As the ivory flap of the Command Center fell away and the CAU associate gestured Val forward, one thought came to mind. Forty was such a small number in my head.
Though there was ample room for at least double the people in the tent, the adventurers took up space by merely existing. Inside was home to mages captaining the top teams in the Second and First Halos. Of course they’d carry a presence—a weight to them—that was physically tangible the instant she walked in. Val had never been more glad to have a mask she could don without difficulty, hiding the way their gazes pressed at her skin through her armour. She strode in after Jesal, a mere step behind as whispers washed over the pair in a quiet wave.
“I can recognize that blue anywhere. That’s ‘em, alright.”
“By them, you don’t mean—”
“Yup. Age of Atera recruits. ‘Nun of their faces ring a bell. They must be fresh.”
“And they’ve been chosen for an expedition?”
“Are ya surprised?”
“Even the Reynor Royals weren’t called upon, man. Damn right, I’d be surprised.”
“I have a feeling we’ll find out what their deal is soon enough.”
Val forced herself to ignore the idle talk and instead kept her head on a swivel, staking out the new environment. Somebody—she wagered a bunch of CAU associates—rolled out a dark carpet on the clay-like rock underneath their boots and furnished the Command Center with a mahogany table grand enough to intimidate anyone.
So large was the work surface that every captain had their own spot along the perimeter, choosing to push the long benches to the edge of the tent in favour of crowding close. Whether previously discussed or solely a stroke of luck, a gap remained in the group, allowing both Jesal and Val to join the rest without a fuss.
Four sets of eyes caught her attention. The first of which held a green very similar to Jesal’s. From further down the table at the top corner, Silann’s eyebrows shot to the roof of her brow as her younger cousin and former teammate waved. Her lips curled up to resemble something of a grin, and she smacked the back of her hand against the adventurer beside her.
A Kidraan at least a head taller than the small army of adventurers gathered turned around, bewildered for the briefest moment before his blue eyes settled on Val’s form. Errick “Rick” Landry, her captain for a time, shot her a wry smile and a nod, both of which Val gladly returned. A couple of months later, she now stood amongst them as peers, no longer tested or secretly scored. It was uncanny how quickly things happened to change, with or without her say. So that’s the team we’re familiar with.
Unfortunately, there was another team Val knew all too well, one that she’d be perfectly fine not seeing for the remainder of the year. An orange-haired Bulwark she distinctly remembered from her time in Storm's Keep likely shared her sentiments, seeing as he grimaced harshly upon spotting her. If nothing else, he had a moment’s reprieve to prepare for when his captain’s gaze snatched onto Val.
Leah Versetti's face darkened three measurable degrees in the same number of seconds, the muscles beneath her jaw tight as she ground her teeth.
“Man she does not let go of a grudge,” Jesal whispered, noticing the pure venom radiating from the water—and ice?—mage.
“No,” Val sighed, tearing her eyes away. “She does not.”
“Stabbing you practically through and through isn’t enough?”
“You can ask her and tell me. I’m wondering the same thing at this point.”
“You seem too calm with this.”
“Seem,” Val emphasized. “But even my patience is coming to an end.”
“Then she’s walking on thin ice without even knowing it.”
Val glanced at him sidelong and he winced, scratching the side of his face. “That bad?”
“That bad.”
She hardly had a chance to imagine if Jesal would out-pun Lowell before a booming voice rattled Val’s brain in her very skull.
“The final players have arrived!”
Mentally, Val understood she was observing a Novice. Broad shoulders, an air about himself that made her inherently trust him, and a stature that certified she couldn’t easily shove him off his feet—there was no mistaking the fact that he was a Bulwark. But his age…
Physically, he resembled a middle-aged man, with silver dusting his short-trimmed hair and white speckles within his full beard. At a glance, she measured his aether pool, determining it near one thousand. Absurd when she thought about it in terms of raw numbers, less so when she factored in his evident age. Val found it odd that a man the CAU deemed worthy of leading was unable to ascend to the next rank. Then it hit Val.
