The doorway of intricately carved white marble loomed behind Frank, and he took the time to peer up at it, taking in the high arch with his jaw slack. An elephant could get through this thing.
Frank shook his head and felt at his sickle. It was securely clasped to his back through a harness he’d gotten along with the leather armor. His features were altered as well, and he had thought about removing the card from his hand… but he might need it.
Maybe he’d need an emergency face change. So he kept it, and his hand comprised of [Disguise Self], [Enhanced Agility]–which he had gotten through his new
The name of the game was stealth. And if he got discovered, then he’d switch some cards around. He had gotten some practice with that yesterday, and between [Quick Step] and [Disguise Self], he should be able to steal a dozen seconds or so for the switch.
With the sickle ready for use and within arm’s reach, he just needed to put [Disguise Self] away and get [Force Missile]. His other new card, [Grow Vines] needed some more practice before he could use it in a fight, but it was promising. Plus, it might help with creating a connection to the Glyph of Plants.
Frank took a deep breath, then stepped down the stairs, taking in the busy street ahead of him.
“Guardsmen,” he said through his copper-red mustache, nodding to the city guards that were flanking the steps to the Hall.
They glanced at him, then looked away, seemingly bored out of their minds.
“Follow the thoroughfare toward the center until you get to the plaza, then go right.” Kreios’s instructions were simple enough.
Frank stepped into the flowing crowd, only to exit barely ten seconds later. Six coppers later, he bit into a still steaming sandwich. A mixture of zest and spices filled his senses, and he groaned as he chewed.
So good.
Of course, he was in a rush. He wanted to get to the Guild of Souls as fast as possible. What Kreios had said about how not every single soul got a second chance was still on his mind. But he also couldn’t behave suspiciously. Right now, he was an easy-going, relaxed Champion who was enjoying a day in the sun–when he probably shouldn’t be, considering his freckled and pale complexion, and his copper-red mustache and hair.
And he hadn’t had breakfast yet. But that was beside the point.
He strolled toward his destination, taking in the city. The day was bright, with no cloud in sight, but even that wasn’t enough to scare away the worries of what he was about to learn. And for once in the last couple of days, the gnawing feeling in his chest had nothing to do with mana exhaustion.
All around him, he noticed that the majority of the street merchants had elected to set their wares near the Hall. Frank could see all kinds of gear, weaponry, and potions on display, protected from the harsh sunlight by awnings in various states of wear and tear, ranging from brand new to torn or even burnt, in the case of a potion seller.
Frank devoured his sandwich and kept his stops quick. He never dawdled too long, but one store in particular caught his attention. It was getting some mild foot traffic, and it was the first store he’d seen with hired guards.
The dark stare of the bulky man landed on him, following him as he slowed down to look through the thick display case.
Shells. The mana batteries of this world.
Luminescent and colored shells were displayed, each placed at the center of a circular design that reminded him of card blueprints. A red shell seemed to make the air around it ripple and distort like white-hot metal. A black one was so dark it seemed to suck the light surrounding it. Like a blank, empty space in the world itself was–
“Move along.”
The voice broke Frank out of his musings. The guard that had been staring was now openly glaring, hand on the guard of a sword. No. Shortsword. Probably.
Frank raised his hand and smiled. “Apologies, friend,” he said. He took a step back, then moved on.
Dang it.
He wanted to see more of those things. Aside from wands, what could they be used for? They’re important enough to have permanent storefronts trading in them, and the signs reminded Frank of currency exchange services back on Earth. “Guaranteed ratings” and “Best rates in Tinecea” were some of the promotional signs displayed–gracefully translated by the interface.
Yesterday the new trainer, a man by the name of John–and yes, he’d been from Earth as well–had been teaching them about some of the features of the interface. Which had been a requirement to even see the option in the interface.
Frank now had access to the team communication module, and to the appraisal and cardification module; a service which took any item or artifact they found, and the Automaton would appraise it for them before putting it into a card form they could easily store… wherever their cards were usually stored. It was also the same module that made [Viper’s Fang] into a permanent weapon that didn’t need a card slot.
Very neat. Very useful. Not at all scary.
What else could this Automaton do?
Frank continued down the road, eyes peeled for City Watch uniforms. There were distractions, of course, and Frank ended up stopping more than he should have. This time, it was in front of a couple of memorial statues which spoke of the foundation of the city.
