A Dull Crack rang out deep in the earth as something long and thin impressed its shape and bent reality. A dual-colored knife's edge burst forth and hung in the air for a moment before the edge bore down smoothly, cutting a large seam in reality, gray fog gushed forth.

The knife slipped behind the fog, and two finely gloved hands reached out for opposite sides of the seam and pushed it apart, causing more gray fog to spill forth and mix with the smog of the desolate plain. A young man stepped out from behind the mist onto solid ground with a solid crunch. He was wearing a fine blue hooded cloak the color of midnight and fine leathery boots shaped to walk any terrain with red hair that quickly shifted to Burnette and blue eyes that turned to a deep brown.

The man looked around him as he pulled out his spiraling twelve-quarter-inch hawthorn dragon string wand. Before turning around, using his free hand, he gripped the top of the portal between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger and, with brows furrowing in concentration, made a pulling motion, pinching the seam closed and cutting off the source of the fog.

Done with his mundane but essential task, the man tasted cool, arid air. He found a tangy, unpleasant metallic taste invade his mouth. Looking beyond the physical to confirm what he knew, he saw swirls of vibrant red and metallic silver mix and tumble together in a steady rhythm. Magic always found new ways of existence, but the man could see this world loved its Magic profusely, refusing to keep it hidden from his sight.

Turning his magical gaze to the ground beneath him, the man saw a thunder of many different colors, all tinted with orange and the tasting of decay collecting into fine-tipped points that lanced the ground, each several feet from one another. The Magic from the ground, more vivid and pungent than anything in the air, seemed to reach for him as multicolor spikes pointed at him and stretched toward him. Still, the man gently steered them away with a touch of his metal gray magic.

Turning his sight once again to the physical, the man noticed two forests of tents in the distance on either side of him. He was in the middle of two armies. As he noted his precarious position, he felt sharp black-tipped projectiles disturbing the evening air. The man did not think before his wand snapped out, halting the arrows in their approach. Dozens of Arrows stilled in the air mere feet from him, waiting for his instruction. With a flick of his wand, the arrow shafts were buried in the ground not far from where he stood.

The man's lips twitched into a slight frown as his eyes could not distinguish where the archers had shot from or why he had become their target. The man couldn't even make out human figures amongst the sun-beaten tents. He didn't think they should have been able to notice him so quickly.

He was cloaked by fog thick enough to obscure his form—a test fire, perhaps with him in the line of fire by pure luck. The man shook his head, lamenting his terrible luck. Cloaking himself in a powerful disillusionment charm with a tap of his wand, The man's tall shadow faded from sight before he began walking in the direction of the army that hadn't attempted to make a pincushion of him.

The wizard took time to cast complex spells to hide his smell, sound, footsteps, Magic, and even his soul as he walked. One could never be too careful in a new reality. When his Magic was complete, the wizard made quick progress on the long trek to the army encampment, and soon he was amongst humans.

The wizard was glad to be among his kind or at least its adjacent form of it. Unintelligent marsupial lifeforms had dominated the last world he visited; it had been the worst couple of months of his life. The wizard remembered liking kangaroos as a child, but the creatures of that world honestly creeped him out.

It was something about how they hopped, or maybe their black eyes always looked at him hungrily. The wizard would have abandoned that world if not for its abundance of alchemical ingredients just sitting there waiting to be harvested. As he walked by half-armed soldiers prepared for battle, he inhaled the delectable smell of spiced venison that made his stomach growl; he saw a peculiar trio eating and talking over a fire. The wizard decided to stop in and listen.

"Do they think they can defeat us with that small army," a short, mean-looking, mustached man in fine armor said in a mild tone. His head was completely bald and greasy, reflecting the fire like a tarnished mirror, his gut hanging out, contracting and expanding as he let out labored breaths. His breath, stinking of alcohol and half-digested meat, reached the wizard several feet away and killed his appetite.

"No, they're posturing that Varden knows they can't win. You know as well as I, lord Padero, they can't possibly stand before the might of Galbatorix. They know that we know that. Everyone knows that," A large blonde man said smugly. He seemed entirely confident in their assertion as if he had personally seen the future unfold before his eyes. He also wreaked alcohol but was more fit and muscled than his bald friend.

