First vessel has been successfully charged. Natural energy, converted into magic. A millennium would not be enough to explore the possibilities.

- Aqueel, the Inventor. Dated 70 b.f.

Dents, scratches, and small holes decorated each stone wall of the small training room. The heavy stone door ground against the floor as Silas pushed it closed. A few practice dummies stood at the far back. An assortment of blunted weapons stood in a rack near the entrance. Otherwise, the room was empty. Bleak.

Silas’ eyes trailed a long scratch mark going all the way across the right wall, as deep as his finger. He took out his bow and laid an arrow on the string. For a moment, the world slowed to a crawl, the familiarity of the movement calming his drumming heartbeat. The wood was soft as his fingers grazed over it. He could still remember the first time he had held the bow, in the woods near Tom’s cabin. The awe he felt at holding such a beautiful weapon.

Silas stood there, an arrow placed on the string, frozen. Drawing the bow, he released it in one smooth motion. A single thud sounded out, immediately drowned by the thick stone walls. At least he still knew how to shoot a bow.

His fingers tingled as he prepared himself for the next step. Violent energies roiled in his Inner Landscape, creating chaos whenever he tried to access his Arts. Letting out a slow breath, he tapped into his Landscape, gently guiding the energy into his bow.

Power surged out of him in a flood, the connection to the bow breaking in an instant. Silas forcefully shoved the mist back, his stomach heaving at the sickly touch of the Taint coursing through his Landscape. It almost felt like there was another living being inside of him, acting on its own whims.

Gulping his rising despair back down, he tried anew. This time, the Taint was calm as he infused his bow, only rising up as he tried to weave his Art into the arrow. Before the bow was fully drawn, the arrow blasted forward, shattering upon impact by the Taint coursing through it.

The violet clusters within his Landscape were like beating hearts, each one causing his energy to explode or shrink. He’d lost control over his Arts. The year of training at Tom’s cabin, the countless hours he had tried to master the powershot, all of it was for nothing.

Silas picked up the arrowhead, not bothering to clean up the splinters. He continued to practice a bit with his spear, experiencing similar results. He managed a few strikes with his spear before a sudden surge of the Taint caused it to fly out of his hands.

At least the energy in his body remained. Yet if he continued to infuse his body with the energy from his Landscape, he’d just give the Taint somewhere new to settle down. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if it reached his lungs or heart.

Although the healer had mentioned they might provide further treatment for him and his friends, Silas was sure it wouldn’t be for free. Nurana was right. Whatever was about to happen, it would be best not to get caught up in it. Maybe he’d find a solution with Tom’s help before it was too late.

Silas stepped out of the infirmary and started to head towards his room when heavy steps came from the hallway around the corner. Silas readied his Arts, or at least tried to. Despair welled up in him as the Taint surged up and bile rose in his throat. Retching, Silas threw up his breakfast on the sandstone floor.

An elderly man rounded the corner with surprising speed, sweat coating his wrinkled skin. He saw Silas and stopped, his eyes wide with fright as he contemplated which way to go. More steps came from the hallways behind him.

“Don’t tell them I’m here,” the man pleaded and slipped into the training room. The door shut silently. Silas hurried away, spitting on the floor to get the vile taste out of his mouth as two guards came running into the hallway, followed by a panting healer in a white robe that had seen better days.

“Where is he?” one of the guards demanded. They wore brigandines and two-handed spears, short scimitars strapped to their waists.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Silas answered, doing his best not to look at the door of the training room.

“Return to your room, patient. Do not interfere.” One of the guards jerked his head at the door.

“Don’t touch me!” came the old man’s shrill voice as the guards stormed into the room. “You have no right to do this!”

Silas slowly backed away. The guards re-emerged a moment later, holding the man with his arms behind his back. The elderly man desperately tried to slip out of the guards’ grip, but to no avail. “Unhand me at once! I will not be treated like a…“ one of the guards yanked on the man’s arm, eliciting a cry of pain as he stumbled and fell.

The man’s body suddenly went limp. Then his right arm began to twitch, then both. One of his legs kicked out with surprising speed, catching the guard holding him in his shin. With a sudden tug, the man wrenched free, crawling on all fours as he escaped from the guard’s grasp.

One guard held a hand up to Silas. “Stand back, patient, this man has surged!”