Ascension in and of itself was hard. It seemed being surrounded by prodigies day-in and day-out warped her impression of the aetherial sphere, where making the Adept prior by mid-twenties hardly deserved praise. His years on the job warranted experience; experience hand-in-hand with capable colleagues made for an easy time. Hopefully, anyways.
“Let’s get this party on the road, shall we?” He clapped his hands twice, his head swivelling around as he appraised every one of them. “My name’s Pierce Whitten, and I’ll be your Expedition Lead for the next couple of days. Now—the rift we’ve been called to deal with is not big by any means. While that is true, our government believed it best to nip it in the bud while it was still small, and I honestly agree.”
He slid a hand underneath his set of armour, rummaging through a hidden pocket until he struck gold. Seconds later, a metal disc was thrown onto the table, glueing onto the wooden surface as soon as it landed. A hissing sound cut through the focused silence. Light speared out from its center like a pillar, and that single point broadened until it formed a rectangular shape. Is that an… IBR-screen?
A figure of a monotone map grew clearer, outlining an underground cavern system that looked similar to a spider web. “As you can see,” Whitten began, “the rift has spread its claws between the caves and crevices of the rocky terrain. Some weave underground, some remain mostly above the surface. There have been twenty identified openings. Hence—” he swept a hand at them “—the reason twenty teams have been called.”
“Are we attacking from all sides?” Val asked herself in a mumble, a hand on her chin as she observed the holographic flickering in front of her.
“Right on!”
Val flinched, her wide eyes meeting his amused smirk. He shot her a wink that she couldn’t begin to interpret, then continued like nothing was amiss about his enthusiastic agreement. “They each intersect and converge at the center, where the core of the rift is located. Teams will be assigned to a certain entrance, assembling with other squads as the paths connect.”
“There’s one issue here, Whitten,” Rick spoke up, and his low-timbre voice immediately stole the attention of the room. Shoulders shifted to grab the best view of the dark-skinned Bulwark, and heads tilted forward at a chance to hear his rebuttal. “Coordination will probably be the key to success for this mission. We’ll be dead in the water without some way or method to talk to the other nineteen groups traversing the rift.”
“Correct, correct. That’s why the CAU so graciously lent us their trained messengers,” Whitten replied. “Your written letters will be carried off the backs of Windsnappers. Should those be ineffective, the squads chosen for this expedition have Hunters or some equivalent. Send them instead. The expectation is to communicate with the teams in adjacent entrances nightly.”
He bobbed his head. “Understood.”
A strong urge to shake her head wryly at the mention of the Windsnappers overcame Val. After all, it was the very same speedy bunny she'd spent an hour tracking down in the Tripartite Trial alongside her five-man squad, narrowly killing it despite laying a trap. The association couldn't have chosen a better beast to train. Messages wouldn't take long to go from track to track.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Okay! Moving onwards to the main reason I gathered you here today,” the Auricean Bulwark supplied. “Some of you will have to be working together sooner rather than later, as these paths converge pretty often and pretty soon once we begin our way inside. It's been decided to group you together to make life easier and our jobs a bit more efficient. Here are your pods, so listen up. Errick Landry, Leah Versetti, and Jesal Haldar. Your teams will be clearing Tracks A to C respectively. That good with you?”
“My squad has an idea on how both teams operate, so it’s rather perfect actually,” Jesal voiced, while Silann simply nodded her assent. That left one team to clear the suggestion and move on to the rest of the tracks, and yet an eyebrow-raising quiet stretched on among the captains.
Concern etched its way across Whitten’s already furrowed forehead. “And you, Versetti?”
“I don’t trust Efron with my life,” she spat. “Not with a father like Raven.”
Hushed murmurs were set alight as recognition shone brightly in the eyes of the secondborns. Val stilled as twenty-something people turned to her—a few frowning, others covering their mouths as a gasp escaped them unbidden, and most simply shaking their heads in wonder.
