Kael emerged from the portal, the stillness of his square greeting him like a familiar but somber melody. The gray light of the walls cast a pall over the forest, the faint shimmer of their magic subdued, waiting for the dawn. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and moss, and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze reminded him of the fragile balance he had carved out within these walls.

  Skrindle materialized beside him, the imp’s translucent form flickering slightly as he floated to Kael’s side. The imp’s usual mischievous grin was absent, replaced by a muted expression that seemed almost… weary.

  Kael glanced at him, his sickle still tucked into his waistband. “Skrindle,” he said quietly, “do you think I should join the conclave?”

  The imp didn’t answer immediately, his small form hovering lower than usual, his eyes cast downward. “I don’t know,” Skrindle admitted at last, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Conclaves can be… beneficial. They offer protection, guidance, resources. But they can also hurt you. Betrayal is as common as camaraderie.”

  Kael studied Skrindle carefully, noting the way the imp’s gaze remained fixed on the ground, his usually sharp tongue dulled. Something gnawed at him, a suspicion that had lingered since the meeting. “You’re distracted, Skrindle,” Kael said, his tone firmer now. “You’ve been out of sorts since the meeting. What’s going on?”

  Skrindle’s head snapped up, his glowing eyes wide and alarmed. “Nothing, Master,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Just… the usual, you know. Busy day, lots of Masters, lots of noise.”

  Kael frowned, unconvinced. “It wasn’t nothing,” he pressed. “I saw the way Zibbit treated you. He singled you out, humiliated you. Why?”

  Skrindle hesitated, his form flickering faintly as though the question itself had unsettled him. He floated closer to Kael, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “It’s… the hierarchy,” he said reluctantly. “Imp society is… complicated, Master. Zibbit is the Grand Overseer, the highest among us. His word is law. His power… undeniable.”

  Kael tilted his head, his curiosity deepening. “And where do you stand in this hierarchy?”

  Skrindle’s wings sagged, his gaze dropping again. “Low,” he admitted. “Very low. As a guide, I serve you, Master, and in the eyes of the other imps, that doesn’t mean much.”

  Kael’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. “Zibbit has a corporeal form,” he said after a moment. “He’s solid, physical. You’re… not. Why?”

  Skrindle’s glow dimmed slightly, his voice even softer now. “I don’t know, Master,” he said, the words tinged with frustration.

  Kael’s eyes narrowed as he studied the imp. There was something in Skrindle’s tone, a subtle hesitation that hinted at more than he was letting on. The imp was hiding something, Kael was sure of it. But as he stared into Skrindle’s glowing eyes, he saw a weariness there, a vulnerability that made him hesitate.

  “Hmm,” Kael murmured, his gaze shifting back to the gray walls surrounding his square. The suspicion lingered in his mind, a knot of unanswered questions that he would untangle later. For now, he let the matter rest.

  “So,” Skrindle began, his voice unusually subdued, “what will you do about the invite?”

  Kael didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the card, his thoughts swirling like a storm. “The ritual,” he said at last, his voice low. “The idea of leaving this square… seeing what’s out there. It’s enticing.”

  Skrindle nodded slowly, his wings twitching faintly. “It is,” he agreed. “A chance to step beyond these walls, to see the kingdoms, the lands beyond. Few Masters ever get that chance.”

  Kael looked up, his eyes narrowing. “But Pathox warned me about Avaris. Said his conclave is a trap.”

  Skrindle winced, his form flickering slightly. “Pathox isn’t wrong,” he admitted. “Avaris is a Master like any other, always looking for advantage. But joining a conclave doesn’t mean you’re trapped forever.”

  Kael paused, the words catching him off guard. “Wait, it doesn’t?”

  “There’s no chain binding you—except, perhaps, the anger of those you leave behind.”

  “I thought the branding was permanent. That joining a conclave was forever.”

  Skrindle smirked, his mischievousness returning and his wings fluttering lightly as he folded his arms. “A common misconception,” he said. “The brand binds you in name, but not in chains. If you wish to leave, you simply walk away. Of course…” His grin widened slightly. “Leaving doesn’t always go over well with the ones you’ve left behind.”

  "So, how do it do it? Leave a conclave? I mean—if I want to?"

  "Easy, Master. You hold your orb with both hands and say 'I want to leave this conclave'. Done."

  Kael absorbed the words, his thoughts churning. The idea of the brand had seemed so final, so binding, but Skrindle’s revelation shifted the weight of the decision. Still, the thought of Avaris lingered, his single eye gleaming with calculation, the promises he had offered heavy with unspoken cost.

  “I’ll do it,” he said at last, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him.

  Skrindle watched silently as Kael pressed the golden card against his chest. The moment it touched his skin, the runes flared to life, their glow spreading outward in intricate patterns. Kael gasped as heat surged through him, burning and searing, coiling down his arm like molten metal.

  The pain was unbearable, a fire that consumed his senses. He clenched his teeth, his claws digging into the ground as he fell to one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The glowing runes twisted and shifted, condensing into the shape of a gear on his upper arm, its edges jagged and sharp.

