Somewhere beneath Wizard City
The first thing Veyra noticed when she entered the ritual chamber was that nobody was speaking.
That was unusual.
The lower chambers beneath Wizard City were rarely quiet. Even during periods of rest, there was usually some argument echoing through the corridors, the muttering of apprentices reciting incantations, or the unpleasant noises produced by whatever experimental creature the cultists had decided to keep in the cages.
Tonight, however, the chamber was silent.
Twenty-three candles burned around the great circular ritual platform. Their flames were violet, and none of them flickered despite the absence of protective glass. Strange symbols had been carved into the floor, some so old that the stone around them had eroded into shallow grooves.
At the centre stood the soul matrix.
It resembled a large glass sphere suspended inside a framework of black metal. Thin silver threads stretched through its interior, forming a complicated web around a dark, pulsing centre.
Veyra disliked looking at it.
Not because it was frightening. She had seen far more frightening things beneath Wizard City.
It was because the sphere sometimes appeared to be looking back.
"You're late."
The voice came from the other side of the chamber.
Veyra turned.
Chief Ritualist Malrec stood beside a long stone table, his hands folded behind his back. He was a thin wizard with a narrow face, pale green skin, and a beard that had been braided into three separate strands. A collection of small bones and silver charms hung from his robes.
Beside him stood two other members of the cult.
One was an elderly woman named Othra, whose left eye had been replaced with a glowing blue crystal. The other was a broad-shouldered wizard called Brindle, whose skin had the texture of tree bark and whose right arm had been replaced by a cluster of twisting wooden roots.
Veyra bowed her head.
"Forgive me, Chief Ritualist. The eastern passage was blocked."
"By what?"
"A wandering slime creature."
Brindle snorted.
"Did you ask it politely to move?"
Veyra ignored him.
"It had swallowed one of the drainage gates. I had to burn through its outer shell."
"Then I hope you collected the residue," Othra said. "The alchemists have been complaining about shortages."
"I did."
"Good girl."
Veyra disliked that too.
She was twenty-seven years old, had survived three independent magical expeditions, and had once escaped a dungeon inhabited by a creature that could remove a person's shadow and use it as a hunting animal.
She was not a girl.
But Othra was older than most of the buildings in Wizard City, and arguing with her rarely ended well.
Malrec gestured toward the table.
"Come closer."
Veyra approached.
A parchment lay across its surface. It contained a detailed drawing of a strange mineral formation, along with measurements, extraction instructions, and a list of precautions.
She studied it.
The mineral was dark silver, almost black, with thin blue veins running through it.
"Stormglass ore," she said.
"An imprecise name," Othra corrected. "The proper classification is fulgurite-nexus."
"Nobody calls it that," Brindle muttered.
"Nobody with an education, perhaps."
Malrec ignored them both.
"Twenty grams."
Veyra looked up.
"Twenty grams?"
"Precisely."
"That's a great deal."
"Not if extracted properly."
She looked back at the drawing.
The ore was found in only a handful of locations across Ooo. It was believed to have formed in places where repeated magical lightning strikes had struck the same geological formation over centuries, though the exact process remained poorly understood.
Unlike ordinary metals, it did not simply conduct electricity.
It caught lightning.
Not merely redirected it. Not merely absorbed a portion of its energy.
It could seize a lightning discharge, hold the electrical force within its structure, and retain it without immediately releasing the energy back into the surrounding environment.
Some fragments could hold enough energy to destroy a small settlement.
Larger deposits were far more dangerous.
The problem was that the ore was extremely unstable when extracted.
A large piece could fracture violently, releasing whatever energy had accumulated inside it. In some cases, the resulting discharge had been powerful enough to vaporize the miners who had attempted to retrieve it.
Veyra slowly lowered the parchment.
"And you want me to collect twenty grams?"
"Yes."
"From a deposit that is apparently capable of killing anyone who touches it incorrectly."
"Now you're understanding the assignment."
Brindle chuckled.
Veyra gave him a flat look.
Malrec continued.
"Small fragments only. No larger than a fingernail. Each piece must be separated using a nonconductive extraction tool and immediately placed inside a prepared containment capsule. You will collect the fragments individually until the required weight is reached."
"How many capsules?"
"Five."
"And the journey?"
