to the ley lines. All of them, including Grovewell, must therefore remain hidden.”

He glanced around at the others, his blue eyes filled with the gravity of their mission. He started to pace and continued speaking firmly. “All of them. Especially their Council chambers. Where the anchor and the instructions for building our foundations are sealed. We must solve that first, and restrict entry to the chambers. If the dark wizards breach just one of the plazas or gain access to our chambers, they’ll be able to take control of the ley lines.”

“What of the wards inside the chamber?” Linnea asked, her brow furrowing slightly. “We must ensure that this chamber is as secure as the plazas themselves—perhaps even more so.”

Arin’s eyes, deep blue and sharp as steel, met hers. He had anticipated this question, and his mind had already begun calculating the layers of protection they would need.

“Indeed,” he began, his voice measured but confident. “I can craft stronger wards around this chamber, drawing upon the ley lines for their strength. Our artefacts—those tied to our magic—will serve as the keys to unlock the protections. None but us shall pass through the wards and those we bring with us, and even then, only with the correct Casting Words.” He glanced toward Linnea. She nodded slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“I can assist you,” Linnea said softly, her voice carrying a melodic tone that always seemed to calm the room. “The trees surrounding us have already begun to respond to my magic. I can bind the wards to their roots and trunks, and the ley lines magic will flow through them, strengthening the wards as they run through the earth.”

“This will indeed make the chambers nearly impenetrable.” Arin said, his hand holding his chin in contemplation. “Thank you Linnea.”

John raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed, his voice rough yet carrying a note of scepticism.

“Nearly impenetrable, you say?” His grizzled beard twitched slightly as he let the words linger between them. His reputation as a warrior and protector gave each of his words undeniable force, commanding attention with every syllable he spoke.

“No magic is without flaw,” Arin replied, his tone unwavering. “I’m not an expert in nature magic but Linnea’s assistance will be more than enough to keep any threats out.The will not expect nature magic fortifying our defences. For now, at least.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, though the tension lingered. The enemy was growing stronger, and their attacks were becoming more frequent, more desperate. Maira glanced at the glowing map etched into the floor, the ley lines pulsing beneath the surface like veins of the earth itself. She let out a slow breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table as she considered their next move.

“We must prepare for the worst,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. “It’s only a matter of time before the dark practitioners make their move. Blood magic, bone magic… We have seen the lengths to which they will go.”

John let out a low hum of agreement.

“Aye,” he said, his voice gravelly from years of experience. “Time is against us, but we shall use every moment we have.”

He waved his wand over the map again, and the bright points marking the cross-sections of ley lines shimmered more brightly.

“These will become our sanctuaries,” he continued. “Epping Forest, Nottingham, New Forest, and Dales. We must prepare for their creation and connect them as soon as their foundations are ready.”

A long silence fell over the chamber, each Founder weighed down by the enormity of John's words. The room was thick with tension, as all knew that time was their greatest adversary. Samhain, the next crucial date for their magic, was two long months away and anytime an attack was imminent.

Elder Maira’s eyes flashed with a fierce intensity as she stepped through the table, walking to John’s side.

“That worries me, John. I agree they must be connected, to fortify our defences and grant easy access between them. However, we must build a safeguard between the connections to each Plaza.” She said, Trailing a finger over the lines connecting the strongest intersections on the map. “A way to regain access or destroy the connection. We must protect the ley lines, as well.”

John gave a grim nod, his face was etched with concern.

“Let us use this time wisely.” He said, his gaze shifting to Arin. “ We must improve upon Grovewell setting up a safeguard and ensure that these future plazas remain hidden and fortified.”

Arin stood up, his tall figure looming over the table, and nodded in agreement. He tightened his grip on his cane, his mind set.

“We’ve seen the lengths to which dark practitioners will go, driven by revenge and seeking our power. Those blood and bone magic’s rituals in newmarket…” He trailed off, a shiver running down his spine, before he steadied himself and continued.

“I’ll begin work on reinforcing the wards and creating a safeguard as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before these dark practitioners make a more brazen move. We must fortify what we have, build upon it wisely, and make use of every moment until Samhain.”

