"Sarila of Beyal, of the Faya'ir Academy. Step forward. You have far surpassed every expectation placed before you, my child. To think that a newly acquired territory could produce a talent such as you… incredible. Congratulations, and welcome to the Citadel of Glass. You make your people proud."
They had been on the road for two weeks, and would be traveling for two more.The heat was tortuous. It seemed to seep through the carriage's magically treated canvas, and even with the chilled air that came from cooling-ribs laid into the carriage's frame, Sari felt a trickle of sweat trace a path down her temple. She rankled under the heat, its presence oppressive, ruinous, tyrannical—Sari caught the thought and crushed it. A proper Aspirant did not complain. A proper Aspirant was diligent.Her gaze fell back to the box of scrolls at her side. Master Benessel's assignment was clear enough; Sari was to memorize the entirety of the Treatise on the Formal Annexation of the Ikkasir Protectorate, 536th Year. The dense legal text detailed trade agreements, Ve'un network integration protocols, and the strictures of caste-law as applied to a non-human polity.At least if Master Benessel would allow her to help carve the new Ve'un wardstone meant for Outpost Avna, then she would be able to cast some magic. But she was stuck reading.It was important, she knew. If past experience was any indication, it would be crucial in the near future—Master Benessel always played his cards close to his chest, but everything he asked of Sari had a purpose.It was also, however, profoundly and soul-crushingly dull.As much as she respected Master Benessel, Sari, deep in her heart, resented the stiffness of his teachings. She knew that her master's grasp of magic was among the most advanced in all of the Republic, and that he was widely regarded as an upright and just Karravar.Though he expected her to think for herself, which she had no qualms with, the magic he taught her was rigid. Immutable. Unyielding. Even more restricting were the lessons on her future role as a Karravar, a Mage of the Republic, of duty and obligation to Varrah. Of being the first of her people to be offered the mantle and responsibility of the karra e varrah.She yearned for the fables she had heard from traveling storytellers as a child, of the Age of Warlords and the Unification, of the world-breaking feats performed when the Golden Sun first blessed the tribes of Varrah.The Titanomachy, where the very earth had been reshaped by magics of epic proportions. The ever-dueling avatars of Resh, God of Storms and Plenty, who were said to be two sides of a single, raging soul.And above all, Ayle the Progenitor. The first and greatest Karravar, who laid the very foundations of their art. To be an Aspirant was to walk in the shadow of that legend, a shadow so vast and deep that Sari felt she could spend a lifetime chasing the light and never reach it. It was often said that the Progenitor effortlessly reshaped reality with every breath she took. What would it have been like, to see magic like that up close?Sari's attention was snapped back to her work as the carriage wheel found a rut.She sighed. Daydreams wouldn't earn her the Mark of a full Karravar. She forced herself to focus once more on the text. Section Four, Paragraph Three: Water purification rights and fleshcrafting resource allocation.A rebellious part of Sari's mind kept whispering.What if?
They were still several days from Outpost Avna when Sari noticed that the caravan was being followed.It began with a single scout atop a dune, a ways off in the distance. At first the figure looked like a tiny dark smudge, but an application of [Farsight] had quickly disabused her of that notion.Sari had immediately gone to warn Master Benessel, whose stern face settled into an even grimmer scowl."There were reports of banditry in the region, but for them to be so brazen… make sure the caravan guards are put on alert." He said."I'll organize the guards, Master," Sari confirmed, then asked, "Any bandits must be aware that a major Republic outpost is nearby. Why would they risk reprisal?""Avna has proven its worth beyond military utility in recent years as our investment in the region grows. As the Sun rises on Avna, its shadows grow deeper in turn." Master Benessel said, a meaningful look in his eye. He wasn't telling her the full story, as usual. That was fine, he expected her to figure things out on her own today."Of course, Master." Sari could do that.The bandits could, of course, be engaging in banditry for the usual reasons. Poverty, disenfranchisement, and so on.But there were, regrettably, still malcontents within the Republic's borders that refused Varran rule. Political motivations were possible. Local movers and shakers unhappy with the change in status quo that renewed Republic interest could have caused.What was the worst-case scenario?If the bandits were aware of what she and her Master were transporting with the caravan—if they were somehow aware of the new Ve'un wardstone headed to Avna, then this could be a targeted attack. But that would indicate an