Chapter 8: The Sisters and Mother Superior Part 1 (Patreon)

Tol had done plenty of reading in her life, even outside the controlled classrooms and studies of the Haven Institute.

This wall was troublesome, and it wasn’t simply the Red Magic that had clashed here; shattering stone was the main cause.

The stone echoed with memories through her fingertips, and she found herself almost disconcerted as she finally drifted to the cataclysmic moment. It had been a match of pure magical force, that was certain.

Fire against Ice, with Fire perhaps having the edge.

Yet there was no taint of death, no char of scorched flesh that should have lingered.

Though she seemed zoned out, she had been listening to Ethel's conversation with Rory.

The stone reverberated against her fingertips as she trailed them further over the wall, tapping for a moment in memory of the green magic that had mended it and memorizing the signature against her own.

Tol turned to look at Ethel, who seemed content to have a second breakfast a little further down the street at one of the few open stalls, and walked toward the girl with amusement, filtering through the small foot traffic that was now picking up as time wore on.

The blonde girl turned, and her golden eyes flashed with interest as they met Tol’s emeralds.

“Got something, Bookhound?” Ethel said bluntly.

Tol raised an eyebrow, caught off guard, unsure whether to take the words as an insult or camaraderie; Ethel didn’t sound more aggressive than usual, but she was hard to parse.

“Yes, Lady Eld,” Tol dipped her head respectfully.

Ethel sighed, “Nope, we’re not doing that, just my name or something else, but we’re a Circle, not one of those Elvish Clans.”

Tol constrained her surprise, still, if that’s what Ethel wanted.

“Of course, Dragon then?”

Ethel hesitated, her expression open and surprised, her golden eyes gleaming in the early morning sun, before slowly shaking her head. “Something else,” she said softly.

It seemed Tol had miscalculated; she probably should have expected that Dragon was personal to Ethel and Godric.

“Then will Ethel suffice for now?” Tol asked.

Ethel gave her a small grin which actually didn’t seem as forced as Tol would have expected. “For now,” she replied coolly, then raised an elegant eyebrow. “So what’d you learn from that Green Magic analysis you were doing?”

Tol did not know how to respond to that either. Ethel didn’t give off the impression of a dedicated student, but maybe that was her own fault for not expecting more from Lady Eld’s daughter.

“Nothing besides the scale of the conflict,” Tol said, shaking her head.

“Rory said it was large.” Ethel nodded to the owner of the food stall where she sat.

Tol’s cheeks colored slightly as she realized how rude she had been and turned, bowing her head to the older, somewhat grizzled man with long silver hair. “Forgive my rudeness.”

Rory laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just sorry I can’t tell the pair of you more.”

Tol looked back, shaking her head. “It was seemingly quite the conflagration; I’m surprised human mages were able to do so much damage without catalysts.”

Rory looked befuddled. “I don’t understand.”

Ethel seemingly did, though, as she nodded as well. “The Red Magic here is still pretty agitated; I don’t know how many herbal catalysts would do that, perhaps a creature catalyst would be enough.”

Rory coughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “What do catalysts have to do with the level of magic used?”

Tol smiled faintly at the older man. “Magic catalysts have varying levels of power given the magic inherent in them; herbs and vegetation depend on the land; creatures who eat that vegetation have even more concentrated magic in them by simple biological nature.”

Rory nodded his head slowly. “So that Haven Institute isn’t just for show, is it?” he chuckled, shaking his head for a moment. “Getting schooled on magic at my age…” he sighed.

Ethel shrugged and reached into a pouch on her leg and pulled out three silvers from it, flipping them between her knuckles. She placed each one on the counter, stacking them perfectly and then ignored the sputtering of Rory, whose eyes widened at the amount.

“That’s too much, three full silvers is-“

Ethel waved the man’s protests away with a shaking of her palm through the air, “Nah, thank you, Sir, you’ve been more than helpful.”

She hopped off the stool at the cart’s counter and walked over to Tol, who raised an eyebrow at Ethel but didn’t say anything as they walked away.

“I wasn’t aware he’d been that helpful,” she said curiously.

Ethel shrugged, “He was a good conversation, and he was trying to do the right thing. My Mom would say that kind of ethic should be rewarded.”