  Kael’s vision blurred as the pain reached its peak, the brand flaring one final time before the light faded. He collapsed forward, his palms pressing into the dirt as he struggled to catch his breath. The burning sensation subsided slowly, leaving behind a dull ache that throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

  He looked down at his arm, his eyes widening as he saw the brand—a perfect gear etched into his skin, its dark lines standing out starkly against his green flesh. The mark seemed to pulse faintly, a reminder of the power that now connected him to Avaris.

  Kael’s claws pressed against the throbbing brand on his arm, the edges of the gear still faintly warm against his green skin. He drew a shaky breath, his mind swirling with the echoes of pain and the weight of what he had just done. His thoughts barely had time to settle when he heard it—her voice.

  “Kael? Kael, can you hear me?”

  Lira’s voice rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the silence of the square. Kael froze, his gaze darting around. The forest was still, the blue walls dull in the early evening light, yet her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

  “Welcome, Kael!” she said, her tone warm and full of delight. “You finally did it!”

  Kael’s brow furrowed as he turned toward the orb, its surface shimmering faintly. Before Kael could respond, the orb’s view expanded, revealing a gathering of Masters. Avaris stood at the forefront, his granite form imposing as ever, his single eye gleaming with satisfaction. Beside him was Rova, his round yellow face beaming with excitement, and a few other Masters Kael didn’t recognize, their forms varied and strange.

  “Kael!” Avaris’s deep voice boomed through the orb, his tone filled with a mixture of amusement and approval. “I knew you’d come around. Welcome to The Clockwork Assembly.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Kael nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.

  Avaris stepped closer to the orb, his expression softening slightly. “Tell me,” he said, his tone almost casual, “do you need anything right now? Resources, perhaps? A new weapon? A recipe or two to bolster your square?”

  Kael hesitated, the question catching him off guard. “I… no,” he said carefully. “I think I’m okay for now.”

  Avaris chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that carried a hint of amusement. “Modest, aren’t you?” he said. “Well, modesty has its place, but let’s not be stingy with our new family member.”

  He raised a hand, the air around him shimmering faintly as the orb flickered. A moment later, Kael felt a surge within his own orb, a faint hum that resonated through the square. He glanced down, his eyes widening as the numbers for his gold reserves shifted dramatically.

  “1,000 gold,” Avaris said, his tone almost dismissive, as though it were a trivial sum. “Consider it proof of loyalty. From me to you. Use it wisely, or don’t—it’s yours now.”

  Kael’s claws tightened around the edge of the orb, his mind racing. The gold was more than he had ever imagined having, a fortune that could reshape his square entirely. But it also felt heavy, laden with unspoken expectations.

  “Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady.

  Avaris waved a hand dismissively, his smirk returning. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “The ritual will be ready in a few days. Until then, settle in, get comfortable. And if you need anything—anything at all—just ask.”

  Lira’s voice cut through the conversation, her tone bright and teasing. “And don’t let Rova bother you too much,” she said with a grin. “He’s been talking about your Play of the Week nonstop.”

  Rova’s round face turned a faint shade of orange, and he sputtered a protest. “I have not!” he said, though his wide grin betrayed him. “Well, not nonstop.”

  Kael allowed himself a small smile, the tension in his chest easing slightly. The warmth of Lira’s presence, the easy camaraderie of the others—it was strange, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

  “Take care, Kael,” Avaris said, his tone softening as the light around him began to dim. “You’ve made a wise choice.”

  The orb’s glow faded, the faces within disappearing one by one until only Lira remained. She lingered for a moment, her smile warm and genuine.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly.

  And then she was gone, the orb returning to its steady, quiet light. Kael sat back, his thoughts swirling. The gold weighed heavily in his mind, a gift that felt as much a bond as it did a burden. He glanced at the gear-shaped brand on his arm, its dark lines a reminder of the path he had chosen.

  For now, he thought, he would see where this path led.

  ******

  The day had stretched long for Myke Keys. He sat atop his rickety cart, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his crimson doublet now creased and stained with the dust of the road. Around him, the steady shuffle of recruits and soldiers filled the air, each one stopping by his stall to collect their free keys—free. Myke had spent the better part of the day handing out the small, glinting things, his usual flair for salesmanship wasted on the disinterested grunts of young adventurers.

  He sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat. His feathered hat, once proudly tilted at a jaunty angle, now sagged slightly, its bright plume drooping like his spirits.

  His cart was stocked for fortune, the enchanted chest behind him a marvel of craftsmanship and utility, capable of creating an endless supply of keys. The thought of adventurers paying handsomely for access to treasure-laden squares. But here he was, doling out free keys like a generous benefactor, the gold he’d hoped to amass slipping further from reach with every passing hour.

  The dream of riches that danced in his mind when he left Newvale looked distant now.

  Myke reached for his waterskin, swishing its contents before taking a small, dissatisfied sip. The soldiers paid him no mind as they filed past, their faces tense with the weight of the coming battle. His eyes wandered to the square in the distance, its gray-lit walls casting an eerie glow over the makeshift camp that Grent had assembled.

