Powerful figures gathered around a large table in the center of the pavilion. Upon the table was a map of the immediate area, projected through a hologram. Though she tried her best to enter the room inconspicuously, everyone still managed to stop what they were doing to spare her a glance.

“Greetings.” she said confidently. “I was told that I was needed.”  

She glanced around the room, looking for a familiar face. Despite gaining fame as the Hero of Kria, she still found herself very uncomfortable in the presence of strangers. Luckily for her, old man Pascal was still close behind her.

She glanced to her right, checking if that was indeed true. When she found him gone, a hint of panic crossed her features.

Oh.

She was alone now. Then again, it’s not like this was the first time she found herself surrounded by powerful personalities. She was the Hero of Kria, a magus responsible for uniting a once-separated kingdom. A year ago she travelled from region to region, convincing lords and ladies alike to join her cause.

Of course, back then she had to meet with those people one at a time. Verbally sparring with a disgruntled lady who wondered what the hell you were doing in her castle was one thing, but getting stared at by half a dozen confident lords was something else entirely.

“It’s good to see that the Hero of Kria has chosen to join us.” the baritone voice of Commander Tristram caught her attention. He stepped forward from a corner to her right, folding under his armpit a small tablet.

He gestured for her to approach, as he stepped before the center table and placed both hands upon it.

“Forgive me for summoning you so suddenly, Your Grace.” he glanced at the other people in the room. “And I extend this apology to the rest of you as well. There is a matter that needs attending, one that concerns all of us.”

The commander was dressed in the red-and-gold of Kria. A shield emblazoned with his House’s sigil hung over his back as a sheathed sword was around his hip. He was a man in his sixties. Though his hair was greying, his body was still sinewy and strong.

Stepping forward toward the table, Nikita could not help but take note of the other gathered leaders.

The easiest to spot was the eight-foot tall figure of First Soldier Interaa. The imposing deva held a military position akin to that of a human admiral. Technically speaking, Nikita realized, the deva held a higher rank than the commander.

Try as she might, Nikita could not help but stare at the deva’s impressive set of horns.

It was always weird seeing horns on something that vaguely resembled humans. The deva were basically giant, stone-fleshed people. The average deva was three times stronger than a human, and there have been stories of them literally snapping elves in half. Yet for all their imposing appearance, deva were the only race in the world incapable of controlling magic.

And while the deva chose their leaders as strength as the only measure, Nikita knew that nobles like herself were still way out of First Soldier Interaa’s league. While the deva’s eight-foot frame may have been intimidating to any other magus in the world, to her and the other nobles in this room, he was nothing more but a very big, easy to hit target.

She then turned her attention to the much smaller figure beside the deva. Elder Istonia was an elf, made clear enough by her pointy ears and lithe figure. An ornate staff hung on her back, while the elf herself set her eyes across the digital map with a look of quiet scrutiny. The elf reminded Nikita of her grandmother. She seemed aloof and wise, but most of all, just a little bit scary.

The other figures that gathered around the table included the occasional uninteresting noble, uninteresting captain of said noble’s guard, and—

—a particularly pink-haired, spectacled girl who very much looked out of place.

The girl stood relaxed, with a hand on her hip and her fingers tapping away at her cell phone. She was dressed in a fashionable jacket, a contrast to the armored figures of everyone else. Nikita was not armored herself, but she was at least wearing a soldier’s long coat.

She must have been someone very important to be allowed here, considering the fact that nobody was even paying attention to her. Was she a noble? A diplomat? Someone’s secretary? She was probably all of these things.

“My lords and ladies, First Soldier Interaa and Elder Istonia.” Commander Tristram began, clearing his throat. “I thank you all for coming in such short notice.”

“We had no choice.” the deep voice of the Interaa seemed to echo in the tent. “Your king placed us under your command. We were sent here by the Composer himself to investigate this Rift, yet every moment your people hold us back from our duty.”

“The area is far too unstable for your people to just haphazardly walk about.” Tristram said. “I am sorry, but no one is allowed to cross the perimeters we have set up.”

The giant seemed to relent then, responding with nothing but a huff.

Commander Tristram placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. As the hologram’s light touched his face, Nikita saw just how tired he was.

“I am sure you are all aware what this Rift is, about what it means for all of us.” he began. “A Crossing occurs whenever an old god seeks to waken. Crossings begin with the appearance of these Rifts, gateways to the Realm of Memories. Though each of our peoples have different myths and legends to tell how the world was formed, Crossings are something that our stories all have in common—”

“Are we even sure that this is a Crossing?” interrupted a noble. “It seems to me like nothing more but an oversized portal. For all we know, an animus is waiting to come out of that, not an old god.”  