His words echoed in the chamber, filling the room with a renewed sense of purpose. Arin’s presence was commanding, a leader who had faced countless battles but never wavered. His grey eyes swept over the faces of his companions, and each Founder felt the force of his unwavering conviction.

“The ley lines are the key.” Arin continued, walking towards the map. “If we anchor them to the Plaza’s Chambers and knot their main stream between the anchors, serving as safeguards. They will be able to bind each Plazas’ wards together, creating a protective weave from the very centre of the plaza outward. Keeping each plaza safe, connected by the weaker streams but standing on its own.”

He tapped the map with the tip of his cane. Small ribbony knots surged between direct ley line connections.

“Even so, while we are attempting this, we must be extremely cautious. One mistake, one breach in our protection, especially while we are away from the chambers, and it will all unravel. We cannot allow that. The first safeguard must stand as soon as we create the next plaza.”

His voice carried an edge of warning, the seriousness of their mission clear. Maira’s green eyes glinted in the flickering light of the chamber as she turned her attention to Arin.

“My Spies will warn me if anything changes until then” Maira said, her green eyes flashing with a fierce light.

“How do you communicate with them?” Arin asked, an idea taking form in his mind.

“Mostly through mirrors, especially when they’re deep undercover.” She shrugged, she always wanted to be informed. She liked to stay one step ahead, consuming news and gossip. Especially if they were about their common foe. “Ah, and also, they can only reach me outside Grovewell. Sometimes they pass by my pub in Leeds.”

Arin nodded, his gaze following the lines connecting the next locations over the stone map, his expression thoughtful.

“Alright. Let your spies spread a false rumour, Maira. A ruse,” he said after a moment. “We could ensure that our enemies follow a false lead. Away from the ley lines.”

“That’s actually a clever idea.” Maira, her voice sharp, added, “John… What of the spells themselves? The protections we’ll cast must be layered, stronger than those we’ve casted after creating the foundations. Blood magic can be powerful, the initial wards should be able to counter it.”

John’s grey eyes narrowed in thought.

“To achieve that we would need to combine our magic,” he said, his voice low. “Your runes, Maira; The tree roots protection from Linnea, combined with Arin’s wards and Bakari’s manipulation of the ley lines will create a web of protection that could be casted in moments. It might be strong enough to even counter those battle spells, while we create and expand the foundations. Once the foundations stand, we will be able to fortify the wards tenfold using Arin’s technique of tapping into the ley lines.”

Bakari, who had been quietly observing the conversation from his place near the sigil-marked wall, spoke, his deep voice resonating through the room like the rumble of distant thunder.

“We’ve talked too much. It’s time to prepare for action.”

All eyes turned to Bakari. His dark skin glowing faintly in the magical light. Bakari straightened to his full height, his robes rustling softly as he walked toward his companions.

“This time, we’ll take our time and craft these wards with care, this is a completely unexplored area of magic that we’re creating. We must be precise and swift.” He declared, passing through the table and holding his staff in his left hand. “Arin, Maira and Linnea, let's study the effects of the combination of our magic, first. If they’re safe to cast together, we’ll cast them to safeguard these chambers as soon as possible.” He walked over the map and pointed his staff to an extremely bright intersection next to London. “We have four weeks, Epping Forest is next. We'll travel by horseback and camp at night, only using magic to shelter us if necessary. We must proceed with care, but we must also act. The initial wards will hold any attack at bay. The dark practitioners won’t wait for us to complete our preparations. They’ll strike when we least expect it.” His eyes, dark and intense, met John’s. “We must ensure everything is ready before the next full moon. No more delays.”

Bakari turned to face his allies in a dangerous and long journey. His dark skin glowed faintly in the magical light, and his calm presence seemed to steady the room.

“The next plaza will be an important arrow in our quiver. It is the only one with three huge flow of ley lines coursing through it and it shall become our strongest and largest sanctuary. Epping Forest that is, or as I’ve named it - Elderwell.”

