I stared at the young noble, "I apologize, but I must have misheard."

"No, you didn't," Flynn replied with a grin, "I propose we duel for the journal. A classic mage duel. To first blood or surrender, as is tradition among friends. Whoever loses will withdraw their offer for Markov's journal."

The noble seemed earnest, but it was an obvious a trap as I had encountered. I stretched my senses out, trying to pierce the shroud Sion had wrapped around himself since I entered the home. Flynn seemed to expect as much and, with a smile, relaxed his control.

His mana shone like the sun, fierce, bright, and almost painful to examine for too long.

Five sub-stages comprised the gaseous stages: Vapor, Haze, Mist, Fog, and Cloud. Each represented a marked increase in density and magical potency. While it was possible to fight beyond your rank, that required surpassing skill, proper equipment, surprise, a sound strategy, and luck.

My mana was at the upper end of Vapor, starting to brush the boundaries of my core, and although I lacked the experience to gauge precisely where Flynn fell, it was denser than a Haze. Not much more, so I suspected he was a Mist, but even that was a tall wall to climb.

"A duel is generally between equals and rivals," I responded after a pause, "We are at least two stages apart. You know more about my skills, can prepare, and likely have superior tools. It seems hardly a fair fight."

"No such thing, I'd say," Flynn countered, "But excellent points regardless. In the interest of fair play, I'll refuse to use anything beyond my spellcraft. No enchanted tools to focus my magic, no armor to ward off attacks, and no traps to catch you off-guard. As for the rest, well, those are the realities of a duel. I'd hope you have more in reserve than two spells after months of training."

If he meant to goad me into action, he was insulting the wrong person. Still, the offer was again better than I expected. Part of me, the impatient part that wanted to focus on my goals, screamed to accept and be done with this whole affair. But I drowned out that impulse. Aether and my wand might let me hit as hard as a Mist, but that was it. Flynn was more experienced and skilled, and his mana superior in nearly every way. He held every advantage in a duel.

"I need time to consider your challenge and respond properly," I finally said as I pushed back to stand, "And to consult my mentor. It is hardly appropriate to accept or reject such a proposal without his command."

Flynn's eyebrows rose, and he opened his mouth, but before he could reply, I inclined my head and continued, "If you will excuse me, Master Julian is expecting an update before the end of the day. Thank you for the meal, and I will be in touch."

I was out and onto the streets in barely a minute. My trip back to the Pale Pauper was uneventful, though I kept my senses outstretched, looking for any spies or magical constructs along the way.

When I was finally back in my room and alone, I moved to settle my nerves. Spare clothes hung over the windows, blocking how I suspected Flynn snuck his constructs in unseen. Light mana mimicked actual light, after all.

Finally, I sat on the floor and retrieved the second of Julian's orbs, focusing on contacting the older man. My claim had been an excuse, but the master should know of Flynn Sion's offer and challenge.

"A duel?" Julian's voice was bright, almost annoyingly chipper, "Not a bad idea. Even if he loses, he'd retain his honor by giving up his prize to a stronger mage. So very Sion of him."

"Do you think I could win?"

"Of course not. He doesn't think so, either. You were smart to turn him down, though."

"Technically, I did not yet," I replied, "Have you heard about him?"

"Not much, but yes. You met quite a little terror. A prodigy, though less than young Sophia Estton. Still, he's already a Mist at seventeen and skilled Mist at that."

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I gnawed at my bottom lip, "He offered to duel without any tools, though. Would that change anything?"

"Yes, but not enough. A two-stage jump is technically possible, but it's usually a combat mage defeating a researcher. No, unfortunately, the best way to get what we want is to go back to Baron Markov. It's time to poke the metaphorical bear."

"How?"

"The most feared weapon of all," Julian's voice paused, "A scathing letter of condemnation."

Over the next several minutes, Julian dictated a letter. Despite his joke, it was a polite missive explaining that he was sure this whole affair was a mistake and that he was positive Baron Markov would accept their offer within three days.

"What is going to happen in three days?" I asked as Julian paused in his speech.

"You're going to pack up and head back home."

"What?" I blinked, "Why?"

"Ideally, to force Markov's hand. He should recognize the implicit threat and respond accordingly. Either he will agree to our deal, or his reputation dies with the rest of his family. It's not a far-off end, as you've gathered by now."

I blinked. It seemed a poor strategy, and I wondered why Julian did not speak with Flynn and try to convince him to retract his offer. Beyond that, three days left me little time to find my prize.

"Are you sure we should not give him longer to consider, master?" I finally said, "I can extend my stay here if needed."

"Oh, why's that?" Julian's voice turned sly, "Did you meet someone? Forbidden love between travelers passing like ships at sea? Scandalous."

