Rock and Jes stood in a field of baled hay on the side of the highway almost home. Jes was still laughing hysterically, as though hitting a unicorn with her car was the most hilarious thing that had ever occurred in the history of the world. Rock’s expression was one of concern, if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes the LARP weirdos, he would have thought Jes had just lost her marbles, but he was almost afraid she was entirely sane and whatever the hell was going on was actually real.

Jes finally took a deep and shuddering breath and wiped at her eyes. In the field there was war, knights and soldiers kept popping in and out of existence. Sometimes they lingered for a few minutes, sometimes only seconds. For a moment a bugler stood, trumpeting, a knight of some sort turned on him, prepared to run him down, but the bugler winked out of sight and the horse stumbled with his rider before both disappeared.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jes muttered as she watched the scene before her.

The bugler reappeared next to Ulresh and the High Commander bent and swooped the boy up onto the back of his saddle. He whirled the panicked horse and galloped back toward the camp, his army streamed around him, running full tilt away from the Wild Weave.

In the heart of it, stood the remainder of the magi, only a few were still standing. Two archmagi, four magi and a single acolyte. As one, the seven disappeared -

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- And were replaced by a pair of men on horseback. “As I was sayn’, Howard, I ‘spect we’ll-” Clark fell silent, speechless, as the midnight of Charan surrounded him.

“We conclude that the magi have failed to weave the ritual.” The Emperor said to his Chancellor.

“Yes, your excellence.” The Chancellor bowed deeply.

“They have accomplished something though, Chancellor.”

“Yes, sire. I believe that they have created some kind of tear in the weave.”

“Mmm..” Mused the emperor, smoothing one blonde brow with a slender finger. “We have accounts of those who have passed through.”

“Yes, your excellence. I myself passed through the portal. It seems safe enough.”

“Our spellweavers are much depleted.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Still, we will cross through this portal and claim the other side. If nothing else, it will prevent our enemy from claiming it.”

“I will see to it, your excellence.”

The High Commander and his forces left the wild weave, which had expanded greatly with this new catastrophe. They regrouped past where they had laid down camp before. “Set up a perimeter, find the edge of the chaos with scouts and mark it. I want this whole area encircled. Send back to Deaustrang for reinforcements.”

Soldiers hurried to fulfill his orders, the commanders, what was left of them, were already gathering to force organization onto the frightened troops. Normalcy would win the day here, panic would bring no relief.

“We’re not in Iowa anymore are we, Howard?”

“Nope.”