  A war was brewing, and where there was war, there was gold—or so Myke had believed.

  Then it came. A faint tingle, a spark of awareness that prickled at the back of his mind.

  Myke sat up straighter, his fingers stilling as the sensation grew. He knew it well—the merchant’s skill, All That Glitters, a subtle gift that allowed him to glimpse the treasures hidden within a square. It wasn’t a skill he used often, but something about this moment, about the unease in the air, made him curious.

  “Why not,” Myke muttered, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He activated the skill with a thought, his vision blurring for a moment as the magic took hold.

  He focused on the square, the faint glow of the walls burning brighter in his mind. The skill flared within him, a warm sensation spreading through his chest as the treasure within the square revealed itself to him.

  Gold: 1,070

  Myke blinked, rubbing his eyes as if the number might change upon second glance. But there it was, clear as day. An introductory square—Grent himself had confirmed that much—yet it held over a thousand gold? It was unheard of. Impossible.

  “Gods…” Myke whispered, his gaze snapping toward the square. The gray light walls shimmered faintly in the distance, their glow steady and unremarkable. But beyond them, an army was assembling, Grent’s forces preparing for an invasion. And inside, somewhere in that square, was more gold than any introductory level had a right to hold.

  Myke’s grin returned, sharper this time, a glint of greed sparking in his eyes. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the chest as his mind worked through the possibilities.

  Why is Grent leading an army against a square like this? he thought. And what kind of Master hoards that much gold so early?

  The questions gnawed at him, but the answers mattered less than the opportunity. Myke licked his lips, his thoughts drifting to the fortune hidden within those walls. If Grent’s men get it, so be it, he mused. But perhaps… perhaps there’s a way for me to get a slice of the pie.

  He leaned back against the chest, his grin widening as he stared at the glowing walls. His dream of riches wasn’t so distant after all.

  ******

  Kael sat cross-legged in the center of his shelter, the orb floating before him like a silent guardian. Its glow was bright now, illuminated by the wealth that had poured into it, a sea of gold that shimmered and pulsed with latent potential.

  His clawed fingers brushed over the orb’s surface, tracing the edges of its light as his mind raced with the possibilities. With this much gold, he would never need to worry about losing Jello, Blue or any of his new companions.

  A faint flicker of light caught his attention. Blue darted into view, the will-o’-wisp’s glow erratic and frantic. It hovered in front of him, swirling in tight, agitated circles, its movements sharp and deliberate.

  “What is it, Blue?” Kael asked, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity. Blue’s normally gentle light pulsed like a heartbeat, its intensity almost blinding as it zipped around him. Kael frowned, the wisp’s urgency unnerving.

  Jello oozed into the shelter moments later, his movements quickened, as if sensing the urgency in Blue’s erratic flight. Both companions moved with a strange, synchronized purpose, their forms brimming with unspoken tension.

  Kael frowned, his claws flexing instinctively. “What’s going on?” he muttered, stepping forward. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Blue suddenly shot toward the border of the square, its light streaking like a comet toward the gray walls. Jello followed, his gelatinous form moving faster than Kael had ever seen. Kael hesitated only a moment before grabbing his sickle and following them, his heart pounding as the unease in his chest deepened.

  The gray light of the square’s walls loomed in the distance, their dull glow stark against the darkness of the forest. Blue reached the border first, spinning wildly near the wall’s edge, his hue pulsing in rapid bursts. Kael caught up moments later, his breath steady but his steps quickened by the unease gnawing at him.

  “What are you—” Kael’s words died in his throat as he peered through the gray-lit barrier.

  They were assembling. Dozens, no—hundreds of figures moved just beyond the walls, their forms blurred by the faint light. Tents dotted the landscape in neat rows, campfires burning with steady flames. Soldiers marched in formation, their weapons gleaming faintly in the firelight. Warhammers and shields glinted like sharp promises of violence. The low hum of activity carried through the still night air, the muffled sound of voices and metal clashing in drills reaching Kael’s ears.

  An army.

  Kael’s breath caught, his chest tightening as the scale of the threat became clear. This was no haphazard raid, no reckless party of adventurers. This was an army, organized and armed, poised to invade his square the moment the gray walls faded to blue.

  Kael turned to Jello, the green slime waiting patiently at his side. “Jello,” Kael said, crouching slightly to meet the creature’s eyeless form. “I need you ready. We’ll need every bit of strength you’ve got.”

  Jello wobbled in response, his gelatinous form rippling as if to show his readiness. Kael placed a hand on the slime’s surface, the cool texture grounding him for a moment before he straightened, his gaze turning over to Blue.

  “Blue,” Kael said, his voice low but firm. The wisp spun toward him, its light flickering with an almost nervous energy. “Listen to me carefully.”

  ******

  Square: Unknown

  Master: Kael

  Difficulty: Introductory

  Conclave: Clockwork Assembly

  Treasure: 1070 Gold

  Residents: 8 Green Slimes Lvl 1

  1 Green Slime Lvl 2

  1 Will-o-wisp Lvl 1

  Kills: 9