“Lady Eld would say that?” Tol asked curiously.

Ethel frowned in thought. “Well, what she’d actually say is that when someone adds to your hoard, you must account for the difference, so no obligation or debt is incurred.”

Tol nodded as she followed behind Ethel, a bit confused by her statement, especially considering everything she knew about the other girl.

“But don’t you take whatever you want from Godric?” The question slipped out before she could think it through.

Ethel turned to her, her gold eyes sparkling with confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Tol attempted to forge ahead, her own curiosity driving her as much as anything. “I mean, it’s just-“ how was she supposed to say that just this morning she had watched Ethel steal Godric’s bacon, and that certainly wasn’t the first case she had seen of Ethel taking things from Godric, despite the fact that until this morning she had very much seemed to be constantly angry at the boy.

Ethel frowned at her for a long moment before something seemed to spark in her eyes, and she giggled a surprisingly light, airy sound. “Oh no, I get it; that’s not the same thing, though. A dragon can’t incur obligation against herself.”

But Godric wasn’t her-

Oh.

“Godric’s your,” Tol hesitated for the briefest of moments as she searched for a better word before she gave up, “property, you mean,” Tol said slowly, the words feeling as strange as she said them, but having to confirm them because it truly was outlandish, but she was serious-

Ethel tapped her chin a couple times as she looked around the pier they had exited onto, distracted by the life moving about the stone path that sat above the horizontal stone pillars that were the docks that speared out into the Western Sea.

Taking in the half-men and humans hoisting freshly fished catch off of boats, and burdening others with new sailors, stone and wood, along with familiar large wooden casks marked with a white fully bloomed tree.

“They’re moving a lot of sap, aren’t they?” Ethel said.

Tol frowned, wondering if Ethel was distracting her, before she realized the other girl didn’t think she had said anything strange and, more importantly, that she saw the other girl's point; so, this strange conversation aside… they had a job to do.

“There’s a lot of Cities on the East Coast of the Continent that aren’t on the keystone network,” Tol remarked, thinking aloud. “It’s not like putting in a keystone near a city is all that cheap either, and then you need to pay Haven to keep it active. So, at a guess, it’s transported here by keystone and then shipped by sea.”

“It’s a lot of sap though, isn’t it?” Ethel shook her head, apparent amusement on her face, though her grin wasn’t especially broad, before glancing back at her. “So we agree that Rory wasn’t involved?” She switched topics without a single warning.

Tol frowned. “We’re not ruling anyone out; he was awfully keen to talk to you, and I have to wonder why he was still selling there, most other stalls seemed to have picked up and moved.”

Ethel scowled. “I’m a great person to talk to.” Her scowl faded into a pout. “And he doesn’t bother me, not like Councilor Geren, so I think he’s probably fine.”

Tol attempted to keep her face neutral. “But even if there is something to your feeling about Councilor Geren, we don’t have that kind of authorization to interfere with a Sovereign State’s government, Circle or no.”

Ethel began to walk along the pier, gazing about at the massive stone warehouses that dotted the side of the docks. “Deir could make ‘em,” she said mulishly.

“I don’t think our Head Mage should throw around her authority like that,” Tol rebuked, following along as they strolled down the docks, breathing in the salt-scented air and gazing over the gently lapping dark blue waves together.

Ethel yawned, not seeming to mind her words as she waved them around, “Everyone of these people can exist and live their lives because Haven fights their wars and fuels their furnaces.”

Tol attempted to repress her scowl, but those words bothered her quite a bit. “Just because Haven has a monopoly on Sap-“

Ethel looked at her, bewildered. “It’s not a purposeful monopoly; it’s not like there’s more than one Lone Tree.” Ethel then bit her lip, and Tol could tell she was thinking of her own words. “I mean, then it would be really confusing; it wouldn’t be the Lone Tree anymore.”

Tol crossed her arms, her ears flattening to her head. “The fact alone that it’s not purposeful doesn’t change anything; everything runs on Sap, our stoves, our heating, the teleportation circles, our production, and Haven is the only one that can supply it.”