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, "No. But if I am already here, maybe-"

"Yes, I know what you meant, and no, we will not wait longer than three days. The power of a threat is following through with it. If we do that, Markov might cave. Right now, he's stuck between insulting us or the Sions, and we need to convince him that I'm the bigger threat to his reputation. Which I am, but we need to sell that."

I tried to think of a protest, but nothing came to mind. Julian's plan made sense, and I knew the challenge was idiotic. Still, a part of me wondered.

Could I have won that duel? Flynn was strong, but I needed to face challenges to grow. I would not always have the luxury of facing someone on my level or weaker.

Our conversation turned to magic, and I asked the older man questions about improving my senses and control. Julian had some ideas, mostly involving as much practice as humanly possible, but ended with explicit orders to rest.

I ignored him, of course, and ran through basic staff strikes for several hours while coaxing mana from my core. It was another exercise designed to perfect separating physical motions from magical control, and one that I had no hope of mastering any time soon.

The following morning came too soon, and I returned to the mines to resume my explorations. Fresh snow obscured my first trail, but my experiment bore fruit. I could sense a faint path where Aether thrummed, soft but less so than before. While I had hoped for something more stark, it was enough.

Hours passed as I followed the path, wandering ever westward and deeper into the forest. I was blind, my sight once more blocked, and the world around me became a patchwork of my other five senses. I could hear the rustle of wind, which replaced the familiar sounds of humanity, and feel an icy sting against my skin. The air smelt of winter, sharp and crisp, but underneath it, something tasted of rot and decay on my tongue.

But most stark of all was the patchwork of mana, which turned my mind's eye into a sunburst of colors and sensations. Ice and wind mana brushed to and fro, steady earth mana stuck together like iron bars under my feet, wood mana stood up all about me, and beneath it all ran an emerald river of power.

Three times, I encountered magical creatures, and three times, I hid rather than fight. The first was a wolf, smaller and weaker than the first, but still a battle I would rather avoid. The second was a feline, about as large as a stray dog and covered in dense white fur. It saw past my shroud, met my eyes, and yowled before disappearing into the forest.

The third beast was the most interesting of the bunch, though. It was a massive bird the size of my torso with talons sharper than my spear and as long as a finger. I could feel earth and metal mana clinging to their edges, and what caught my attention most was its condition. It looked...strong. Healthy. Well-fed.

I set that aside to consider later and continued on my way. As I wandered, I felt almost relaxed. There was no maneuvering or scheming out here; there were no rivals, awkward social interactions, or confusion about what to say and do. It was funny that a trip through an unfamiliar forest surrounded by threats was the closest I had felt to being at ease in months.

When the sun reached its apex, I paused while scrawling my latest pseudo-enchantment. Though I could make my way back faster, retreating before it grew too dark might be prudent.

Then again, time was of the essence.

I shook my head and resolved to carry on for a while longer. The Aether signature grew stronger with every mile, and I was sure I had to find my prize sooner or later.

Something caught my eye as I moved to replace my blindfold, maybe a hundred feet to my side. It looked half-buried under the snow, and I ducked low, drawing on my mana and aiming my spear forward, only to relax a second later.

There was no noticeable mana signature or movement, which meant it was likely dead. I reconsidered after a second, gathered enough mana to form two bolts, and threw them into the mass just to be sure.

When it remained motionless, I walked closer and pushed the snow back. Underneath it was a deer or elk, smaller than even a non-magical specimen would reach. Strangely, it looked healthy aside from the wound I had inflicted. It did not look to be starving or previously injured, just...dead.

Magical organisms grew with mana, but not all got it from the same sources. Plants would gain it through absorbing mana in the air, soil, or water, and animals would then either eat these plants or eat other creatures to gain their mana.

Other sources, such as the Aether pool, supplemented that natural order, but at its heart, every ecosystem relied on magical plants. So, an herbivore such as a deer should be fine even in winter—maybe skinnier but not starving.

I thought about the condition of the wolves and boar, the reports of attacks, and that bird that appeared healthy. Then, I thought about the deer and wondered what could have killed it. As I considered everything, I stared deeper into the forest.

There were a few possibilities, but all spoke to a disruption in the ecosystem. And there was one thing that would cause such a change without question. A shiver ran down my spine, and caution became a much more appealing choice than just minutes earlier.

At that moment, I decided to return to Aresford while it was still bright. There were things I could do in the comforting blanket of civilization, and the mystery of this damned place was beginning to resolve into something recognizable.

The trip back was tense, and I stretched my senses out in every direction. Every shadow now felt like it hid something; my spear became a steadying weight in my hands, and I jumped at every noise and rustle, ready to defend myself. And though I could not see them, I swore I felt eyes watching me, hungry and waiting.