Eridus Achernar (15 years old) Location: Altaia (Solaris) Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Bard's Day (9)

  It was the first time Eridus laid eyes on Altaia.

  One of the Empire’s great northern hubs. Altaia had always been a crossroads of merchants, caravans, and sailors bound for distant shores.

  Or at least… it used to be.

  For men fleeing the pursuit of the Church of Luminia, it should have been the perfect place to disappear.

  Instead, the streets felt hollow.

  “Are you sure we’ll find him here?” Jin muttered beneath his hood, his voice tight with unease. “There’s something wrong with this place.”

  Eridus kept his pace steady, scanning the narrow street ahead. A handful of figures moved through the misty afternoon light—all cloaked, all hooded.

  “Looks normal enough,” he replied quietly. “I expected more activity, yes. But with the Empire in turmoil, merchants may have chosen safer routes.”

  “Not like this.” Jin’s eyes darted left and right. “I’ve been here before. There used to be stalls lining this street. Spices, fabrics, merchants shouting over one another. Now look at it.”

  He gestured subtly to the abandoned storefronts.

  “There are only hooded figures lingering in the shadows.”

  The spaces where merchants should have been were occupied by silent figures lingering in doorways. Beggars sat too still. Passersby avoided eye contact.

  “Even if you’re right,” Eridus said, lowering his voice, “we don’t have the luxury of turning back. We follow Mahasim’s instructions. You know the meeting point?”

  Jin nodded and quickened his stride.

  Eridus followed, studying the faces they passed. Too many lowered their gaze too quickly. Too many seemed to be listening.

  It wasn’t paranoia.

  They were being watched.

  A few minutes later, they stopped before a squat wooden building. A crooked sign hung above the door. Drunken Pig.

  “That’s it,” Jin murmured.

  They stepped inside.

  The first thing that hit Eridus was the smell—thick, sour fermentation mixed with sweat and damp wood. The tavern was far more crowded than the streets outside.

  Men sat shoulder to shoulder at tables. Some drank. Some ate.

  Most whispered.

  Jin leaned close.

  “Outside, barely anyone,” he breathed. “In here? Packed. And none of them look like merchants.”

  Eridus didn’t answer. His eyes were already moving.

  At the far end of the bar sat a solitary man, hood drawn low. Embroidered on the fabric was the image of a canary.

  The symbol Mahasim had described.

  “That’s him,” Eridus said under his breath.

  “I don’t like this,” Jin muttered. “Maybe we should regroup. Have Mahasim escort us himself.”

  “Impossible,” Eridus replied immediately. “Mahasim has to return to Dhamarr. And we don’t have time. The Church will tighten the net any day now.”

  Jin hesitated—then followed.

  They approached the hooded man.

  “Are you the Red Canary?” Eridus asked.

  The man turned slowly. His face remained obscured in shadow.

  “Are you the transporter's contacts?” he asked flatly.

  Eridus nodded once.

  The man exhaled heavily, drained his mug in a single gulp, and stood.

  “Then take me to him,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough time. The Church of Luminia will be here soon.”

  Eridus turned toward the door—

  “Wait.”

  Jin’s voice cut through the air.

  “Mahasim instructed us to inspect your cart first,” he said calmly.

  Eridus froze.

  Mahasim had said no such thing.

  The hooded man’s posture stiffened.

  “There will be time for that later,” the man snapped.

  “I insist,” Jin replied, unwavering.

  A flicker of irritation crossed the stranger’s posture.

  “What’s wrong?” Eridus asked quietly.

  Jin didn’t look away from the man.

  “If the Church hasn’t arrived,” he said quietly, “how do you know they’re coming?”

  “Tsk,” the man clicked his tongue. “Annoying little brats.”

  His voice lost all pretense.

  “You’ll take me to your friends whether you like it or not.”

  Chairs scraped across the floor.

  Eridus didn’t need to look to know what was happening.

  The men at the tables were standing.

  Steel whispered free from scabbards.

  Mercenaries. Church mercenaries.

  Altaia had already fallen.

  Jin stepped closer to him.

  “We need to escape and warn Mahasim,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “The Church controls the city.”

  Eridus assessed the room.

  At least fifteen men.

  Perhaps more behind the counter.

  Too many for a prolonged fight.

  He shifted slightly, positioning himself between Jin and the largest cluster of mercenaries.

  “The only option is for me to hold them off while you run.”

  Jin’s head snapped toward him.

  “Are you insane? There are too many!”

  Eridus’ expression hardened — calm, resolute.

  “Don’t worry.”

  Mana stirred around him, subtle at first — a tightening in the air.