It turned out that this city had been founded by Champions who had undergone the same Trials he was about to begin. The memorial stele was light on details, but Tinecea had been the first stone to what would become a major power of this continent. The Theocracy of Pyr.
Which was fitting, because it was a big exporter of marble.
A couple of minutes later, the fountain came into view, and with it the plaza. Kids were running around the fountain, jumping over the edge and giggling as they ran in the water. They laughed and squealed in delight, daring each other to run through the strongest spouts at the heart of the fountain.
Behind the fountain, an older man was shouting at them to get out of the water–and Frank saw the man stop when one of the kids turned to him. The man took a step back, then turned and hurried away.
Slowly, that same kid’s head turned to face him, and their eyes met.
Frank shivered, and his steps faltered for a second, unsure.
This was his third day in the world. And even though he couldn’t detect magic or see it, he’d been on the receiving end of multiple forms of it. So he recognized the odd shiver. It wasn’t any mind magic–he’d been around the rabbit enough to recognize that. But it was something.
From across the open plaza and through the occasional pedestrians, those blue eyes–like two cold sapphires–were trained on him, unblinking, tracking him as he veered right. Frank tried to put as many people between him and the creepy child as he possibly could.
Then the odd feeling disappeared. And Frank didn’t dare look back. Not yet.
His heart beat in his ears as he hurried down the street. He slowed down when he saw an oncoming patrol. Once he was past them, he chanced a look back down toward the fountain. He saw the children still playing. But not the blue-eyed girl. She was gone.
Frank’s steps faltered. He scanned around and frowned.
She was really gone.
What’s up with that kid? He shivered again.
A couple of minutes later, he saw the first Guild signage.
He shook off the sense of unease and studied the buildings flanking the street ahead of him.
----------------------------------------
The wooden gates of the Guild of Souls were wide open. Beyond, the lobby was bare, with only a counter facing the entrance. No chairs, no signage. If it hadn’t been for the freshly painted wooden sign hung next to the entrance, Frank wouldn’t have found the guild. And even that had to be pointed out to him.
Most guilds had their own space and their presence was clearly advertised. The Merchant’s Guild was a wide, two-floor square building that behaved like the beating heart of the street. Half the traffic was either going in or out of its guarded doors. But while the Merchant’s Guild had the most traffic, the Transportation’s Guild had the largest real estate. It loomed at the end of the street, comprising three buildings, one of which was a dome-like structure that attracted the eye like no other.
Other smaller Guilds couldn’t afford–or probably didn’t care–to have such space. They shared lobbies, much like small businesses did back on Earth, and when Frank couldn’t find the Guild of Souls among them he asked one of the clerks, who then pointed him back to the Merchant’s guild.
The Guild of Souls was a small house-sized building, sitting in the shadow of the Merchant’s Guild.
He stepped to the counter and spotted the silver bell resting on top of it. He studied the bare walls and spotless marbled floor once more, then he pressed the button on top of the familiar desk bell design.
The contraption chimed, and he waited.
Five seconds went by. Then thirty. Then a full minute.
Frank was about to ring the counter bell again when a man appeared behind the counter out of thin air. Frank jumped backward, eyes wide with alarm, and it took him a moment to realize he wasn’t being attacked.
The man waited for him to recover from his surprise. He was young. A mid-twenties human in a suit. At first glance it looked like a classic suit from Earth, but as Frank eyed it more, he noticed the differences.
It had no pockets. The collar was shorter. Simpler. No tie, but–
“Apologies for the scare, sir. How can I help you?”
Frank looked up and noticed he had been staring. “Um–Hello. Sorry. I’m new around here, and I was told I could ask some questions? I’m from a Seedworld. And I wanted to ask about some people. My relatives. And some friends.”
“Of course, sir,” the man nodded. Frank saw his eyes flick to where his covered bracelet would be. “Have you been inducted into the Celestial Trials?”
Frank nodded.
A tight, apologetic smile drew itself on the man’s lips. “In that case, I regret to inform you that unless your debt is fully paid, you will have only limited and non-privileged access to our services.”
Frank frowned.
