"Feanl!" the young mage cried out, his form leaning perilously over the window's ledge, as a glimmering azure radiance burst forth from his outstretched hand, colliding with the plummeting figure below.
Brad sensed a gentle pressure within his mind, recognizing it as an innocuous intervention, and acquiesced to its influence. As if transmuted into a feathered artifact, his descent metamorphosed into a weightless descent, until the final two meters. Yet, his respite from impact proved fleeting, for his back inevitably met the unyielding embrace of the jagged terrain. Though the force of the collision had been notably mitigated, the knight's body reverberated with anguish as the serrated rocks etched their mark into his flesh.
Uttering the same arcane incantation, Caleb vaulted from the window, his descent a display of unparalleled control. With the grace of a seasoned falcon, he alighted upon both feet, even as his breaths seethed with incensed fury, defying the lateness of the hour. His words, a paradoxical blend of serenity and indignation, wafted through the air.
"What folly consumes you, avant-garde knight? Had the Featherfall spell not etched itself in my memory, what recourse would you have sought? Does madness commandeer thy senses?"
Brad didn't reply. Gradually, he ascended from his prone position, his gaze sweeping the surroundings with a measured scrutiny.
They were amidst the castle's hidden rear haven, a sanctuary enshrouded by towering cherry and acacia arboreal sentinels, ensconced within verdant hedgerows. At its heart, a petite ornamental basin imbued the grove with an ethereal allure. Yet, an abyssal precipice emerged thirty meters distant, casting its ominous shadow upon the fortress wall. Unperturbed, the knight embarked on his path, with the young wizard trailing curiously.
"What plagues your mind?" Caleb inquired as they approached the precipice's edge. "Do you perchance seek to embrace the final abyss?" he added, casting a gaze downwards.
The mage, with a lineage from halflings, couldn't help but entertain, however fleetingly, the notion of the knight taking a leap from the precipice. The atmosphere cloaked them in impenetrable darkness, and only at the last moment did Caleb remember to summon a magical luminescence, illuminating their path ahead. Yet, Brad appeared to possess an innate sense of direction. He came to a halt a mere stride away.
"I caught the faint scent of Averan dust," Brad disclosed, his eyes fixed upon a remote point in the dark sky, invisible to Caleb.
"Can he truly perceive the enigma that lies beyond?" Caleb pondered, though the query remained unspoken.
"Listen, Brad. As I have conveyed afore, I am a maestro of mystical arts. Let it be etched in the annals that I am no charlatan akin to half-cooked Melbourne Townthroddle. And that purveyor of illusory is worshiped by the addled minds of Half-Town. Flames and lightning hold no sway over me. Combat incantations evade my repertoire. My ardor and scholarly pursuits extend to realms that transcend mortal boundaries. And to traverse those ethereal domains, the Averan dust becomes an imperative."
"You fail to grasp the gravity, wizard. This dust is an exceedingly perilous substance," Brad retorted, his gaze unwavering on a distant horizon.
"Indeed, it may hold perils for you. Yet, for me, it serves as a key. I strive to unlock mysteries that lie beyond the boundaries of your comprehension. These endeavors bear significance for those who shall follow in my footsteps," Caleb countered.
"You're placing us in jeopardy!" Brad exclaimed with fervor.
"The onus of risk does not fall solely on me. Both you and Ismeth are present here. Remember, the three of us bear the mark."
"I witnessed you, Caleb. When your elf companion engaged in the astral traversal."
"Yes, Asvelas took a daring leap for there is a pursuer in our wake. I can sense its presence, Brad. I do not expect you to fathom... yet, there are those who observe us, lurking within our proximity, ever so close... I suspect Ismeth feels it too, though he endeavors to conceal it."
Brad fell silent, lost in contemplation. Truth be told, he experienced the same sensations. Since his awakening, a burden weighed upon his mind and body. It felt as though something foreign, indefinable, had intermingled with his essence. He had shared this revelation with no one, but it remained his truth. The wound upon his back bore the semblance of an enigma, an enigma he could not unravel.
And amidst the veiled firmament, a faint, flickering entity seemed to dwell.
"Everything is but a haze of abstraction," Brad uttered, breaking the protracted silence.