The room fell silent again. The Founders exchanged determined glances, their shared task casting a daunting shadow over them. Grovewell had become more than just a place—it was their refuge, their beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. Grovewell was only the beginning. The other sanctuaries would rise, their power tied to the ancient ley lines that flowed beneath the earth, and no force of darkness would stand against them. The ley lines. The river of raw magical energy they had so carefully anchored to their sanctuaries were both their shield and their vulnerability. A new challenge they must overcome to secure the future of England’s magical community. However with every new challenge, their resolve only deepened.

Expansion of the Plazas - John’s fate

In the deep recesses of Temple Newsam’s forest, the trees stood tall and silent, their branches barely stirring despite the gentle breeze. They hid a vast magical plaza, hidden by powerful enchantments. A bluish dome of magical energy shimmered above it, translucent and ethereal, as if the very fabric of reality had woven itself into a protective shell around Grovewell. Beneath this dome, Elder Arin Sorrell, his hands clasped behind his back, gazed upward, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the leafy tree branches that formed the protective Wall of Life.

The hour was late, and the stillness around him was unsettling. It wasn’t just the quiet of the empty plaza—it was something deeper, as though the ley lines beneath the earth, the veins of magic that flowed through the land, were waiting, watching, for something to happen. Elder Arin’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon as if expecting Jiang Li’s arrival at any moment, but his mind drifted elsewhere. It drifted back to that fateful day, nearly a century ago, when everything had changed.

His former best friend, John Barlow, the visionary who had united them all, weighed heavily on Elder Arin’s mind. The memory of John’s resolute voice, his unyielding determination to protect their kind, still echoed in the corners of Elder Arin’s thoughts. Could the current tensions—these strange occurrences surrounding the Daiwiks—somehow be connected to those dark days? The signs of dark magic were unmistakable, and the parallels unnerved him.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. It had been almost a century since the very first gathering, when John had rallied the most powerful witches and wizards of England to combat the growing threat of dark magic. Together, they had banned the heinous acts of blood and bone sorcery, sealing away most of its practitioners and creating sanctuaries—magical plazas where their kind could live, learn, and practice without fear of persecution by the Nullkins. These plazas were havens, hidden from the world, where magic could thrive.

But not all had gone as planned.

The dark forests of Yorkshire Dales were forever etched into Elder Arin’s memory. It was there, amidst the thick undergrowth and ancient stones, that the final plaza—Barlowell—had been forged. But unlike the others, Barlowell was born not out of peace, but out of bloodshed and desperation. The founders had spent nearly ten years constructing the network of magical plazas: Grovewell in Temple Newsam, Elderwell in Epping Forest, Sherwell in Sherwood Forest, and Fernwell in The New Forest. Each plaza had been carefully chosen, strategically linked by the ley lines that coursed beneath the earth, connecting their magic and strengthening their defences.

But something had gone wrong.

It had been Bakari Mwando, with his ever-sharp instincts, who had first sensed it—a flaw in the ley line connection between Grovewell and the southern plazas. The energy flux was unstable, thinning in the north as the southern plazas drained too much power. If they didn’t act quickly, their carefully constructed network could collapse. They needed another plaza in the north, a final keystone to balance the magical flow.

John had been determined to see it through, despite the growing unrest. Dark practitioners, emboldened by their hunger for power and revenge, had begun to openly rise. Led by a mysterious and dangerous figure who called himself Lysander, they had formed a powerful coven, one that thrived on blood and bone rituals and forbidden magic. Lysander’s name struck fear into even the bravest of wizards—he was said to be a master of blood magic, a sorcerer who could twist life and death to his will.

The attacks began shortly after. Villages near the plazas were ravaged by evil dark magic, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake. Nullkins were left bewildered, their memories clouded by enchantments that the council had hastily cast to conceal the truth. But for the magical community, the threat was all too real.

In response, the four councils of the existing plazas had gathered in Elderwell to form a new order of Magical Law Enforcement: the Custodia Magica. Bakari Mwando, chosen to lead them, had taken charge with an unwavering resolve. He and his Praetors, the general enforcers of magical law, had begun a relentless hunt for Lysander and his followers. But Lysander was elusive, his power great, and he had a way of drawing Custodion Mwando’s Praetors out of their sanctuaries, luring them into ambushes with illusions and dark enchantments.

