The Warmth of the Hearth

“Punctual as always, Laisren.” Fahren’s husky voice greets the party at the table, hands clutching onto his staff for support. His frail body can be seen slightly trembling as his beard starts to look heavy for the old mage. However, one would be mistaken to underestimate him, for he was widely considered to be the most powerful Agni user in Ezicion as of the present, as well as being the wisest. “I trust you have been busy with work?”

Lauren simply smiles, bowing his head as a sign of respect as Olin follows his gesture. Fahren has been their mentor when they were no more than children. “Master Fahren, you are correct. I have been busy with work that I missed so much, ironic as it may seem.” This was no lie. He had no prior knowledge of the underlying problems that was slithering beneath their surface before Fahren sent him that letter, which is one of his greatest regrets. “Forgive me for my shortcomings, I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Hush child, you have never been unsatisfactory with your results, not once. Do not worry about matters that you had no control over Laurent, you have done what you can.” Fahren puts a gentle hand on Laurent’s shoulder before proceeding to take a seat on the chair around the table. “Now, it is time for us to focus our efforts on the matter at hand.”

Celine nods at Kayden and proceeds to leave the room, closing the door behind her as she leaves her guests and Kayden to talk in private.

The three of them take their seats along with Fahren around the table as the lights within the room dim out. Kayden breaks the silence, opening the conversation with what he deems to be a summary of his knowledge regarding the matter. “What I pick up from the letters you have sent me, this is no small matter indeed. If the enemy is indeed far into their plans, then we must make haste with our preparations as well.”

Laurent nods, understanding the gravity this unknown danger poses as a threat to everybody. “I have sent some of my people to try and track the unknown rogue. If we somehow find a way to locate this mage, they might be our greatest lead in figuring out where the root of this evil resides.”

“You can tell your men to stand down Laisren, it is impossible to locate the mage from within Ezicion.” Fahren raises a hand, his eyes fixated on the confused looks his subordinates were giving him.

“What do you mean Master Fahren? Have you figured out where the culprit may be?” Olin asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches Fahren extend his arm towards the table, placing a small pouch into the middle.

As the pouch falls upon the table, it leaks bright purple sand unto it, dissipating once it hits the open air. They are confused. Was this supposed to be of any relevance to the problem at hand? If so, in what sense?

“These are sands of Blepalon, the land which belongs to the most evil of creatures.” Fahren explains, both arms placed upon his staff. “It seems that our little mage has sought refuge in the land in which no living being is supposed to tread upon.”

“But practicing such sorcery is taboo, forbidden for hundreds of years.” Kayden speaks, unable to believe that such possibility could exist. “Where did they get their hands upon such ancient magic? Not mentioning the fact that to tread upon such a realm would be suicide.”

Fahren simply shakes his head. “Do not be hung up on the thought that this mage is one of us. It is no mystery that such a person is indeed unordinary, which is why we must not expect such an individual to make this grave of a decision without a plan.” He pulls out his manna and proceeds to manifest an hourglass made of purple flame, its glow lighting up the room. The upper half was still near its fill, small bits of sand trickling to the bottom half in miniscule portions.

“What is the meaning of this, Master Fahren?” Olin inquires, unable to comprehend what is laid in front of him.

“There won’t be action from our friend any time soon.” Fahren explains. “As someone who has imbued his magic with Blepalon, I know when a portal to such a realm can be opened once again, although I can only give you an estimate. Around fifteen years, maybe even more, is what I make of it.” He finishes his statement by retracting his manna back into his body. “Until then, you must prepare yourselves for a threat you will find to be one you have never seen before. I will not be around then, although I regret to say it. I wish you all and the future generation the best of luck.”

Luke gets blasted away from a strong gust of wind, plummeting onto the ground with so much force. He feels the wind in his gut escape him as he stumbles to avoid Rolan Alder’s branches slithering their way to restrict his movement. Three enemies were remaining, but Luke has run out of manna and he knows that this was a dire situation to be in. Find a way, there must be a way!

“Ya really thought ya could stroll into our territory alone? Got a death wish or summin?” Rolan Alder taunts the now battered Luke, his confidence skyrocketing.

“Master Alder, we have been ordered to capture him alive. Please do not overdo it.” One of the mages speak, a female voice speaking from behind the mask.

Alder ignores the warning and proceeds to chase Luke with his branches, now more intense in their pursuit of the young mage.

Luke struggles to duck out of the way and is caught by another gust, rendering him unable to move. His body doesn’t cooperate as roots now coil around his limbs and lift him into the air. Intense pain floods his senses as the roots pull on his body, getting stronger as he feels his consciousness starts to slip away.

A large hum of electricity crackles in the air as Rolan immediately drops Luke, now passed out on the floor. A large blast of electricity hits him square in the chest as he gets propelled into the wall. Noah Skye looks upon him with an annoyed face, pissed at Alder’s disobedience. “You two, get him chained up with the others. I’ll make sure this insolent prick learns to stay in line.”

“Yes sir.” The two of them move swiftly, the bigger mage picking Luke up.

Noah kicks Alder in the gut as he gets a pained groan out of him. “You better not pass out on me now.”