The guild representative, seeing him thinking, continued. “Once your identity and connection to those whose information you request is confirmed, you will have access to their status. That would be whether they have been reincarnated or not, and a recent picture if they are here. Once your debt is paid, you will be given the most recent information we have on file, including their whereabouts. You will also be informed whenever anyone tries to access information about yourself. Keep in mind that in all cases, the information we provide will be at least a month old, and often significantly older, depending on the nature and importance of the intelligence. Both for everyone’s safety, and to protect our impartiality.”
Frank breathed out in relief. He’d been a bit worried about attracting the wrong attention to his family, but he couldn’t not ask about them. He couldn’t wait for the full Trials to end. Not when they might be out there. Kreios did mention Frank would have to go by himself to the Guild of Souls, which he interpreted as them having strict privacy rules, but he still worried.
Hearing these rules from the agent helped alleviate his worries. Then he blinked. There was something else. “What if I want to look into some people and not have them know?”
The representative kept on his polite smile. “As long as you carry a debt, privileged access is not possible. Also, if you did not have a significant–and positive–relationship with them in your past life, then we cannot provide any information on their whereabouts.”
Frank wasn’t sure how to feel about this privileged access. Considering he couldn’t use the Guild to find his old enemies, what was the point of such feature? Was it only about the freshness of the information they’d provide? And being told when someone looked into him?
Questions for another day. For now, information about his family and Jane will be plenty. “Okay. I understand. Should I give you their names? Or mine?”
The man flicked a hand, and an interface popped into Frank’s vision.
Share information with Guild Agent - Guild of Souls?
Information to be shared:
Name: Frank Calloway
Birth name: William Calloway
Portrait
Occupation: Champion - Celestial Trials ( Current )
Accept | Refuse
Frank accepted the prompt and waited. He saw the man’s eye flick left, back to him, then back to the left.
Oh. [Disguise Self].
Frank raised a hand. “I might look different because of a card.”
The man looked surprised for an instant before nodding. He did something, then his eyes shone golden. They flicked to Frank, studied him for a moment, then the golden hue faded as the agent nodded and smiled. “The security checks are done, and we can proceed. Do you mind listing the names you wish to look into?”
Frank began listing them. His mom. His Father. His three siblings, and finally Jane.
The agent’s eyes flicked around and he blinked at one point. Frank assumed he was using his own interface to type the name.
The silence of the lobby loomed.
He was about to find out if they were around. If they were safe.
Frank inhaled, and his breath felt shaky. He would have been okay with some noise from the street, but there must be some noise-canceling magic at work, and if–
Frank’s thoughts came to a halt.
The agent’s smile had disappeared, and his eyes were wide. The representative’s eyes flicked up, and he met Frank’s eyes for an instant before the apologetic–and fake–smile reappeared.
“Thank you for your patience, sir. All individuals you have listed have been restored within the last decade. Unfortunately, their whereabouts or current status are not accessible as long as you are carrying a debt. Once it is paid, we would be happy to transmit any information we might have. In the meantime, here is their last registered appearance.”
----------------------------------------
Frank stepped out back into the glorious morning sunlight and it took every fiber in his being to not scream with joy.
They’re alive!
He pumped his fist once. And again a couple of seconds later. His cheeks hurt at how wide his smile was.
Rein it in, said the cautious voice in his head.
Frank glanced around, and tried–and failed–to school his expression as he went down the steps.
They were all alive. And they looked different. So different from how he remembered them.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Something was going on, of course. He hadn’t forgotten the look of the guild agent, and he would be looking into that. But caution was drowned out by seeing Jane and his family.
She was alive. Healthy. And as beautiful as the day he’d met her.
He got back to street level and fluidly merged into the crowd. A patrol passed him by, but they paid him no heed. He resisted the urge to run and jump and shout.
His parents were younger. As if they were in their thirties again. Michael and Elizabeth, his two youngest siblings, were as old as he was now. They looked different from what he’d imagined they’d look like if they’d had the chance to grow up.
Frank had tried to get the pictures from the agent, but that was something he couldn’t do because of his damn debt.
They were all different, but it was nothing compared to the change Sandra had gone through. She had been the eldest by a couple of years. But now?
Her eyes were steel gray, matching her cropped hair. Her pupils–both of them–were Xs, as if someone took a blade and sliced the letters into the canvas with four quick swings. He could feel them staring back at him.
They used to be brown. Same as his.
He had tried to get some more information. Tried to ask why his sister looked different. But the agent refused to say anything.
He began walking back toward the plaza, enjoying the sun on his skin. They were alive.