  “My magic is made for this.”

  He took one step forward.

  “But I need you gone the moment I begin.”

  Jin hesitated. Only for a heartbeat. Then he nodded.

  “Take care,” he said, red eyes burning with resolve. “I’ll return once Mahasim knows what’s happened in Altaia.”

  Eridus gave a short gesture of acknowledgment and stepped forward, raising his palm toward the mercenaries blocking the entrance.

  “SPELL: Water Cannon.”

  A compressed blast of water erupted from his palm.

  The jet struck the front line with brutal force, slamming two men into the tavern doors and splintering the wood behind them. The impact scattered the formation just enough—

  “Move!” Eridus barked.

  Jin didn’t waste it. He sprinted through the gap and into the street beyond.

  “He’s getting away!” several mercenaries shouted, stumbling to pursue him.

  Eridus pivoted.

  “SPELL: Water Cannon.”

  A second blast roared outward, sweeping the would-be pursuers off their feet and hurling them back into overturned tables.

  “I won’t let anyone follow him,” Eridus said coldly, both hands raised now, water gathering around his palms in swirling currents.

  The hooded man bearing the embroidered canary stepped forward, far calmer than Eridus expected.

  “Relax,” he told his men evenly. “Let the boy run.”

  His tone was disturbingly composed.

  “The boy will lead our men outside straight to the rest of your little mage flock,” the man added. “You’ve saved us the trouble of searching.”

  A chill ran through Eridus.

  But there was nothing he could do about that now.

  All he could do was prevent the mercenaries inside from reinforcing those already stationed outside.

  He shifted one hand toward the hooded man.

  “So you’re not the contact,” Eridus said, unable to conceal the anger creeping into his voice.

  The man laughed—a dry, unpleasant sound.

  “Contact? That smuggler was stubborn,” he admitted. “But after a few hours of persuasion… he told us everything.”

  He tugged lightly at the cloak he wore.

  “I must say, his clothes suit me rather well.”

  Rage flared in Eridus’s chest, but he forced himself to remain steady.

  “And I’m supposed to believe you anticipated our exact route?” he asked. “The smuggler. The tavern. All of it?”

  The man tilted his head.

  “When the mages fled Solaris Academy, the Church redeployed most of its mercenaries to the northern cities nearest the capital,” he explained casually. “The Oracle predicted you’d attempt to flee through Altaia.”

  His grin widened beneath the hood.

  “As for the smugglers… we detained them all. Interrogated them all. Eventually, we found the right one.”

  Eridus’ jaw tightened.

  “Enough.”

  The word cut through the tavern like a blade.

  Eridus lowered his stance, water spiraling around his forearms.

  “None of you will leave this building.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “I won’t allow you to touch the sorcerers.”

  “We’ll see about that,” the man replied, drawing his sword in a single smooth motion. “Boys. Kill him.”

  The mercenaries surged forward in unison.

  Eridus inhaled sharply, compressing mana through his core.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He slammed his foot down.

  “SPELL: Waterspout.”

  Water erupted from beneath him.

  A roaring vortex spiraled outward, expanding in all directions. Tables shattered. Chairs splintered. The entire tavern floor flooded in seconds as the spiraling current swallowed everything within reach.

  Mercenaries were lifted off their feet and dragged into the violent rotation. Steel rang against wood. Bodies collided mid-air before being hurled aside.

  Some attempted to flee—

  —but the whirlpool widened, relentless.

  Eridus clenched his fists, pouring more mana into the spell.

  The vortex thickened, accelerating.

  This was the strongest area spell in his arsenal.

  And he still hadn’t completely mastered it.

  Mana drained from him in waves. His breathing grew ragged. His vision flickered at the edges.

  Hold it… just a little longer…

  Screams echoed over the thunderous roar of churning water.

  After what felt like an eternity—but could not have been more than a minute—his reserves buckled.

  The vortex collapsed.

  As abruptly as it had appeared, the waters crashed down and dissipated across the ruined tavern floor.

  Silence followed.

  Mercenaries sprawled unconscious or clutching injuries.

  Eridus dropped to one knee, breathing hard, water dripping from his sleeves.

  “That… should be enough…” he muttered to himself, forcing his vision to steady.

  But then—

  A wet cough.

  Movement.

  A figure struggled upright amid the wreckage.

  The hooded man.

  His cloak was torn. Blood streaked across his jaw. One arm hung limp at his side.

  Yet he was standing.

  “Not quite…” he rasped, though a crooked smile still twisted his lips. “It seems you wagered everything on that attack.”

  He lifted his sword weakly—but deliberately.

