The mud thinned as their group continued onward, giving way to firmer ground. Patches of solid earth emerged, and the puddles became less frequent until the path beneath them became dry and cracked. The air carried the scent of damp rot and growing things, the marsh alive with the sounds of wildlife and insects. The landscape was deepening with shadow as the sun set over the horizon.
Talus's pupils spun into absorbing spirals, allowing the Mirror Realm to be superimposed over his vision. Now actively searching, he began noticing faint Ether ripples in the Mirror Realm beneath certain Blackroot trees. They shimmered like oil on water, only appearing under trees with black lichen at the base, preventing Mana from drawing too close to the low roots. Seeing into this spectrum, he could discern the subtle outline of resting Myrmekes beneath the soil. Their mounds were few and sparse, but still more common than initially expected.
I will leave the Myrmekes undisturbed for now. It is too early yet for me to call upon them. There will be a time that I shall have them tear down the foundations of the shard towers.
Talus left his musings and focused his attention forward. Ahead, Blackroot Town rose from the mire, suspended on elevated wooden roads. He could hear the creaking of planks underfoot in the distance. The wooden streets wove between moss-covered bungalows, their thatched roofs a chaotic blend of green moss and overgrown ferns.
Large amounts of fungi sprouted between logs, attaching themselves to buildings and thriving in the damp shade. The town bustled with life, and arcane lanterns lined the streets, providing soft light to the traffic below through hovering, geometric, illusory sigils that floated in place. Talus recognised that Human magic had become far more commonplace during his absence.
The group climbed a ramp up onto the wooden streets and made their way towards a sizeable crowd gathered near an inn. Talus looked around, drinking in the atmosphere, a slight frown forming on his lips. Many voices overlapped in conversation, all waiting patiently to be allowed entry.
"Crow, you old scavenger! What are you doing back so early with a battle still raging? A grave rat needs loot to earn a living." Someone shouted. A large, darkskinned man shouldered their way through the crowd and separated toward them. Familiar Bogfire alcohol sloshed from a wooden tankard gripped in a calloused hand.
"Bramble, you thorny bastard!" Crow barked, grinning and dragging the bigger man into a bear hug. "You ain't heard? The Magi got a proper slap from the Arcane Council. Broke one of the shard towers clean through. Whole operation's on hold while they patch it up. Saw both sides working together, like old friends. Weirdest thing. Loot dried up after that, so I took the hint and hiked out early. Thought I'd let the marsh peel off my feet for once."
"That bad, huh?" Bramble rubbed at his jaw. "Might just be enough to get me hitchin' out early, too. Can't trust Magi when they start smiling at each other. That's when the world starts losing pieces. So, young lady, you must be Thalora. I've heard of you, the only Magi brazen enough to linger out on the marsh with us plebs. I didn't believe the stories 'til now. If you're up to barter, I've got space on the wagon. Could trade you a ride in exchange for keeping the road ahead steady. That'd usually cost three squares for a ticket out of this hole."
"Money's tight. So, I'll take the deal. But you're buying us hot meals and beds for the night. We leave at first light. I'm on official Arcane Council business and want out of here as soon as possible," Thalora replied, offering a hand out to the large man.
"You drive a hard bargain. Done. Dry road, full bellies, and a quick exit? Worth every Square," Bramble agreed, clapping her hand with a chuckle. "Now, who's the quiet one? You don't usually take on apprentices, Crow. And a Magi wouldn't share company unless you found something worth hauling back."
"This is Talus," Crow said, dragging a hand over his beard. "Let's not ask too many questions about him. Quiet sort. Won't cause trouble."
"Noted. Talus, then. If Crow vouches for you, you're welcome aboard," Bramble said, offering a hand to him next. Talus paused for a moment, staring at the outstretched hand before taking it. Bramble abruptly squeezed tight, but Talus didn't flinch. Instead, he exceeded the amount of force and returned the favour. "Shards, lad! That's a vice grip if I've ever felt one! You always like this, or did Crow feed you metal for breakfast?"
"Biscuits. And Bogfire," Talus replied, his tone entirely serious.
""Ha! You're all right. Come on, cut the queue. Mudwhips like me get a warmer welcome in the tavern than these grave rats. No offence," Bramble boasted.
"None taken," Crow said, stepping up beside him. "If today goes well, it'll be the last time I'm ever called a grave rat anyway."
"Fortune of the shard towers upon you then, my friend," Bramble replied, leading them through the crowd with a hand on Talus and Crow's backs. Thalora walked slightly ahead and the crowd instinctively parted to get out of the way, their sudden silence indicating they recognised her as a Magi.
Their conversations resumed as soon as she passed, like nothing unusual had happened. They quickly made their way to the front of the crowd, where a pair of hardened men blocked entry into the tavern. Over their shoulders, a lively band could be seen playing, and the music could be heard from outside.