Then a thought intruded on his good mood, and stole the wind from his sail. The agent hadn’t specified when they had been brought back, but he did say within the last decade. And that meant… did they know about his life? Did they know what happened?
Could they have brought him back… but they decided not to?
His feet took him toward the plaza while his mind whirled with questions and worries. Then the memory of Jane shone through. Not fully dispelling his worries, but lightening their assault.
She had known what he’d been through. His family didn’t know who he had become after their murder, but she did. And she loved him anyway.
He exhaled. It was too soon to be making assumptions. He needed to find out more. At any cost.
But at least there was hope. He continued his walk back to the Hall, and he peered at the fountain as he crossed the plaza. No creepy children were around, thankfully. No children altogether, in fact.
A warning came through his connection to [Disguise Self]. Like it a flash in his mind.
Frank stopped mid-step. Has it reached its limit?
He looked around for a spot where he could go to recast the spell, and his eyes landed on a discrete little sign nestled between another Shell Exchange and what looked like a residential building.
Stella’s Garden.
Tall flowering vines wrapped themselves around the shop sign, climbing against the wall from two pots on each side of the door. Then he saw beyond it, into a wide sunlit space full of flowers and decorative herbs of all kinds.
A florist. No, he thought as he walked closer and saw behind and around the display; it was a nursery.
The smell of freshly churned earth hit him first, followed by the subtle fragrances of the countless plants and flowers displayed all around him. Behind the showroom, rows and rows of raised beds held countless planted pots. Mostly smaller ones, but further down he could see larger specimens.
Frank couldn’t get that far. The bed nearest him to the left had already fully captured his attention.
It was covered by glowing tulips.
And not glowing as beautiful and vibrant… No, the tulips were literally glowing with lights that matched their coloration, and they were color coordinated as well. The nearest tulips were shedding a purplish glow, and the colors lightened up and varied until the furthest one from him was a pure white.
And this was just one bed of flowers.
“Can I help you?”
Standing behind Frank was a short old woman.
Her white and gray hair was held up in a bun. She wiped her shears against the side of her overladen apron before storing them in one of the rare pockets that still had some space, while her piercing brown eyes never broke eye contact. She tilted her head, then tsked.
“I recognize that look. Are you one of them Seedworlders? I don’t have all day, boy, and my dating years are behind, so how about you stop staring and start talking?”
----------------------------------------
Tasos watched the Kalligeros’ sponsored Champion put his hood up, then scurry out of the Watch station.
He touched the still raw skin around his jaw and neck and grimaced. His temples pulsed as he gnashed his teeth.
His steps were brisk down the hall of the station, and when he got to the stairs leading to the basement he jumped down. The other guard saw him coming and, knowing the score, they stepped aside and saluted.
Being a lieutenant he could check out gear by himself, but he still had to wait for the impertinent vault clerk to pull the two items he needed.
“I have the [Wand of Dispelling] right here, but the [Ring of Manasight] has been checked out. Would a pair of spectacles do? It’s the same enchantment.”
Tasos gave him a clipped nod, the side of his neck protesting. The healer had reversed most of the damage of the explosion, but even with treatment it would take a few more days until the burn was completely healed.
“Alrigthy then.” The clerk gave him the form to sign–in triplicate–and Tasos signed his name without making a fuss. As much as wanted to lash out at the indifferent clerk, all that would do is piss off the Guild of Enchanters.
The bureaucracy was annoying, but it was a non-negotiable requirement that came along with the service they offered. The City Watch would get useful gear that was functional and maintained, but they had to follow the rules or they’d have to deal with fines and even more bureaucracy.
Tasos stepped into the rest area and glanced around. He wanted to pull the whole station out with him, but discretion was of the utmost importance.
He didn’t want to attract the attention of whoever had bailed Frank out last time. Not before he had the man under lock and key. He glanced at one guard who was putting his uniform on, and another who was eating a sandwich on one of the break tables.
“You two, with me.”
The Champion would be sleeping behind bars. And if he wanted a chance at the Trials? Then he’d have to crawl and beg like the worm that he was.
----------------------------------------
“Lumovik.”
Lumovik’s spine snapped straight as he faced the rarely used artifact, and the words came out of his mouth reflexively as he bowed to his father. “Lord Levi.”