“The portals that sorcerers use are not self-sustaining.” the pink-haired girl says, her eyes not leaving her phone. “You’re a sorcerer yourself, aren’t you? You should know that.”

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The noble fumed, turning to the girl. “Know your place, advisor, I am Lord Mikhael Sommer and I will not—”

“I apologize for offending you, oh great and magnificent Lord Sommer.” the girl replied haughtily. “Gods know I should be watching my tongue in the presence of such… magnificence. Forgive my lack of tact. We in Genevede prefer to share our opinions plainly.” she turned her gaze away from him. “…without worrying too much about offending other parties.”

The lord’s face turned red. He seemed just about to burst, when the commander cleared his throat loudly,

catching his attention.

“Lord Sommer, Her Grace’s point is correct.” he said. “The Rift is self-sustaining. It appeared two weeks ago. My men have been working around the clock to find the magus channeling it. We found no one. It seems to run on its own energy, and that energy is steadily growing more powerful.”

He gestured at the hologram, causing the map to zoom in on an area directly beneath the Rift.

“Three hours ago we lost contact with one of our forward bases.” Tristram said. “The base housed a team of scholars and scientists working together to study the Rift.” he turned to the elf and deva leaders. “It is to my understanding that you both sent some of your people there as well.”  

“Of course.” the elder elf nodded. “May I know why you are only informing us of this now?”

 “The Rift’s magical energy is powerful enough to disrupt radio signals.” Tristram explained coolly. “We’re still determining if the situation is as serious as it appears, or if it’s merely an issue of interference.”

“Is the Rift getting bigger?” Nikita asked.

“Not necessarily bigger, Your Grace. Just stronger.” Tristram said. “While the Rift isn’t a portal, it still possesses a few portal-like qualities. Like portals, the Rift projects its own magical energy into the world. And as you are familiar, the more powerful the portal, the more powerful the creature it can summon.”

The veteran commander slowly scanned the faces of every person around the table.

“I believe that the Rift is nearing its apex. I’m sure most of you can feel it— that sensation of a spell nearing its completion.” his fingers tightened on the table. “Finding out what happened to the forward base is important, but so is stopping the rift from activating. In a few hours, my men and I will be launching an operation for both of those tasks. I’m not asking that anyone volunteer themselves or their men, but any offer of support is appreciated.”

Nikita didn’t even hesitate.

“I’ll go, commander.” she pounded her fist on her chest. “If there’s anyone here who has experience dealing with weird voodoo portal magic, it’s me.”

Tristram nodded his acceptance.

“I will go as well.” the First Soldier followed.

“I’ll send rangers for the cause.” while Elder Estonia said simply.

A few of the other lords also pledged their support. The last one to speak up was the pink-haired girl.

“Genevede offers her aid. My sister will be joining this operation.”

“That’s it? Genevede pledges but one magus?” the same noble from before says arrogantly.

The pink-haired girl raised her head. “My sister and I are S-Ranked magi. She is more than enough.”

That seemed to silence the noble.

When she finished speaking, Commander Tristram looked content, happy even. He stood ramrod straight and held his hands behind his back.

“I thank you all for your support. We will be departing in two hours. Each faction should only bring three to four men. Too many people may make organizing movement difficult.” he turned his attention to Nikita and nodded. “It is an honor to have the Hero of Kria join us. Your presence will boost the morale of our men.”

That was the last thing she wanted.

A lieutenant or a soldier of lesser rank approached the commander and whispered something in his ear. Though outwardly professional, Nikita noticed the deep frown that passed for a moment on the commander’s face.

“Now, if my lords and ladies would excuse me, there is a matter that needs my attention.” he gestured to a soldier to his right. “If you have any concerns about the mission, please speak to my lieutenant.”

He exits the pavilion swiftly. The leaders disperse quietly, though some linger to exchange a few words. No one talks to Nikita, though the occasional glance falls upon her.

She meets with Pascal as she exits the tent, sighing as the cold air meets her face. Old man Pascal hovered close beside her, as protective as always. He would no doubt demand to join her. It was his job. Specifically, it was his responsibility. Father trusts him to keep her safe. It was odd, in a way. He may have been older and more experienced in the face of war and conflict, but nothing changed the fact that he was a lowborn magus.

He was still physically inferior to her in every way imaginable.

If anyone needed protecting, it was him.