The Isle of Skye, where the council had established a remote magical prison, became filled with members of Lysander’s coven, but it seemed their efforts were never enough. For 8 long years the attacks continued, more frequent, more vicious. Lysander’s forces grew bolder, practising their vile magic openly, leaving behind scenes of horror that the council could barely conceal.

John, now married to Linnea Blackwell, and the other Founders—Custodion Bakari Mwando, Maira Veylon, and Arin, himself—had gathered in a small clearing beneath the ancient trees of the Yorkshire Dales, ready to perform for a last time the foundation's enchantments. The last magical plaza would be forged that night, hidden deep within the forest.

“The ley lines here are really strong,” Custodion Mwando said, his voice low as he thrust his ebony staff into the earth. The runes etched into the wood glowed faintly in the moonlight, responding to the raw magical power beneath their feet. His deep, ebony skin had hardly aged, with only the faintest signs of time visible in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.“I will tap into them right away to power up our enchantments. Linnea, Arin and Maira, you three should start casting as soon as the alignment begins. We cannot lose time. The dark practitioners might arrive at any moment.”

As soon as Custodion Mwando finished speaking they felt it. The alignment of the longest night of the year, and the full moon. It amplified the effects of rituals aimed at renewal and protection.

Arin, his blond platinum hair flecked with the first signs of silver, adding a dignified air to his already composed demeanour, stepped forward. He looked at Linnea and said.

“You first”

Linnea, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, nodded silently. Her long, silver-brown hair was woven with delicate flowers and cascaded down on her left shoulder. She, too, knew the stakes. Their unborn child would not inherit a world teetering on the edge of darkness. Her green eyes flashed with resolve as she stepped forward, raising her hands toward the towering trees, while Custodion Mwando sent a controlled flow of energy from the ley lines to power their spells.

“These trees will be able to protect us from beneath and from above,” she whispered, her voice filled with ancient power. Her connection to nature magic had always been strong, and tonight, she called upon the very essence of the forest to shield them.

The nearest trees responded to her call, their branches twisting and intertwining overhead, forming a natural dome around them. As the magic surged through her, the leaves shimmered with an ethereal light, and the ground beneath their feet began to shake slightly, as the roots of the moving trees moved deep in the soil.

Arin and Maira moved to stand beside Linnea, their hands outstretched as they began weaving intricate runes of protection and illusion into the air. Maira’s serpent-shaped amulet glowed brightly as she traced the runes, her mastery of illusion and transformation magic making the plaza invisible. The runes hovered momentarily before them, glowing with alternating flashes of green and red, as if pulsing with a life of their own. Drawing power from the ley lines commended by Custodion Mwando, their luminosity intensified, becoming almost blinding. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, the runes streaked forward, slicing through the air with incredible speed. Like arrows of pure magic, they embedded themselves into the trunks of the towering, moving trees. The moment they made contact, the trees responded, their bark glowing faintly as the runes sank deeper, becoming one with the wood.

“The evil practitioners might even be able to sense this place,” Maira said, her voice laced with urgency. Her long, raven black hair was tied back with intricate braids that framed her delicate face. Her green eyes sparkled as she casted. “But they’ll have a hard time finding it.”

They finished the enchantments at the same time. John looked around, the clearing was large enough now. Arin stepped forward and stood at its centre. The final step of the wards fell to him. His robes, embroidered with symbols of ancient magic, flowed elegantly around him as he stood tall, the steady rhythm of his breath and calm aura a contrast to the tension in the air. He raised his pale hands toward the sky. His cane high above his head and with a single, powerful motion, he drove it into the ground. As the tip of the cane struck the earth, the runes etched into its surface started to glow with an intense reddish and greenish hue.

But even before the magic started, a sense of unease washed over the Founders. The air grew thick with tension, and a sudden chill swept through the grove. Arin’s eyes narrowed as he felt the disturbance, his senses on high alert.

“They’re here,” He shouted, his grip tightening on his cane. “They broke through our protective runes! They did find us.” Linnea and Maira ran to stand next to John and Arin. Custodion Mwando was standing some distance away to their left. His Staff stuck into the ground, its gem shining with the surge of the ley lines’ magical energy.