The wizard knew that every army had a few like the large man, true believers, people devoted to their cause without thought or qualms. The wizard knew that men like him were necessary to keep morale high in large armies but were dangerously fanatical for the most part. Such inflexible people always sought revenge for lost causes, unable to overcome their understanding of the world.

"I hope you're right, Jim,"

The wizard could hear the young, meek man of the trio take strength from the large man. The younger man's voice was timid. His thin, bony form was very young. It was better to call the meek man a boy, likely still in his teens.

The wizard could dimly hear Jim reassure the fresh recruit as the wizard's long strides took him further into the camp to search for a coalescence of Magic that would usually indicate a wizard or a mage's presence. The wizard looked beyond the physical and tried to ignore the usual dizzying swirls of colors.

Magic could take many forms: a taste, a symphony, beautiful swirls of color, but unless told otherwise, it usually clung heavily to those with consciousness. It was twisted and sculpted by those who could use it often; this was an unconscious effort. This was what the wizard was trying to find now.

The wizard knew the Magic was thin in the air, nothing compared to his homeland, but he could still hear its symphony and tell where it was loudest.

The wizard moved quickly; he passed through the camp, avoiding soldiers and horses unaware of his presence. Soon, the wizard found his quarry. Notes of order calmly paced as if to a metronome, and swirls of blood-red insanity made their way to him. The wizard slowed his approach to the tent, where music hung most heavily in the air.

The wizard conjured a gentle breeze to lift the tent's flaps, making sure to keep his magic light enough that it felt natural, and slipped into the tent to find an old bearded man in his sixties hunching over a solid oak table that held a porcelain bowl of water. The tent's interior was dark, its tarp effectively blocking any sunlight. The man's piercing blue eyes burned bright with a magical light reflected from the bowl.

Some form of scrying showed an aerial view of the two armies. The wizard had never seen such Magic before but dismissed it for now. He lashed out with his wand without hesitation, allowing his disillusionment and concealing charms to disappear like dust in the wind.

A ball of sublime red Magic lashed from the tip of the wizard's spiraling wand, barreling at the foreign mage impossibly fast. The wizard's spell struck the man before he could respond or even be surprised, and with a splash of sickly red, the man slumped back into his chair, unconscious. With a wave of his hand, in one motion, the wizard directed the bowl of water to the side and conjured a seat for himself in front of the man's table.

Sitting down, the wizard used a charm that made the man's body rigid but still malleable. Gripping the man's chin, the wizard directed the mage forward in his seat closer to the wizard's face, ignoring his awkwardly placed body, locking his piercing blue eyes wide open before petrifying him still.

"Time to find where I ended up, Legimens."

The wizard decided it was best to first root through recent memory to ascertain the exact situation he found himself in. The wizard's dark brown eyes breached a connection. He was instantly assaulted by the mage's mound of anxieties, dark tendrils of mixed emotions that seemed to clump around his mind like a sickness. The wizard skillfully partitioned those complex emotions into small black marbles he tossed out of sight to be lost in the mage's subconscious and quickly found the memories he was searching for, not even noticing the sturdy marble shields protecting them that crumbled upon contact.

The wizard knew at once that he was in a land called Alagaësia in a place aptly named 'the burning plains.' He had landed in the middle of a political conflict of all things between an oh-so-corrupt king and a noble dragon rider and his rebellion. It was a tale so fantastic it honestly amused the wizard. It reminded him of stories from the days of Merlin that had been read to him as a child.

Dragon riders had existed in the wizarding world in fictional tales told to children. Still, the wizard shuttered at how much torture and training would be required to tame those stubborn beasts enough to fly humans. It honestly wasn't worth the trouble. The people of this world didn't have brooms. Those were much more obedient and quite a bit faster, too. The wizard shook his head.

Eobard, the magician he had used legilimency on, was surprisingly easy to read because of something the wizard had long coined as obsessive categorization disorder. It often happened to those with no sense of humor and were prone to too much self-reflection or obsession. The latter was true for this man as he was obsessed with proving his worth to the king.

The man's mind was so organized memories might as well have been put in an alphabetized file cabinet for his perusal. The wizard considered his option for a moment before he concluded.