"Three days there, assuming you take the northern route. Perhaps four on the return."
Veyra stared at him.
"You're sending me alone?"
"The deposit is remote. Large groups attract attention, and we cannot afford to reveal its location."
"Then send someone who can fly."
"Most flying wizards are poor at dealing with electrical hazards."
"Someone with teleportation?"
"Teleportation through the storm fields surrounding the deposit is unreliable."
"Then someone who specializes in lightning magic?"
Malrec's expression became slightly colder.
"Someone who specializes in lightning magic would be the first person I would send if I wanted to lose them."
That ended the discussion.
Veyra glanced at the soul matrix.
Its dark centre pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
The silver threads inside it brightened for a brief moment.
She looked back at Malrec.
"Is this for the binding?"
"Yes."
"Then the rumours are true."
Brindle folded his arms.
"What rumours?"
"That the prisoner will be sealed for centuries."
The chamber became quiet again.
Malrec watched her for a moment.
"Rumours are often exaggerated."
"Then how long?"
"Long enough."
Veyra looked at the sphere.
She had seen the remains of the shapeshifter whose arm had been used to establish the identity imprint. She had also seen the strange readings produced by the soul matrix.
Whatever they were attempting to capture, it wasn't an ordinary wizard.
The matrix had been designed to identify a particular soul, lock onto its spiritual signature, and prevent its escape once the sealing spell was completed.
And now the synchronization was approaching completion.
"How stable is the matrix?" she asked.
Othra answered.
"Stable enough."
"That isn't what I asked."
The elderly wizard smiled.
"You're becoming curious, Veyra. Curiosity is useful, provided it doesn't become disobedience."
Veyra said nothing.
Malrec slid a small leather pouch across the table.
"Your supplies. The extraction tools are inside. You will depart before dawn."
She opened the pouch.
Inside were five black capsules, a pair of silver-tipped gloves, a small chisel made from white bone, a folded map, and a crystal compass.
There was also a narrow glass vial containing a pale blue liquid.
"What's this?"
"Emergency grounding solution. If you accidentally accumulate an electrical charge, drink it."
Veyra examined the vial.
"And if I don't?"
"Then you may discover what happens when a wizard becomes an unwilling lightning rod."
Brindle laughed.
This time, Veyra didn't bother looking at him.
She closed the pouch.
"Twenty grams."
"Not nineteen. Not twenty-one. Twenty."
Malrec leaned forward.
"Do not damage the ore. Do not attempt to extract a large fragment. Do not use lightning magic near the deposit. And whatever you encounter on the journey, do not reveal why you are travelling."
Veyra nodded.
Then she looked toward the soul matrix one final time.
Its dark centre pulsed again.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she heard something.
A distant whisper.
Not a voice.
More like the sound of someone breathing on the other side of a wall.
She shivered.
Then she turned and left the chamber.
The Northern Road
Veyra hated travelling alone.
Not because she was afraid of the wilderness.
She was afraid of what the wilderness did to people who believed they were prepared.
The northern road had once been a paved trade route connecting several settlements. Now it was little more than a broken line of cracked stone, half-buried beneath weeds and strange purple flowers.
The sky was clear.
The air smelled of damp soil and something faintly metallic.
Veyra walked with a long wooden staff in her right hand and a leather satchel over her shoulder. Her robes were dark brown, reinforced with stitched leather panels. A collection of small protective charms hung from her belt.
She had brought enough food for six days, a water flask, a bedroll, a small cooking pot, and several spell components.
She also carried a short dagger.
Not because she expected to fight with it.
But because there were things in Ooo that didn't care how good a wizard's spellcasting was.
Her first encounter came shortly before midday.
She heard a scraping sound from the roadside.
Veyra stopped.
Something moved between the bushes.
A small figure emerged.
It was about the size of a child, with a round, pale-yellow body, two thin arms, and a head that resembled a mushroom cap. Its eyes were enormous and completely black.
A tiny bell hung around its neck.
Veyra lowered her staff.
"Hello."
The creature tilted its head.
"Hello."
Its voice sounded like a small child speaking through a metal pipe.
Veyra waited.
The creature took one step forward.
Then another.
It pointed at her satchel.
"Food?"
Veyra sighed.
"Of course."
