They say Christmas is the most magical time of year, but for me, it’s typically the most dangerous.

  Might not hold true this year, as I’ve had a lot of close calls between Pleasant Dunes and now, too many to even list. The highlights include going after a Proggie under dark, a tête-à-tête with Ronald Jackson that cost me my hand, a midnight ambush from Abby where I got hit with an overcharged Mind Whip that left me bleeding from my eyes and ears, and a showdown with the Pugliano’s which had had repercussions I’m still dealing with in the form of general mistrust and an overabundance of smugglers and hitters coming to visit in the dead of night. All of which makes my yearly trip up to the mesa look like small potates in comparison, but whether you die by Aetheric Bomb or tripping over flat ground, dead is still dead all the same.

  A warning I tell myself as we settle in for dinner out on the badlands on Christmas Eve, but I keep my lips buttoned up since Aunty Ray clearly done a lot of prep for this. Made a good number of cold dishes that she kept in the Freeze-Box and took out to defrost this morning, and it all held up pretty well. To start things off, we got a nice, crisp salad of leafy purples with plenty of grated sunspire tubers, sliced sneezeweed, and pre-cooked caddishes for added texture while topped off with plenty of raisins and a lovely vinaigrette to flavour. For the main course, we got sliced salted pork in a rich gravy made from chunks of frozen cubes mixed with boiling water from the kettle, a bed of refried pearl beans from a can, and a hearty helping of squash and alabaster nut mash on the side. Aunty Ray even prepped a dessert, slices of dehydrated starmelon that done been stewed and topped with sweetened canned cream and a generous dollop of honey.

  A far cry from the feasts she’d whip up at home every time around this year, albeit much earlier so we could celebrate as a family before me and my daddy left for the mesa. I always figured I’d miss out this year too since I wasn’t allowed in town after 1700 and didn’t have the quay locked down well enough to risk having them there, but it seems Aunty Ray thought different. Guess she figured these sorts of family gatherings were all the more precious now that there’d be fewer of them since I ain’t allowed in town.

  Damn near got my eyes watering to see how much thought and care she put into making sure we had a nice Christmas dinner together despite being smack dab in the middle of the badlands. Really makes me cherish these last couple of days, because even overlooking the good company, our meals might as well have been five-star cuisine in comparison to what I been eating at the quay. Granted, it ain’t hard to beat grabbing a bowl of hunter’s stew straight from the pot in the living room fireplace and drinking it all down on my walk back to the kitchen. Or worse, nibbling on stale bread all throughout the day because it hurts my gums to try and eat it all quick and I can’t be bothered to bake a fresh loaf.

  In my defense, things have only gotten so bad in the last couple of weeks, as before then I was still cooking every now and then. Then Noora told me she was leaving and sent me into a downward spiral. Not her fault, as she deserves to go out and find happiness since I clearly wasn’t gonna provide it, but family means putting up with my gloomy ass regardless of how little joy and good tidings I bring.

  A fact which makes it all the more difficult to turn down Chrissy’s silent, but wide-eyed plea to set up the Silence Artifact so we can sing some Christmas Carols before bedtime. Me being me, I gotta spoil the mood with talk about the days to come, because the worst leg of the trip is still ahead. “We been lucky these last two days,” I begin, pretending not to notice Chrissy’s slumped shoulders as I go full on into lecture mode. “Haven’t had to go too far out of our way to avoid notice, but that’ll likely change come tomorrow.”

  Mostly because the Proggies know there’s no point in stationing too many Abby out in the central regions of the badlands. The land there has long since been stripped bare of anything useful, so Abby gotta push further and further out to collect biomass for their ‘Proggies. As such, we haven’t seen any only action since camping up top of a Razorscythe’s burrow, with the only real cause for concern cropping up when I got a good angle on a deep basin and found a nest Abby hibernating under dark so we had to get gone right quick. Goes to show that not too many don’t mean none, as sometimes the temperature just dips and them Bugs gotta go under dark right quick since they ain’t built for the cold.

  Has to do with all the empty space inside their torsos, which ain’t all that conducive to producing or retaining heat. There are exceptions of course, but as a general rule of thumb, Bug Abby are mostly hollow and tend to sleep through the winter before waking up with a vengeance come Spring. Even Razorscythes, as I discovered firsthand after taking apart the one Cowie killed before cooking it up. Didn’t get any Spell Core, which furthers the working theory that they’re not Spellslingers or Ability users, but rather make use of a biological process to produce an Alchemical concoction.