The woods bordering the clearing rustled with an eerie whisper, a sound that seemed to come from no earthly wind. Towering trees twisted and gnarled, their ancient branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. A thick mist started to enter the clearing through the gaps of the trees, the air cold and sharp as it encircled them. The moon, veiled behind clouds, cast a pale glow, creating long, creeping shadows that danced across the ground. From within these shadows between a tree gap, a dark figure emerged.

The figure was draped in a black cloak that rippled as if alive, its scarlet red edges blending into the surrounding darkness. Beneath the hood, only the faint glimmer of malevolent eyes could be seen, glowing faintly like embers of a long-dead fire. As he stepped forward, the ground beneath him seemed to shift and ripple, as though the very earth recoiled from his presence. Behind him, several more figures materialised between the tree gaps, their forms shrouded in the same oppressive blackness, their lips glowing freshly red with the twisted power of blood magic. Some of them, like their leader, wore a necklace of thumb bones around their neck.

Taking no chances, Custodion Mwando goes on the offensive. Swiftly he stomps one foot into the earth with force, a massive boulder erupts from the ground, ripping through the soil. He points both hands forward, palms facing outward in a swift, commanding motion toward the enemies. The cloaked figure barely moved and by lifting up a single finger, the massive boulder turned to dust.

“Custodion Baraki Mwando” The cloaked figure mocked, turning his head towards him. “We’ve met again. So you’re the one playing around with ley lines, I presume?”

“Lysander…” Custodion Mwando said, his face etched with disgust. “You are not welcomed here!”

Lysander laughed mockingly. He turned to the group in the centre of the clearing.

“John Barlow,” Lysander hissed, his voice like the scrape of iron against stone. “I wonder what you and your coven are doing in the middle of a forest, on the winter solstice by a full moon. This time, it seems, you haven’t hidden quickly enough.”

His words carried on the wind, laced with venom, twisting through the trees like a curse.

John stepped forward, his form illuminated by the failing soft, protective glow of the magical runes embedded into the tree trunks. His tall frame cast a sharp silhouette, and his hand gripped the hilt of his wand with grim determination. He wore a dark brown frock coat, its edges worn and frayed from years of faithful service. His face, now even more lined with age, was set in a fierce expression. His eyes burned with the steady light of defiance.

“You have betrayed the magical community for the last time, Lysander.” John said, his voice ringing with righteous fury that echoed through the clearing. “No more blood rituals. No more sacrifices. Your dark magic ends here.”

He raised his wand, the faint light of the wards flickering in response. The dark wizard’s lips curled into a cruel smile, the gleam of red teeth visible for a moment beneath his hood. Behind him, the rest of his coven stood ready for battle, their robes, a deep dark red, seemed to glow.

"We shall see about that. The winter solstice and the full moon enhance our dark powers tenfold, you know…"

With a fluid motion, the cloaked figure reached beneath his blackened robes, revealing a sword unlike any weapon the Founders had ever seen. Its blade was long, twisted with dark veins of shadow running through the metal, as if the sword itself was alive with malevolent energy. The hilt was adorned with runes, glowing faintly red in the dim light of the grove. He gripped it tightly, holding the blade high, and as the wind around him began to stir.

His free pale hand moved with deliberate quick precision, tracing an intricate pattern in the air. He dipped his fingers to the blade of the sword, slicing the skin just enough to let droplets of blood fall onto the ground, mingling with the soil. The earth itself seemed to drink in the offering, and in response, a low, guttural hum reverberated through the air.

“Tenebrae Mortis,” He whispered, his voice laced with venomous intent. The blood on the ground pulsed, darkening, and the sword in his hand began to glow with an eerie black flame as the magic erupted—a swirling mass of black fire and twisting shadows, spiralling outward like a vortex of death. The ground trembled beneath the force of the spell as it shot toward the founders, its trajectory swift and deadly, the air hissing with the smell of sulphur and charred earth in its wake.

John’s eyes widened, he wasn’t ready. And in that moment of horror, Arin stepped forward, his cane now disconnected to the ground, raised high. Without a second’s hesitation, his voice boomed through the chaos.

“Lucem Scutum!”