She removed a small piece of dried fruit and tossed it toward the creature.
It caught the food with its mouth.
Then it swallowed the entire thing without chewing.
"More?"
"No."
The creature stared.
Veyra continued walking.
It followed.
She stopped.
"Don't."
The creature stopped.
"Don't?"
"Don't follow me."
It considered this.
Then it nodded.
"Don't."
Veyra walked another twenty paces.
The creature followed.
She closed her eyes.
"Wonderful."
She turned around.
"Listen, little mushroom. I don't have time to play."
The creature raised one hand.
A tiny puff of green spores emerged from its palm.
Veyra immediately stepped back.
The spores drifted toward her.
She snapped her fingers.
A small flame appeared in front of her, burning the spores before they could reach her face.
The mushroom creature made a disappointed noise.
"Food?"
Veyra stared at it.
Then, very slowly, she understood.
It wasn't following her because it wanted to eat her.
It was following her because it wanted more food.
She reached into her pocket and produced another piece of dried fruit.
"Last one."
The creature swallowed it.
Then it wandered off into the bushes.
Veyra watched it disappear.
"At least that one was polite."
She continued north.
She had no idea that the mushroom creature had watched her for another ten minutes after she disappeared from sight.
Nor did she know that something considerably larger was following the road ahead.
By late afternoon, the road had become increasingly difficult to follow.
The trees were taller here, their trunks twisted into unnatural spirals. Some had grown sideways, with branches reaching toward the ground like long fingers. Others possessed patches of blue bark that glowed faintly whenever the sunlight touched them.
Veyra had passed several signs of magical contamination.
A rabbit with three tails.
A tree whose leaves whispered names whenever someone walked beneath it.
A puddle that reflected a completely different sky.
None of these things particularly concerned her.
The last one, however, had been worth avoiding.
She had once known an apprentice who had looked into a similar puddle and seen himself drowning. He had spent the next three weeks trying to convince everyone that he could breathe underwater.
He eventually drowned in a bathtub.
Veyra wasn't particularly interested in discovering whether the puddle had been responsible.
As the sun began descending, she reached a small settlement.
It was built around the remains of an old stone bridge, with houses constructed from wooden planks, rusted metal sheets, and the occasional enormous animal bone. Several structures leaned at uncomfortable angles.
A sign hung above the entrance.
CROOKED VILLAGE, NO REFUNDS, NO CURSES, NO EXCEPTIONS.
Veyra stopped.
"Charming."
A bell rang somewhere inside.
A moment later, a short, round wizard emerged from behind a wooden stall.
He had bright orange skin, a large white moustache, and a pointed hat decorated with several tiny wooden spoons.
"Ah! A traveller!"
Veyra looked at him.
"Apparently."
"Welcome, welcome! I'm Boffo!"
"Veyra."
"Wonderful! Beautiful name. Very magical. Sounds expensive."
He extended a hand.
Veyra hesitated before shaking it.
Boffo's fingers were unusually cold.
"Passing through?" he asked.
"Yes."
"North?"
"Perhaps."
"Ah! Dangerous direction."
"I've noticed."
Boffo leaned closer.
"Looking for something?"
Veyra stared at him.
"No."
"Good answer."
He smiled.
"Because if you were looking for something valuable, I'd have to charge you for information."
Veyra began walking.
"Then I'll save us both the trouble."
"Wait! Wait!"
Boffo hurried after her.
"At least buy something. I have excellent supplies. Magical candles, enchanted spoons, bottled screams, self-heating soup, and a very reliable map."
Veyra stopped.
"A reliable map?"
"Absolutely."
He pulled out a folded piece of parchment.
It depicted the northern region, including several mountains and a winding river.
Veyra studied it.
The map appeared reasonably accurate.
"How much?"
"Three silver."
"One."
"Two."
"One."
"One and a half."
"One."
Boffo sighed.
"You're a difficult customer."
Veyra handed him a silver coin.
He accepted it with a grin.
"Pleasure doing business!"
She folded the map and put it away.
Then she noticed the strange creature sitting behind his stall.
It resembled a small pink pig, except its head was shaped like a teapot. Steam drifted from a little opening on its back.
It was chewing on a piece of wood.
Veyra pointed.
"What is that?"
Boffo looked over his shoulder.