  “Bold choice.”

  Eridus tried to rise fully. His legs trembled.

  Outside, faintly—

  Bootsteps.

  More than a few.

  The hooded man’s grin widened.

  “It seems your efforts were all for nothing."

  As much as he hated to admit it, the man was right. His mana was spent—completely drained by the Waterspout. His limbs felt heavy, his breathing ragged.

  Outside, the noise was growing louder. Boots. Shouting. Steel scraping against stone.

  The hooded man spat blood onto the tavern floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  “Though I’d enjoy finishing you off here,” he continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “the Church of Luminia has… other plans for captured sorcerers.”

  His smile widened.

  “I’ll send you straight to the magic prison. Look on the bright side—you’ll be reunited with your little friends soon enough.”

  Eridus tried to respond, but his voice barely came out.

  The footsteps outside were multiplying. Too many.

  But something was wrong.

  It didn’t sound like soldiers marching in formation. It sounded like—

  Chaos.

  Even the hooded man noticed.

  “What the hell is going on out there?”

  He stepped past Eridus toward the doorway, the shattered tavern entrance hanging crooked on its hinges.

  Eridus watched him pass.

  The man had completely dismissed him now. An opportunity. That arrogance might be his only chance.

  With immense effort, Eridus lifted one trembling hand toward the man’s back.

  Just a little…

  A single spell…

  Please… just enough mana for one last attack…

  A thin shimmer of water gathered weakly around his palm.

  The droplets trembled. Flickered—

  And vanished.

  Nothing.

  His reserves were completely empty.

  The hooded man, oblivious, leaned through the doorway and squinted into the street.

  Then—

  The ground shook.

  At first it was subtle. A tremor.

  Then it grew—rattling bottles, shaking shattered tables, sending loose debris skittering across the tavern floor.

  “What—?” the man muttered.

  Eridus turned his head toward the windows.

  Outside, people were running. Shouting.

  Then the street itself moved.

  The earth rose.

  Not cracked—

  Rose.

  A massive swell of stone and soil surged upward like a wave, lifting part of the road high into the air. The tavern windows exploded inward as the rising mass tore past them.

  Eridus stared.

  That’s magic…

  Don’t tell me—

  Hope flickered in his chest.

  The hooded man stepped back from the doorway in disbelief.

  “Damn it!” he cursed. “I saw them!”

  His eyes burned with frustration.

  “There was a cart on top of that mound of earth! The mages—they used it to escape!”

  The raised earth slowly settled back down outside, sealing the street with broken stone and debris.

  The man turned back toward Eridus, fury radiating from him.

  “Well,” he growled, “I suppose taking you will have to be enough.”

  He approached the exhausted boy.

  Eridus remained kneeling, barely able to keep himself upright.

  The mercenary raised the hilt of his sword.

  “Don’t worry,” he said almost kindly. “This won’t kill you. Just enough to knock you unconscious.”

  He lifted the weapon.

  “You’ll wake up safely in the Church’s prison.”

  Eridus closed his eyes.

  A heavy thud echoed through the tavern.

  But…

  No pain came.

  Slowly, Eridus opened his eyes.

  The hooded man collapsed face-first onto the floor in front of him.

  Standing behind him—

  Was Jin.

  He held a massive splintered plank in both hands, likely ripped from one of the shattered tables.

  The makeshift club dropped from his grip.

  “I think Mahasim got everyone out,” Jin said breathlessly, reaching down to help Eridus stand. “I had no idea he could use earth magic like that.”

  Eridus leaned on him for support.

  “So that spell… was Mahasim?”

  Jin nodded, eyes still wide with excitement.

  “Yeah. He literally lifted the entire road into the air. The cart rode up with it and jumped over the mercenaries.”

  He laughed in disbelief.

  “You should’ve seen their faces. The mages were fleeing above their heads.”

  Then his expression darkened slightly.

  “But now we’re on our own.”

  He glanced toward the tavern entrance.

  “It’ll take longer, but we can still make it to the port.”

  Eridus took a slow breath, forcing strength back into his legs.

  “For now,” he said, steadying himself, “we need to get out of Altaia.”

  He gestured weakly toward the rear of the tavern.

  “With the chaos outside, the back exit should be clear.”

  Jin nodded.

  Together, they staggered toward the kitchen passage and slipped through the rear door into the narrow alley behind the tavern.

  Smoke, shouting, and distant tremors still echoed through the city.

  Altaia was in turmoil.

  And somewhere ahead—

  Beyond its walls—

  waited the long road to the port.

  From there, if fortune favored them…

  Minoris.