He thrusted the cane back into the ground, its tip glowing as it made contact with the soil. With a swift and powerful gesture, he traced a half-circle with his free hand. The runes along the cane flared to life, their light spreading like ripples through the ground. A surge of brilliant light erupted from the ground where Arin stood, radiating outward like a wave. The barrier formed instantly—a shimmering dome of pure, radiant light reinforced with the raw essence of the earth, grounding the shield in place.

The glow intensified, as the dark magic of Tenebrae Mortis struck the barrier. The shadow tendrils crashed against the shield, writhing and hissing. A deafening roar echoed through the grove, followed by a shockwave that rattled the ground beneath their feet, sending tremors through the towering trees. The air crackled with energy as the other blood wizards and witches casted their dark spells at them, one after the other. Darkness fought to consume the light, but Arin’s light shield held firm, the barrier stood tall, separating the founders to the dark coven of bone and blood witches and wizards, glowing ever brighter in defiance. Arin’s cane remained rooted in the ground, while the dark figures shot spells of death and decay, still feeding the relentless assault.

“Bakari!” Shouted Arin. Custodion Mwando understood instantly and closing his eyes, he began to chant. The ley lines’ energy started to flow upwards, directly into Arin’s cane, strengthening the barrier. Its light, bolstered by Arin’s will and the grounding power of the ley lines, began to push back.

The darkness recoiled in seconds, retreating with a sharp, angry hiss, leaving a scorched path in its wake. The ground where the shadow magic had touched was blackened, charred by the raw malevolence of the spell. Yet the barrier remained intact, the shimmering light protecting those within.

Arin exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air, his muscles tense from the exertion of the spell. He glanced at John, whose face was pale, the fear still evident in his eyes, though now mixed with a deep respect for Arin’s quick thinking and power.

Lysander lowered his sword slowly, his face still hidden in the shadows of his hood, a low, dark chuckle escaping his lips. His shoulders shook with amusement, and he tilted his head slightly as if intrigued by Arin’s display of power.

“Impressive, you keep tapping into the ley lines, ey?” he hissed, his voice laced with mockery. “So, that’s how you were able to power your protection and illusions, we tried it, but we couldn’t even scry your future. We couldn’t even get a clear glimpse of your plans…” He stepped forward, his blade held loosely to the side, as he continued “All these years, even when we drank fresh infants. We couldn’t see. We didn’t know. But even so, you won’t be able to hold that shield forever, Master Arin...”

Arin’s grip on his cane tightened, his eyes narrowing as he straightened his posture.

“We do not need to hold it forever,” he replied calmly, his voice shaken by his efforts. “Only long enough to throw you all out.”

Lysander’s chuckle deepened, resonating through the grove like a taunting echo. The others followed his lead. Some even took off their travelling cloaks, seemingly confident.

“Then we shall see,” he whispered, raising his sword once more.

“Bakari, Arin, stand back and create the ward and cloak domes,” John told them quickly, “Linnea, Maira you will have to help me fight them off!” They nodded in agreement.

The battle that erupted after John’s commands was extremely violent, a symphony of spells and chaos. The dark coven, casting powerful spells, trying to break their defences.

“Linnea, can you take over?” asked Arin.

“Certainly!” with flowing and swiftly hand gestures, she took control of his magic.

Arin pulled his cane out of the earth and ran towards Custodion Mwando, who was waving his staff around him, already performing the necessary spells to summon the ley lines directly.

“Arin, Listen,” he spoke quickly, his voice faltered slightly under the exertion of his magic “We’ll have to draw the boundaries of the plaza using the ley lines, from south to north,” Custodion Mwando said, urgency in each word, pointing to the where they stood to the opposite direction from where the blood coven where firing up spells. “That’s the only way to ensure that the blood coven won’t access the leyline energy while the protective spells take hold.”

Arin looked around, evaluating the situation. Maira and John were both countering the spells cascading around them. Linnea was chanting nonstop, holding her hands up, maintaining the large luminous shield encircling them like a half bubble. Arin noticed that cracks began to spread like vines across its surface.

“Hold the line for a little while longer!” he shouted, his voice steady and commanding, as he took position to cast his defensive wards.