"Oh! That's Gerald."
The creature made a bubbling noise.
"Gerald?"
"Yes. He makes tea."
Veyra blinked.
"How?"
"Very well."
Boffo lifted a small cup and placed it beneath the creature's back.
A stream of steaming brown liquid poured from the opening.
Veyra stared.
Boffo offered her the cup.
"Tea?"
"No."
"Your loss."
He drank it himself.
Then his face turned bright red.
"Ah! Hot!"
Veyra continued walking.
She had encountered stranger things.
But not many.
### The trouble with the bridge
She intended to leave Crooked Village before sunset.
Unfortunately, the villagers had other plans.
As Veyra approached the old bridge, she heard shouting.
"Get down!"
A wooden crate flew over her head.
It struck the ground and shattered.
Something inside it escaped.
The creature was about the size of a large dog, with a long neck, six legs, and a body covered in translucent blue skin. Its head resembled that of a frog, except its mouth opened vertically rather than horizontally.
It let out a wet, bubbling shriek.
Several villagers scattered.
"Not again!" someone yelled.
A tall woman wearing a metal helmet emerged from a nearby house.
She carried a large hammer.
"Someone get the net!"
The creature leapt.
The woman swung her hammer, missing by several inches.
It landed on a wooden roof, its six legs gripping the planks.
Veyra stopped.
She looked at the creature.
Then at the woman.
Then at the villagers.
"Is this your pet?"
The woman turned.
"Who are you?"
"Someone trying to leave."
"Then help!"
The creature opened its mouth.
A stream of blue liquid shot toward the woman.
She ducked.
The liquid struck the wall behind her.
The wood immediately began dissolving.
Veyra's expression changed.
"Acid."
"Yes!" the woman shouted. "That's why we need the net!"
Veyra raised her staff.
"Move!"
She flicked her wrist.
A circular magical sigil appeared beneath the creature.
The creature suddenly became very heavy.
Its legs buckled.
It crashed through the roof and landed inside the house.
A tremendous noise followed.
Then silence.
Veyra lowered her staff.
The woman stared at her.
"That was impressive."
"Thank you."
"Can you do it again?"
"Why?"
The woman pointed toward the broken house.
A second creature emerged from the hole.
Then a third.
Veyra closed her eyes.
"Of course."
The creatures scattered in different directions.
One leapt toward the river.
Another climbed the bridge supports.
The third charged straight toward Veyra.
She moved her staff sideways.
A wave of force struck the creature and sent it tumbling across the road.
The woman with the hammer rushed forward and struck the second creature before it could reach the villagers.
The third attempted to spit acid.
Veyra raised a barrier.
The liquid splashed against the magical surface, eating away at it.
She frowned.
"That's unpleasant."
She twisted her staff.
The barrier collapsed inward, trapping the creature in a sphere of compressed air.
It struggled.
The woman approached.
"Hold it!"
"I am holding it!"
"Then hold it tighter!"
Veyra gritted her teeth.
The creature's body began expanding.
Its skin stretched.
The sphere trembled.
"Why is it doing that?"
"Because it's angry!"
"That's not helpful!"
The woman swung her hammer.
The creature released a tremendous burst of acid.
Veyra dropped the barrier and threw herself sideways.
The woman wasn't quite as fortunate.
Acid splashed across her metal helmet, burning through its outer layer.
She screamed and stumbled backward.
Veyra reacted immediately.
A narrow stream of water shot from her palm, washing the acid away before it reached the woman's skin.
The creature landed on the ground.
Before it could move again, the woman struck it across the head.
It collapsed.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Then the woman removed her helmet.
Her hair was bright red, and one eyebrow had been partially burned away.
She looked at Veyra.
"Thank you."
Veyra examined the damaged helmet.
"You're welcome."
The woman extended her hand.
"Rilla."
"Veyra."
"You're a wizard?"
"Yes."
"Travelling north?"
Veyra's eyes narrowed.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
Rilla laughed.
"Because nobody travels north unless they're looking for something, running from something, or have lost their mind."
Veyra considered the answer.
"Perhaps all three."
Rilla laughed harder.
She then gestured toward the village.
"Come on. You can stay the night. I'll give you a room."
"I don't need charity."
"Good. I wasn't offering charity. You helped me with the acid frogs. You get a room and dinner."