Lumovik swallowed as his thoughts caught up to what was happening. Why was he here? Every communication with his father had been done through servants and auxiliaries. They hadn’t talked for months.
Did he know?
“You can stand. And get your thoughts in order. It’s disgraceful.”
Lumovik obeyed.
“Something just happened in Tinecea. I don’t know what, but hurry up and find out. Something is spreading out like wildfire through private channels, and I won’t be the last to know what’s happening in my own damn city. You have thirty minutes.”
“At once, father,” said Lumovik, bowing again. His thoughts whirled. What was happening?
“It’s Lord Levi to you.”
Lumovik kept his head down, waiting for his father’s projection to fade.
He summoned Ronald. The majordomo briskly stepped into the office, and a second later he had a handkerchief in hand, offering it to Lumovik.
Lumovik felt the sweat percolating down his back. He took the tissue and wiped his brows. “Get me everyone. There’s something happening. Some news. Check the Guilds. Check our agents in the Hall. Figure out what it is. Pay whatever needs to be paid. Quickly.”
Ronald sprinted out of the office, and Lumovik collapsed on his chair for ten seconds before he rushed out himself.
His father didn’t seem to know about the Fae. But whatever this was, it might be a lot worse.
----------------------------------------
Esther plopped her butt on the baked clay of Suit’s knee. The Suit–and Wilbur inside of it–was sitting cross-legged. Ahead of it, a ball of clay was floating in the air, morphing every few seconds, moving from one shape to another.
Now that she’d had some training time with Khaa, she realized how impossibly difficult that was. To her, at least.
She tapped her foot on the ground for a few seconds then groaned. “Where is he?”
Esther sighed. She slowly glanced back and saw the inviting tables. The hustle and bustle of the tavern area of the Hall.
Well, Frank was taking his sweet ass time. She could probably go for a drink, right?
----------------------------------------
“This is incredible.” Frank gingerly put down his cup, barely suppressing tremors as the magically charged drink flowed through him.
Stella merrily laughed. “Told you it’s got a kick.” She sipped from her own drink, and she might as well have been drinking water. She sighed. “Ah… that hits the spot. You better enjoy this. Next time you’re paying for it.”
Frank breathed in deep, feeling the energy of the drink settle in his stomach. It was refilling his mana, and it felt a bit similar to the magical food Salem had given them a couple of days ago. Invigorating. But as grateful as he was for the gift, he wasn’t about to be swindled. He pointed back to her. “I told you about trench-composting. And vermicomposting. I don’t know how magic affects any of those, but I’m sure someone of your expertise can figure something out.”
The woman waved away. “Bah. I’m sure someone already knows about those. I just didn’t get around to reading about it.” She went quiet for a moment. “The trick about growing plants in water though… and running that same water through tubes to farm fish? I’ll admit. That’s interesting. Lots of options there.”
“I told you I have ideas. And I’m sure you can use the extra pair of hands.”
Frank was half serious, half joking. He knew he wouldn’t have any time for hobbies anytime soon. But there was so much to learn and see here. Spending time experimenting with unknown herbs and plants and just discovering this world and what it had to offer sounded so much more tempting than risking his neck in the Trials.
Maybe when he’d gotten through the third Trial he could check back on Stella again? Or just travel and see what’s out there before settling down somewhere? Once he found Jane and his family, of course.
Frank would love to have a space like this. He glanced around at the rows and rows of mundane and magical plants. Apparently, not all magical plants had obvious tell-tale signs of magic, but most did have magical indicators. And the special kinds? The stuff that was not just for show?
Those definitely did.
Stella had taken him further down the rows, all the way down toward a small space obviously made for meetings. It had a clean table with two chairs facing each other.
And beyond it, a private–and secured–area in which there were only three plant beds, each surrounded by intricate rune-circles to seal the magical property of what she had been growing.
Dandelion-like flowers made of frost. Round and short cacti with ember-like spots that warped the air around them from the heat they emitted. And the last… looked like a regular bushy mint. Only the whole plant was translucent, from stem to leaves. As if it was made of glass.
So of course he joked about working for her. Why wouldn’t Frank want to spend time here? And learn about how to grow these plants and discover their uses for himself?
Stella tsked and leaned back against her chair. “Now why would I hire a mighty Champion of the Trials to water some pots and carry some mulch around? Think I’m made of money? Think I want more trouble? I saw your fake face fall away. People changing faces like that are up to no good.”
