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1 - The Wall
Warun tripped. A drop from his post atop the towering Taeko Wall offered on one side a feathered fall and on the other a piercing death. Wael Taeko was the sole remaining stronghold of magic in the south. Those born west of its wall supported the cultivation and preservation of magic. Those born to the east kept their distance alongside their distaste for all things magic.
Recovering his footing and pulling himself up by a rampart, Warun reclaimed his calm from that moment of terror, itself caused from a moment of distraction. He, along with many others, guarded this wall from all visitors. He, along with all the others, guarded this wall from no one. Wael Taeko had not seen a visitor in over three hundred eclipts. At all times, two Taekans patrolled along the top of this wall, which stretched from the mountains to their north, across a narrow gap of land, and far enough into the ocean to dissuade passage by ship.
A call from down the walk sharpened Warun’s attention. His patrol partner, Dolo, usually spirited and jesterly, rushed toward Warun upon a torrent of panic.
“Visitor!” he called with tornadic breath.
Warun flashed his eyes toward the east. A fractured obsidian sea swelled as far as he could see. Marbled black, white, and blue, the Ezard Scohr had conjured this ocean of glass nearly a thousand eclipts prior to abate invaders and demarcate their land of magic from those who rejected it. In the age since, only five had attempted to approach the wall. Of those five, only one ever returned to their city, Inder Vesh. They were the first to wander into the obsidian sea, and they left with a warning to steer their people away.
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“Visitor!” Dolo called again.
With Warun in his sights, Dolo rolled a palm-sized marble forward. It accelerated like a predating beast, sparkling with the reflection of the patroller’s fear. When it reached Warun, it leapt into the air, pouncing toward Warun. Rather than devour him, however, it froze as though suspended in time. Warun looked into it. It directed his vision toward a human, clad in a flowing black-and-white disguise, cantering like a creature made of wind through the glass labyrinth.
“Did you notify the Ezard?” Warun asked as Dolo collapsed beside him.
“Not yet.”
“Signal her now.” Warun’s frustration over the failure of protocol was dampened by the fascinating flow of this person’s approach.
Dolo retreated to the nearest tower. His warning would be late, but it would reduce the intruder’s edge. Warun traced the arrow of light tethering the marble to its target. Still a fair distance out, Warun calculated its trajectory. It took a full day to cross the wall’s width, though this person—or creature—could accomplish that ten times over.
A beam of red light pierced Warun’s left shoulder. He shrieked and keeled over. It was his own fault the Ezard’s gaze had struck him. He had become distracted in thought, and Dolo had acted faster than anticipated. That, or the invader’s speed had bent Warun’s perception of time. The red beam connected with the marble, which turned black. Warun was no longer privy to the intruder’s location. This irked him more than he expected. With his connection to the invader severed, Warun slumped away. There was nothing more for him to do besides wait for the Ezard’s response or the bells of the guard to sound.
He glanced out into the obsidian sea, hopeful to find another glint, another invader to mark for the city’s protection. He ran toward the next tower to his south, hoping to find a spare marble there. After a few steps, however, the air turned to white. Warun crammed his eyes shut and pressed both hands over his face to drown out the intense glow. Then the ringing began, but when he moved his hands to cover his ears, the light pierced his eyelids. Then the ground beneath his feet began to crumble. Warun lurched toward the tower. It also cracked under the weight of light and sound. The massive blocks of stone that fell with him threatened to crush him at their end. The obsidian blades below offered a quick and painless severance.