intelligence leak, which they currently had no reason to suspect.A conundrum.The next day, there were three scouts. Two on the dunes to their left, one on a rocky outcrop to their right. They kept their distance, just within the range of Sari's [Farsight], silent silhouettes against the endless sky. They weren't even trying to hide. They wanted to be seen.The day after that, there were seven.A knot of anxiety began to tighten in Sari's stomach. The scouts never approached the caravan, simply flanking them to exert constant pressure. Whenever the caravan guards rode out, they would melt away into the desert haze, only to reappear hours later, their numbers subtly increased.Worse, they were directing them. Each time Master Benessel ordered a course correction to try and shake their pursuers, the bandits would shift.They were being herded away from Avna and towards the sun-bleached canyons to the south.That evening, Sari found Master Benessel as the caravan circled its wagons for the night and he was preparing to cast that night's Ve'un."Master," Sari began, her voice low and urgent. "They're pushing us towards the canyons.""I am aware, Sarila," Benessel said without looking up from his work."Their numbers are growing," Sari pressed on, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. "We should break through them. A determined charge would scatter them. The guards are ready, and I am—""We will not engage," Benessel cut her off, his voice sharp. He finally looked up, and the weariness in his eyes startled her. It was a deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that went far beyond a few sleepless nights. "Our mission to Avna is to deliver this wardstone intact. We will not risk it in an open confrontation.""But the wardstone isn't so fragile as to be damaged in some… skirmish!" Sari argued. "We're the stronger force. Why are we letting them dictate our movements?"Benessel stood up, his tall frame seeming to shrink under an invisible weight. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his gaze dropping to the humming wardstone at their feet."You're an excellent Aspirant and you have long held my trust, Sarila. But there are things at play to which you are not privy to."Before Sari could ask what he meant, he turned away."See to the watch rotations. Double the guard. We will proceed as they wish for now."
Stolen story; please report.They were passing through a section of canyon when the attack finally came.The canyon walls narrowed, bouncing the relentless afternoon sun between them until the air felt like hot molasses.Sari's carriage suddenly jolted to a violent halt.In an instant, all irrelevant thoughts evaporated from Sari's mind, scoured away by a surge of pure adrenaline. Her Academy training took over. Assess the situation. Neutralize the threat. Secure the asset.She had to get to Master Benessel.Raiders, mounted on muscular, thick-hided beasts with bone-domed skulls - Domga - were crashing into the front carriages of the caravan. Their riders bore the crude markings of desert bandits, but their magic was anything but.She saw them form up, a phalanx of ten or so. The riders punched their fists forward in unison, a guttural chant echoing across the canyon pass. A shimmering, yellow-white distortion in the air coalesced around them as they charged.It wasn't a spell in the way the Academy taught, a precise weaving of meaning, symbols, and intent, but they had clearly been trained. This was a military spell, a blunt instrument designed to obliterate whatever stood in its path.And it was aimed directly at the lead carriage.Directly at Master Benessel.Sari's feet felt rooted to the sand. She could see her teacher, calm and poised, already preparing to cast a kinetic barrier to counter the charge. But the sheer energy of the bandits' charge was too much, too fast. If they had had even a minute to prepare, if Sari had been close enough to assist, then maybe they could stop it. But they had had precious few seconds, and Sari was much too far away to help.Something flew past her.As Sari looked on in disbelief, a woman in white-gold mage's robes and a billowing, equally white cloak landed on the ground by Master Benessel, reaching down to the ground, then immediately kicked off into the sky again without a chant, or a sigil, or anything.The Azhdar riders of the north could fly with magic. But they trained their entire lives for it. You couldn't just fly. Not on a whim. Not like that.The bandit charge was moments away from crashing into Master Benessel's carriage.The unknown mage's hand moved in a lazy, flicking gesture. Something small - a pebble she had picked up - shot forward, eerily silent but moving at breakneck speed. It struck the kinetic field of the charging Domga phalanx dead center. Sari's mind screamed. A pebble? A PEBBLE?The world went silent.The charge was halted in a great crash that sounded like an avalanche. Domga riders were thrown every which way, the beasts themselves clearly disoriented by the impact.Then the canyon floor came alive.The sand at their feet rippled, then surged upwards. It flowed over the