He had found a magical haven perfect to make his own. It was rich with culture, and though its inhabitants were restricted by their nature as mages, they created Magic wonders. Theodore had seen some already in Eobard's mind. Ways to store Magic in gems, a language that could be used to shape the world in almost any way given enough Magic. The wizard's eyes flashed with greed.

Many things had Changed since the wizard's Childhood. The wizarding world wasn't what it once was. After the fall of the muggles, a wizard dominion had taken place. A long and bloody period of violence had begun with man wizards vying for power. Many went to any extent to seek an advantage over their competitors.

Given time and money, Magic like this would be valuable in the wizard world. Of which the wizard had plenty.

They would find a way to use this world brand of Magic. Magic from mages or magicians was often tricky for wizards to adapt. Still, Magic was a powerful resource, and Wizard could wield it in many ways a Magician couldn't.

Mages, after all, weren't of Magic but were simply beings that used it. They couldn't manipulate or create marvels with it as effortlessly as wizards, just as a naked human could never swim as quickly or naturally as a fish unaided. As far as Eobard knew, there only were Mages in this land. The only problem the wizard could see was a wartorn country causing trouble on this continent.

The wizard looked at Eobard with hard eyes. He had seen how the king twisted this magician's mind. That black mass of anxiety was supernaturally thick. It had been a slow development created from years of conditioning to enhance loyalty and to create an obsessive desire to serve the king. The Magic reminded the wizard too much of Grindelwald's vampiric loyalty experiments. The comparison honestly made the wizard cringe in disgust.

Because of their undead and soulless nature, Vampires were immune to the imperious curse and most forms of magical diplomacy. They have always been wily and dangerous to collude with, turning on dark lords that sought to use them. Grindelwald knew this, and before his conquests truly began, he decided to personally bend influential leaders of Vampiric covens to his will through the art of simple mental manipulations over many years. All in the interest of creating reliable minions.

He had been quite successful, and he and his acolytes had successfully twisted dozens of Vampires into an effective killing squad, controlling them and whole covens of vampires through them. They had unleashed havoc amongst allied forces, not that they remembered it, and had also been quite a successful deterrent against Britians' wizards, making them reluctant to enter the war. Vampires were unnaturally strong and fast, so whole Wizards squadrons were often killed without recognizing their enemy.

The wizard had examined some of those vampires still loyal to the dark Lord long after Grindlewald died, so the wizard knew which side he would support. He could not trust someone conniving enough to use such methods on allies. This Varden had a much greater chance to provide stability for his people. The wizard also saw something else in the mage's mind. This empire condoned slavery, something the wizard despised more than anything else.

Deciding to be quick about his departure, he stood up and walked around the table that separated him from the mage. Pressing his wand to the mage's temple, he pulled silver memory strands and filled conjured glass vials. Only when about a hundred glass vials were sealed and labeled sequentially did the wizard stop his odd form of theft. A quick obliviation and some simple memory modification were all required for it to seem like he had never been there.

The man would think he had become overworked and briefly closed his eyes to rest.

The wizard, tired of running around, disapparated with a quiet snap. He instantly arrived back where he had come from. With a glance toward his intended destination and another soft snap, the wizard was at the outskirts of the Varden.

Knowing that he would be noticed among the Varden unless he remained unseen, the wizard decided to lay a notice me not charm on himself, obscuring his appearance.

Anyone looking at his fine blue cloak, engraved dragon hide boots, or impossibly sharp dual-colored dagger would see leather armor, worn leather boots, a nondescript knife, or whatever else they expected to see to make him fit in. The wizard quickly became the most uninteresting character in the crowd.

The wizard was almost sure no one was even suspicious of his form sliding through the body of the Varden until he met the eyes of a woman with curly brown hair that smelled of garlic and herbs. She was somewhat short and had warm brown chocolate eyes. How she stood stock still and looked at him with undisguised interest despite his Magic made him even more curious about who she could be.

Using his acute magical senses, the wizard could hear a discordant symphony that tore between notes of violent excitement and an odd, soothing hum. The wizard saw a miniature tornado of red and silver curling around the woman before occasionally jittering and whipping against anything that came near her.

Indulging himself, the wizard legilimized her slipping through her shields as a monomolecular needle would thin glass. With a sideways glance into her mind, the wizard could already tell this woman wasn't ordinary. Her mind was strange, not quite twisted but beautiful in a haunting and broken way, but also felt earthy and powerfully connected to the weave.

