A brown robed man moved through the streets of Dragonhold, he wore a hood that cast his hood in shadows. The city was under a curfew, but the forces of Camelot were stretched thin throughout the city. He moved pair a past a gifted Camelot knights, they analyzed him, but no identifier popped up marking him as just a regular human. No matter how powerful a deception ability was the system never let you hide your power entirely and you always had to display something.

The man walked calmly down the street and stepped into the shadows next to the palace wall. Removing a stylus from under his robes he sketched a series of runes on the wall. Moments later a hole half the size of a doorway appeared as the stone their turned to sand and fell away. The robed figure stepped into the palace walls.

No one could hear him as he muttered the words of a spell. His body blending into the shadows he approached the palace proper. Reaching its walls, he took out the stylus again. Moving around he cut through and altered the glyphs forming the wards around this section of wall. Then he spoke another spell and placed his hands on the wall. Reaching the balcony, he pulled out the stylus again and disabled the wards. Stepping into the infirmary he looked down on the shivering, feverish form of Princess Andromeda.

Reaching down he slid his hands under her and slung her over his shoulder. Going out to the balcony he jumped over the side landing in a crouch on the ground gently cradling the princess. Slinging her over his shoulder again he crept past the patrols of knights and soldiers into the city. Passing a cart laden with hay he nodded to the driver as he slipped the Princess into a hidden compartment. The driver switched the back of his horse and drove off. The robed man turned around his work not yet done.

Speaking another word his body turned transparent letting all light pass through him as he moved back into the palace grounds. Heading into the kitchens he slipped around the army’s cooks and servers. His invisible hands flashed tossing powders into pots, pans and sacks of flour and grain. He continued into the main hall walking past rows and rows of feasting knights each with a score of abilities at their disposal.

He passed among them unseen, his hands continuing to slip packets of powder into various dishes. He continued up to the doors of the feast hall and removed a stick of chalk from his robes. His hand moving from practiced ease he drew a perfect circle with pentagram inside and a stylized eye at its center. Disappearing back into the kitchen, he exited the palace as cries of pain and discomfort rose up behind him.

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Sliding into the saddle of a horse outside the palace gates he rode through the city uncontested. Reaching the city gates, he rode past soldiers and knights lying in the rode and leaned up against the walls groaning vomit covering the ground and their uniforms. Disappearing down the road he dismounted and removed the horse’s saddle and bridle.

“Run free beast,” he said his voice soft but deep. “Find what happiness you can.”

Walking under the trees he came to a thick tree. Knocking on its trunk a doorway opened in its side. Descending down a spiral staircase he entered a laboratory. Princess Andromeda lay on a table as healers fussed over her.

“How is she?” the man asked.

“She’ll live,” a plump older woman said. “We can replace the eye, but she’ll always have that scar.”

“Good,” the man said with a nod. “Those without scars are without reminders of their failings and shortcomings, it will serve to humble her.”

“Your too hard on the girl,” the woman scolded.

“I am hard on all those with the “gift”” the man replied the last word said with scorn. “They think themselves above us, it is good for them to remember they are just as much the pawns of the gods as the rest of us.”

“She’ll wake soon,” the woman said.

“I shall wait then,” the man said sitting cross legged on the ground. Closing his eyes in meditation, he remained unmoving for several hours. Finally, the princess stirred on her cot.

“Where am I?” she asked groggily, her voice thin and weak, her throat parched.

“You are in the Forest of the Ancients,” the man said.

Hey eyes widened. “Why? Where is my father?”

“Your father is dead,” the man said gently. “Dracon has fallen to Camelot. I rescued you from their clutches, this is the resistance.”

“You rescued me?” Andromeda asked disbelievingly. “You expect me to believe a base humanoid snuck past an entire army of gifted soldiers and knights and brought me out all by yourself. Who are you?”

“I am Pierce,” the man said pulling back his hood. He had sandy brown hair and striking blue eyes. A circle was tattooed on his head with a pentagram and styled eye at its center.

“Magi,” Andromeda whispered the scorn and disbelief gone replaced with fear now.

“Welcome to the resistance against the gods,” Pierce said extending his hand.