Silas frowned but continued to back away. Something was off about the old man’s movements. They were too spasmodic, too powerful to belong to an aging body.

As the man turned around, Silas realized why. Violet flashed through the man’s irises. His tongue was clenched between his teeth, and blood flowed freely from his mouth. Crouching once, the man lunged towards one of the guards, hands extended.

The guard sidestepped and threw himself onto the patient. Despite the obvious weight difference, the old man almost threw the guard off before the healer rushed to his side and plunged a syringe into the old man’s neck. He was unconscious a moment later.

The guards picked him up wordlessly and, sending one last look at Silas, went back the way they came from. Silas was left standing there, dumbfounded. It had all happened so fast. Blood was smeared across the floor where the old man had been subdued.

If this was what happened when the Taint took over, Silas had to make sure that it didn’t happen to him. He didn’t want to know what happened to the old man now, but Silas doubted he had much longer to live.

Silas hadn’t realized he had started walking back until he heard Zaya’s and Nurana’s dull voices through their door. He knocked once. The door unlocked with a series of clicks a moment later.

Gnarly creaked as he ran to hug Silas’ leg. Leaning down to pet his friend on the head, Silas relished in the comfort of Gnarly’s presence.

“How bad is it?” Nurana asked him.

Silas tried to smile, and failed.

Zaya laid a hand on his shoulder. “I feel your pain. Can use Arts only sometimes. But often, not have control.”

“It’s the same for me.” Nurana drummed her fingers on the table. “What did the healer say to you?” she asked Silas.

“That he doesn’t know how I kept holding on for so long. There are multiple clusters in my Landscape. They don’t see a way to cure it.”

“It’s similar for us, although not as severe.” Nurana slowly blew out a lungful of air.

“When the healer examined me, he tried to get into my Inner Landscape,” Silas told them. “We’re not guests here, we’re prisoners. And I for one don’t want to wait until the Taint takes over.” Silas shuddered.

“Healer also tried get into my Landscape, but was very weak. I shot a few stones at him out of ‘accident’. Not trust these people.”

“They could have just tried to get a better view at your Landscape.”

Silas shot Nurana a look. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” Nurana’s hand went through her hair. “Once Jaquil comes back, he’ll report directly to the Empress. I’d prefer not to get interrogated by the Royal Guard.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Zaya lowered her voice. “So we leave.”

“Yes. I propose we stay one more day and sneak out tomorrow night to take a caravan towards Bounty’s Reach the following morning. From there, it’ll just be half a day’s walk to the border to Ceraviehl.”

***

The infirmary was dead silent. No other patients, no healers were walking through the bare hallways, the desert’s moon shining through the large glass windows illuminating their path. Zaya and Nurana followed him, each of their steps silent. It had taken a bit of training, but even Nurana had managed to learn the Ranger’s Step.

Gnarly was perhaps the most silent, the roots from his feet slithering over the smooth stone to drag him forward. They had tried to map out a route towards the rear entrance of the infirmary, but had turned back after running into healers from another section. While the healer’s questions had been polite, they held a certain undertone that left no doubt for Silas they weren’t simply guests.

A large archway led them into another part of the infirmary, this one with larger rooms, each one equipped with dozens of beds, most of them empty. The corridors were long, dim balls of Magelights hanging from the ceiling. Peeking around a corner, Silas hurried into the next hallway. Zaya, Nurana, and Gnarly followed close behind him. The stairway leading to the back entrance should not be far, now.

Voices, too low for them to make out, came from the corridor behind them. The stairway stood just at the end of the corridor. Silas let out a slow breath. Almost there. He glanced over his shoulder. Zaya was right behind him, already peering down the stairway. Empty. Nurana’s breathing was heavy, her eyes shifting as she listened to the approaching voices.

Not wasting any time, Silas led them down the stairs, taking care to not make any noise. Little statues were carved into the walls of the stairway, depicting various figures. Silas thought one of them might have been the man from Al-Talash’s statues. A door made almost entirely of glass signaled the end of the stairway. Slowly pushing it open, he slipped inside, just to come to an abrupt halt as he faced the exit.

A figure leaned against the doorway, blending into the environment as she stood stock still. Nurana let out a gasp of surprise, nearly bumping into Zaya.

The woman took a step forward, a small smile on her lips. “Are you lost?”