Her mind felt familiar. She reminded the wizard of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed aunt who had died quite a while ago. It had been a couple of centuries at this point. He still missed Luna, the odd connections she made, and the strange creatures she constantly searched for. Despite her best efforts, She never managed to find her Crumple Headed Snorkack.

Only Luna was innocent and genuine. There was a cold, calculating feeling in this woman's mind. He could feel her desire to learn, to take things apart to see what made something tick. The wizard could tell this extended to living and non-living things, only barely constrained to loose morals. Theodore didn't judge her for this; he had a similar passion for learning.

Feeling guilty after being reminded of his aunt, the wizard took what he needed and quickly left the strange woman's mind, leaving her primitive shields intact. This witch, Angela as she was called, could keep her secrets for now.

The witch, for that was indeed what she was, did not seem to notice his intrusion or his leaving, but as he made his way past her, he could feel eyes on him. Deciding to ignore it, the wizard made his way to the largest tent he could see in the distance, where he now knew the leader of the Varden Nasuada resided. Quickly finding his way, he uses Angela's memories as his guide.

The wizard confounded Jörmundur's bodyguards as they were known to Angela and entered the tent. With a wave of his hand, the world outside the tent could no longer hear what would happen within. With a bit of intent, the entrance to the tent became obscured with an illusion that would satisfy the Guards if they peeked in.

The wizard conjured himself a small hand mirror to make sure he was presentable, ignoring Nasuada as she sat planning at her desk for now. The wizard noted his brown eyes, porcelain skin, and sharp chin, all features he had granted himself very intentionally different than how he naturally looked if he had ever truly known that.

When he was young, the wizard fluctuated in appearance so often that it was difficult to understand what was naturally him. It was probably blue-eyed, with red curly hair and fair skin that would burn at the first sight of the sun. This seemed like the one he had liked the most as a child. He didn't show his true face, if you wanted to call it that, now because it had become somewhat of a tradition for him to change his features when he traveled to a new dimension.

It was a method of mentally cleansing himself for new experiences and protection against others who traveled between worlds knowing of him. He had been assaulted before by wizards from his world conspiring with foreign ones. It wasn't a pleasant experience and difficult to combat because new lands brought foreign Magic and new dangers.

He had trained for a long time to control his metamorphmagus abilities to manipulate his height, weight, and face in almost any way he wished. The wizard knew he was handsome but was going for a particular effect. He wanted to look inhuman, distinguishable from the crowd. A story was coming together in his mind to explain his strange magical abilities, strange manner of dressing, and accent. It was all formed around an idea that the wizard had found in Eobard's mind: the native Alagaësians knew little to nothing about the surrounding foreign lands.

Using his metamorphmagus ability, he made his eyes from a beautiful brown to have a hint of unnatural amber-red. He made his skin pale white and unnaturally smooth and appealing to the eye. The wizard only took a few more seconds to adjust a couple more features that he usually wouldn't bother with until he knew he would have the desired impact. People were always thrown off by beauty. It was something Theodore utilized often.

The wizard vanished the mirror with a snap of his fingers and did away with his notice of me not charming along with it. Suddenly, Nasuada's eyes shot up at him in alarm and horrified surprise. The wizard paused momentarily to allow her to drink in his presence while admiring her beauty before beginning his spiel.

The Varden's leader had dark, flawless skin, a broad, flat nose, and straight black hair. Her comely appearance belied her stern imperial figure. The wizard knew at once that this woman wielded power like a hammer.

"Hello, most honored lady Nasuada." The wizard felt a wild smile wanting to make its way onto his face, but he contained himself. The wizard loved meeting new people; this would be his first real interaction with anyone in this dimension. In fact, it had been several months since he spoke to anyone at all he hoped. Still, he would only present himself as a gentleman before soon-to-be royalty.

"I have come to aid your cause." The wizard's control slipped slightly, and a slight smirk appeared. As he took in her reaction, he detected a hint of unintentional desire and just the right amount of shocked silence. Nasuada seemed to be glancing somewhere vaguely behind her as if that was where help lay. The wizard wasn't surprised he had felt another smaller presence in the tent with Nasuada.