  Not that I’m all that worried about them. Even if they could handle the cold and I hadn’t cottoned onto how they been pulling the wool over my eyes and avoiding Detection, there wouldn’t be all that many of them roaming about this close to the Divide. They’re mostly concentrated along the watchtowers behind us since a scout ain’t of much use if there’s nothing new to scout out.

  What we gotta worry about is all them exceptions to the rule, which will mostly be high-value Abby that spend the bulk of their time in the Divide building up numbers. Not because it’s winter, but because they’re too costly to risk for something basic as biomass collection That’s grunt work meant for cheap Abby like Drones, Swarmers, Spitters, and Beetle Behemoths, while a sprinkling of Razorscythes, Ankhegs, and Burrow Hulks linger nearby to provide much needed muscle when us humans get too uppity for their liking.

  Course, when them high-value Abby come a marching out, we gotta pay a price to deal with them, whether it be in lives lost in battle or effort and resources spent repairing stone walls and replacing Darksteel gates that done been destroyed by Alchemical explosions. Roly Poly exploders are some of the most nefarious Bugs in the Divide, but there are far more dangerous types lurking about. Already told Tina about the new Doomspitter siege Bugs making their rounds, but there are plenty of old classics to be wary of. You got your Dreadmaw Juggernauts which are stronger, faster, and tougher Beetle Behemoths that can chew through a 10meter diametre whitewood tree in five seconds flat. Then there’s the Barbed Silverfish, long, snakelike centipede things that got all manner of hooked thorns sticking sideways out of their shelled torsos that make a real mess out of unarmoured crowds. There’s Webweavers, giant Spider Abby that excel in laying traps, 4-armed, humanoid Ripper Broods designed for fighting Orcs and Goblins, and all sorts of other Ferals that are still in the process of being fine-tuned for use on the battlefield.

  You also gotta worry about non-combat Abby like Termids, which are pretty much a more expensive Drone. They’re humanoid Bugs designed for utility given their clamping, three-taloned claws that allow for some semblance of manual dexterity. Not much, and they’re still dumb as rocks and less useful than goblins, but Termids fill a much-needed niche in the bug Feral ecosystem since all them tunnels they dig wouldn’t last long if they didn’t build supports too, because Magic can only get you so far.

  The worst Abby to run into round these parts though? I’d give that prize to the Skreeler Wasp. These swarms of football-sized flying Abby patrol the skies of the Divide, bearing six paper-thin gossamer wings that are hard as Aberrtin reinforced glass and razor sharp to boot. Combined with their 15cm long abdominal stingers and massive numbers, they can kill by death from a thousand cuts or a hundred punctures if you ain’t got the tools to see them off.

  Namely a sustained Area of Effect Damage Spell that you can hide inside of preferably. You won’t get far using Bolts and Blasts against a swarm, so you gotta break out Elemental Aura, the Second Order Evocation Spell Captain Jung used under dark to Acidify anything that came close, or Spiritual Guardians, which is what Sergeant Begaye threw up in the same fight. Flaming Cloud is less ideal given how you can’t stand inside it since the actual cloud itself is only a metre and a half in diametre and putting a safe spot in the centre using Metamagic leaves you dangerously exposed all the same, but it can work if the swarm can only come at you from one direction and you stand behind it. In the same vein, Spells like Cowie’s Dragon Breath works well enough, while Flamethrower or its little brother Caustic Spray require a little more aim and coordination to pull off an effective defense.

  As for me? I typically use Spike Growth and use Metamagic to leave room enough for me to hide under the wagon with a baby Cowie and take shelter as them Skreeler Wasps kills itself trying to get to me. Warding Wind would keep me protected too, since them bugs lack the mass to punch through it, but it’d only be enough for me, and I’d never leave Cowie or the girls in the lurch like that. Thankfully, Aunty Ray got Phantasmal Force which can solve all our woes, because while most call it the Illusionist’s Fireball, that’s vastly underselling how powerful and versatile the Spell really is. While capable of mimicking an instant burst of damage like Fireball, the best use of the Spell is to create a sustained effect, one that can last for up to a full minute using Concentration at base. This means that Aunty Ray can Conjure up a sphere of Illusory Fire or whatever, one that measures 12 meters in diametre in any way, shape, or form she pleases. Without the use of Metamagic mind you, meaning she can plop Phantasmal Force right down on top of all our heads and leave room so we ain’t affected by it. Anything moving into the Illusion will be subject to it however, which can be anything you can imagine including burning to death in a fiery hot inferno.

