An hour later, we had settled in.
The plaza was quiet save for the murmurs of the miners’ campfire a few dozen yards away. Their laughter, softened by distance, mixed with the sounds of the rhythmic rush of flowing water coursing through the canals. The teal and purple glow of the giant crystals hanging thousands of feet above us cast dancing shadows over the ruins, painting the plaza in various shapes. It was quiet where we camped, yet there was darkness around us, and looking out into the black between buildings and canals I swear, I felt eyes looking back at us. Hundreds of them.
Our campfire crackled softly, for a while, the wood crackling and the shuffling of Waelid and me getting our things set up was the only sound throughout the camp. Al was reading a book while the beetles rested in place. Laska sat on a stool, wiping her short sword. Major Philip was surprisingly sitting cross-legged and meditating, and Batholomew just stared into the fire, leaning against his long wooden pole.
We sat in a loose circle when we finished placing our bedroll down and our things situated around the fire. Waelid sat across from me. He crossed his arms, and his face was lost in the flickering of the flame.
For a moment, all was quiet. I motioned to say something, but Laska shook her head at me before nodding toward Major Philip.
Then, the enormous man breathed out softly and hummed.
“Alright, Cinders,” The Major began, his normally booming voice was softer. He spoke like a low rolling thunder across the camp. He turned his head toward us, still sitting down, and nodded.
“Welcome to the second floor. It’s a fine place if you know where to look. Come, have a seat. Everyone, mimic me.”
He held up his hands to either side as we all took our place sitting around the fire, matching his meditation position. “Glowing stones, endless canals, and the ruins of a once famous city of rebels.”
“Tis’ beautiful Major,” Bartholomew said gruffly. He didn’t sit criss-crossed like the rest of us. Instead, he was lazily relaxed on the ground between Waelid and Laska.
The group chuckled, though I noticed Waelid didn’t so much as twitch. Major Philip’s grin widened as he glanced around the circle. “Now, let’s get to it. You’re here for one reason—to get stronger. Strong enough to survive what’s coming next. Something I’ve coined as the Magewar. A war to come that will determine whether the magicless will rise and take a place at the table of the world or whether the voidbloods will be snuffed out for good. The strength you seek isn’t just for you; it’s for the Cinders, for the Academy, and for all those who will never ascend as high as you’re sitting right now.”
He gestured toward the miners’ camp. “Those men over there? They’re not fighters. They don’t have blood infusions. But they do much more than we do. They run the Voidblood civilization down on the surface. The town of Ash is our model for how the world will run when we take down our oppressors. Those men, they manage the town, they are diplomats with towns like it across the far oceans. They educate the children they have in Ash and the form a new society that we blaze.” We all looked over at the miners. They were laughing and drinking and telling jokes. They had a joy about them that had long forgotten about the mistreatments of the Magebloods.
Major Philips continued. “They’re here to break these ruins and stone into chunks and send them down to the factory. That Pillardust keeps the Academy running, and without it, none of us has a future. That means they’re under our protection. If they fall, we fall. Simple as that. We won’t be able to heal quickly in the field, we won’t be able to disrupt magic and we won’t be able to power our bastion, the Academy. You’ll guard them in rotating shifts and let me tell you—this place doesn’t like visitors.”
Philip reached into his coat and pulled out a large rolled piece of parchment, shaking it open with a flourish. It was a crude map of the second floor, showing the massive donut-shaped layout with the plaza we were in marked as the “base.”
“This here,” he said, tapping just east of the center hole, “is our base. Memorize it. You will always return here. If you feel lost, head towards the hole in the center of the pillar and then find us by looking at the Eastern Sewer Grate.” He turned and pointed at the faraway wall of the Pillar, where hundreds of gallons of water from some unknown source poured out.
“Our second aim,” He continued, “is to expand. These ruins—every alley, every canal—they’re ours for the taking. Piece by piece, we’ll claim them. By the time the other Cinders arrive, heeding the headmaster’s call, this floor will be under our control. That’s the goal. Get this place cleared out so we have a solid Basecamp for our assault on the fourth floor.”
He pointed to the outer edges of the map, where the ring pressed against the walls of the pillar. “The more ground we claim, the more miners we can bring up here, and the faster we process Pillardust. The faster we get Pillardust, the more tools, medicine, potions, and weapons we can make. That’s how we win the upcoming war. You’ll split into teams, scout the area, clear any threats, and mark safe zones for the miners to expand with these Pillardust torches. These beautiful things will burn for a year. Until the next reset for the second floor.” He slid his large duffle bag and opened it to us, showing well over fifty small unlit torches that had been soaked in a paste, presumably Pillardust.