"You can come out if you want, Elva, was it?" Without a word, a small girl with a silver star on her head came from behind a panel. She had piercing violet eyes, black hair, bone-white skin, and a sharp, angular face. She didn't look afraid, only confused. Her face contorted in a way it wasn't used to, molding strangely into half-furrowed brows and too-wide-open eyes.

The wizard could feel some strange tickling sensation go through him as her violet eyes looked at him, but his occlumency shield held firm, and the discomfort quickly vanished.

As Elva approached her, Nasuada gathered enough of her wits to speak.

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" Nasuada became tempted to reach for one of her hidden daggers but restrained herself.

"I'm Lord Theodore Lupin, wizard extraordinaire at your service. I just arrived this morning. It's quite the tale. Would you like to hear it?" Theodore asked as he gave a warm smile as sweet as honey, giving Nasuada a fuzzy, nostalgic feeling like they were old friends meeting again after years apart. Nasuada shook herself from her daze, realizing this man was dangerous in more ways than one. How had he gotten in here? How had she not noticed him standing in the middle of the room? An alarm started blaring its horn in her head.

"NO, how did you get in this tent, GUARDS!"

No guards came, and Theodore's smile slipped from his face. He didn't react or move closer. He paused, and Nasuada could see wheels turning behind his eyes.

"See, that's a very different question I'm happy to answer. Magic!" Theodore said, spreading his arms wide and showing off a bit. Without uttering a word, glowing tendrils of pure Magic distorted the air as they flowed off and around him. He also let the barest hint of his magical aura loose, which gave Nasuada a feeling of suffocation as if endless might was bearing down upon her that she had no defense against.

He allowed his Magic to be reined in only when he felt Nasuada become somewhat timid of him. Theodore had learned long ago only those with power could be taken seriously. The wizard had no desire to frighten the muggle but knew what he was doing was necessary for civilized conversation.

There was a pause as Nasuada collected herself, but she quickly regained her nerve.

"I don't know what Game you are playing, but I want you to stop. Now, what is it you want, Lord… Lupin was it?" Nasuada kept her voice firm, but Theodore could tell it was a facade.

On the other hand, Elva seemed content to stare blankly at him with only the slightest hint of confusion on her face.

"No game, my lady. As for what I want, it's to join the Varden's efforts, of course. What else." Theodore stood tall, his eyes intently following Nasuada's movements as she seemed to be considering his words, and he could tell she was unconvinced.

"If you wanted to join the Varden, there are much simpler ways than scaring its leader half to death," a hint of steel made its way into her voice. "For a potential ally, you certainly have an interesting way of presenting yourself." Nasuada managed to keep any fear out of her voice, but Theodore could feel it rolling off her.

Theodore gave a lazy smile, but his eyes became cold and challenging in a way that frightened Nasuada almost as much as his Magic did when pressing on her.

"I heard that you needed men of many talents." The wizard said, tearing his cold gaze away from her and shrugging, much to her relief.

Theodore considered he might be going about this all wrong, that there might be no need for her to be afraid of him. Still, he never had the patience for slow introductions. Besides, his entrance was killing many birds with one stone. He had proved his ability for infiltration and potential assassination, all while joining the Varden in the most expedient way possible. Nasuada, for her part, swallowed her pride, not wanting to provoke this strange magician any more than she had to.

"What makes you want to join the Varden Lord Lupin?" Nasuada said, rubbing her hands together to soothe her nerves.

"A bit of fondness for lost causes, a bit of desire for adventure and new battles. Most of all, Lady Nasuada to stop a tyrant like Galbatorix that has harmed many and will harm many more." Theodore said with an enthusiasm that surprised Nasuada.

A small nervous smile touched Nasuada's lips as she stood behind her table.

"I think we might find a place for you yet, sir Wizard, but there are procedures we must follow to ensure you are who you say you are and not some strange spy assassin that passed up your chance to kill me just now," Nasuada said as she smiled hiding a bit of her inner terror that this strange magician might decide to implement such a strategy now.

Contrary to her expectations, Theodore was amenable. He agreed almost too quickly.

"But, of course, how else could I serve Varden's cause to the fullest without trust?"