  And if a target believes they burn to death, then they actually die, because that is the power of Phantasmal Force.

  Or conversely, Aunty Ray can hit an area with an Illusory Fireball that is almost as deadly as a real one, then do it again every 5 seconds in the same area for a full minute. Real nasty Spell, but there are drawbacks of course. The biggest one being that the effectiveness of the Spell depends on how believable the Illusion is. If a target manages to see through the Illusion, then it don’t do nothing at all besides give them some pause. Makes it a waste of a Third Order Spell and Concentration to boot. Luckily, most Abby are dumb as rocks, and Skreeler Wasps dumber still, and even if they weren’t, Aunty Ray is one of the finest Illusionists I done ever met and can fool even the best of the best when they got their guard up, much less when they don’t.

  Which is why folks don’t like Illusionists all that much outside of festival time. Them type who put on lightshows and recreate movies are also capable of fooling you into thinking you done just bought a horse, only for you to fall flat on your face when you go and try to mount it. As for Aunty Ray, she had the misfortune of being born an Innate with Illusion and Enchantment magics both, which makes folks who’re in the know put their guard up against her. Tina and Chrissy got it even worse, because they also inherited Uncle Raleigh’s bloodline, which was the same mix of Schools only with the primary focus reversed. While Chrissy looks to take after her daddy as an Enchanter, Tina is shaping up to be something of a master of both Illusion and Enchantment, assuming she can get over her aversion to the latter.

  All of which I’ve gone over before, but I say it again after dinner just to really hammer the point home so everyone knows what to do in case things go sideways. Not much of a Christmas celebration if I’m being honest, and though it hurts to bring down the mood, some things gotta be said now that we’re in so deep. “If we get the right elevation, we should lay eyes on the Divide by tomorrow night,” I say, doing my best to wrap things up so the girls can get to caroling, but there’s a whole lot to cover and I don’t want to forget anything. “We’ll push a little harder than we have been, because I want to get to somewhere with clear sightlines to see what’s going on to the south.” It’s been 3 days since we checked in with Watchtower One and heard about someone making a mess of things down that way, and chances are, whatever shit-storm they stirred up has long since settled by way of their death, but if they’re still alive and kicking, I want to know about it well in advance.

  I say as much, albeit with cleaner language, and I can’t help shooting a glance at Tina to see how she takes the news. My callous attitude ain’t exactly new, because while my daddy was always happy to lend a helping hand, he was also a man who liked to help those who helped themselves. Meaning that if folks came to him making unreasonable demands of their safety and comfort, they’d be lucky to leave with all their teeth intact. Lot of entitled folks out here on the Frontier, because hard living has made them selfish by necessity. Can’t be sharing food in the dead of winter when you barely got enough for yourself, or helping folks build their homes when you living in a dirt hole with the bugs.

  Which means most settlers of the First Wave have had to kill. Maybe not directly, but depending on the customer, Exile might well be a death sentence, just one carried out by the Frontier itself.

  An attitude I’ve long since adopted, because I’ve met a whole lot of folks who’re might well be too stupid to survive, but have made it this far by relying on their neighbours. I’m not talking about the farmers who rely on the Rangers to secure the borders, or the factory workers relying on the farmers to provide food at a reasonable price. That’s just collective effort at work, with folks specializing into roles to be more effective at it, no different from how Feral Abby do. I’m talking about the people who don’t provide any value to their fellow man, a bunch of leeches, parasites, and predators getting fat off the labour of others.

  Time was only criminal sorts fit into that category, all them outlaws, scavs, marauders, and whatnot. Lately though? I started seeing more and more useless wastes of life walking about town. Like the business owners who’ve long since made their fortunes off the labour of others and yet continue to grow their wealth for no reason than to see the numbers go up. Or the middlemen who act as intermediaries that ain’t of much use at all, like Stan back in New Hope who buys from the public and sells to the military instead of the military opening their own consignment shop to cut folks like him out. The drunkards who toil only enough to survive while making moonshine for their own consumption, or the druggies who rely on the people around them to help fuel their habits. Brokers who buy and horde much needed goods and supplies are still a step about speculators who buy and sell without ever seeing the product, while snake-oil salesmen are worse than thieves since they sell you a false promise and leave you with broken dreams. Corrupt Lawmen, gladhanding bureaucrats, bankers, and the like, they’re all making their way onto the list because the more I meet, the more I believe the world could do with them.