Veyra hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"One night."
"Excellent."
As they walked back toward the village, Rilla glanced at her.
"Whatever you're looking for, be careful beyond the river."
"Why?"
"There's a wizard living in the old observatory."
Veyra looked at her.
"What kind of wizard?"
"The unpleasant kind."
"That's rather vague."
Rilla shrugged.
"He collects people's dreams."
Veyra stopped.
"...What?"
Rilla looked back.
"Don't worry. He usually gives them back."
"Usually?"
"Well, sometimes he forgets."
Veyra stared at her.
Rilla grinned.
"Welcome to Crooked Village."
The tavern was called The Bent Spoon.
It had a wooden floor, a fireplace that occasionally sneezed sparks, and a collection of strange trophies mounted along the walls.
Veyra recognized one of them as the skull of a swamp giant.
Another appeared to be the head of a mechanical horse.
The third was a large purple shell.
She decided not to ask about any of them.
Rilla introduced her to the tavern keeper, a thin old man named Hobb.
Hobb had a long grey beard, one normal eye, and another that constantly rotated in its socket.
He wore a stained apron.
"Wizard?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Don't set anything on fire."
"I'll try."
"Don't summon anything."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Don't bring anything alive into the kitchen."
Veyra glanced toward the fireplace.
A small green lizard was sitting inside it.
"Does that include the lizard?"
Hobb looked over.
"Oh, that's my wife."
Veyra slowly turned toward him.
Hobb nodded.
"She likes the heat."
The lizard blinked.
Veyra decided she was becoming too tired to process the conversation.
Dinner consisted of roasted root vegetables, mushroom bread, and something that Hobb insisted was chicken.
Veyra wasn't entirely convinced.
After eating, she climbed the narrow stairs to her room.
It was small, with a bed, a wooden chest, and a window overlooking the river.
She placed her satchel beside the bed.
Then she removed her boots and sat down.
For several minutes, she simply listened.
The village was noisy.
Someone was laughing downstairs. A child was crying somewhere outside. The tavern keeper was arguing with a customer about the definition of chicken.
It was almost comforting.
Veyra opened the leather pouch and checked the five containment capsules.
All intact.
The extraction tools were undamaged.
The map was folded neatly.
She then took out a small notebook.
On the first page, she wrote:
Expedition: Fulgurite-Nexus
Objective: Recover twenty grams.
Restrictions: Small fragments only. No lightning magic. No unnecessary exposure.
She paused.
Then added:
Do not trust strange villagers offering tea.
She closed the notebook.
Outside, a distant rumble rolled across the northern hills.
Veyra looked toward the window.
The sky was darkening.
A thin blue line of light briefly appeared between two clouds.
Then it vanished.
She frowned.
The weather forecast hadn't mentioned a storm.
And she had a growing suspicion that the northern region was going to be considerably more difficult than Malrec had suggested.
The next morning, Veyra left Crooked Village shortly after sunrise.
Rilla walked with her as far as the river.
The river was wide, shallow, and filled with dark stones. Strange plants grew along its banks, their leaves shaped like little hands.
A wooden bridge crossed the water.
Beyond it, the land rose into a series of rocky hills.
Rilla stopped at the bridge.
"That's as far as I'm going."
Veyra nodded.
"Thank you for the room."
"You're welcome."
Rilla scratched her cheek.
"Listen. If you see a man wearing a purple robe and carrying a glass jar, don't speak to him."
"Is that the dream wizard?"
"Probably."
"Probably?"
"There's also a wizard who steals people's voices. They look similar."
Veyra stared at her.
"How do you distinguish them?"
"The dream wizard has a glass jar. The other one has a wooden box."
"That's reassuring."
Rilla laughed.
Then she became serious.
"Be careful, Veyra. The hills are not friendly."
Veyra nodded.
"I'll remember."
She crossed the bridge.
After several minutes, she turned around.
Rilla was still standing there.
The red-haired woman raised one hand.
Veyra returned the gesture.
Then she continued north.
The path gradually became steeper.
The trees thinned, replaced by clusters of grey stone and patches of dry grass. The air grew colder.
By midday, she could see the observatory.
It stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the river valley.
The building was old, with a broken dome and several windows covered in dark cloth.