“I thought the pillar reset every 6 months?” I asked.
“That’s just the first floor, the 2nd floor is reset every year, and the third is every year and a half. If the pattern is kept, the fourth floor will reset every two years, but we have never conquered the four guardians to prove that yet.”
Philip paused, letting us digest the first two goals. The fire crackled. “Now, for the third goal,” he continued, his voice growing quieter, more serious. “The reason you’re all here. You came here for a promise of strength. And by helping me to clear the Second Floor, strength is what you will find. We even got some last-minute additions.” He looked at me and then at Waelid. “You’ve all been chosen because you’ve shown potential—mastery in your own ways. Or in Erik’s case, you become a threat to the Academy and must be shipped away for the safety of everyone.” He gave me a wink, and Laska and Al chuckled. Bartholomew and Waelid just stared at me, calculating. “Your strength and feats until now have been great, yes. But it is not nearly enough. You have not even scratched your true potential.”
“Well, I certainly hope so. I’m trying to become a legend of old Major. Like the Sea Master.”
“Hah! The Sea Master? You have set your goals high indeed, Captain Bart. You held off several Ocean-Wyrms during your journey here with the new recruits, right?” The Major asked.
“Aye,” Bartholomew shook his head in shame. “But we lost many along the way. Two fully graduated cinders and 7 recruits.” He punched his fist into the ground, making a small thud. The Miners across the camp glanced back at us because of the noise, but they turned back to their conversations.
“Yes, many good men and women died during that voyage. From what I heard, you did everything you could to stop the Wyrms.” The Major tapped his eye, the same eye Bartholomew had covered with a patch. The gruff man shook his head and stared back into the fire.
The Major continued, making sure we took in every word. “This training will differ from anything you’ve faced. Survival, strength, and adaptability will, of course, be part of it. You will face monsters twice as strong as the ones on the first floor, and three times as strong as the monsters and beasts on the surface. However, here, in this land between death and life, you will build the strongest weapon you have.”
“Our blood infusions?” I shouted out excitedly. “I just got mine, but I haven’t used it. Is that what we will train?”
The major shook his head. “In a way, yes, but, well, no. You will train your mental fortitude and consciousness—those are the keys. You’ll learn more about yourselves than you ever wanted. And when the time comes, you’ll understand why you need that knowledge.”
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I shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Waelid. His face was stone, his eyes locked on the Major.
“And finally,” Philip said, his voice rising again, “After you have mastered this training, we will take on the floor boss.” He pointed toward the massive cathedral that stood behind the plaza. “That’s our endgame. Once you’re ready, we’ll take it down. Not just because we can, but because we must. That floor guardian is the key to the third floor. We could wait for more cinders, but all of us can clear it. If we all awaken.”
Major Philip folded the map and tucked it back into his coat. “So, four objectives. Guard the miners. Expand our territory. Train your mind and body harder than you’ve ever trained. And clear the floor boss. Simple enough, questions?”
No one spoke. The fire popped loudly, breaking the silence. The Major grinned, his mustache twitching. “Good. Because starting now, your training begins.”
He reached for the metal box beside him and pulled out a small vial of glowing red liquid. “But first,” he said, his tone shifting again, “Waelid, it’s high time you meet your beast.”
The glowing vial shimmered faintly, the liquid inside glowing a vibrant crimson, swirling as though alive. On the front, etched in intricate detail, was the unmistakable image of a bird. No, a phoenix, wings outstretched as if caught mid-flame.
“The mighty phoenix,” Philip said, holding it high so we all could see. “A beast of flame and rebirth. A fitting choice for someone as stubbornly persistent as Waelid.”
Waelid laughed, “Well, I refused blood infusions for three years until I could get it.” He reached out his hand for the vial.
I groaned internally, and Fern’s snicker echoed in my head.
—Of course Waelid gets the phoenix. Flashy, dramatic, probably the most over-the-top blood infusion they have. I thought.
—‘It fits him, pompus prick. Don’t worry we will pluck that chicken,’ Fern said.
I rolled my eyes. My infusion was solid, sure, but now I was kicking myself for not sneaking off to where they stored these vials. I could have stolen an even rarer one when I had the chance. Still, I liked to think I would make the best out of mine. My blood infusion will out-match the Phoenix. No matter how persistent Waelid is.
“Why did he wait so long to get his?” I asked.
Major Philip twisted his mustache. “Waelid here put in a special request, and well, the Headmaster loves seeing students change destiny’s plans.” The major winked at me after saying that, which only left me confused at what he was insinuating.