Maira nodded in affirmation, her necklace’s moonstone ablaze with a silvery light. She started to move with the grace of a dancer, every movement precise. As she lifted her hand, the air around her shimmered, and with a flick of her wrist, phantoms of herself multiplied, swirling around the plaza like a mist. The illusory versions of herself moved fluidly, their forms shifting and blending among the dark wizards, making it impossible for them to distinguish the real from the illusion.

“Let them chase shadows,” Maira whispered, her voice calm amidst the storm of battle.

The dark wizards hesitated, their confusion clear as they lashed out at the swirling phantoms, their attacks passing through empty air. But their leader remained unfazed. His eyes, blazing with dark energy, locked onto the scene before him, and the very air around him seemed to warp and twist in response to his presence. His power, steeped in ancient magic, was far greater than anything they had faced before

Arin and Custodion Mwando were in position, back to back. With the same fluid downwards motion, they pushed their magical artefacts deep into the earth. Both, cane and the staff started to glow instantly. Custodion Mwando began calling upon the ley lines that ran deep beneath them. Arin began calling upon protective shields, three small glowing orbs forming in front of him.

Longer cracks seemed to spread over the barrier. Maira and John moved restlessly countering the dark battle magic and attacking in return. Linnea trembled visibly, draping in sweat as she continuously chanted to maintain the protective shield before them. Determination flickered in John’s tired eyes as he, noticing Linnea’s expenditure, took a step forward.

“This ends here.” John rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

He raised his wand, summoning the last reserves of his strength. His hand trembled as he carved a complex symbol in the air, and the ground beneath him seemed to pulse with energy.

“John!” Maira shouted. “Don’t!”

The air crackled around them, alive with raw magic, as John unleashed a powerful spell.

“Siphon Vitae!”

A beam of shimmering white light shot from John’s wand, the magic rippling with the life essence of the earth. It surged through the air, aimed directly at the dark wizard. The spell, fueled by the essence of life itself, sought to drain the very vitality from its target, pulling strength from the enemy and feeding it back to John.

Lysander sneered, his lips curling in a mocking smile. Without hesitation, he raised his hand, the black sword glowing ominously as he muttered a counterspell. The blood-red runes along the blade pulsed as he lifted it, channelling his dark energy through the sword.

“Defensio Cordis!”

A shield of red energy erupted around the dark wizards, the barrier rippling with an evil essence. The shimmering white beam of life-draining energy struck the shield, but instead of weakening, the red barrier absorbed the spell effortlessly.

The dark wizard’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he lowered his sword.

“You grow weak, old man,” he mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your time is over.”

With a guttural snarl, he thrust his hand forward, the veins in his arm darkening as he drew upon the essence of blood magic once more. His fingers, slick with his own blood from earlier, twitched as he formed the next spell.

“Vincula Cruoris!” he spat, his voice filled with venomous intent.

The black sword in his hand glowed with a fierce crimson light as he swept it through the air in a wide arc. Dark tendrils of blood magic surged from the blade, twisting and coiling like serpents. They shot toward John, moving with terrifying speed. The bright shield broke as the spell shot through it. Linnea collapsed to the ground once her connection to the shield broke, she remained laying there, gasping for air. The tendrils wrapped around John like chains. The magical bonds tightened instantly, binding him in place, their grip unrelenting.

“No! John!” Maira screamed, but shots of dark battle magic held her back, while she counterattacked them.

John’s face contorted in pain as the dark magic seeped into his veins, the cruel essence of blood magic attacking him from within. He gasped, his body trembling under the force of the spell, but he remained standing, his defiance burning bright even as the magic drained his strength.

Lysander, still concentrated on the spell he was casting, laughed, his voice echoing through the battlefield.. The chains of Vincula Cruoris glowed a deep, malevolent red, pulsing with every beat of John's heart, as if feeding off his very life force. The ground beneath him quaked from the sheer force of the dark magic, as the battle raged on.

Linnea rose up. She looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. Her face lost its colours, when her gaze focused on John. Time seemed to slow as he staggered backward, his hand clutching his chest, his wand slipping from his grasp. The light in his eyes flickered like a candle in a strong wind.