A narrow staircase led toward its entrance.
Veyra slowed.
She could sense magic.
Not powerful magic.
But peculiar magic.
It seemed to ripple around the observatory like an invisible veil.
She approached cautiously.
A voice called from above.
"Ah! A visitor!"
Veyra stopped.
A man appeared on the balcony.
He wore a purple robe decorated with silver stars. His hair was white, his face was long, and his nose was so large that it seemed to have its own gravitational field.
In one hand, he carried a glass jar.
Inside the jar was a small glowing shape.
It resembled a sleeping butterfly.
"Good morning!" he called.
Veyra raised her staff.
"Good morning."
The man smiled.
"Are you lost?"
"No."
"Looking for something?"
"No."
"Running from something?"
Veyra sighed.
"Why does everyone ask me that?"
The man laughed.
"Because those are the three most common reasons people visit my observatory."
He descended the stairs.
"My name is Orell. Wizard of Dreams, collector of forgotten memories, and occasional consultant to the royal court."
Veyra looked at the jar.
"What is that?"
"A dream."
"Whose?"
Orell smiled.
"Mine."
"Why is it in a jar?"
"Because it was getting away."
Veyra stared at him.
He seemed perfectly serious.
"Would you like to see it?"
"No."
"Very well."
He tucked the jar beneath his robe.
Then he looked at her satchel.
"You're carrying something interesting."
Veyra's expression remained neutral.
"Food."
"Ah. Food. The most interesting thing of all."
He stepped aside.
"Would you like to rest? I have tea."
"No."
"Most people refuse the first time."
"I refuse the second time as well."
Orell chuckled.
"Very wise."
Veyra began walking past him.
Then he spoke again.
"You're going toward the Thunder Scar."
She stopped.
The wizard smiled.
"Thought so."
Veyra turned slowly.
"How do you know that name?"
Orell pointed toward her satchel.
"Your map is visible."
She glanced down.
The parchment was partially sticking out.
A small mark on its corner indicated the destination.
Veyra silently pushed it farther inside.
Orell continued.
"Don't go there."
"Why?"
"Because the mountain is awake."
Veyra looked at him.
"Mountains don't wake up."
"Most don't."
"You're saying the mountain is alive?"
"No."
He paused.
"Not exactly."
Veyra closed her eyes.
She was beginning to understand why people disliked travelling.
Orell approached the edge of the staircase.
"Listen carefully. The Thunder Scar is not merely a deposit of rare ore. It is a place where the sky has been striking the same mountain for a very long time. The stone has learned to hold the lightning. The mountain has learned to remember it."
"That's an interesting description."
"It's a warning."
He pointed toward the distant hills.
"There's something living beneath that formation. It doesn't like people taking pieces of its body."
Veyra studied him.
"How do you know?"
Orell looked toward the mountains.
His smile faded.
"Because I once sent a friend there."
"What happened?"
"He returned."
Veyra waited.
Orell lowered his voice.
"His shadow didn't."
A cold breeze passed through the valley.
Veyra looked toward the mountain range.
Then she looked back at the wizard.
"Thank you for the warning."
Orell nodded.
"You're welcome."
She began walking again.
"Wait!"
Veyra stopped.
Orell reached into his robe and produced a small silver object.
It was shaped like an eye.
"Take this."
"What is it?"
"A dream anchor."
"What's it do?"
"Helps prevent your dreams from wandering."
Veyra examined it.
"Why would my dreams wander?"
Orell looked at the observatory.
"Because some things are hungry."
She stared at him.
Then, after a moment, she accepted the object.
"Thank you."
Orell smiled.
"Be careful, Veyra."
She placed the eye-shaped charm inside her satchel.
Then she continued north.
Behind her, Orell watched until she disappeared over the ridge.
His expression changed.
He returned to the observatory, climbed the stairs, and entered a small chamber filled with glass jars.
Each jar contained a different glowing shape.
Some resembled butterflies.
Others looked like tiny human figures.
One contained something that appeared to be a screaming face.
Orell approached a large glass container at the far end of the room.
Inside it floated a dark shape.
It resembled a mountain.
He placed one hand against the glass.
"Someone is coming again," he whispered.
The shape moved.
A low rumble travelled through the observatory.
Orell stepped back.
