The tent was lit by a single hanging lantern, its flame casting flickering shadows across the canvas walls. Grent loomed over the map spread across the wooden table, his hammer resting against his side, its massive head stained with faint streaks of dried blood. Terrance stood beside him, his shield leaning against the table, a silent sentinel as his gauntleted finger traced the parchment. Beside them, Shem, his muscled frame incongruous for a wizard, pointed at a crude mark on the map—a circle with jagged lines representing the forest.

  “This is where it happened,” Shem said, his voice low and measured, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. “The hovel is here, on the square’s eastern side. My party… we fell there.”

  “And the Master?” Terrance asked, his voice like steel drawn across stone. “Did you see him?”

  Shem hesitated, his jaw tightening. “A glimpse,” he admitted. “A green skinned figure in gray robes. With cruel looking eyes.”

  Grent let out a low growl, his fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “You and your wizards—burn the forest along the edge. It’ll flush out the slimes and leave the square exposed.”

  “Fire Bolt and Burning Hands are the only flame spells we novices know. It’ll take some time to burn a whole forest,” Shem replied.

  “Then we’ll protect you,” Terrance said firmly. “The recruits with warhammers and shields will form a perimeter. If slimes come, they’ll crush them. We move slow, careful, and deliberate.”

  Grent nodded, his scarred face set in grim determination. “No risks,” he said. “We’ve seen what this Master is capable of.”

  Before Shem could respond, the tent flap shifted, and a figure slipped inside with all the grace of a shadow. He was lean and wiry, his dark leathers clinging to him like a second skin, his twin knives twirling lazily in his hands as if they moved of their own accord. His face was sharp, his long dark hair tied back neatly into a ponytail, and his grin wide and insufferable.

  “A knight, a barbarian, and a wizard, all huddled around a table, wondering who would save the world,” the rogue said, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. “Then, they look up and see their true savior.”

  Grent’s eyes snapped up, narrowing dangerously. “Elias,” he said flatly.

  “Elias Penthrington the Third,” the rogue corrected with a mock bow, his knives still spinning. “Master of Shadows, purveyor of secrets, breaker of bottles of win—”

  “Elias,” Terrance interrupted, his voice cutting through the rogue’s theatrics like a blade. “We didn’t invite you.”

  Elias grinned, leaning casually against one of the tent’s wooden poles. “Oh, I know. But when I hear talk of armies and war over a little baby Master, well… how could I resist?” He leaned casually against one of the tent’s support poles, his smirk widening. “What’s all the hoo hah about?”

  Grent’s scowl deepened. “Curiosity can get you killed, rogue.”

  Elias chuckled, stepping closer to the map. “Perhaps,” he said lightly. “But I can’t imagine any Master worth all this. It’s all a bit theatrical, don’t you think?”

  Shem bristled, his fists clenching. “This ‘baby Master’ killed my entire party,” he snapped. “Do you find that funny?”

  “Hilarious,” he said, vanishing in an instant.

  The room froze as the rogue reappeared behind Shem, his knife pressed lightly against the wizard’s back. “I could kill your whole party too,” Elias whispered, his tone almost playful.

  Shem stiffened but Terrance’s voice broke the moment.

  “Enough,” the knight said, his tone sharp. His shield shifted slightly, catching the lamplight. “We don’t have time for games.”

  Elias lowered his blade with a chuckle, stepping away from Shem as if nothing had happened. “Relax, my friends,” he said, his knives spinning again. “All I’m saying is, why bother with all this?” He gestured vaguely at the map. “Burning forests, elaborate strategies. Just wait for the square to ascend to Platinum, and I’ll handle it myself.”

  Grent’s expression darkened, his hammer shifting slightly as if eager to join the conversation. “Not all of us can afford to wait, rogue,” he said, his voice a low growl. “And not all problems can be solved with a quick knife in the dark.”

  Before Elias could reply, the tent flap burst open, and a soldier stumbled in, his face pale and his breath coming in short gasps.

  “Sir,” the soldier panted, his voice urgent. “Something’s happening. At the square.”

  The night air was thick with tension as Terrance, Grent, Shem, and Elias emerged from the tent. Around them, soldiers gathered in uneasy clusters, their faces lit by the faint glow of the gray wall that encased the square. Fingers pointed, voices murmured, but all fell silent as the four stepped forward.

