The Fonts were created in the void, but through their creation, the gods built something within the nothing. The void around the Fonts became the Arcane Realm, and ceased to be the void at all.

-Tallen Elmheart, Secondary Fonts

—

Doug joined the group for lunch and they headed over together discussing the possibilities of their next week’s mission.

“Did you know that about the dungeon?” Kole asked Zale.

“Sort of?” She answered, uncertainly. “I knew it wasn’t something the professors could control completely, but I didn’t realize it was completely unknown. In the past, professors have tried to use it for things besides teaching, but it never seemed to do what they wanted. They tried hosting a hardball match inside once.”

“What happened?” Doug asked.

“The Dahn seemed… irritated. They got it to create the environment they wanted, but the trees were all the wrong color, the animals made strange sounds, and the whole place smelled like old cheese. Despite all that, they ran the match, and when they tried to review the recording, they found the illusory record followed the progress of an ant colony within slowly deconstructing a loaf of bread. The ball did appear in the view for about three seconds when someone dropped it into view.”

“Bwa!” Rakin laughed, rubbing his hand affectionately along the wall as he walked. “I hadn’t heard about that. I think this place is starting to grow on me.”

***

“Blasting rod!” Amara demanded hand outstretched as they came upon her outside the dining hall.

Kole handed it over, proud he’d not completely destroyed it. Amara carefully examined the runes on the rod, rubbing her fingers over it, holding it up to her eye, and even smelling the wood.

“Hmm,” was all she said, as she put it in her belt. “You need to come learn the next rune pattern this week.”

Kole nodded.

Amara finally noticed the presence of the demonkin boy and her eyes grew wide as they locked onto his horn.

“That’s Doug,” Zale introduced. “He’s a part of our team now and will be in the study group too.”

“Your horns are beautiful,” Amara said breathlessly.

Doug flushed, embarrassed. Idly he touched the tip of one with his finger.

“Antlers, actually,” he corrected.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Is that rude?” Amara apologized, holding her hand over her mouth and looking from Zale to Kole for guidance.

“I don’t think so,” Doug answered. “What’s rude is when people throw rocks at them."

They were in the military college’s cafeteria again, as it was the one with staff least put off by Zale’s presence, but the addition of the demonkin foiled that plan, and once again they attracted stares.

“So, anyone up for hardball again tonight?” Zale asked.

“No,” Rakin grunted.

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“Sure,” Doug said. “What’s that?”

“You don’t know what hardball is!?” Zale gasped.

Zale excitedly described the game, which didn’t take too long since there were hardly any rules. She spent most of the time describing the teams that would play that night and how they would watch.

“Sure, sounds fun. I have to go out to the grove for a while, but I can come by after.”

“Great! Let’s all meet on campus at six,” Zale said, glaring at Rakin when she said all.

***

After lunch, Kole went back to the library to rest in his new bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow and woke to the sound of ruffling pages.

He opened his eyes to see Theral at work at the desk in the room.

“Welcome back,” Kole said groggily

“Sorry,” Theral said, looking up from his books. “I thought I was being quiet.”

“It’s alright. I spent a few hours deaf today after getting hit by a Thunderwave and sound is a novelty.”

Theral let out a laugh.

“I can understand that. I was chased through the forest deaf a few times. It was terrifying.”

A few times? How does that happen more than once? Kole thought to ask but was interrupted.

“So you figure out Thunderwave?” Theral asked.

“No. It’s not even been a week,” Kole said, moving to sit up. “It was a goblin sorcerer—or shaman? I copied the spellform over but have no idea how to begin making the path.”

“Only a week?” Theral asked, still smiling. “It seemed longer.”

Kole was already getting annoyed with how Theral thought this whole situation was funny. Like he knew some small secret behind each sentence lending it deeper hilarious meaning.

“You should find the book Arcane Path Finding by Trandrid Hobble,” Theral suggested, ignoring the mention of the goblin.

“You mean that book?” Kole asked, pointing to one of the books on the shelf he’d recalled from his first visit.

Theral turned and spotted the book on the shelf, then laughed harder.

“Yeap, that one. And while you’re at it you should probably read Unknowable Geographies and Bridges to Power right next to it. They won’t teach you how to make the paths, but… the Arcane Realm is weird and they give you some perspective to comprehend the weirdity of it all.”

“Weirdity?” Kole asked, repeating the made-up word.

“Exactly.”

Just as with their last meeting, Kole had the sense this young wizard had a lot more knowledge than one of his age ought to possess, yet he was very clearly not some ancient dragon in disguise.

What self-respecting dragon would say ‘weirdity?’

“Thanks for the advice. Do you mind me asking why you keep showing up here?”

“Nope, not at all,” Theral answered, turning back to his studies.

Kole let out a groan when he realized what he was doing.

“Why do you keep showing up here?” Kole repeated, not amused.

“I had a run-in with a Primordial, and now I randomly channel the Font and appear here and a few other places.”

“Huh…I actually just met a guy with a similar problem. He’s a Spatial primal and he can’t stop himself from teleporting.”

Kole saw the humor leave Theral’s face, replaced with rabid curiosity. But, instead of the questions Kole expected, Theral bit his lower lip, as if physically holding them in.

“So why here?” Kole asked, “Were you a student at the Academy or something?”

Bemused for a moment, he processed the question and then replied, “A student? No, but I spent a lot of time learning in this building on my own. I think that’s why I came here. I don’t have conscious control over the ability, but subconsciously my Will pushes me somewhere safe. I’ve never shown up anywhere in danger—so far at least.”

The shift to primal adjacent issues piqued Kole’s interest.

“Do you have any ideas on how to stop it?”

“Plenty,” Theral answered, holding up his book to show a long bullet-pointed list, “but none I’m confident will work. Right now I’m working on building a bridge near the problematic Font.”

“I thought you were already a wizard,” Kole asked, confused. “You can’t have two bridges.”

“Says who?” Theral asked, in a very teacherly are-you-sure manner.

“Everyone? No one? You just can’t do it. That’s like asking ‘Who says you can’t touch the sun?’ If someone did do it, they are dead, but more likely no one has. It’s impossible, or deadly enough that it makes no difference.”

“That’s a fair point,” Theral conceded, “But I think I’m on to something. Possible and impossible are just matters of perspective.”

Kole was taken aback by those words, and realized he’d fallen into a trap he’d so frequently resented others for.

He’s right. I’m always trying to convince people that I can be a wizard. They just don’t see the issue the way I do and assume that it can’t happen because it hasn’t happened.

“How does it work?” Kole asked.

“I’ll tell you if it works,” Theral said, stretching. “I was about to get some sleep.”

Kole looked at the clock and saw that he’d overslept.

“Bah!” he shouted, channeling his inner Rakin. “I’m late again!”