Then he hurriedly closed the door.
Veyra reached the first foothills shortly before sunset.
The terrain had become increasingly barren.
There were no trees now, only dark rock and scattered patches of grass. The air smelled strongly of iron.
She checked her map.
The Thunder Scar was still several hours away.
She needed to find somewhere safe to camp.
Her eyes moved across the surrounding landscape.
A cluster of large boulders offered some shelter from the wind. Nearby, a small stream flowed between two stones.
She approached it cautiously.
The water was clear.
Too clear, perhaps.
She crouched and touched the surface.
A faint blue spark travelled across her fingertip.
Veyra immediately withdrew her hand.
"Wonderful."
She examined the stream.
The water itself wasn't dangerous, but it was carrying a small electrical charge.
She looked toward the mountain.
Thin blue flashes moved across its upper slopes.
There was no thunder.
No rain.
Just lightning.
The mountain was releasing small electrical discharges into the air.
Veyra stood.
Then she heard something behind her.
A scraping noise.
She turned.
At the edge of the boulders stood a creature.
It was tall, perhaps seven feet, with a narrow body and unusually long arms. Its skin was a mixture of grey stone and dark green flesh. Small crystals protruded from its shoulders and spine.
Its face resembled a skull covered in moss.
It had no visible eyes.
Instead, a cluster of small blue crystals occupied the centre of its forehead.
Veyra slowly raised her staff.
The creature tilted its head.
A low clicking noise came from its throat.
Then it spoke.
"Warm."
Veyra remained still.
"Yes. I'm warm."
The creature took a step forward.
"Warm."
"Stay where you are."
It took another step.
Veyra formed a small fireball above her palm.
The creature stopped.
Its forehead crystals glowed brighter.
Then it opened its mouth.
A thin stream of blue lightning shot out.
Veyra threw herself behind the boulders.
The lightning struck the stone.
A section of rock exploded.
She rolled across the ground and came up with her staff raised.
"All right!"
She thrust her hand forward.
A blast of compressed air struck the creature's chest.
It stumbled backward.
But it didn't fall.
The creature's body seemed to absorb part of the impact.
Veyra frowned.
"Of course you're resistant."
The creature charged.
She created a circular barrier.
Its body slammed into the barrier, shaking the entire structure.
Cracks appeared in the magical surface.
Veyra gritted her teeth.
She couldn't maintain the barrier indefinitely.
She needed to move.
She released the spell and rolled aside.
The creature struck the ground.
Its long arms dug into the soil.
Veyra raised her staff and summoned a narrow band of fire.
The flames wrapped around its legs.
The creature shrieked.
Its crystals flashed.
A burst of electricity exploded outward.
Veyra barely managed to erect a shield before the discharge struck her.
The force threw her backward.
She hit the ground hard.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Her staff lay several feet away.
The creature began approaching.
Veyra reached into her robe and pulled out a small wooden charm.
She snapped it between her fingers.
A cloud of white smoke erupted.
The creature stopped.
It clicked repeatedly, turning its head from side to side.
Veyra crawled toward her staff.
Her fingers closed around it.
She rose unsteadily.
The smoke began clearing.
The creature turned toward her.
Veyra pointed her staff at the ground.
A narrow fissure opened beneath its feet.
The creature dropped halfway into the earth.
Its arms flailed.
She immediately followed with a binding spell, wrapping its torso in thick roots.
The creature struggled.
Its crystals flashed again.
Veyra prepared herself for another electrical discharge.
But the creature only clicked.
Then it went still.
She watched it carefully.
Several seconds passed.
Finally, she lowered her staff.
The creature was trapped.
Veyra approached cautiously.
She studied the crystal formations along its body.
They were similar in appearance to the ore she was seeking.
That was interesting.
Very interesting.
She had encountered a local species adapted to the electrical environment.
Perhaps it fed on the energy released by the mountain.
She leaned closer.
The creature suddenly opened its mouth.
"Warm."
Veyra stepped back.
"No."
It clicked.
She sighed.
"You're not eating me."
She walked around it, retrieved her equipment, and checked herself for injuries.
Her shoulder hurt.
Her left elbow was bleeding.
Nothing appeared broken.
She used a small healing charm and wrapped the wound.
Then she looked at the creature one last time.