Ethel's golden eyes looked at her seriously now, something strange in them. “I mean, yes, you have a point. The Caedreans certainly aren’t happy about it, but I don’t know what you want done about it- it’s the best source of fuel we have.”

“It doesn’t give us the right to wage wars on the rest of the Continent, though,” Tol sighed heavily.

Ethel raised a finger. “But we don’t even have a standing military; only the Caedreans and the City States do.”

Tol restrained the biting words she wanted to say to something more reasonable, “What do you call the Temple Knights then?”

“You don’t trust the Temple Knights?” Ethel asked, and Tol had to restrain a visible flinch at that question; she had led to it, but she hadn’t been thinking.

Ethel didn’t know; she couldn’t know-

“Who wouldn’t trust the Temple Knights?” Tol asked, forcing a broad smile that she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Ethel shrugged. “My mom doesn’t,” she grimaced, shaking her head. “And my Mom’s usually right, even when I don’t want her to be.”

Ethel turned back to the warehouses, and Tol noted her nose twitching independent of her will as she looked about.

Tol had to set that aside for now because she was starting to understand she didn’t understand Ethel in the slightest. She had thought she had the measure of the Dragon girl.

Blunt. Uncompromising. Stubborn.

And that was still true, but she seemed, well, softer right now for one thing, but it was more than that.

Perhaps it was a strange thought, but the most honest person in their Circle was probably Ethel Eld; even when caution would have her staying silent, Ethel always spoke her mind.

Maybe just a little bit, Tol found herself liking the other girl.

Ethel turned back to her, “But it’s not like the Temple Knights didn’t stop the endless Wars of Succession.”

Even when she said stuff like that.

Still, she wouldn’t leave it at that; she couldn’t. “When you say stopped, you of course mean more than none of the Seven Tribes are allowed to raise Hordes anymore. Not that in general people have stopped being killed.”

Ethel groaned, “You sound like Godric.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I am aware that people are still actively killing each other, but at what other point was Haven supposed to decide that the conflict was over? Thousands of Temple Knights were deployed. Ten times that number in Mage Circles, and for what? There was a five-year ceasefire before the Roina decided they weren’t fine with their borders anymore.”

Tol shook her head. “The Roina weren’t fine with their borders because there wasn’t a single keystone within them. They were effectively cut off from the rest of the Continent. You think they’d be fine with that? Would anyone be?”

Ethel rubbed her head. “It takes Haven an average of a decade to make another keystone, and then the root forsaken thing has to be transported- who knows how many leagues. It’s so big you’d need probably a hundred blue mages to do it, and you want them to transport it to the plains where the most likely outcome is everyone transporting it is killed, and then the keystone is destroyed because-“ Ethel stopped staring firmly at Tol. “Everyone of the Seven Tribes knows that the moment one of them gets a keystone, it’s over for the other six, so please explain exactly how you will solve this geopolitical crisis, in a wonderfully simple way no one has yet thought of.”

Tol stopped too, and she felt her cheeks heat up angrily at Ethel’s look.

She knew this. Of course she knew this. But it was easy for Ethel to say. It wasn’t her people that were being scythed down by Rifles, blown up with Red Magic, ripped to pieces with Blue, crushed with Green.

Tol was going to tear into this girl, flame take whatever Deir would say she would get her point across or-

Ethel froze, held up a hand, sniffed the air again, then looked around, befuddled. “Do you smell that?”

Tol blinked and then sniffed with her own nose, consciously tuning into the smell of the city filtering through, the smell of the sea, the fish, the people to-

A familiar, sickly-sweet, syrupy smell filtered through her nose.

“Did somebody spill like a barrel full of Sap?” Ethel mumbled.

Tol’s ears swiveled on her head, and she knelt down, pressing her hand to the ground, not bothering to form a circle as she pulsed her magic through it, feeling the stone around her echo back.

But it wasn’t quite right; there was something hollow beneath the-

Silver eyes.

Listen with her ears. Count the heartbeats, the breaths, what the dream could not replicate.

A heartbeat, but slow, calm, and pressed against her ears with unending certainty.

Then the world erupted into nothing but searing, unending light.

-

Twenty Minutes beforehand

Godric reflected that while he wasn’t the best with people, this situation was frankly ridiculous even by his own standards.

