November 1, 2020 - Pharendria, Iowa

The crude city that had sprung up around the Rift wasn’t anything like the elven cities of old. Standing on the magic molded stone of the streets, Raelendra longed for the beautiful architecture the elves had once laid claim to. Once, long ago, she had seen the City of Roses, when it was still an elven city. The way it bloomed near the river and flowered as though it belonged in the landscape had made her blood sing. This crude city of angles and dull grey stone felt oppressive by comparison.

This was the city that the empire had wrought. That her magic had created. She had guided its creation, she was responsible for this blight upon the senses. She had been unable to sleep, restlessness had taken her out of her home and drawn her along the ordered streets. Few were stirring so late, only patrols. Even then, most were on the walls that surrounded the city. Raelendra felt alone in the soulless streets of the city she had built. Standing in a crossroads, looking down four streets that were almost identical, the thoughts that had been burning in her mind finally took shape.

Her voice was soft, haunted, as she spoke it aloud. “Has the Empire lost its soul?”

Generations of elves had lived and died under the banner of the Empire of Azmael, but the current Emperor was young yet. Even younger than Raelendra. She had been born during the reign of his Grandfather and grown up during the short and brutal reign of his father. The current Emperor had seemed like a blessing after that and she had joined his Magi.

Archmagus of the Emperor’s Spellweavers.

It was the sort of title that people worked their lives for, the sort that people fought tooth and nail to get. She had been unbelievably proud when she had been appointed. It had faded now, had been fading since the Ritual. Not even two weeks since the Ritual and Raelendra was lost.

She could feel the Weave as it brushed against her skin, like spiderwebs in the dark. She had loosed the Weave in this strange place, she remembered picking at the stiffly woven threads of this reality. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.

Certainly, it had given the Empire a chance to build this foothold in the magicless world of these humans, but was it worth the sacrifice that had led them here in the first place? She shuddered, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders, the midnight air held more than a bit of a bite as it swept through her hair.

She started walking again, choosing her path almost at random, moving closer to the outer wall. It was easy to feel trapped by the rigid walls of the City. Standing on the wall, looking out over the gently rolling hills of this world, she could almost convince herself that she wasn’t trapped. Trapped by her role and the very walls she had raised against the world. She closed her eyes against the wind nipping at her face and stood for a long while drinking in the silence.

“Is there a problem, Archmagus?”

The voice intruded on her troubled thoughts and she opened her green eyes to peer at the soldier asking. “There is not.”

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“Do you require anything, mistress?”

She almost told him no, but her voice stalled. At length, she cleared her throat and answered. “Have a horse saddled and brought to the west gate.”

“With an appropriate escort?” The soldier saluted and bowed even as he asked the question, as though he were taking the answer as a formality.

“No, thank you. I will ride alone.”

“Archmagus?” That single word held a thousand words of question.

“You heard me, soldier. I expect there will be a mount waiting for me by the time I reach the west gate.”

“Yes Archmagus.”

By the time she had crossed the City to the west gate, there was a sturdy brown gelding waiting for her. A sturdy brown gelding and an appropriate escort. Her delicate brows drew together as she approached.

“Archmagus.” The leader of the escort saluted with one fist to his heart. His blue eyes looked tired and his voice was thick with sleep. “Lead the way.”

“I do not require an escort.” Her voice was clipped as she mounted, settling into the saddle with practiced ease. “I believe I was clear on that point.”

“Perfectly, Archmagus.” The soldier from the wall stepped forward. “I’m certain the escort could stay out of your way, but the Chancellor would be furious if we let you go beyond the walls without one.”

“We can stay out of sight, Archmagus, but you cannot go beyond the wall without us.” His sharp featured face was impassive.

She didn’t answer, instead she just rode out the gate. It closed behind her group with a thump that felt much more final than it should have. She could feel the eyes of the soldiers on the wall boring into her back. She could hear the horses of her escort behind her, hoofbeats and the jangle of tack.

It wasn’t the solitary ride in the moonlight that she longed for. It wasn’t the thick forests she had ridden through in her youth or the rolling hills she had called home in the more recent past. This place was flat and rolling, with only sporadic vegetation. Mostly farmland, cultivated and civilized. There was no true wilderness here. As far as the eyes could see the land had been tamed, crossed with roads and strange tall poles with wires and metal towers.

It was a world that had been beaten down by the will of a species without competitors. The wild things were hiding or had learned to live on the fringes, in the dark places. Fences crossed the landscape, marking the borders of each pasture or field. It cut the world into a neat jigsaw of borders and claims.

It was a sort of hell that Raelendra couldn’t have imagined before she stepped through the Rift. An orderly world, stripped of all the natural chaos that ruled the world she had left behind. Further west was a city of hard paved roads and houses packed close together. There were places where the only green was trapped in pots, the only green for miles was trapped in pots.

Pots.

An ache had built up in her chest, a burning ache that made each breath feel like it was lighting a fire within her. They had left behind so much to come here. They had been pushed against a wall, against the Wild Weaves and one desperate action had led them to this place. It was meant to make a place for them, a home without the enemies chasing them. Without Ogrekall and all it stood for. It was meant to repair the Wild Weaves enough that they could survive in the Outlands. It was daring, it was dangerous, it was violent and bloody.

Was it a mistake?

She could see the city in the distance now, there were the flickering lights of fires the humans, huddled together against a darkness they hadn’t had to face in generations. When they had first arrived she had seen the bright lights they had. The lights were gone now and they were surrounded by darkness. Many of them had fled, they ran in all directions, away from Pharendria.