“John!” Linnea screamed, her hands glowing with healing magic as she rushed to his side. But even as her magic flowed into him, she knew it was too late. The darkness had already taken hold. John’s eyes fluttered open one last time, his voice barely a whisper.

“Protect... the plaza.”

And then, he was gone.

Protected behind Maira’s counterattacks, Linnea’s sobs echoed through the grove as the battle raged on.

Lysander raised his hand and his coven ceased their attack. He looked at the two women in front of him. Linnea, her face pale and covered in tears, kneeling beside John’s unmovable body. Maira, flushed and sweaty, seemed about to pass out. Arin and Custodion Mwando, still standing back to back, seemed frozen in time. Lysander stepped forward, placing his dark blade on his shoulders.

“I do not wish to cause you further harm…” He said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Me and my friends only wish for access, acceptance and entry. That’s all. If you are to share your secrets with us, now, we will leave you b—” He was thrown back by the sheer force of the spell casted by Arin and Custodion Mwando.

“Terra et Lux, nos tuum robur vocamus.”

They chanted in unison. The ground beneath their feet pulsed with life, the ley lines awakening in response to their call. Lines of light spread outward, connecting them in a brilliant web of power. The air vibrated with energy as the lines poured their raw magic into the earth, ready to be shaped. With a final gesture, the Arin swept his arms in an arc, tracing the outline of the dome and cried.

“Custodia Concilio, Domus Invicta!”

One of the brilliant orbs of light expanded, rising and stretching over the plaza like a shimmering veil. The second one followed in its wake. And so did the third one. They pulsed with energy, its surface rippling as the ley lines beneath, fueled them. The dark wizards recoiled as their newly casted battle spells struck the domes and were reflected back, their dark magic dissolving harmlessly into the sky. They got thrown out of the clearing, by the expanding domes, falling outside it. Lysander, his face twisted in rage and frustration, let out a bitter laugh that echoed through the night.

"This is not the end,"

He promised, his voice fading as he and his followers vanished into the darkness.

As the last of the enemy vanished, the clearing was left in an overwhelming stillness, a quiet that seemed to settle over everything like a shroud. The dome of protection stood tall, shimmering softly in the pale moonlight, but the cost of their victory weighed heavily on the surviving Founders. John had given his life to protect the foundations of the very last Magical Plaza. For now, the four founders and the clearing were safe under the protection of the Blinder’s Spell, Light Barrier and the Shroud of Vows. But the battle was far from over.

As Elder Arin stood in the present, awaiting Jiang Li’s arrival, the memory of that night lingered in his mind. Barlowell and the other plazas had stood the test of time. They had become sanctuaries for the magical community, a place where they could continue to thrive, even in the face of darkness.

Now, as the wards around Grovewell trembled under an unseen force, Elder Arin couldn’t shake the feeling that history was repeating itself. The dark practitioners were growing bolder once again, and the future of the magical world hung in the balance.

Jiang would arrive soon, and Elder Arin knew that the balance between light and dark magic was at its most fragile point since the creation of Barlowell. The threat they faced now echoed the dangers of the past, and with every passing moment, he could feel the significance of history upon him.

He closed his eyes and let the memories wash over him—the day they sealed the last magical plaza, the final breath of John Barlow, and the legacy of sacrifice that every one of the founders had carried since that day. For Elder Arin, those events were not just history; they were a warning.

The sound of soft footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Elder Arin opened his eyes and turned to see Jiang approaching the plaza’s archway. Her silhouette, lit by the faint glow of the moon, cut through the shadows, her form graceful yet filled with tension. Elder Arin could see it in her posture—the magnitude of her mission, the urgency of her message.

Jiang’s voice, calm yet filled with quiet urgency, broke the silence of the plaza.

"Elder Arin, we have little time."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on the distant horizon.

"Indeed, time has never been on our side."

Together, they walked toward the heart of Grovewell, where the Council Chamber awaited. Elder Arin’s heart was heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, but as they stepped into the glowing sanctuary, the ancient magic of the plaza filled him with a fleeting sense of hope.

Yet, deep down, Elder Arin knew that their greatest challenge still lay ahead.