Climbing up the side of the first of the Three Sisters was not terribly different from climbing a knotwood tree. The craggy stone offered plenty of handholds and there were sufficient rock shelves for me to periodically stop to rest.

The biggest difference was the height. I had always felt that the climb to the top of the canopy took forever. I was never going to complain about the time it took to climb trees again.

Stopping for what must have been the dozenth time, I peered over the treetops. I had passed the top of the canopy a half-mark prior and I found the view beautiful.

From my vantage, I could see from one horizon to the other. I could see the river winding its way through the forest like the world's largest serpent. Above the trees, I watched flocks of colorful birds darting about from perch to perch. As the gray clouds above parted for a moment, one of the most incredible rainbows I had ever witnessed stretched across the sky.

Even if I didn’t find anything interesting at the top of the mountain, I was glad I had come here. The sight was certainly worth the climb.

A large figure rising up from the treetops reminded me why I typically avoided open spaces. Hiding behind a small ridge of stone, I watched the enormous condor dive down into the trees.

Moments later, it reemerged with a grune clutched in its talons. Considering that I wasn’t even a tenth the weight of the bird’s chosen meal, I had no doubt that the condor would be able to make a quick snack out of me if it was so inclined.

Not wanting to remain exposed on the cliff face longer than I had to, I resumed my climb.

It wasn’t until nearly nightfall that I pulled myself to the top of the cliff. I was definitely never going to complain about climbing trees again.

Flopping down onto the rocky ground, I tried to rest my aching arms. Even with the enhanced recovery granted to me by the system, the climb had proven brutal.

The foliage on the top of the mountain was nowhere near as thick as I was used to, but it still didn’t let me see terribly far. I was fairly sure I spotted some odd stone shapes in the distance, but I was far too tired to investigate.

Instead, I walked to a nearby cluster of trees and started setting my sigils for the evening. As I traced out a sigil of concealment, I thought about the monster I had encountered that morning. Its mana forms had been extremely complex, yet something about them was somehow familiar. Finishing my sigil of concealment, I realized why.

Stolen novel; please report.

Some of the many mana forms for the sigil were present in the creature’s aura.

I had never really thought much about the story of how the sigil of concealment was first made before. Now I was starting to think it was probably fairly close to the truth.

Long before Sanctuary Valley was founded, my people had lived the life of hunted nomads. Without sigils to protect themselves, they were often prey to the various beasts of the jungle.

One such beast was a monster that could hide in plain sight. This wicked creature would claim a new victim every day, seeming to delight in slaying those who thought themselves safest. Even the mightiest warriors could do little against this hidden foe.

Determined to save his people, a young boy laid a trap for the beast. The boy built a sturdy cage capable of holding any beast, but from which he could quickly escape. To foil the beast’s invisibility, the boy stacked many small stones at the entrance of the cage. Using himself as bait, the boy watched his little piles of stones. As one tumbled seemingly under its own power, the boy fled the cage and dropped the gate.

The killings stopped, and the wise nomads sought the secrets of the trapped beast’s power. Copied from the very magic of the creature that had hunted them, the nomads crafted a powerful shield for themselves; the sigil of concealment.

If we really had copied the mana forms for the sigil from a monster, it would have certainly explained why it was so much more complex than my other sigils. Most of my sigils only needed four components to function. The sigil of concealment needed 17.

Considering its complexity, the only reason I was able to draw the sigil was countless hours of practice. The sigil had been so critical to the protection of Sanctuary Valley that everyone with any capability for magic was required to learn the sigil.

With the ease of practice, I drew a third copy of the sigil onto the edges of my chosen resting place. However my ancestors had figured out how to draw the sigil, I was glad they had.

Sitting down, I dug through my pack. I still had a jar of bloody water from the monkey to use. I had also found some mana thirsty grass along my path that I hoped would enhance some paint.

Setting the jar of bloody water on the ground, I started chewing some of the grass into a paste. As I chewed the bitter plant, I focused on infusing it with as much of my mana as I could. After a few moments, I added the paste to the jar.

Digging out the moistest clay I could from my bag, I carefully spread it out on a stone in front of me. As I spread out the clay, I pushed mana into it like I had with the grass. I slowly reformed the clay into a bowl-like shape to prepare for the next step.

Gently, I poured the mixture from the jar onto my clay. I folded the clay around the liquid, slowly mixing the two. As I kneaded the mixture together, I once more added my mana to the mix.

Carefully storing my new sigil paint back inside the jar, I examined my creation. The result wasn’t terribly impressive, but it would hopefully give my sigils a little bit more stability.