"What happened after we parted ways, Brad Silverhilt? Unveil the events that unfold. Permit me to lend my aid," Caleb responded.
"Not at this moment. First, I must regain my composure," Brad declared, his voice devoid of emotion, as he tilted his head skyward.
"By the depths, knight! You persist in your obstinacy. I stand here to offer my assistance. Why can't you embrace it wholeheartedly?" Caleb rebelled.
Brad's fists clenched, as if primed to intercept a descending force from the heavens. The young wizard discerned the tautness in his posture. Instinctively, Caleb retreated a couple of steps, creating a gap beyond striking range.
"Dodge!" Brad warned, unsheathing the silver dagger. The enchanted medallion welded to the dagger's hilt ignited with a feeble luminosity in the abyssal darkness, akin to a lantern's faint glow on a moonless night.
"I cannot fathom," Caleb said, bewildered by the turn of events.
Brad, his tension mounting, roared, "Dodge and shield yourself, you damned sorcerer!"
The knight executed a nimble sideways leap, prompting Caleb to anxiously crouch to the ground while the knight launched the dagger skyward. Caleb, an astonished witness to the unseen entity impaled by the blade and assaulted by its abhorrent, piercing screech, could have sworn it transpired. However, when he directed his arcane radiance toward that very spot, he beheld an empty void.
"For the love of the Seven Gods, what abomination is this?" Caleb inquired.
"More approaches. Close your eyes, lest you be robbed of sight," Brad calmly commanded this time.
Caleb promptly complied, yet he still sensed an ominous luminosity briefly engulfing the enveloping darkness, akin to the brilliance of day. Although his eyelids were tightly shut, he hesitated, unsure whether to brave the potential glare by opening his eyes.
"You may unveil them now," Brad uttered.
With cautious trepidation, Caleb unveiled his eyes.
Three abominations greeted his sight. The sorcerer beheld their charred remains strewn across the ground, transformed into ebony relics. The acrid stench of singed wings assailed his nostrils. These were no poultry-like odors; they emitted a repugnant, putrid aroma. Summoning his resolve, Caleb ventured closer to scrutinize the lifeless forms of these beings. Wings adorned their frames, reminiscent of humanoid vultures, while their clawed appendages instilled an eerie sense of dread.
"They bear a striking resemblance to harpies," Caleb murmured, stealing a glance at Brad. "How were you able to perceive them?" he inquired.
"I sensed their presence," Brad replied.
Caleb's heart thudded in his chest. "They must have been concealed by an invisibility spell," he muttered under his breath.
"I believe they existed on a different plane," Brad stated.
"Now you're spouting nonsense," Caleb retorted, his skepticism evident.
"I have encountered similar creatures in the past, Caleb," Brad said, his eyes brimming with nostalgic recollections.
Determined to ascertain the truth and dispel any illusions, Caleb extended his hand and touched one of the creatures. In an instant, they vanished, as if they had never occupied space.
"This is nothing more than an illusion," Caleb asserted.
"No, it is not," Brad insisted.
"How can you be so certain?" Caleb queried.
"They are still present, but not within this plane of existence," Brad explained. "Focus your gaze as if you were traversing the astral realm and look once more."
Caleb followed Brad's instructions, a practice referred to as the "soul's eye" in mystical literature—a technique easily employed by gifted psychics but acquired through arduous training for practitioners of the arcane arts.
And there they were, yet not entirely. They shimmered faintly, resembling an ethereal enchantment, but they possessed a deeper essence. Caleb was resolute in his conviction this time.
"You possess a deftness with Averan dust, Caleb. It is due to this skill that when the medallion's magic struck them, you were granted a glimpse into their authentic essence. It appears that the divine enchantment woven into the medallion has the power to unveil their true nature," Brad continued, his voice laden with conviction. "Moreover, based on my conjecture, it is the consumption of Averan dust that draws these entities to you, sorcerer," he added, fixing Caleb with a grave and searching gaze.
"And how did you come by this knowledge, Brad?" Caleb inquired. "I mean, you were a knight who seemed entirely unversed in such matters. That was my impression, wasn't it?"