He had been told to stick together with Ilsa. Told to. By Deir. Their Head Mage.

And she had walked out of the house and disappeared… somewhere.

Which, of course, was now his problem.

Another problem was that he hadn’t memorized what she sounded like yet, so in the city of First Home his chances of finding her were…

Well, they weren’t good, and they were getting worse by the minute.

Still, there were some bright sides. He had never been somewhere people didn’t recognize him, and now, as he wandered the streets, he found himself not necessarily unnoticed but unremarked upon, which was a strange but pleasant sensation.

Part of him wondered what the interaction would be like if he went into the store full of solid-looking wooden trunks and small leather bags proudly advertising their spacious insides with bright red lettering on their tags.

Godric didn’t think the wooden trunk about the size of a bathtub could fit a leviathan, even with the aid of ‘the best blue magic sigils currently in use’ but he also imagined the average buyer wouldn’t be able to test that to such an extent that they would be able to come back and ask for their silver back.

Of course, next to that shop was a street cart that stood next to its fellows along a long lane of similarly minded merchants, holding various silver, glinting jewelry, small gemstones abounding, sapphires in necklaces, tiny rubies in rings.

The elven woman managing the stall wore a slim, gold-chained bracelet on her wrist, holding an onyx stone centered within it’s embrace that Godric found he couldn't tear his eyes from.

It wasn’t just that the bracelet was well crafted; the chains interlinked with expert detail work that told Godric it must have been done by a Green Mage, but also the feeling he got from the stone.

The tall, elegant elven woman, with bright crimson hair and kind blue eyes, dressed in a long, flowing green dress that fluttered in the air without a breeze, was helping a customer, a black bearded man who took a box of ruby rings cheerfully with a nod and a small pile of silver.

She caught sight of him and smiled, walking up with a grin and shaking her long hair behind her back, her eyes twinkling with what was likely somewhat false cheer.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked softly.

Godric hesitated, caught off guard by someone willing to help him so easily, even if only out of service obligation, then gestured at the bracelet. “That-“ he didn’t know what to call it, but something about it. “I was just distracted by this bracelet.”

“A good eye.” The elven woman’s smile softened. “That onyx was given to me by the White Mage who named me.” Her smile faded slightly. “It’s worn down over the years, though, as you might expect; even with an onyx enchantment, it doesn’t last forever.” She hesitated, looking between Godric and the bracelet. “I should say the bracelet is more for display than anything, because it’s not enchanted anymore; there’s no real use for it. You’d be better off with a fire resistance ruby necklace, or an emerald ring of cleaning, it’s just a pretty bauble now.”

It went unsaid that, even as a saleswoman, this was not something she would be parting with.

Godric looked at the woman's slightly downcast eyes as she regarded the bracelet with something caught between warmth and longing.

He hesitated a moment before reaching into the collar of his shirt, drawing out his athame but holding it gently by the blade. “I could refresh it if you like?” he said quietly.

The elven woman opened her mouth, and her blue eyes flicked to his cloak for a moment, processing what it meant. “I couldn’t possibly ask, or even afford-“

Godric shook his head and chuckled lightly. “I’m not with one of the Healer or Enchanter guilds. I couldn’t ask for payment anyway; I’m just a student. I wouldn’t want to disturb any of the memories you have with it, though.”

The elven woman looked at him almost searchingly. “Well,” she said quietly, almost hesitantly, “If you insist and it’s not too much trouble…” She trailed off.

Godric reached out, tapping the hilt of his athame against the bracelet, and the moment the metal touched the jewel, he got a picture of the intricately inscribed lines hovering brightly in his head; with a soft push, he let his magic flow through the lines, lighting them up slowly one by one until the sphere pulsed fully with life again.

He had done it. Something he could only have dreamed of accomplishing before.

Yet…

The onyx pulsed with a soft inner light, and the elven woman hesitatingly reached down and grabbed it, pulling it close to her chest. “It feels just like I remember when I got my name,” she mumbled quietly, then turned to look up at Godric.

The woman apparently realized something, though what Godric couldn’t guess at; her eyes widened, and she bowed at the waist. “I- thank you- I don’t-“

Godric raised a hand, overwhelmed by the surging emotion in her eyes as she tried to find something to say to him.