  Like Levi. He seems like a fine enough sort, but far as I can tell, his job is a middleman for all sorts of different ventures. I mean sure, if he didn’t show up, them guns wouldn’t have been sold, but does that really change anything? Not really, especially if the folks who buy those shoddy semi-automatic pistols and second-rate rifles are expecting those weapons to see them safe from bandits and Abby. What’s more, even though he offered to solve all my woes, you gotta ask yourself what he’s getting out of all this, and the answer is a percentage. Of everything no doubt, from wages paid to workers, profits made from the businesses, and interest on the mortgages to boot.

  All for showing up and signing a few contracts that’ll pay dividends in the long run. Is it helpful? Sure, but ain’t like anyone gonna starve or die if no one opens an inn, restaurant, or bar at my daddy’s quay. As far as middlemen go, Levi’s fairly harmless, but that don’t mean he providing much value to the world as a whole. Not as much as the farmer, the rancher, the miner, or even the labourers he no doubt intends to overcharge for his services, ones he don’t so much provide as arrange for others to do so in his stead.

  Hence why it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to even consider being a part of it. I mean sure, I could earn myself a fortune selling the houses piecemeal and living off the profits from my share in the businesses, but then I’d be no better than the leeches I so despise. Better to bring in folks I can trust and work alongside with to create a community that provides a necessary service in return for a fair profit. Most folks would call me a communist if I said all that out loud, but I ain’t against democracy or capitalism. I just think taxes do a piss poor job of providing what they supposed to provide, and there are far too many rich fat cats that don’t do nothing at all, so why don’t we take some of that fat cat wealth and put it to work doing what taxes were supposed to do in the first place?

  It’s probably a lot more complicated than I’m making it out to be, but higher taxes on wealthy individuals could go a long way to solving most of our woes. Like the problem of corruption in Rangers and lawmen, because they wouldn’t be so corrupt if they made better wages. In the same vein, I bet the Feds would have no trouble finding workers to man the Watchtowers if the job didn’t pay peanuts, while workers would be a whole lot happier, healthier, and more productive if they were paid fair wages, reducing their need to find comfort and solace from drink and drugs.

  And if they blew their money on that sort of thing all the same? Well they’d die a whole lot faster, solving the problem in a different way, one I got no qualms against.

  Tina ain’t like me though. She a sweet, kind girl who wants to be friends with everyone and gets upset when they don’t feel the same way. So I dial down the rhetoric and try not to mention the numbskulls making my job harder any more than I have to, but between my lack of social graces and Tina’s smarts, she knows good and well how I think. Looks right proper introspective is how I’d describe it if I was feeling generous, and plum doom and gloom if I wasn’t, as she’s downright disappointed I ain’t itching to run in and play hero for the masses.

  Sucks to let her down, but so long as she’s alive and well, then I can stomach her dissatisfaction.

  Chrissy is far less complicated, because soon as I set the Silence Artifact up, she’s all too happy to strum away on her banjo to play some songs. Course, she also expects me to sing along, and refuses to let me take my turn outside the bubble of Silence to keep watch on our surroundings. So I sing all the regular hits as best I can, taking turns belting out duets with Tina and Aunty Ray while Chrissy basks in the festive atmosphere and plays until her fingers are red from the cold.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  At that point, I call it a night, but as I’m packing the Artifact and instruments away, Aunty Ray calls me over to where all three gals are standing with smiles a beaming brightly. “It’s never easy finding a gift you’d like,” she says while pulling a present out from behind back, one that fits within the palm of my hand and is wrapped far better than the present I gave Elodie. “You so particular about your gear,” Aunty Ray continues, all but stuffing the gift in my hands, “And anything you need or want you typically buy for yourself, but I think we really nailed it this year.”

  “Keep tellin’ you not to get me anything,” I protest, in a good-natured manner of course. That’s my role after all, the Christmas Curmudgeon, one I naturally fell into early on since my daddy was never around. While everyone else was celebrating with their parents, I was with the neighbours while my daddy rode off into the badlands to pay respects to the mama I done killed. Don’t get me wrong; for me, the neighbours were family through and through, but I still would’ve liked to know what a Zhu Family Christmas would’ve looked like.

  Probably wouldn’t have been any different from any other day, if I’m being honest. My daddy was a practical man who put hard work above all else, so much so the Marshal had to force him to take breaks instead of riding out into the winter snow and risk his life against the elements. As for my mama, from what I gather, she thought my daddy was a dreamer and slacker, as she was a harsh taskmistress who demanded excellence in all things, but worked every bit as hard doing what she did. Made my daddy two Aetherarms within weeks of the Advent after all, and that don’t happen without a whole lot of elbow grease even inside a factory, so I can only imagine what it would’ve been like back in the day.