She brushed some biscuit crumbs away from her lap. “But I heard about what the Kalligeros boy had been doing. Taking Champions to his manor to force contracts on them.”
She shook her head, a look of distaste on her face. “Missing kids. Folk disappearing right in the middle of the city. Two Exchanges broken into. And then he spends gold on fixing the fountain instead of finding out what’s happening or getting some damn mercenaries to clear them Goblins out… And then one day the Agents show up and the old Hall is cleaned up overnight? That’s bad news.”
Her face darkened at the end. Frank put down his cup. “Is it a bad thing? That the Trial is taking place here?”
She was about to say something but stopped herself, then sighed. “It means… that trouble’s brewing. Something bad's about to happen. But no need to worry about it, we’ll all know soon enough, once the official announcement comes out. They like doing that,” she added, bitterly. “Taking the little folk’s misery and making a game out of it.”
She shook her head, then nodded toward his glass and glanced behind her with a frown of concern. “That will help you. I’ll give you a couple more before you go–and you should keep them aside for when you’ll need them. But shouldn’t you be training? I know for a fact that Seedworlds have no magic, and you just got here what? Two days ago? You shouldn’t be even sleeping at this point. What level are you?”
That took him by surprise. Frank hadn’t expected to be scolded by the old woman.
He glanced quickly at his status, and a flash of annoyance went through him when he saw his debt. He could have learned more from the Guild of Souls if it wasn’t for that.
“Level 7 in
“What else? I hope you spent time with some trainers. What have you started on?”
Frank tried to recall everything Khaa had run them through and counted them on his hand. “Moving my mana. Testing the cards I have. Learned about Glyphs and how I can find them on cards. I got a meditation card–”
“Have you managed a projection or an empowerment yet? By yourself?”
Frank recalled those being considered basic mana techniques and shook his head. “No. I can move my mana to my hand so far, and push it out. But I can’t shape it very well. Or control how much I use.”
Stella’s lip tightened in a line, and she hummed. She jumped out of her seat–making Frank flinch–and briskly moved toward the area where the special plants were kept. Frank was shocked at how spry she was. He’d assumed she was in her late sixties, which was when everything had started to hurt back on Earth. And if he’d gotten up that fast back then, he would have injured himself somehow.
Stella came back and put a small case with some luminescent engravings on the table, then sat back down. “Look, you’re welcome to come and help me shovel manure all day, but you have to live through your first Trial before that.” She leaned over and opened the small case. After a few seconds she turned it towards him. It was full of small translucent snail shells. Like the ones he saw at the Exchange, but significantly smaller. She closed the case back down, and the runes lit back up. “Many glorify the Celestial Trials and the legends that come out of them. But they never seem to talk about how dangerous they can be. You’re all protected in the first couple of Trials. But the protection gets weaker with every level you gain. And by the time the third Trial is done, only half of you will be left. Hundreds are eliminated in the first three Trials. And a good number of those die. Yes, even through the protection of the Deck,” she added when he frowned. “By the next exit? After the sixth trial? Ten were left last time. They had been the best and brightest in decades. Each one of them could have been a pillar of their cities. Of their country. Legends, if they’d had enough time. And of those ten, none went for the final trial. It broke them. Do you understand?”
His chest tightened.
Half? Only half got to the third trial?
And weren’t the Champions supposed to be the best of the best? All hand picked?
A sad look passed over her face as she glanced to her left, eyes vacant. “Don’t… underestimate the Trials,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. “That’s all that I want to say.” She gestured to the case. “Once you leave, you go straight back to training. These will teach you control. Hold one, like this,” she said, picking a similarly tiny shell out of her pocket. Her eyes gained a green shine. “You push your mana through. Very gently. Slowly. But constantly. Like the world’s smallest watering can. Don’t just dump it all like you’re upending a bucket.” Her eyes turned back to normal, and she held up the now glowing green shell. “Got it?”
Frank noticed his mouth was open. He nodded.
But as he did, he noticed that this wasn’t the first time he’d seen people’s eyes change color. Khaa’s eyes turned blue when she used her custom spell. His sister’s eyes had changed color and shape completely. So he asked.
“What does it mean when your eyes change color? And shape?”