She could only guess what went through their minds as they tried to reconcile the charming, chestnut-haired and golden-eyed captain many knew Raven Efron as with the calm mage weathering the distinct shift in mood in bleak fashion: her arms crossed and her expression bare.
She couldn’t hide everything, this time around though. Her gaze drifted to meet Versetti’s opposite of her, and while not a single muscle in her face twitched, Val knew her irises blazed. Not alight due to the Mage’s Mark, nor alit because of a poorly-timed casting of Vague View. No—it was the kind that stemmed from ire barely leashed.
“Valory,” Sil said, a warning.
Why was it her that had to be called in check? Why did she have to be the reasonable one of the two? Val was getting tired accommodating the needs of her peers for her awkward presence—for always having to explain one thing or the other for little reason. Can’t even return an insult these days, can I?
A long inhale chilled her stormful thoughts at once. Should she rise to the barb the minute Versetti brought up her Dad’s case, she’d play right into her hands. That was the last thing Val planned to do and so, with an equally lengthy breath out, she let her lips curl upwards in a placating smile and canted her head to the side.
“What does a parent's past actions have to do with their child’s present ones?” Whitten asked, not directly to Versetti, his eyes seeking the attention of every captain in the room. “Oftentimes—something, just not so in this case. If you believe for a second that the CAU hadn’t picked the damn best and finest of the crop, then you best leave right now.”
Silence.
“Right,” Whitten snorted. “Now, should no one have an applicable reason to refuse, I ask again. Teams Landry, Versetti, and Haldar—are you on board?”
“Always have been,” was Rick’s response.
“Yes, sir,” Jesal said.
Versetti, clearly having more to say, grunted her approval and left it at that.
“Good enough for me.” The Expedition Lead shrugged, going on to list the remaining pods for Tracks D to T, sprinkling in additional information when he considered it necessary. Eventually, his debrief led him to his final piece of information for the night.
“Ever wonder how such a dreary place earned a colourful name like Bloom’s Essence?” In the presence of no responses, Whitten detached a piece of equipment from his toolbelt and held it up for all to see, and it was then that Val could recognize it for what it was—a mask. “In the crevices and caves, the place is filled with an array of lustrous flowers throughout. Unfortunately, they excrete poisonous, invisible toxins.
“First it puts you to sleep, then it slowly inhibits your bodily functions until your heart stops beating and your lungs cease breathing. It’s dangerous to even catch a whiff without these masks.” A sharp grin slashed across his face. “Can anyone guess what these flowers are called?”
“Bloom’s... Essence?” Sil’s dry reply cracked a smile on the majority of captains, her indifference measured up against Whitten’s firecracker energy creating an almost comedic affair.
The Expedition Lead snapped his fingers with a flourish. “Dead on! Hand these out to your teammates if you want to live and kindly explain the course of actions that are to come tomorrow. That’s it for today, folks. See you bright and early.”
…
Would it be considered weird to be thankful that an otherwise death-dealing rift existed for the sole reason of being a part of an expedition? Perhaps thankful wasn’t the right term, yet some type of non-negative feelings welled up in Val’s chest at the thought of just standing here.
Under the constellations of stars so plentiful, it seemed like an explosion of astral energy spanned the midnight sky above, a fitting roof for the tens of adventurers and associates alike flitting from place to place. Val spotted three to four medic-for-hires as she wove through the tight walkways between the tents, making note of the golden bands stitched onto their upper arms.
Soon the narrow alleys gave way to a broad path, widening further to accommodate what she could only deem an outdoor hub. The scent of freshly grilled meat teased at her stomach, the prospect confirmed as she spotted food tents lining the left-most area. A roaring flame reaching a dozen feet high every ten seconds like clockwork soon caught her attention. She would’ve registered it as a spell if not for the chunks of logs assembled at the bottom and the wooden benches wrapped around its perimeter. The size of that campfire sure is something…
“Look,” Jesal pointed towards the food tents. Most of Hammer Squad waited in line at a smore’s station, Bo and Aeron not too far behind as they struck up a conversation with Caro. One more completed their group of four, and it was upon squinting that she made out Mikhail—formerly known as Williams—a fellow participant of the Tripartite Trials.