“I know-“

The woman nodded a couple of times, clearly unsure what to say. “Of course you do; you’re a White Mage, have you- " She hesitated. “Have you named an elf before?”

Only in his dreams.

Godric chuckled and shook his head. “I’m a bit young for that; my Father says I’m at least a decade out from a Trial of the Spirit.”

The woman smiled faintly. “Of course, it’s so hard to tell with you, Firstborn, I suppose, I-“ she shook her head. “My name is Teril Olphern, the fifth of that name; it’s my pleasure to meet you-“ she hesitated, seemingly realizing she didn’t know his name, and a warmth settled in Godric’s gut as he noticed her gaze drifted over his mark.

“Godric,” Godric said, smiling faintly, “Olphern, I think I’ve heard of that clan.”

“We’re one of the Free Merchant clans,” Teril said, smiling, and this was a warm thing with nothing hidden behind it. “It’s a peaceful life; I’m only a couple of decades from my third retirement.”

Godric laughed, “Well, that’s practically nothing then, isn’t it?”

Teril nodded and then hesitated again, “I couldn’t offer you something, could I? I promise all of my wares are-“

Godric shook his head, and she stopped. “Really, it was my pleasure.” he smiled faintly, unable to place this strange feeling in himself

He dipped his head politely, then returned to walking down the street, feeling Teril’s eyes linger on him, and feeling the smallest bit lighter as he moved with the people going about their day.

Something scraped against his ears, and Godric turned, stopping in his tracks. He realized his senses had been unconsciously tracking Ethel, and now something was bothering him near her.

A sticky sweet smell filtered into his nostrils as he focused.

Instinct, not thought, drove his foot into the ground as he kicked off the street, flying into the air in a single leap and landing on a rooftop with a soft thud, before the stone cracked as he kicked off again and shot through the air.

He hit the next rooftop, air ripping past him and blowing his hair into a rippling silver wave behind him.

He sprinted across the rooftops as fast as he could, kicking off and alighting, each move calculated in less than a second, the tile giving way beneath his feet, in explosions of stone dust as his boots collided with them.

Seconds stretched as he leaped through the air, and the scent of the ocean grew stronger, as did the sticky-sweet scent he had locked onto.

His eyes caught the strands of gold he could pick out of any crowd walking down the street, and he saw her head turn to look at him in confusion. Next to her, a twitching pair of black wolven ears twitched as Tol looked about, on edge.

Godric’s eyes had locked onto the ground beneath their feet.

He landed on the ground in front of Tol and, without thinking, grabbed her with his left arm as he encircled Ethel with his right, bringing them into his chest.

A waterfall of sound erupted from his lips, and a spherical barrier of white magic snapped around them just as the world erupted into a storm of heat and light battering him, and he let out a small grunt at the strain.

It was more than the dragon, far more, like someone had swung a hammer into his skull.

He looked around, seeing a cloud of stone dust shading the world around them from view, then glanced down to see the stone path they stood on still held in place by his barrier.

He imagined there wasn’t anything below that, though.

Tol looked up at him with a strained look in her emerald eyes, her black ears flattened to her head, and he realized she was saying something he couldn’t hear over the pumping of his heart in his ears.

With effort, he focused.

“Godric?” she whispered.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Slowly, Tol nodded.

He felt Ethel stir in his left arm. She looked up at him with befuddled golden eyes. “Godric?” she repeated, confused.

“Can you clear the air?” he asked, wanting to say anything else, but knowing that they didn’t have the time.

Ethel nodded as she drew her athame from her waist, pressed the blade to his barrier, and the air around them swirled into a small, localized hurricane. The dust was launched into the air in a rippling current, revealing the world fully beyond Godric’s white barrier.

They were standing on a small section of stone held in place in midair by Godric’s barrier, but around them was a cavernous gap in the walkway, a massive hole blown in the stone that was now beginning to fill with ocean water pouring in and beginning to flood toward the city as the docks were comparatively raised.

He felt Cat appear on his shoulder, her weight negligible but noticeably present. “It’s not over,” Cat growled quietly in his ear.