“No, uh, we just—”

“My apologies,” Nurana interrupted him. “We couldn’t sleep, and wanted to take a breath of fresh air to clear our thoughts.”

“Creak!”

“There is a courtyard near the back, it’s open day and night. I can lead you to it, if you wish.”

Nurana tried to smile, but Silas could see the tension building on her face. “We were looking to take a quick stroll around the infirmary, we’ve done nothing but sit all day.”

The woman’s fingers wrapped around the spear leaning against the wall beside her. “The patio is rather large, it should suit your needs just fine.”

Silas’ Landscape boiled. His eyes were focused on the tiles in front of him. Overwhelming her would be so easy. The guard wouldn’t even see it coming. One punch into the stomach, another to the head, and they would be out of here. A sharp pain brought him back. Zaya had stepped on his toes, her green eyes boring into his.

Silas took a deep breath and nodded. Even if they could surprise the guard, they still needed to wait until morning for a caravan. He had seen how fast Jaquil’s sandship was. If the Royal Guard wanted to find them, they would.

“Would it be possible to take a quick walk around the infirmary? We have grown rather bored of the patio,” Nurana said into the silence.

“I’m afraid not. Those exposed to the Taint are only allowed to leave the infirmary after two fortnight's time. Direct orders from the healers.”

Zaya dragged Silas back towards the staircase. “We understand. Thank you for information.”

“It was of no issue for me, young Hanguhn,” the warrior said, her eyes tracing the scars on Zaya’s forehead.

Silas suppressed a grunt of pain as Zaya’s grip clenched around his fingers. Her gaze was downcast, her green eyes wild with anger. At no point in time had they mentioned to the guard they were here because of the Taint, and Silas highly doubted the guard knew the description of every patient and their condition. They walked back to their rooms in silence.

***

“How you think it works?” Zaya turned the metallic cube in her hand.

“I think before we answer that question, we might want to figure out what it does,” Nurana advised, looking at the object with suspicion.

Zaya pressed her thumb against some of the cubes and patterns on its surface. “Must do something.”

“And I would much rather figure out that it’s not a bomb before we poke holes in it.”

“Creak,” Gnarly shook his head.

“Gnarly says it’s not a bomb,” Silas translated.

Nurana frowned. “How does he know?”

“I can’t say, but he seems certain.”

Gnarly nodded. “Creak.”

“Not be bomb,” Zaya agreed. “Bombs need to be even, not make sense to have things like this,” she gestured at the various patterns on each side of the dodecahedron.

“Are you sure?” Nurana asked her.

“Yes. Oh, have idea. Watch object very closely, little boy.”

“That is not,” Silas stared at Zaya, “my name.”

Zaya had already closed her eyes, her hand hovering over the object. Silas focused on his Magesight. Vaguely, he could sense energy coming from Zaya and coalescing around the cube. Then, it abruptly vanished inside the object. Zaya opened her eyes again with a grin.

“Look here.” Zaya pointed at a small hole at the center of one of the faces. “Energy goes in here.”

Silas tried to peer inside the hole. “To do what?”

“Not know, but it not come back, and I not feel energy after it goes in.”

Nurana drew in a sharp breath. “Meaning there is a vessel inside. I don’t like this.”

“Fascinating. Let me try.” Silas snatched the object out of Zaya’s hand. Keeping a tight rein on his Landscape was difficult, but Silas managed to push a bit of energy into the object. “Huh. It really does just disappear. Strange.”

“Maybe just be good vessel?”

Nurana shook her head. “A vessel, even one that can hold a lot of energy, is nothing new. Certainly not something that would be depicted on statues. Let me see.”

Nurana was a bit more cautious at first, gingerly letting strands of energy into the hole. “It’s got to have a function, but I think we either haven’t fed it enough energy, or the wrong kind.”

“Wrong kind of energy?” Zaya asked.

“Well, maybe it needs energy of a certain Art? Maybe it needs unattuned energy.” Nurana shrugged. “Don’t your people make artifacts with unattuned energy?” she asked, throwing a glance at Zaya.

“Yes, the children of Arulad make objects with pure energy.”

Gnarly took the object from Nurana’s hand, the silver threads in his eyes shifting as he looked at it from each side.

“How do they do it, by the way? Isn’t the energy of one’s Landscape naturally influenced by their Arts?”