  The dark night sky was pierced by an explosion of light. It seared through the camp like lightning, casting every tent, every weapon, and every soldier’s face in a ghostly blue glow. For a moment, silence reigned, the light swallowing sound as well as shadow. Then came the second burst, just as blinding, just as silent.

  The soldiers were pointing now, their voices rising in a mixture of fear and confusion. “Four bursts!” one of them shouted, his voice carrying above the din. “There were four bursts!”

  Grent’s eyes narrowed as he turned to the knight beside him. “What the Gods is this, Terrance?”

  Terrance didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was fixed on the square, its gray walls shimmering with an unearthly hue. The light of the explosions still lingered in the air, faint afterimages that danced in his vision. He turned to the soldier who had spoken, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Four bursts?” he repeated.

  The soldier nodded, his face pale. “Yes, sir. Two more before you came, sir.”

  ******

  Inside the square, Kael stepped away from the orb, its glow dimming as he emerged from its depths. The faint tinge of the Void still lingered in the air, a reminder of where he had been—and what he had done. Blue hovered beside him, its small form pulsing with renewed light, the ethereal wisp’s movements steady and calm after its reincarnation.

  “Well,” Kael muttered, his voice sore as he looked down at the orb. “That’s forty gold spent.”

  The gold was draining faster than he liked, but it was a price worth paying.

  The wisp floated closer, its glow pulsing faintly as if in agreement. Kael’s eyes wandered to the walls of the square, still shimmering with their gray light. He could almost feel the eyes of the army outside, their confusion and fear palpable even through the barrier.

  His gaze shifted to Blue, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That should get their attention.”

  Jello emerged from the shadows, the green slime’s gelatinous form rippling slightly as it came to rest at Kael’s side. Kael crouched beside the creature, resting a hand on its cool surface as he glanced back at the orb.

  “Blue, Jello. Time for the next part of the plan.”

  ******

  The soldiers stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the gray wall of the square. A new blue light emerged, dimmer than the bursts but still shimmering against the barrier’s dull hue. It moved with an eerie precision, tracing deliberate patterns across the inside of the wall. The light moved in deliberate, measured patterns, its blue glow steady as it began to trace shapes against the gray wall.

  Terrance narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the edge of the camp. The light’s movement was no random flicker; it was calculated, deliberate. The realization struck him like a hammer blow.

  “It’s writing,” he muttered, his voice cutting through the murmurs.

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  “Fetch me a quill,” he said, his voice steady despite the unease in the air. “And some parchment.”

  A soldier scrambled to obey, returning moments later with the requested items. Terrance knelt in the dirt, resting the parchment on a flat rock as he began to copy the light’s movements. The glowing lines curved and twisted, forming the unmistakable shapes of letters.

  The first word became clear: Hello.

  Terrance frowned, his quill scratching across the parchment as he wrote the letters. The next words followed quickly, the blue light moving in a steady, deliberate rhythm: I am the Master of the Square.

  Grent’s grip on his hammer tightened, his face a mask of suspicion. Grent snorted, his lips twisting into a grimace. “A Master introducing themselves?” he muttered. “What is this, a parley?

  Shem stepped closer, his hands faintly glowing with magic, his expression a mixture of wonder and concern.

  “This isn’t normal,” Shem said, his voice low. “Masters don’t do this. Communication… it’s not in their nature.”

  Terrance nodded as he finished copying the first message, his gaze never leaving the light. “You’re right,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Either this Master is an anomaly, or it’s learned something we haven’t seen before. Either way, it’s dangerous.”

  The light shifted again, its glow intensifying briefly before forming new words. Terrance’s hand moved quickly to trace them, his brow furrowing as the message became clear.

  I do not want any trouble. I can release Ryan unharmed.

  A ripple went through the gathered soldiers, their murmurs growing louder as the words sank in. Grent’s expression darkened, his hammer lowering slightly as he turned to the others.

  “Ryan told us about this Master,” Grent said, his voice hard. “Said it struck a deal with him, only to double-cross him later. What makes us think this isn’t the same trick?”