Godric closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to think of his next move. He was trapped right now by the barrier; if he dropped it, he put Ethel and Tol at risk.

“Godric, we need to help these people,” Ethel said, looking about in growing horror, and he felt her hand tighten on his arm, her nails elongating slightly, pricking against his skin.

Indeed, there were people scattered about the stone of the docks, their bodies beaten and torn by rubble; several were missing their limbs, and pools of crimson were growing beneath them.

Godric hesitated. “I can’t tell if there’s more sap underneath the pier,” he said quietly, admitting without words what exactly was stopping him.

Ethel blinked, then frowned. “Godric, there are people out there; they need our help,” she said the words slowly, and Godric knew she didn’t understand, but he couldn’t lose her and-

Godric tried to think; his head was pounding. If he dropped his barrier, he might not make it in time if another explosion happened.

He knew what his Father would do; it wouldn’t even be a question.

But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t thinking about what his Father would do; Ethel and Tol were here, safe in his arms. He didn’t want to put them at risk; they were his responsibility; they were-

With a shaky breath, Godric released the full sphere of his barrier, only keeping the bottom portion to hold up the stone.

Then the screams and cries of pain began to enter his ears. He kept the barrier under the stone a second longer as he leaped off what remained of the walkway, carrying both his Circle members in his arms, and landed on the side with a gentle tap of his boots, then forced himself to release them. Straining against instinct to unclench his arms from around their bodies even as everything inside himself screamed.

Don’t let go.

Tol looked at him, oddly quiet, then turned to look around them, her ears twitching, before she knelt on the stone and placed her hand against it, a flicker of green rippling through the stone.

Ethel gave him a long look, her fierce golden eyes boring into his own, searching for something.

She glanced back at the hole in the docks as ocean water began to pour in, the angle making it rise rapidly and threaten the city further.

Her eyes flickered back to him, then she grabbed her athame, red magic flickering along its length as she focused, and Godric felt the air around them stir against his skin as she began to mumble the sounds of the breeze escaping her lips.

Godric looked around and noted the first crumpled form his ears said still had a beating heart; he sprinted over, placing an open palm over the crumpled form of a half-man with scaled skin and a tail, missing his arm, his eyes staring into the air in shock.

A white, glowing circle sketched itself rapidly in the air as he drew a heal and then completed it with a flush of his magic.

The man’s form rippled with white magic, and he was whole again, though his clothes were still torn and blood-stained; his eyes were still hazy and uncomprehending.

Godric didn’t give the man another thought, going to the next heartbeat that was beginning to ebb: a human child, a little girl with bright red hair in a pink dress, numbly holding the severed hand of an older woman who looked remarkably like her, a chunk of stone embedded in her.

Godric didn’t know what to do for a moment; something in his memories told him to remove foreign bodies before they were healed into the wound, a note he had written in his studies back when healing seemed so far away.

His left hand went out, generating a barrier around the stone, encompassing it fully with a thought, and he slowly pulled back with that hand as he generated a heal from his right, sealing the arteries before they could release the blood that was barely keeping the woman alive.

The stone pulled free in jagged, bloody chunks encased in his barrier even as the woman became whole in the next instant.

Godric felt woozy for a moment, attempting to comprehend the hole in a person he had just made and mended. The young girl looked up at him, uncomprehending. “Mama, there’s a Temple Knight here,” she said, shaking her recently healed mother, shifting the woman as she opened her eyes and looked about, bewildered.

Godric ignored it and then moved to the next person, an elven man with black hair, blood trickling from a head wound.

He skipped the next body as he heard their functions cease entirely, as too much drained from them, and moved immediately to the next person: a small cat-eared boy with a speckled hazel tail as well, a chunk of stone having obliterated an eye, which he restored with a focused moment.

But Cat was right.

Even as he healed who he could, he focused on the pier around him, listening, his nose twitching even as he tried to figure out the next strike because there was going to be one.

But he couldn’t be in two places at-

“Cat, I need you to find if there’s another Sap stockpile,” Godric muttered quietly as he rejoined a leg to a sailor's body with hands that weren’t shaking but were uncomfortably close.

Cat didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to as he felt her weight vanish from his shoulder in a flicker of blue light.