fallen bandits and their mounts, wrapping around them in thick serpentine tendrils. The sand enveloped them, molded itself to them, and pulled them down into the ground until only their heads and shoulders remained above the surface, turning the canyon floor into a grotesque garden of half-buried men.One of the bandits, his face a mask of fury and disbelief, opened his mouth to shout a curse. As he did, the sand around his jaw flowed over his lips, and with a faint, crystalline chime, heatlessly congealed into glass. A smooth, transparent muzzle. One by one, as others began to shout, they too were gagged.Sari could only stare at the field of half-buried bandits.The sheer, casual impossibility of it all had disrupted every rational thought she had. None of it made sense. All of the painstakingly learned principles of spellweaving she had spent years memorizing had been utterly and casually circumvented.But that moment passed, and soon, a ragged sigh of relief escaped Sari's lips. The attack was over. Master Benessel was safe. Her training, which had abandoned her in the face of sheer awe, slowly began to reassert itself. She took a shaky breath, the coppery taste of adrenaline still coating her tongue.Just as Sari thought it was all over, there came a terrifying, earth-shaking roar.Sari spun around. Not thirty meters away, emerging from a cleft in the canyon wall that the caravan had just passed, came a bandit mounted on an Orgawyr.Her blood ran cold. She was going to die.The Orgawyr gave a terrifying roar as it charged straight into one of the wagons—Laric's wagon—and it clamped its deadly jaws down on Laric's Golga, a sweet, loving beast named Beaky. Blood spurted everywhere as Beaky died horribly, her throat torn out and her neck vertebrae shattered in the impact.Laric was screaming in grief and terror. Sari screamed as well.Abruptly, Sari felt a sudden shift in the metaphysical substrate of the world.She heard the woman chant, not in Varran or her mother tongue or any other language she knew, but in a string of concepts that resonated directly with the fabric of reality.[Force]-[Repetition]-[Trinity].The concepts bloomed in Sari's magically attuned senses. It was insanity, a spell that had no formal structure, no established ritual.As the Orgawyr lunged forward, she blurred into motion, appearing directly beside its massive head. Her hand, glowing with a soft white light, swung in a wide, almost lazy arc.A concussive blast of force, visible as a ripple in the air, slammed into the beast's ear cavity with a thunderclap.Before the dust had even settled, the sand swirled again. The same silent, serpentine wave rose to drag the unconscious beast and its broken rider down into the earth, leaving only the leader's helmeted head exposed, a monument to a thirty-second battle that had broken every rule Sari had ever known.
"...but three meals a day wouldn't hurt either." The woman, Ayle, said.Ayle. Sari couldn't help but think of the Progenitor."We have an accord," Master Benessel said, then turned to Sari, "Sarila. We camp here for the night. Attend to the men; if I understand the Soldier's Way correctly, they must butcher the fallen Golga tonight to salvage what they can."Laric would be inconsolable over what they would have to do to Beaky, but the Soldier's Way was right in that nobody could afford to waste the flesh of an entire Golga."I must rest if I am to maintain the caravan's safety tonight. See to it that Ayle has whatever she needs—rations, a bedroll, a place to sleep," Master Benessel said to her, before turning towards Ayle, "I must have a word in private with my Aspirant. If you could…"Ayle called her lizard-dog, which had been urinating on the prisoners, because of course it was, then sauntered off."Master, what is she? Any karra with that sort of power would be impossible to miss. It feels like either she has no Semblance at all, or—""Indeed," Benessel said, a strange smile touching his lips. "Which is precisely why this is an opportunity we cannot afford to waste." He fixed her with an intense stare. "Your assignment has changed. Your new priority is her."He glanced towards Ayle, who was now absently scratching her dog behind the ears."We must secure her as an asset. To Avna, Ashakir, and beyond. You will be her companion. Her assistant. See to her needs, answer her questions, make her comfortable. Stay with her. Observe everything she does, everything she says. I want to know how she thinks, how she fights, how she breathes. You will report everything to me. Everything. Do you understand?"Spy on her. The word was unspoken, but it hung in the air between them."Yes, Master," Sari replied, her own voice sounding distant to her ears.As Master Benessel walked away, Sari looked back at the strange woman who had just rewritten her world.A woman who was now entangled in their mission to Avna, then to Ashakir and beyond, which Sari now knew was far more than a simple diplomatic errand. Master Benessel was hiding something important, a secret whose hidden truth felt vast and dangerous.Through it all, Sari couldn't help but wonder: What if?