Major Philip glanced my way, his smirk widening as if he knew what I was thinking. Then his focus returned to Waelid. “This one wasn’t easy to get,” he said, voice dropping more seriously. “Took me nine months of off and on hunting in the high peaks of Oreskor. Had to go three different times to hunt one down! Phoenixes don’t just let themselves be caught. I even had to care for the re-birthed chick myself. Still up in my room in the Academy being cared for by Piqah.”
That bit of information didn’t surprise me. Of course, Waelid had demanded something that needed a personal expedition. Typical.
Waelid took the vial from the Major’s hand, holding it up so the liquid caught the firelight. It shimmered and swirled faster, as if it could sense what was coming.
“This,” Major Phillip said, now standing up. “Is the moment that you leave your old form and become something more, something united. The bonds and infusions we make with the creatures of old magic in this world fill our void. They become our source of power and resistance. You’ve waited a long time for yours. Waelid, drink.”
Without hesitation, Waelid popped the cork and downed the vial in one smooth motion.
The blood infusion “ceremony”, if you could even call it a ceremony, was lackluster. Same with mine. Just drink the vial and then done. I hoped for my classmate’s sake there was a little more flare to their own ceremony. I was sad I couldn’t join them for it.
Waelid reacted differently than I had. His throat twitched as he swallowed, and the reaction was immediate. He dropped to his knees, his whole body tensing as veins lit up faintly with that same glowing red the vial emitted. For a moment, I thought he might collapse. His hands dug into the dirt, shoulders shaking. The firelight dimmed for an instant.
His reaction…was so different from mine. When I took my infusion, everyone expected…well…this. They expected the blood to hit me hard, but when I drank mine, it just tasted bad.
Then, just as quickly as the reaction came, it passed. Waelid straightened, his breathing still ragged. He rose to his feet, and the grin he flashed us was sharp, feral. “That’s it?” he rasped, red tints of blood covered his white teeth. “I’ve had worse.”
Philip’s booming laugh shattered the tension. “I always laugh at everyone’s reaction. Some are worse than others.”
The Major looked at me. “How was yours? You took it right before you came here, yes? Just a few hours ago?”
“About half a day now, but yes. And…I didn’t react like that.”
Laska let out a laugh and Al chuckled. “Maybe the friend inside your mind took the brunt of it!” Al said.
“Just give it time,” the Major said, continuing. “Soon, your infusion will speak to you. When it does, do not be scared or worried. Talk back to it, bond with it. Do not run away from what’s in your mind. What you should be worried about is the first transformation.”
“When will that happen?” I asked.
“They’ll wake when they are ready. The beast inside isn’t something you command…yet. It’s something you meet halfway and bond with for now. You’ll get your moment soon enough—when the stakes are high, and there’s no turning back.”
I swallowed hard. “And then what?”
Philip straightened and stood up. He paced around the fire, his broad shoulders covered us in shadows as he walked around. “Blood Infusion is not a one and done thing, boys,” he began, his voice steady and commanding. “There are levels to each stage. Just drinking the blood gives you access to the first level. That’s what’s going on in your blood now. Strength, speed, and endurance—all are boosted when the beast bonds to your cells. Usually within twenty-four hours. But the second level? That’s when you transform. When the beast’s soul takes a more active role, and you become a reflection of it. Bigger, stronger, and far more dangerous.”
He paused, looking each of us in the eye. “Most of your classmates back at the Academy will hit that second level by the time you get back. They’ll get a controlled life-or-death scenario to push them there. But you...” He pointed at me and Waelid. “And you,” he gestured to Laska, Al, and Bartholomew, “are aiming higher. The third level. Conscious infusion.”
That term sent a ripple through the group. Al shifted, his usual grin faltering slightly, and even Laska’s cool demeanor seemed to crack just a little. Bartholomew tightened his grip on his pole. The sound of wood cracking.
“What’s a conscious infusion?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
Philip’s smile was faint, almost grim. “It’s when the beast stops being a part of you and starts becoming you. Your mind and its mind must meet and agree to share one vessel. It takes more than strength; it takes fortitude. Most can’t handle the strain.”
He tapped his chin and then looked deep into my eyes. “With you, it’s going to be quite different. You see, you are already fighting with another soul for one body. Will you to face the sleeping beast within you together?
Fern’s voice broke through first.
—‘What…does he mean the beast is inside us and we will have to face it? This is going to hurt, isn’t it? I…I don’t see anything.’
—Don’t worry Fern, I thought back. I will fight it with you.