The air stirred over the docks, blowing the rest of the stone and smoke away, and then he heard Ethel’s words change.

A liquid sloshing sound came under her breath, and he glanced back to see the water beginning to retreat backward.

Tol moved in behind her, her own voice joining the crack of rocks shattering under a quake, the slate grey stone joining against itself.

It wove like a fisher mending a net up the side of the hole, slowly, piece by piece melding together in a temporary patch job so it wouldn’t flood into the city.

But it was all temporary. He couldn’t be certain, but the entire air still smelled of sap, and until they knew that no more of it would be detonated-

“Tol,” he called out toward the massive hole, “I need you to-“

“I know,” Tol called back shortly, and he felt her stop mending the stone as she kicked a foot down and a pillar of earth shot up with her on it, and she landed next to the hole.

She glanced around, then tore off her boots, peeled her socks down, and let her bare feet slap onto the stone, seemingly uncaring of the jagged debris still strewn about, and began to jog down the pier, green magic rippling out from each contact with the stone, traveling across the ground like a ripple on the lake.

He wished Ilsa was here because then she could message Deir, and if there were other caverns beneath the dock’s stone, then a Blue Mage was practically mandatory to find them.

Tol could try, but a Green Mage attempting to read the stone took time, and right now he just had to hope Ilsa was going to notice and-

Well, not be so mad at him that she was actually willing to help.

It wasn’t a kind thought, but-

The sound of thudding footsteps echoed in his ears, and Godric didn’t glance up as Deir landed beside him, seemingly appearing from nowhere in the shadows of a nearby shattered building.

Skadi ran behind her, her dark hair free of its braid, strewn across her head in snaking tendrils, as if shadows were bleeding off the strands.

Her dark purple eyes darted around until they landed on Godric. “Godric! Where’s-“

Godric pointed at the massive broken hole in the docks, and Skadi nodded, sprinting away without a word.

Deir’s gaze focused on him; her silver eyes narrowed as her short silver hair flew about her head as she crossed her arms across her stomach, her half-cloak fluttering in the air at her sudden motion.

“Report,” she barked, holding out a palm as three circles spun into place and flickered out, soaring over three nearby bodies and restoring them fully in seconds.

“There was Sap underneath the docks; it blew the entire place to the hells,” Godric said shortly.

Deir sniffed the air and then shook her head. “It’s too muddied now; I can’t pinpoint anything. I need you to find if there’s any more.”

“Tol is-“

“I need you,” Deir said, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Godric was struck by how calm she looked. “To go with her, protect her- they’re your responsibility more than anyone else. You keep them alive.”

For the first time, Godric found himself fully agreeing with Deir; he rose to his feet, stumbling slightly as he felt his reserves half-drained from the amount of healing he had done, though even with this small break they were beginning to rapidly refill as he sucked in breaths of air.

Idly, he contemplated, for the first time, a paragraph he had once read about how air interacted with a being's body and how that produced a certain quantity of mana based on inherent factors of one’s heritage.

Running out of mana had never been a concern for him; of course, it was perhaps the story of his life that it was not, most certainly, a concern.

He flexed an enhancement through his legs, and his boots hit the stone hard as he ran toward Tol, who sprinted down the docks as fast as her legs could carry her.

It took seconds to catch up; his running was more like leaps that carried him across the ground, landing next to her as Tol’s ears twitched and rotated toward him, her messy black curls bouncing with her run.

She spotted him, and something ran through her eyes for a second: consideration, then discomfort, then, “Carry me,” she bit out.

Godric didn’t bother to question her, scooping her into his arms, his right arm curving under her knees and his left grabbing around her back, his hand for a moment in a precarious situation as he attempted to find a place to put it before he settled on her waist.

He leaped into the air as Tol grasped her athame strapped to her side, and then a green bubble flickered out around them.

Godric carried her down the docks for several seconds until “Stop,” Tol bit out, and Godric’s feet bit into the stone, crunching it beneath his boots.

Tol pulled herself free of his arms, stumbling slightly as she hit the ground, pressing both palms against it and closing her eyes.

