Chanting the arcane incantations, David vanished from sight, reappearing within the Scholars' Lounge of the Great Barnachia Library. The scene before him was one he dreaded witnessing. The chamber exuded an eerie coldness, the hearth's embers extinguished, and every object within encased in frost. The windows were obscured by a thick mist.
"Could this truly be the cause?" he murmured to himself, his gaze fixating on Caleb's frozen countenance, where even his lashes and brows were coated in ice.
After a brief investigation in the library, David swiftly returned to Celestia. Caleb, his brows furrowed and immersed in thought, released a despairing sigh upon beholding him anew. "Is it truly that dire?" he inquired.
David solemnly nodded. "The knight is lost, and you are succumbing to an icy demise. A sudden winter has descended upon the realm, and contrary to my initial suspicions, the two of you may be the catalyst. Or perchance that accursed specter, Ilberius. Now, recount to me with meticulous detail everything Ilberius uttered to Brad. Omit no detail."
"Do you harbor suspicions against Ilberius?" Caleb inquired, his countenance filled with astonishment as he gazed upon his master, who seemed even more infuriated after Caleb divulged all the intricate details.
"Have I ever extolled Ilberius as a benevolent, helpful entity?" David retorted.
"No."
"Then why does this astonish you?" the aged sorcerer bellowed with anger.
This was an uncharacteristic reaction from his mentor, one Caleb was unaccustomed to receiving.
"You find yourself entangled with the wiles of a ghost who was once a potent and treacherous mage. And perchance, you have unwittingly furnished him with a prized desire. Why do you reckon the gods confined him there? Merely to assume the role of a librarian?" David grumbled as he made his way towards a bookcase in the northern reaches of the chamber, sifting through volumes coated in dust.
"Does this quandary pertain to the issue of the heralds, does it not, Master David?" Caleb timidly inquired.
"Do not engage in conjecture concerning matters of which you possess no knowledge, apprentice. It appears your mixed heritage renders you indifferent to such concerns," David responded testily, his fingers leafing through the pages of ancient tomes as he spoke.
Caleb, attuned to his master's penchant for secrecy in matters of significance, pursed his lips and patiently awaited. The passage of time seemed to stretch on, interminable, until finally David raised his head from the tomes.
"We have no choice but to persist with your role as our clandestine operative, a necessity dictated by the circumstances. Time eludes us, as you well know. With the impending threat of icy demise, discovering Brad's corporeal form may be the sole means to impede Ilberius. We must swiftly ascertain the whereabouts of the knight's partner and beseech his assistance."
As David spoke these words, a resounding knock reverberated from the upper level. The aged sorcerer fixed his gaze upon the enchanted mirror, which unveiled the approaching guests, and he drew a deep breath upon sighting them.
Asvelas Freethorn and Ismeth Crimsongale descended the winding stairs, their figures adorned in furs and enveloped in a snowy mantle.
"The elements outside are gripped by an unrelenting frost, master," Asvelas remarked, brushing the snowflakes from his countenance and his hair streaked with crimson hues. "Pray tell, where do we find Caleb and the knight?" he inquired.
"Caleb is present. However, the knight is bereft from our midst," David calmly responded, his voice measured, as he uttered incantations and cast a shimmering powder upon his apprentice, rendering him visible.
"Salutations, esteemed gentlemen," Caleb greeted mischievously, donning the visage of a wayward child.
Observing Caleb materialize in the heart of the chamber, his form aglow with luminous hues of golden light, flickering like the flame of a candle, Ismeth clasped his fingers together, shaping them into a protective cross. "Keep thy distance, foul specter!" he exclaimed. Then, directing his ire toward the aged wizard, he demanded, "Pray tell, why did you speak of Brad's absence? Someone must promptly elucidate the events that have transpired here."
With agility, Caleb swiftly recounted the tale as Ismeth's irritation grew. Meanwhile, David dispatched Asvelas to the library to ensure the safeguarding of the youthful apprentice's corporeal manifestation.
"Are you not sorcerers? Can't you locate Brad?" Ismeth queried David.
"Alas, Sir Crimsongale, matters of such nature elude swift resolution," David responded.
"Please address me as Ismeth," interjected the knight with dusky skin.
"According to my estimation, it appears that thy companion's physical vessel has shifted due to an incident during his astral sojourn," David expounded.
"But what might have caused such an occurrence?" Ismeth inquired.
"I possess no answer to that query," David replied. "I, regrettably, lack expertise in matters of spiritual magic. However, I have conceived an idea that may lead us to his whereabouts. And the realization of this idea shall necessitate thy aid, Knight Crimsongale."
"I am fully prepared to provide any assistance necessary to rescue my comrade," Ismeth responded resolutely, without a moment's hesitation.
"Executing this method will require embarking on your own astral journey," David explained.
A shadow fell across Ismeth's face, causing him to take a few steps backward as he wrestled with a multitude of thoughts. One passing notion involved launching himself at the elderly wizard, but he swiftly dismissed it.
"So, you're suggesting that the only means to save Brad is to employ the very same method that has already ensnared him in peril?" he asked incredulously, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"To put it plainly, the astral realm serves as an intermediary dimension. To locate someone trapped within, you must delve into that realm itself before they plunge deeper," David calmly elucidated. Then, locking his gaze with the dark-skinned knight, he continued, "You, Ismeth Crimsongale, are the individual closest to Brad Silverhilt. You possess a profound understanding of his innermost thoughts. With Caleb's aid, you may decipher the scattered fragments and forge a path towards him. Brad Silverhilt's mind may be clouded, thus I recommend focusing on whatever plagues him as a starting point."
"Ok, if that is the case, circumstances have changed, old wizard. My man Brad is currently consumed by a profound infatuation. His mind fixates on a sorceress named Charlotta. I dare say he is attempting to reach her. However, I am unfamiliar with this Charlotta, and her whereabouts remain a mystery. We have scoured all the inns since morning, and she is nowhere to be found," Ismeth disclosed, unveiling the fruitless extent of their search.
"Indeed, my mentor's wisdom shines true. Should our focus be fixed upon Brad, a path shall reveal itself. I stand ready to lend my aid," Caleb affirmed with unwavering determination.
"Very well, then. Let us proceed, damn it all. But mark my words, Caleb, upon our return, I shall deliver a resounding blow, landing square in the center of your mouth," Ismeth declared, his gaze piercing into the young wizard.
Caleb swallowed hard, his apprehension palpable, and subtly gestured with his right hand. "Fair enough," he whispered softly, accepting the terms.
With precise guidance from the venerable sorcerer, Ismeth took his place upon one of the chairs positioned before the grand worktable. Then, David ignited the pipe, emanating an ethereal glow from the sacred powder contained within, and thus commenced the extraordinary journey that lay before them.
* * *