"I hope you enjoy your little hole."
She continued toward the mountain.
Behind her, the creature remained trapped.
But as the last light disappeared from the sky, the crystals along its spine began glowing again.
And somewhere beneath the ground, something answered.
A low vibration travelled through the stones.
The creature raised its head.
Its mouth opened.
"Warm."
This time, something beneath the mountain answered with a sound like distant thunder.
Veyra didn't sleep particularly well.
The wind was stronger now, carrying a faint electrical smell. Occasionally, small sparks jumped between the stones around her campsite.
She had erected a protective ward and placed the dream anchor beside her bedroll.
It glowed faintly.
At some point during the night, she woke to the sound of footsteps.
She sat up.
Her hand went immediately to her staff.
A figure stood beyond the protective ward.
It was a woman.
Tall and thin, with pale blue skin and a mass of white hair that floated around her head as though submerged in water.
She wore a long green dress decorated with small shells.
Her feet didn't touch the ground.
Veyra stared.
The woman stared back.
"Hello," the stranger said.
Veyra slowly stood.
"Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head.
"Someone who is lost."
"Then you're in the wrong place."
The stranger smiled.
"Perhaps."
She drifted closer.
The ward flickered.
Veyra raised her staff.
"Stop there."
The woman stopped.
Her expression became curious.
"You're afraid."
"You're standing in the middle of my campsite at midnight."
"That isn't an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
The stranger laughed softly.
"I like you."
Veyra didn't lower her staff.
"That makes one of us."
The woman drifted sideways.
"Where are you going?"
"North."
"To the mountain?"
Veyra remained silent.
The stranger smiled.
"Everyone wants something from the mountain."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Then leave."
The woman looked toward the distant ridge.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
"Because I am part of it."
Veyra's expression hardened.
She remembered Orell's warning.
The mountain is awake.
The stranger raised one hand.
A thin stream of blue light moved beneath her skin.
"Do you know what happens when people take pieces of the mountain?"
"No."
"They remember."
"Remember what?"
The woman looked directly at her.
"Pain."
The protective ward suddenly flickered.
Veyra stepped backward.
The stranger's smile disappeared.
"Go home, little wizard."
Then she vanished.
The ward stabilized.
Veyra remained standing for several minutes.
She didn't sleep again that night.
Next morning at dawn
The Thunder Scar
The mountain appeared different in the morning.
Veyra had expected a jagged formation of ordinary rock, perhaps with several exposed veins of the valuable ore.
Instead, she found a massive dark structure rising from the surrounding hills.
Its slopes were covered in black stone, with narrow blue veins running through the surface.
The summit was split open.
A deep scar ran from the peak to the lower slopes, exposing a strange metallic substance beneath the rock.
Lightning travelled through it.
Not occasionally.
Continuously.
Thin blue-white discharges moved along the exposed veins, disappearing into the earth before emerging somewhere else.
Veyra stood at the edge of the ridge.
For several minutes, she simply watched.
It was beautiful.
Terrifying, but beautiful.
The mountain seemed to breathe.
A faint blue glow travelled through its surface in slow pulses.
Veyra removed the parchment from her satchel.
She compared the illustration with the formation before her.
There it was.
The Thunder Scar.
She had reached the deposit.
But reaching it was only the beginning.
She needed twenty grams of ore.
And the mountain had already made it clear that it did not appreciate visitors.
Veyra opened her pouch.
Five containment capsules.
A white-bone chisel.
A set of insulated extraction gloves.
A small measuring scale.
Twenty grams.
She looked at the exposed mineral formation.
Then at the narrow ledge leading toward it.
She swallowed.
"All right."
She adjusted her satchel.
"Let's get this over with."
And began the descent.
Far below the surface, something shifted.
It was enormous.
Its body was buried within the mountain's deepest layers, surrounded by ancient stone and veins of metallic crystal.
It had no eyes.
No mouth in the ordinary sense.
But it could feel the vibrations of the world above.
It felt the small footsteps of the wizard.
It felt the movement of metal tools.
It felt the presence of a living creature approaching its exposed body.
A faint pulse travelled through its structure.
The mountain's blue veins brightened.
The buried creature stirred.
For the first time in many years, something had come to take a piece of it.
And it remembered the pain.