  Terrance nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at the message. “Masters are cunning,” he said, his tone measured. “They’ll use any advantage they can. Words are just another weapon. But it’s still communication. That’s rare enough to take seriously. If this Master is intelligent enough to negotiate, maybe it’s intelligent enough to avoid a fight.”

  Grent snorted, his grip tightening on the hammer. “Or it’s stalling,” he said. “Trying to buy time to build its defenses.”

  Terrance stood, the parchment in hand, his gaze fixed on the glowing words as they began to repeat. His mind churned with possibilities, weighing the risks and the unknowns. The Master’s actions were unlike anything he’d seen before, but Ryan’s double cross loomed like a shadow in his mind.

  “We don’t take what it says at face value,” Terrance said finally, his voice firm. “Prepare the soldiers. If this is a trick, we’ll be ready.”

  The blue light continued to hover, its movements slow but deliberate, like a pen tracing an unseen hand’s script. Soldiers stood in tense silence, their murmurs dying away as the next message took shape, the glowing letters forming clear and sharp against the backdrop of the gray walls.

  I have no treasure for you.

  The officers exchanged puzzled glances, the tension in the air thickening as the words settled into their minds. Grent was the first to break the silence, his voice rough as he turned to the others.

  “The Master thinks we’re here for gold,” he said, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and derision. “Perhaps it’s hoarding something after all.”

  Shem frowned, his broad shoulders stiffening as he glanced back at the glowing message. “Why mention treasure at all?” he asked.

  Grent’s grip on his hammer tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Maybe it’s a trick,” he said. “A distraction. Or maybe the Master believes we’re after its hoard.”

  Before anyone could respond, the light flared brighter, casting sharp shadows across the gathered soldiers. It moved with greater speed now, the letters forming faster, as though the message was being burned into the very air.

  If you do invade…

  The next words hung like a specter, their weight settling heavily over the camp. The soldiers shifted uneasily, their murmurs growing louder as the implications set in. Even Grent hesitated, his expression darkening as he turned back to the wall.

  …you will find your death.

  Elias’s laughter broke the silence, sharp and cutting. “Dramatic, isn’t it?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. The rogue stepped forward, his knives twirling lazily between his fingers. “All this trouble for a little slime-slinging Master with a flair for theatrics.”

  Terrance’s gaze didn’t waver from the glowing words, his jaw tightening. “Don’t be hasty, Elias,” he said, his tone firm. “This square is more dangerous than it seems.”

  Elias, however, only laughed, the sound low and mocking. “Lights,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re afraid of some lights.”

  “That’s no ordinary light,” Terrance muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “It’s a will-o’-wisp.”

  “A will-o’-wisp?” Shem asked. The novice wizard stepped forward, his arm crossed. “Small spirits, aren’t they? Annoying, maybe, but hardly a threat.”

  “Usually,” Terrance replied, his voice firm. “A single wisp is little more than a nuisance. They hover and distract. But when they self-destruct…” He paused, his gaze darkening. “They release a surge of energy and fire like the bursts of light in the sky. It’s explosive. And this Master used them merely for a performance.”

  The weight of his words settled heavily over the camp, the officers exchanging uneasy glances. Grent shifted his grip on the hammer, his expression darkening. “You think it has many of them?”

  Terrance nodded, his expression grave. “It’s possible. Several will-o’-wisps together could cause enough destruction to decimate our recruits.”

  Elias twirled his blades once more before sliding them smoothly into their sheaths. “I’ve no patience for these games. You can cover in fear of lights. You can parley with the Master if you so desire,” he said, his smirk never wavering. “Negotiate, plead, grovel, surrender—I’m sure it will find that entertaining.”

  He turned on his heel, his cloak billowing slightly as he began to walk away. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop playing games,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be waiting.”

  The rogue disappeared into the shadows, his mocking laughter lingering faintly in the air. The soldiers watched him go, the unease in their ranks palpable. Terrance turned back to Grent, his expression heavy with thought.

  “Do we have any ranged weapons?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

  Grent shook his head, his hammer resting heavily against the ground. “Not many,” he admitted. “A handful of crossbows.”

  “Crossbows won’t be accurate enough to take down the wisps,” Terrance’s brow furrowed as he considered the implications. “What about the rangers? Lyanna? They are precise enough to land an arrow.”