Val made it two steps before a high-pitched voice she could regrettably place anywhere stopped her right in her tracks. “How about a round two?”
Once again, Versetti worded it precisely so those who overheard—specifically adventurers—couldn't help but pause and listen. She blazed a path toward Val, presumably hot on her trail since the captains left Central Command to deal with their personal affairs. “It’s never a bad day to teach Raven’s daughter a lesson.”
Val matched her pace, meeting right in the middle of the path just outside the outdoor hub. She was officially done; the last of her waning patience shrivelled and disappeared. “One,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare say my Dad’s name again. Ever. And two—really? It’s like twelve in the night, and we commuted for hours to get here. Hell, you came from the Second Halo. Aren’t you tired?”
Versetti threw a slight shrug her way. “I say it’ll boost morale, seeing as everyone will get to know what their captains are capable of. Right people?”
Adventurers were gathering at the call out, whistling their agreements, a few even going so far as to shout.
“Unless,” Leah drawled, “you want to duck out?” She neared Val’s face and whispered, “No different from your mother in that respect. I’m glad she’s gone.”
----------------------------------------
As tame as Val usually was, the icy sheen that came over her imperturbable friend somewhat alarmed Caro. A small smile spread across her face as if she was contemplating between a velvet or a chocolate cake. Then she slid her hands into her pockets.
Caro’s internal siren began to blare.
Perhaps unbeknownst to Val herself, she had certain gestures that told Caro a little of what was going on inside that mysterious head of hers. Fiddling with any of her earrings relayed that she was uncomfortable in some sort, a hand through her hair conveyed she was stressed, but the hands in pocket gesture? That indicated she was calm.
Calm meant one of two things concerning Val. Either she had no qualms with what was occurring, or she was going to make sure she had no qualms within the next five minutes. Normally it was the former, just your everyday Valory making sure the strife in both her life and everyone around her was to a minimum. So why did Caro have a hunch that it was the latter, at the moment? Just what did Leah say?
Before Caro could stop whichever internal factor of Val's from resolving into irreversible action, she cracked her mouth open. “Morale, you say?” Val reached over the shoulder to unsheathe her weapon and the sound cut through the everbuilding tension. Hammer Squad and Rick’s crew froze in place. Most of the young Horizon's Silence team, including Mike, wore a tired wince. To everyone’s surprise—and Caro’s eternal relief—Val walked away, blade in hand. Caro could’ve sworn Sil exhaled from behind the pair of arguing Strikers, which was considerably odd for the typically apathetic Support.
Then Val paused and dug her sword into the rocky ground as if it were a shovel, on a path toward the empty, courtyard-like space not up to fifty meters away from the massive fire. Her sword remained in the ground, carving a deep line in her wake. A circle, Caro amended privately as she watched the metal mage curve in once a stretch too far. “A Duelist Ring,” someone whispered before Caro could put the thought together.
A corner of Versetti’s lips lifted in a sneer. “What do we need a ring for? I mean, I guess you couldn’t land a single blow on me last time. It makes sense if you need to make it small enough for your lousy aim.”
“Oh please. Don’t flatter yourself.” Val glanced at Leah without so much as a lick of amusement. “It’s to ensure you don’t run.”
Oooh girl. This was definitely the latter. About half of the campsite was gathered now, a mere glance enough to tell. When Caro spotted the Expedition Lead, she believed the spectacle to be as good as over. Then a grin—much identical to one she’d wear if she wasn’t so freaking worried—dashed that hope far into the night sky. The ink had settled and there was no stopping it. So, Caro cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed the one thing on her mind since her go at Storm’s Keep. “You beat that bitch to hell and back Val!”