The wizard gave her an odd smile that made Nasuada think the magician found this all amusing more than anything else. It was hard to get a read on the man as he seemed mercurial, switching from one emotion to another in a way that unsteadied her. He reminded her of tales of elves she'd heard of in old wife's tales, a kind friend one second and a wrath-filled demon the next.

Nasuada was unsure about the validity of those tales. She knew Arya wasn't like that. Nasuada also knew Arya was more concerned about worldly things than most of her kind.

"Bring your detective." The wizard allowed the barrier for noise and his illusion to drop. "Go ahead and call your guard. They can hear you now, after all."

Nasuada considered having her guards attempt to arrest the man, but she quickly decided it was best not to take such a risk. There was still much Nasuada didn't know about Lord Lupin's capabilities, but she knew he was skilled in Magic. Magic that could kill with a word and create wonders with a phrase. There was a saying among her people that you must dig two graves before you fight a Magician.

Her guards were more likely to get slaughtered than capture him. She called for Carwen at the door, and instantly, six guards swooped in. Carwen looked suspiciously at Theodore but didn't comment when he saw Nasuada, who did not seem apprehensive at his presence. Nasuada played her part as a leader in command well.

Nasuada quickly asked the guard's captain to call Arya to her tent. Carwen sent one of his men to find her and asked if she required his help with anything else, sending a pointed look at the wizard. Nasuada shook his head.

Arya did not take long to arrive at Nasuada's tent. When she entered, Theodore quickly took note of the elf's inhuman beauty, which came out in her cat-like cheeks and oddly slanted eyes. She wore a tunic and pants just like any man would. This would not have been acceptable in wizarding noble society, but Theodore had no qualms.

Theodore knew that the wizarding world had evolved since he was young, and propriety was one of the many things to be discarded by the vast majority after the fall of the secrecy statute.

Besides her physical appearance, Theodore also noticed she didn't disturb the Magic in the air; it was as if she was at peace with it. He did notice, however, the evergreen scent of nature that masked her from this world's Magic.

"So this is the would-be detective," Theodore stated in a bored tone and neutral expression that seemed out of place, surrounded by the Nasuada's guards and their hostile glares.

"And who might you be?" Arya asked with a curious expression, tilting her head and studying him like a bird would prey, her eyes shining violently. Arya took note of her hostile surroundings before turning to Nasuada.

"He is a possible new acquisition. He has great potential in the Varden even if he could have found a better introduction." Nasuada glared pointedly at Theodore, who simply shrugged.

Arya looked at Nasuada stoically, raising a questioning brow.

Nasuada knew she was asking if she needed help subduing him but shook her head. Arya nodded imperceptibly in acknowledgment before turning toward the wizard and approaching him.

"Would you like me to check if he is a spy?"

"That would be appreciated. Thank you, Arya."

Without further prompting, Arya attempted to delve into Theodore's mind. She felt it faintly as if she was trying to reach his mind from leagues away, like a distant light. When her mind managed to breach that gap, his mind lulled and slipped between the holes in her mental net as it tried to reach for him. Ultimately, she decided to use a more forceful approach, ignoring her bewilderment.

She attempted to ram his mind using her century's worth of experience. Gathering the full breadth of her mental strength, she condensed it, molding it into a point and shooting it like an arrow; she let loose and missed at first and pulled back her probe to try again with painful results.

Arya flinched at the dense barrier surrounding the wizard's mind, causing her to rebound, only able to hold on to the slick surface of his mind with the tip of her mental probe. This man's mind had such strength it felt solid and tangible as it bore her attack without rippling. However, the elf would not give up that easily, and with stubborn zeal, she gave it another attempt.

Guiding the probe, she managed to snag against his mind's slick outer shield. She dragged it along the edge of his mind using weak, direct, and glancing strikes but found no give. Finally, she threw away her pride and looked into the wizard's eyes, intending to intimidate and disrupt his concentration to give her an opportunity into his mind.

His amber orbs drew her eyes like heat-seeking missiles. Arya found she immensely enjoyed looking at them; they reminded her of amber tree sap hardened and solidified in sunlight that quite enjoyed the sun's touch for giving it form. They burst with color out of sheer joy because of it. Something was wrong, and yet Arya couldn't turn away. The elf tried to resist whatever strange effect was taking hold, but it crept behind her eyes even as she tried to close them.