  “The fae,” Grent replied. “They’ve all gone back to Highhaven. Some sort of emergency. They are all gone.”

  Terrance’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The Master had spun a trap. One that might prove deadly for his forces.

  “If we go in blind, we’ll lose more than recruits. More deaths mean more power to the Master. We need to consider the parley.”

  “Parley?” Grent repeated, his tone incredulous. “You’re seriously suggesting we negotiate with this thing?”

  Terrance met his gaze evenly, his jaw tightening. “If it keeps him weak, yes” he said.

  ******

  Kael sat in the quiet of his square, the orb held gently in his hands, the cool light of its glow reflecting against his face. The camp outside, just beyond the gray wall, felt close now. His thoughts raced as he watched the movement of the army, the soldiers assembling, their numbers growing with every passing hour. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of the situation heavy on his chest.

  He looked into the orb, the shimmering image of Avaris appearing, the one-eyed Gearsmith’s stern face lit by the light of the ritual.

  “I need help,” Kael said, his voice steady but laced with a note of urgency. “There’s an army outside my square. I don’t know how much longer I can hold them off.”

  Avaris’s face remained impassive, his eye narrowing slightly. “My forces are tied up at the moment, Kael,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “The ritual’s almost complete. You’ll have to hold out on your own for now.”

  Kael’s heart sank at the words, but Avaris’s hand moved, and from the shadows of the orb, a small item appeared—a gold ring, glimmering with frost. “Take this,” Avaris continued.

  “A ring of frost. It’s old, but it works. Anything it touches will freeze solid.” He paused, his gaze steady. “Use it wisely.”

  Kael hesitated for only a moment before reaching into the orb, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. The ring slipped easily onto his finger, its chill biting into his skin. When he looked up, Avaris was already fading from the orb, his granite form dissolving into the swirling light.

  “Good luck, Kael,” Avaris’s voice echoed faintly as the orb’s glow dimmed.

  Kael stared at the now-empty orb, his thoughts racing. The ring’s chill seemed to seep into his bones, its weight far heavier than the simple band should have allowed. Before he could dwell on it further, the light shifted again, and another face appeared—Lira’s deep red skin and sharp horns framed by her mechanical wings beating at a steady rhythm.

  “That sounds really scary,” she said, her tone light despite the seriousness of the situation. “But I know you, Kael. You always have a plan.”

  Kael met her gaze, a faint smile touching his lips. The warmth of her words was a contrast to the cold ring on his finger. The orb dimmed again, Lira’s face fading into darkness as he placed it gently on the ground. Rising to his feet, he stepped toward the walls, the faint hum of their magic filling the air. He could feel the tension beyond them, the weight of the army gathered just out of reach.

  His eyes caught movement—a flag. Red, waving back and forth. Four deliberate sweeps. Then stillness. A moment passed, and the flag moved again, four more times.

  Kael frowned, his thoughts racing as he turned to Blue, who hovered beside him, the will-o’-wisp’s light faint but steady. “Go,” Kael said quietly, gesturing toward the flag. “See what they’re up to.”

  Blue floated toward the walls, its ethereal light shimmering as it passed through the barrier. Kael closed his eyes, his connection to the wisp sharpening as its vision became his. The camp beyond came into focus, the soldiers standing in tense formations, their faces grim. And then, at the forefront of it all, a large figure.

  A knight stood tall in his heavy armor, his polished shield gleaming faintly in the light. His movements were deliberate, calm, as he held aloft a sign in both hands. The words were simple but unmistakable:

  Parley.

  Kael’s breath caught, his mind racing. He turned away from the vision, his gaze flicking toward the orb and the ring now resting beside it. The walls of his square remained gray for now, but he knew the moment they turned blue, everything would change.

  The knight’s message lingered in his mind, the single word echoing like a drumbeat.

  Parley.

  ******

  Square: Unknown

  Master: Kael

  Difficulty: Introductory

  Conclave: Clockwork Assembly

  Treasure: 1030 Gold

  Residents: 8 Green Slimes Lvl 1

  1 Green Slime Lvl 2

  1 Will-o-wisp Lvl 1

  Kills: 9