"I suppose during my training as a temple knight, I received some tutelage on metaphysical entities. However, back then, I did not grant these matters due credence," Brad elucidated.
"Indeed," a voice interjected from behind. It was Priest Centavius.
Startled, Caleb leaped from his position, directing his enchanted light towards the approaching figure.
"You sensed them, did you not, priest?" Brad remarked without even turning around.
"They exude waves of evil energy," the priest uttered, taking a deep draught from his flask. "You were an exemplary pupil, Brad. Alas, you erred on the side of skepticism. Even the existence of the gods failed to captivate your interest. Whenever I asserted the actuality of these entities, you would dismiss it with a laugh. Nonetheless, you did demonstrate attentiveness during our shared lessons," the priest uttered, intoning a prayer and kindling a feeble light suffused with a tranquil and sanctified aura.
"Astre Arghans. Predators hailing from the ethereal abyss of Hatt, elusive assailants of the mortal realm. Indeed, they possess the ability to detect the lingering essence of Averan dust. Nevertheless, ordinarily, they are confined to their own dimension," the priest elucidated, meticulously scrutinizing the lifeless bodies with a sanctified radiance. "Typically, they single out their prey from among the forsaken."
'The forsaken' was a phrase for individuals who had succumbed to the intoxicating allure of copious amounts of Averan dust, thereby relinquishing their grasp on reality. Caleb was well acquainted with this knowledge.
"Yet, something diverges from the norm here. Of course! The indelible marks upon our backs," the fledgling sorcerer interjected, as if unearthing a profound revelation, his elation swiftly eclipsed by the weightiness of their predicament.
Centavius nodded, granting him the necessary time for comprehension. "Your unnatural marks render you prime targets and tenuous threads within the tapestry of reality," he pronounced. "Journeying alongside three marked victims serves as a testament to the audacious nature unique to us pariahs," he appended, savoring a bitter sip from his chalice.
"That is why you maintained your distance from us and regarded us with suspicion throughout our expedition," Caleb declared.
The priest nodded solemnly. "I beg your pardon, sorcerer. We were unable to divulge this knowledge to you. My understanding is acquired through keen observation. Furthermore, heightened trepidation and despondency would only sow needless panic, leading you closer to their clutches."
"Oh, how reassuring," Caleb retorted with dripping sarcasm. "If only you had cautioned me against the perils of Averan dust," he scolded the priest.
The priest's gaze turned flinty this time. "Caleb, you are ensnared in the grip of addiction. It appears rather fruitless to dissuade you."
"No, I am not. I have abstained for eight days," Caleb protested, his voice quivering and his hands trembling.
"Because Master David cautioned you," the priest replied.
Caleb couldn't refute that deduction.
"Yet, you ruminate on it day after day. And eventually, you succumbed, compelling your elven companion to partake," Centavius continued, his tone laced with harshness.
"I imperiled Asvelas as well," Caleb murmured, his shoulders hunched in shame.
"You jeopardized us all," Brad said in an impassive tone.
"Well, gentlemen, now that the gravity of the true menace has seized your understanding... I grant you a few days to gather your faculties. On the day we embark upon the vessel, we shall delve into this matter with greater profundity," the priest declared, his gait swaying as he ambled back toward the fortress. He continued to indulge in his libation.
"Why on the ship? Why not sooner?" Caleb inquired as the priest departed.
"The seas are relatively deserted, and ships provide relatively secure sanctuaries. Especially when they have been sanctified by a priest of my caliber," Centavius responded. "By someone with my exceptional skills," he added, chuckling intermittently with a voice tainted by drunkenness.
Brad and Caleb exchanged silent glances. They were both aware of the distinct mistakes that had led them to their current plight. However, recognizing that these were personal matters requiring introspection, they refrained from further conversation, avoiding unnecessary complications as they quietly made their way toward the fortress.
"I am grateful for saving my life," Caleb expressed simply as they neared the gate.
Brad nodded respectfully.
"A levitation spell?" Caleb pointed to the window, seeking confirmation.
"I prefer the use of stairs," Brad replied, making his way toward the back door. As Caleb ascended toward his own room's window, he cast another glance at the abyss behind him. It sent a chill down his spine, as if a lingering presence continued to watch them from there.
* * *