“It’s… a lot,” I said as I gave the tortoise some dried apple slices from dusk’s realm for it being so helpful.

“I can imagine,” Kene said. “You’ve got quite a mishmash of beast magic at this point. Primes, you might be as inhuman as me or Kamal now.”

They smirked at that, and I actually felt a bit lighter, gladdened by the fact they felt confident enough to joke about their condition. After finishing up our lunch, Kene and I went back to brewing for the day.

Dusk woke up that evening, just in time for dinner, and raised her hands, cheering triumph that she’d integrated the treasure directly into her flight spell nearly perfectly, and begging Kene and me to come see.

It took a little bit of coin at Agnes’ shop, but the potion to allow me to see into her mana-garden was cheap enough, a box of four costing no more than a six pack of energy drinks.

When I passed into Dusk’s mana-garden, I realized that it was actually the first time that I’d done this. At the time Dusk had been formed, she’d already had a good grip on her own magic, and I’d already learned to enter my own mana-garden through focus, rather than relying on a spell or potion.

The center of Dusk’s mana-garden was wider than mine, her ungated mana amount larger, and floating over the center was a shape that somewhat resembled an egg, or perhaps a seed. The outside of the seed was shaped with what looked like continents and oceans.

“Is that a Nascent Truth?” I asked, and Dusk rolled her eyes at me, cawing like a bird to say that was obvious, wasn’t it? She’d been using it to tap a dominion since she was born.

A soft wind swept through the ungated mana, moving in a tingling direction that I’d never felt before. Kene spoke before I could, however.

“Wait, what?” Kene asked, and I agreed on the sentiment, but Dusk was already moving into her first gate, which was covered in carvings.

I stopped and examined the blown open gates. The gates that had once served as barriers in my mana-garden were made of wrought iron, while these were wood, but I could chalk that up to natural differences between us.

The carvings on the wood, however? There was no doubt in my mind that these had been carved by Dusk. They somewhat resembled spells, but not in any style or sort I recognized, and they didn’t crackle with mana or energy. Instead they seemed to flow… Elsewise.

I didn’t know how else to describe it. They were channeling something, but not in any sort of way I recognized.

Dusk whistled for me to catch up, and I groaned and followed.

“Fine, but we’re not done with this,” I warned.

She led us through her second gate, and into her third, which I noted was the only one that was still midway through being carved.

Her third gate was interesting, a sandy basin with wind whipping across it, and I wondered if her raising of the healer's heart was part of the reason why, since it had created a desert area within her own mana.

Her own natural spells stuck out from the desert like saguaro cacti that were still growing, and there was a fused together lump of sandy glass that formed her Sandstorm Lance, but the flight spell was even more obvious.

It was a massive cloud that hung over the entire region, soaking in mana, all the way out to the walls of mist. Sand swirled through the cloud, making it some sort of strange fusion of a sandstorm and a normal cloud, and lightning crackled through it every once in a while.

The power and pressure coming off of it was also quite intense, stronger than anything else in the region. It was obvious that a lot had been invested into the spell, more than it really should have been able to hold.

“Wow,” Kene said, studying the megaspell.

I let out an impressed whistle, and Dusk laughed, waving her hand and kicking us out of her spirit. The moment we were back in the real world, she formed a cloud of shifting sands and clouds under her feet and zipped away.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Wait!” I said a moment later. “You were going to tell me about the carvings…”

Her laughter echoed through the room, and I teleported out, then down the hall so I stood in front of her.

After she crashed into me, she pulled back and sighed, saying it was something that had been in the book of spells that she was using, and she could tell it helped mana flow.

I glanced over at Kene, who had stepped over to the

“Have you heard about that.”

“Nope,” Kene said, popping the ‘p’ sound as he spoke.

“Huh,” I said, adding it to my mental list of things to ask Meadow about when I got back.

The following several days were filled with little more than brewing and filling vials, preparing for the upcoming trial. I hoped that Edgar wouldn’t dock any points for the amount of potions I was using, but I figured that the amount of time I could save by their use should hopefully offset the loss.