Zaya smirked. “Normally, yes. But Arulad have special technique. Much secret.”

“That’s got to be a fascinating area—”

“Creak, creak!” Gnarly held the object in both hands as a series of clicks sounded out. The metal bars and patterns covering the faces shifted, the whole surface rearranging itself as the dodecahedron expanded. In a matter of heartbeats, each face of the dodecahedron had changed, revealing a new pattern. The small holes in the centre of each face remained.

Nurana instinctively edged away from the cube. “What happened?”

“It… expanded,” Silas leaned forward to inspect the object.

“But why?”

“Something be inside to hold energy. Almost feel… alive?” Zaya scrunched up her face as if she’d just woken up to a spider crawling on her face.

“Don’t infuse it with energy!” Nurana shouted.

“Calm down, not be stupid.”

Silas cocked an eyebrow but chose not to say anything. “Maybe Nurana has a point. Blindly shoving energy into whatever this is seems like a good way for it to blow up in our faces.”

“Not be bomb.”

“Still, we should at least try to understand it first. Someone’s got to know something about it.”

Nurana thought for a moment. “We could check in the city’s library, we might find something there.”

“Creak.”

“See? Even Gnarly agrees with me,” Nurana said with a smirk.

“That not be good argument. Ah!” Zaya rubbed her hand as one of Gnarly’s vines lashed out at her. “Sorry.”

Gnarly nodded once, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Creak.”

“I wonder what the patterns mean, though,” Silas pondered, holding the object up into the light. “Why did all of them shift?”

“Maybe it’s encoded? Either way, until we find out more, it’s useless to—”

A sudden knock on their door interrupted Nurana. Silas quickly put the cube away just as the door opened. A woman dressed in a pale robe stepped in. Despite her casual clothing, Silas knew she was a warrior at first glance. She walked with a certain natural grace only earned through battle.

“Good, you’re all here. My name is Nianda. You are to come with me. There’s a cart waiting outside.”

Nurana was the first to regain her composure. “I was under the impression that we were supposed to stay here until next moon?”

“Not necessary. I spoke to the healers.”

Something told Silas that she didn’t need to speak to the healers to get them out of the infirmary.

“I am glad to hear that,” Nurana dipped her head. “May I ask on whose orders you are acting?”

A moment passed as Nianda looked Nurana up and down, a clear scowl forming on her lips. “You do not need to concern yourself with that. I will await you by the door.”

Nianda stepped out and closed the door behind her.

A moment of silence passed between them before each began to gather up their belongings. “Why did she look at you like that?” Silas whispered to Nurana, throwing a furtive glance at the door.

Nurana sighed. “She saw my skin and realized I’m not a full-blooded Drakhonian. After the war of Bounty’s Reach, the Drakh look down on anyone remotely Ceraviehlian. Hence her reaction.”

Zaya laid a hand on Nurana’s shoulder. “Know how it feels.”

“Thank you.” Nurana sighed, cramming her few clothes in a bag. “It’s so ironic it’s almost funny. When I was in Kuzant everyone treated me differently because of my dark skin, now I’m here, and everybody only sees how light it is. I don’t fit in anywhere, do I?”

“Not be sad. You will always be annoying know-all to us. Never change.”

“I’m not a know-all!” Nurana protested, looking at Silas for support, only receiving an amused glance. “By Ixchel, you are awful friends,” she said, failing to hide the smile forming on her lips.

They followed Nianda out of the infirmary in silence, neither daring to ask where they were going. Silas would bet his best arrow on not getting an answer. The carriage was quite sturdy, with wooden shutters to block out the light. A large Karash pulled it, a saddle on its back. Silas would never get used to their yellow, slit-like eyes. He half-expected it to spew fire at him at any given moment.

A small lightbulb was attached to the roof of the carriage. The shutters were closed from the outside, with metal bars holding them in place. Nianda ushered them in and the door banged closed.

Silas let his head sack against the wall of the carriage. To his surprise, it was also made out of some kind of sandstone. “Where do you think we’re going?”

“Wherever it is, they don’t want anybody to know about it,” Nurana rattled one of the shutters.

Zaya frowned, her thin eyebrows almost touching each other. “But we know nobody in this city.”

Nurana sighed. “That’s what has me worried.”