The ground rippled for a moment as green magic flickered across the surface, then split apart as a circle spread from Tol’s palms, the stone parting as if someone had scooped it away.

Meters below, a massive cavernous space was revealed, barrels stacked on top of each other, the smell of sap drifting into Godric’s nose.

His mouth was dry; he realized it was so much, tens of thousands of silver worth, at a guess. How had anyone even gathered so much?

How many other caches were there?

Tol hadn’t said anything, staring at the barrels in apparent shock, her breath heavy.

“Are there any others?” Godric asked.

Tol didn’t respond for a moment, her eyes wide, before she finally turned to Godric and whispered, “I don’t know.”

-

Ilsa sat on the green tiled roof of one of the city's central clocktowers, having shifted herself here with no better plan than sulking.

Of course she figured it was probably a good plan as far as those kinds of plans went. Certainly better than teleporting Godric as far out into the Western Sea as she could and hoping a passing leviathan swallowed him.

Of course Ilsa doubted she would be that lucky, and Mother Superior would probably be very upset.

But it was a nice thought to think right now as she contemplated what her own words had gotten her into.

Ingrain herself with Godric. That was what Deir had told her to do. It was the only thing she and her Sisters were supposed to do.

Skadi had it easy; the girl, while distinctly shy around Godric, absolutely adored him for no discernible reason.

Tol was always calm, measured, and put together. She could handle Godric with ease. Her Elder Sister could handle anything.

And then there was her; by age, she was the oldest, yet at times she felt the least capable. Everything she felt was strong in the moment, and despite how much she tried, she just couldn’t seem to get anything right.

Whatever self-worth issues Skadi had because of her own inability with Black Magic, Ilsa knew she was far worse in every other respect.

Sure, she was capable enough with her own Blue Magic, Spatial Holds, Teleporting, and Warping, but she had studied for decades to get there, and none of it could shake the fact that what she really wanted was to be an actual member of the Desa clan again.

Skadi couldn’t understand; she was an Olar after all, and the Olar always took care of their own, even when they weren’t the most capable of the Elven clans.

The Desa’s…

The air rumbled, and Ilsa frowned as she looked up to see a massive cloud of dust erupting by the northern section of the docks, though the wind was already wrapping around it and blowing it away from the city.

That level of Red Magic…

It had to be Ethel; she doubted there were any other Institute Red Mages in First Home right now, and that level of elemental manipulation would require a full-fledged Red Mage.

But what had happened?

Gripping the hilt of her athame, she watched the air before her bend into a blur of blue, and she found herself looking over a scene of devastation. Bodies bent and broken, the dock’s stone shattered in a massive hole.

A bright sphere of White Magic rested at its center, hovering in midair, peeling back to reveal Godric holding Tol and Ethel to his chest. Ethel looked surprised, her teeth glinting pearl white as a snarl spread across her face and her golden eyes narrowed in renewed focus.

Tol looked nonplussed at being held by the White Mage, though Ilsa noted uncomfortably that her sister's arms had clenched around his torso.

Instinctively, Ilsa prepared to teleport; her Sister was in danger, but then she hesitated as she truly surveyed the scene.

The explosion had come from beneath them, and one of that magnitude meant-

She held up both her hands to her eyes, molding her blue magic within her grip, stretching and squeezing it without the use of a circle in a way that was only possible from her countless hours of research, scanning over the docks rapidly; if someone was willing to plant one bomb, then-

There, given she was actively looking for it, she could feel three other caverns resting below the docks. Equally spaced and filled with something that moved and settled with a dripping liquid feeling.

Godric and her sisters were moving rapidly. Ethel tried to hold back the water from flooding the docks, her hands held out, red circles curling around both palms as she slowly but effortlessly pushed the water back.

Mother Superior had appeared with Skadi now emerging from the shadows and exchanged rapid words with Godric, who had- healed people?

Ilsa didn’t know what to do with that information.

But now all of her Circle was out the docks. Standing above those caverns. Likely filled with the same explosives that had already obliterated a section of First Home’s docks.

Ilsa’s hand trembled as it found its way to her athame.

It was a trap. It had to be a trap.

And everything that was important to her was on those docks.

And Godric Lux.

She vanished in a flicker of blue light as she tore the space around her.