Arya felt a pull, and suddenly, she was no longer in Nasuada's tent. She hurled through a tornado of black before it all stopped, and she was thrown out into the snow. The elf felt ice burn against her delicate pink skin before she stumbled to her feet. Arya reached out for the gate that hid her Magic and found it missing; she could not feel any minds or even her own Magic; she was stripped bare of even her heightened elven senses.

Arya looked around herself, glaring at barren trees and empty forests surrounding her as she brushed off the snow that stuck to her skin. She could feel the cold sink into her bones and the wind biting at her tits as she noted that some of the large trees surrounding her were larger than trees in Du Weldenvarden's center.

Not more beautiful, they hadn't been sung into perfection over many centuries by elves skilled in grammar. These were gnarled black things. Arya felt a sense of forbidding evil coming from them that had nothing to do with Magic.

An unnatural winter had settled the lands where she found herself. Arya didn't know what told her that it was artificial; it was just a feeling as if this place was projecting emotions to her.

The trees had shed their leaves, and light snow drifts could be seen in the small divots of the forest like the one she had fallen in. Deciding to get her bearings, she started walking toward where she felt the trees thinning. Ignoring the ice as it burned her bare feet and the cold air that continued to nip at her naked form.

Arya could only glance at an ancient ruined castle in the distance before the strange wizard from Nasuada's tent appeared in her path, obscuring her view of the castle. He was standing in front of her, casually leaning against a ruined tree, wearing the same odd clothes he had been wearing in Nasuada's tent. He seemed unbothered by the cold.

"So, what do you think of my little world?" Theodore's stoic face belied his annoyed tone.

The elf instinctively desired to cover herself but ignored it, knowing she couldn't show weakness. She felt Theodore's eyeing her appreciatively. Arya felt violated but pushed the feeling down and focused on his words. His world? What did he mean? Then, it struck her.

Arya knew where she was but had been in denial. Images and experiences from others' minds had never felt natural or tangible like this one. Details were always missing, yet there was such gravity to this place.

"We're in your mind?" Arya asked in a whisper, still stuck between astonishment and horror. What kind of monster had found them. The elf had never felt so helpless without any tool, weapon, or ward. She didn't even have her natural strength or Magic to fight him. She only had a vague sense that hung about his mind. A cold alien intelligence that felt annoyed but not malicious toward her. One that she had ignored until now but was suddenly very aware of.

"Where else would we be?" The wizard waited for the elf to calm down. They weren't too pressed for time, especially when it was malleable here.

"Listen, elf," Theodore said. His tone was gruff and insulting, causing Arya to glare at him. "I won't let any troglodyte just go willy-nilly searching in my mind. So how about we find a different way to settle where my loyalties lie."

Arya considered something for a few minutes and reluctantly said, "I will settle for an oath in the ancient language, but it must follow my wording."

Theodore pretended to consider it while clawing deeper into her mind, subtly searching for her intentions before agreeing. There was something special about the ancient language, but Theodore understood that it was implicitly understood and not something easily dredged to the surface of her mind; either way, he understood it wouldn't harm him.

The oath went as thus in the ancient language, "I do not belong to or work with Galbatorix. I came to the Varden intending to help." Arya wanted a more expansive oath Theodore could see in her mind, but she was wary of asking too much in her vulnerable position. He could feel her suspicions about what he could do to leak from her mind. Some of them were more terrible than anything Theodore had done to his worst enemies. The Elf had a vivid imagination.

The wizard quickly spoke the oath and broke the connection relatively gently.

Arya flinched and turned away from Theodore's eyes as quickly as possible when the connection broke. Nasuada looked at her concern, and her bodyguards seemed to halfway draw their Blades before Arya waved them off.

"He can be trusted. I have his oath."

The wizard noticed the importance they placed on this oath but shelved the thought for later. Theodore still had memories to consume. The wizard made a note to take care of those glass vials as soon as possible.

Theodore noticed the tension-filled air evaporate and Nasuada's rigid body slacken as she was given confirmation that she was no longer in danger.

"It seems that you mean well, after all, Theodore. Now, all we have to ask is how you can help us." Nasuada seemed to shed her earlier trepidation with only a hint of her earlier wariness showing in her eyes.