When the day finally came, I left my enchanted suit, engraved pin, and lightening stone in Dusk’s vault, dressing in three layers of clothing and turning the tarp I’d been allowed into a backpack, which I packed with all of the potions I’d been able to make. Kene bundled up, held Dusk in their coat pocket, and hiked out with me, as well as the rest of the contestants.

There were about eighty-nine of them this year, a lower haul than average, and I did wonder if the Idyll-Flume was perhaps to blame for that. Of the gathered people, I vaguely recognized the feel of one of them, which I thought likely meant they’d participated in the Idyll-Flume, but held off on advancement, much like I had.

Edgar sat in front of the Beastgate itself, chewing on a pile of at least a dozen cabbages. When he finished, he looked over each of us, bobbing his preponderous head.

“Welcome, children,” he said. “To the Beastgate.”

The ancient tortoise’s veil slipped away then, and the comments that had been made about his power began to make more sense.

He was an Occultist, but I could understand why the Avatar of Sin and Meadow had both called him an Arcanist. The pool of seventh gate power that shone from his shell was weak, unstable… False.

He’d used an elixir to break through to his seventh gate. I thought it was a bit rude to call him an arcanist for that – false or not, he’d still be stronger than most arcanists could hope to be – but I understood at least.

And I wondered – had it been an intentional choice? His shell was so valuable that I was certain that he already had people coming after him for it. How much worse would it be if he had ascended for real?

Then again, maybe he’d simply hit a wall. Advancement got… strange… past spellbinder. I didn’t know the details, but reaching Arcanist was a wall that couldn’t be bridged normally. Kene’s grandmother had done it, but she’d been stuck as an arcanist for at least a century.

I shook the idle thoughts off and focused on Edgar. His mana, which felt deeply strange, more like a hudau heritage stone’s balanced, intermixed blend than that of any specific theme I could think of, surged into the ground and the beastgate. It began to glow with magic, shining white, and then I felt the lunar energy that hung in the air, the power of the darkest day of the year, begin to condense. It started to rush through the trail, the combination of the two powers intermingling until I couldn’t tell where the day ended and the tortoise’s magic began.

“I have spoken to each of you about the rules, and answered what questions you may have had,” the tortoise said. “Please, take out your crystals and step up to me, one at a time, and be cordial about it. Your month begins when you pass over the barrier. Being the first to hand me your crystal will not win you any points.”

Despite his words, fifteen or so people still jostled to be the first, which made them look inordinately foolish when, after handing the crystal to the tortoise, they were made to go stand back with the rest of us.

I hung back, waiting until the middle of the pack, where I was easily able to claim a place without knocking anyone out of the way, and approached Edgar, holding out the token.

He took it and nodded slowly, magic sinking into it and causing it to shimmer slightly.

“Run a strand of your mana through the crystal,” he said, and I did, funneling ungated mana. When my mana touched the crystal, it turned a rich shade of brown, like loamy soil.

“So long as you live, this crystal will glow,” the tortoise said. “There is always some risk of death, even with my safety measures in place. If your partner – bonded by magic or love – wishes to check on you, they are welcome to come examine the crystal.”

His eyes studied me, and I felt his mana sweep over the tarp-turned-backpack filled with potions. A deep rumble passed through him, turning into a roar of laughter.

“You are not the first to attempt the like, and many people bring a few potions, wardcircles, or enchantments, but most don’t take it as far as you have,” Edgar said. “A few years ago, someone did something similar with enchantments, and they did quite well, but I will admit you’re the first I’ve seen who’s used solidified mana to turn their tarp into a backpack. Well, then. You have stuck to the letter of the rules, at least, so there is nothing I need to remove from you. Now, return to the group, and may the winds carry you to your destination.”

I thanked Edgar and returned, explaining the system to Dusk and Kene, who looked a little relieved – at least, Kene did. Dusk had the ability to check on me in a more direct sense, after all.

Once everyone had handed over their trial token, light began to gather at the back of Edgar’s throat, and he unleashed a beam of his staggeringly strange mana into the center of the gates. They flared brighter and brighter, then finally swung open.

“The Beastgate Trial Trail has opened,” Edgar declared. “One month. Over a hundred and fifty miles. A true test of survival and magical strength, cleverness, and skill. Begin!”

The moment the tortoise’s thundering command faded, the world turned into an explosion of mana.