Philip clapped his hands suddenly, breaking the tension. “Tonight, we meditate,” he announced. “Find your center. Clear your thoughts. We will do this every night, as it will bring your mind closer to full consciousness with your infused. Tomorrow, we begin. And you two,” He said, pointing at me and Waelid. “Will reach the second level. We will get you to transform.
I closed my eyes, trying to tune out the nervous energy crackling in the air. Around me, the fire crackled softly, and the faint hum of rushing water from the canals filled the silence. I focused on the rhythm of it, letting it drown out the questions and doubts swirling in my mind. And like the river, my thoughts rushed away.
----------------------------------------
The meditation was not a success, because I ended up falling asleep. Many times.
In the morning, the Major ordered Laska, Al and Bartholomew to guard the miners while we followed him deeper into the ruins. Our footsteps echoed softly against the stone. The towering Cinder led the way, having to twist sideways to make it through certain alley ways.
The faint glow of the crystals looked the same as it had when I went to bed. Telling time was going to be impossible here.
The air grew colder the further we strayed from the fire. The ominous silence shattered only by the flow of water from nearby canals.
I glanced at Waelid, who walked with his usual confidence, his scimitar strapped across his back. He said little, his focus locked on the path ahead.
Fern stirred in my mind.
—‘So what do you think the Major’s got planned for us?’
—Something unpleasant, I thought. The way Major Philip’s grin widened when he told us we were going with him didn’t fill me with the confidence I expected to have when with a major.
The Major stopped suddenly, turning to face us. Behind him, the ruins opened into a wider space, the faint outlines of buildings and archways barely visible through the mist. “You two know where we are?” he asked, gesturing around us.
Waelid shrugged. “The center for a bunch of crumbling rocks.”
Philip laughed. “Close, but not quite. This—” he spread his arms wide—“was once the pride of the lower pillar floors. Six hundred years ago, this city thrived. It wasn’t just a city—it was the city. Many don’t know it, but for a time, it was the capital of Stylos. Before the Magebloods rose in Khalo. This city, Dust, was founded by demi-gods and their mortal offspring. It was a meeting ground for the Kingdom Above and the people of the surface. Trade, knowledge, power—it all flowed through here.”
I looked around, trying to imagine the city as it had been. It wasn’t easy. The ruins were beautiful in a haunting way—ornate arches now crumbled into jagged shapes, statues of winged figures weathered to shadows of their former selves, and mosaics on the walls faded to near-invisibility. But beneath the decay, there was a sense of grandeur, a reminder of what this place had once been.
“And then?” I asked.
The Major’s grin faded. “Then came the plague. Not just of the body, but of the soul. It spread like wildfire, killing everything and everyone. But death wasn’t the end for them.” He paused, his gaze scanning the ruins. “The plague didn’t just kill them—it separated them, cut their tether to the spiritual world. Their souls were torn from their bodies and scattered, left to linger here. That’s why this place feels… wrong. It’s not just ruins. It’s a crossroads.”
“Between what?” Waelid asked.
“The physical and the metaphysical. The real and the unreal,” Philip said. “That’s why the enemies here are unlike anything you’ve fought before.”
He led us further into the ruins, stopping before a toppled statue. The figure was massive, its wings now shattered and half-buried in the stone. Its face had been worn away by time, but the way it loomed above us, even in its broken state, was intimidating.
“These people thought they were untouchable,” Philip said, lightly touching the statue. “Demi-gods, bastards of the Kingdom Above, rulers of the mortal world. They built this city to bridge the gap between realms. And when the plague came, they couldn’t escape it. They became part of the gap instead. That’s why when you are alone here, if you haven’t trained in the mind, as I will show you, you will end up run through by a sword that doesn’t exist in the physical world.”
I looked over at Waelid and in a moment of fear; we didn’t feel the hatred between us. We just felt anxious.
“That’s why,” Major Phillip said, putting on his heavy, metal, brass knuckles, “I came with you. The others are further ahead of you in terms of training, and experience, so they can keep the miners safe.” He turned around and his once kind, warm eyes were now glowing bright white. It was as if the mist was pouring out from his eyes, glowing bright white. “Because you see lads, in the Sunken Sewer City of Dust, the dead rule.” He stepped between us and we turned around.
Behind us were hundreds, no, thousands of pale green, almost translucent figures were approaching us from the water, from the ruins, from every direction I could see. Major Philip slammed his fists together, making a loud ringing sound.
“Come on boys, when you're with me, you can hit em. Time to put these souls to temporary rest.” Major Philip laughed as he charged forward, slamming his fist into the face of a warrior ghost of the past.