"My people have a specialty in enchanting items. I can craft and enchant almost any weapon you can imagine. I am also a wonderfully powerful combatant, magical or otherwise." As he said this, the wizard's eyes almost seemed to gleam with passionate fire. Arya took note of how different he appeared outside of his mind.

"Your people?" Nasuada frowned at the thought of more like this strange man.

"Yes, my people, we come from far away, but we have heard the story of the King of the Broddring empire and his cruelty to his people. When my people heard of his cruelty, they decided to send aid in the form of myself. I am a powerful wizard of the Lupin family. I've come to aid the Varden in any way I can. To put an end to tyranny." Theodore smiled and did a theatrical bow before Nasuada.

"Is it accurate to say you have come from across the sea to reach us?" Nasuada had never met a foreigner and was curious about Theodore's origins.

"Yes, that would be accurate," Theodore smiled, knowing they weren't talking about the same sea. The one he came through didn't always contain water.

"Will there be more of you coming to aid the Varden," Nasuada had never seen a magician capable of what Theodore had accomplished. If more like him came, she would have to prepare.

Theodore kept his smile but deeply considered how much to tell Nasuada. He had wizards that needed settling, but Theodore had glanced through Nasuada's mind and found that she did not like magicians. Theodore could sense that she feared their power. Nasuada had a plan of what to do if the Varden won, and they did not look favorable to his people. Theodore decided to keep his secret for now.

"A couple more might arrive to accompany me at some point." Theodore decided to downplay their eventual immigration until he understood Nasuada's temperament better.

Nasuada sighed silently. If only she could turn away help, but The Varden desperately needed it in all varieties, especially magical. "Well, Lord Lupin, I appreciate your help and cooperation. I believe it is getting late. How about we discuss what more you can do for the Varden tomorrow."

Nasuada nodded, and some servants led the wizard away. She watched Theodore's broad back as he trotted until he finally left the tent and waited a bit longer until she was sure he was out of earshot.

Nasuada turned to Arya after the wizard left, "So how bad is it?" Her tone was neutral, but Arya could tell it was high-strung and tired.

"His mind is like one I've never seen. Whatever he is, he certainly isn't human."

Nasuada wasn't surprised; it wasn't as if the strange amber eyes, unnaturally smooth skin, or supernatural handsomeness hadn't made that fact abundantly evident.

"Have you people encountered a race like this before? Do your people have records of people with orange eyes?"

"Elves have encountered many strange things throughout their long history. It would not be surprising to have some information on Lord Lupin's race in our archives. I am, however, unaware of any race that would fit his description. It would make the most sense if he was an elf who decided to take human shape but his mind. No elf has a mind like his. "

"Do you think he will be a threat?"

Arya paused ponderously before meeting Nasuada's dark brown eyes with her evergreen ones. She saw her fear reflected back at her, "I would be concerned if you didn't think of him as one." Arya sighed but continued. "He has the most powerful mind I have ever encountered. If he has the Magic to match, I doubt even Eragon would be in his league."

"Do you think his mind could be a match for Galbatorix?" Nasuada asked with a note of excitement.

"I hope so, lady Nasuada, for if Galbatorix has a stronger mind, no one would be his match. I couldn't even fight his mental attack." Arya looked at where the wizard had left absent-mindedly before finding a seat

Arya and Nasuada strategized for a bit, but it wasn't long before both looked worn out from contemplating the implications of their new guest.

Arya shuffled off after two hours, leaving Nasuada alone with Elva. The Varden's leader fought herself not to lash out at the overly mature child, not knowing how she would react.

Elva had been her shield against assassins, unexpected visitors, and more. Yet when Nasuada had needed her most, She had failed her. Nasuada looked at her now and saw the purple-eyed child, who was usually bold, refused to meet her. She watched the girl squirm in discomfort, and that helped to quench her irrational anger successfully.

"Why didn't you see him?" Nasuada asked calmly, looking away from the purple-eyed girl. Nasuada hadn't realized how much she relied on Elva until now. She felt naked when that man appeared without Elva's warning; it was like her first assassination attempt all over again.

"He didn't mean to harm you."

Nasuada looked at Elva and saw that something had discomforted the violet-eyed girl. She had gained a new experience, an experience Nasuada was all too familiar with Failure.