Stella raised an eyebrow at the last part, then plopped back down on her chair. “You were told about Glyphs, right?” Frank nodded. “Well. When you have one as your Cornerstone, and you get good enough with it, it changes your eye color when you call on it. As for the second question,” she continued, and her voice grew quiet, “it means that you should stay away from them. Weak as you are right now.”
Frank’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What does it mean?” His throat tightened. “It’s my sister,” he added. “Is she okay?”
Stella’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said. Then she chuckled and shook her head. “Your sister’s eyes changed? Well, count yourself lucky, boy. It means she made something of herself.” She sighed, sipped from her glass, then straightened up. “Okay. Glyphs aren’t all the same. Obviously, their nature changes. But so does their… potency. Tier 1 or Tier 2 spells will always use the lowest form of a Glyph. The Minor Glyphs. Because that’s all they need. But the higher the Tier of a spell is, the higher chance it would use a higher form of a Glyph. And from what I heard–and don’t quote me on this–is that permanent changes start with the second potency of Glyphs. Major Glyphs. And if her eyes are different, then that means… that she mastered a Major Glyph and…”
Stella trailed off and wet her lips. Frank could see her growing pale by the moment.
She coughed and breathed deep. “It means that she might be important. Or dangerous. Or both.”
The room was quiet, only disturbed by the muffled noise coming from the street. Stella opened her mouth once, then closed it. She hesitated again, then she spoke. “What is your last name, if you don’t mind me asking? Or hers. What’s her name? What did they look like? Her eyes?”
“They were gray. Silver-like. And they had this shape, in an X,” he said, using his fingers to display the letter, when Stella frowned at him.
Frank watched with alarm as blood drained from the woman’s face. Her lips trembled. “What’s–,” she swallowed. “What’s her name? What’s yours?”
“Sandra. Calloway.”
Her chair clacked loudly as it was firmly pushed back. Stella whimpered, hands against her head. Frank was about to ask her what was wrong when her eyes flicked to him. “You have to leave. Please leave. Please.” She peered around her shop, studying the corners and windows, as if she was suddenly expecting to find something spying on her. “No, no no no,” she whined under her breath. She turned to him. “I don’t want any trouble. Please go.” She picked up the box and shoved it in his grip. “Your sister has enemies. And I can’t be seen with you. Please. Please go.”
Anxiety filled his chest; he waited for the woman to calm down but she only seemed to grow more panicked. She hounded him, telling to go as she herded him to the entrance.
“Miss Stella, I’m sorry for bringing up such a sensitive subject… but it’s my sister. Please.”
Her fear slowly turned into confusion. Then anger. She shoved him, and Frank flew for a second before he hit the ground.
Stella slapped her hand on her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, tears shining at the edge of her eyes.
On his behind, Frank felt a wave of shame wash over him. He had pushed her too much. This was on him.
He picked himself up. And he bowed. “I’m sorry, miss Stella,” he said, then turned to leave. If his sister was this infamous, then he should be able to find out about her more easily. Without pushing an old sweet woman into a fit of panic.
A couple of steps later, Stella spoke. “She was one of the finalists at the last Trials. Famous. Powerful. Then she disappeared for a while. When she came back, she massacred four noble houses and everybody who tried to stop her. Then she put their corpses on display before disappearing again.” Stella bit her lip, and Frank noticed the strands of hair that escaped her bun. And the white of her eyes. She whispered, her voice too high. “She murdered one of the sons of Queen Hera.”
Frank’s blood ran cold. Sandra? His straight-edged, bossy older sister? There must be a mistake somewhere. Frank was about to ask again when she stopped him.
“She killed the child of a Goddess. A Goddess that never forgets a slight. Do you understand, boy? Your sister’s the Seamstress. The Butcher of Argos. Your last name might not be unique, but as soon as it’s known that you’re her brother, they will come after you. Her followers. The bounty hunters. And every God and Demigod will want to serve your head to her on a plate if that earns them her favor. You might have brought ruin to me just by stepping into my home,” she whispered.
Frank stood there, dumbfounded. Seconds later, he was back outside, and the door slammed shut behind him.
The crowd milled ahead of him, unconcerned. A boy holding onto his mother’s hand stared up at him as they passed him by.
The reaction of the agent at the Guild of Souls flashed in his mind. He knew. And was that why Kethi had been so hostile? The messenger had had it out for him from the get-go.
Frank watched people come and go, a small chest of empty shells under his arms.
Sandra was a fugitive?