  Either way, it don’t take away from how happy I am in the moment, because even before opening the present, it’s done the job and brought me plenty of Christmas cheer. I even take some time to admire the wrapping and ask Aunty Ray how she done it, much to Tina’s obvious chagrin as she’s waitin’ on me to open it. Chrissy too, who’s far more straight-forward as she hold a finger up to my mouth when she’s had enough, then points at the present with a little huff. Grinning from ear to ear, I carefully unwrap the gift making sure to keep the paper and ribbon intact, and when I finally open it up, what do I find but a deck of playing cards inside of a paper box.

  Which is alarming, because I only recently started playing poker for cash with Clayton and the fellas. Only once every few weeks, and we don’t play for high stakes, just bragging rights mostly even though we could all afford it. Me, I love calculating the odds, then throwing caution to the wind because I got a good read on my opponent, as there ain’t nothing like calling an all-in bluff and turning over ace high to really rile someone up. Course, having a Portent is real helpful for those times when my read is wrong, though it don’t always work out in my favour as some folks like Clayton are just born liars who can’t be read.

  Now, gambling is technically illegal until the age of 19 by way of the Accords, and 21 going by Federal Law, which is all sorts of stupid. Like Noora said, it’s strange that we’re allowed to married and serve in the military at 16, but restricted from drinking, gambling, and even getting a mortgage until several years after. Don’t make sense, but Aunty Ray is a stickler for the law, so she wouldn’t approve of me gambling, which makes this an awkward gift to get.

  “See?! What’d I tell you?” Tina exclaims, quietly clapping her hands in sheer delight. “Look at his face. He’s tryin’ so hard not to look disappointed.”

  “Mhmm.” Aunty Ray’s got me read cold, but to my surprise, she don’t seem like she knows why. If she did, she’d say something about my gambling ways, almost certainly in a round-about way. She don’t though, just gives me a look that says she’s figure it out soon enough, and I’d be better off coming clean, one so effective I almost break out into a sweat trying to keep a straight face. “This ain’t a normal deck of playing cards,” she says, all smiles again as she gestures for me to open the box. Playing along, I pull out the deck and fan them all out with my left hand before realizing I probably shouldn’t show off my card shuffling skills which I only recently picked up.

  Deflecting suspicion with a sheepish smile, I say, “Not much to do out in the quay besides play solitaire, and the manual dexterity required makes for good Mage Hand practice.” All true, because it’s not like I said I played a lot of solitaire or been practicing with my Mage Hands. Glancing at the deck of cards, which so far look like any other deck I’ve seen, albeit of higher quality with firmer cardstock and prettier pictures. Ain’t just the face cards that are decorated, but the numbered cards too, each bearing a different drawing in what would otherwise be the white space on a normal deck of cards. There’s a pair of Goblins on the two of hearts, an ugly Troll on the nine of spades, an Iron Golem on the ace of clubs, and so on and so forth.

  They’re all drawn by Aunty Ray, and it’s all gorgeous as can be, with lifelike humans on the face cards and monsters or magical beasts on the numbered ones. The higher the number, the stronger the card, and they all look lifelike as can be, inked in a way that really makes them pop in a way I ain’t ever seen. Grinning from ear to ear, Aunty Ray soaks in the praise and says, “Glad you think so, but the art ain’t the only thing different about this deck of cards.” At her prompting, I continue to go through the cards, but nothing really stands out, so Aunty Ray helps me out with a hint. “Why don’t you cast Detect Magic and find out?”

  Hearing the playful challenge in her tone, I immediately glance at Chrissy who’s busy inspecting all the cards I done already looked at with that customary, far-off look she gets when she’s all lost in her head. The pieces all fall into place and I waste no time with Rituals as I spend the 4 Aether to sling the Spell. Still got plenty left in the tank and it’s almost end of day, plus I gotta know right quick. Soon as the Spell settles in around me, I look back at the deck of cards and find it aglow in the soft, violet light of Aetheric energy. As luck would have it, I’ve got the Ten of Hearts on display, which has a massive green Cloud Giant that look pretty much like a long, lanky, Orc with glowing runic tattoos Etched right into its skin.

  Which is how I know it’s a Cloud Giant, as opposed to just a rangy Orc, because there’s no real way to tell height from the drawing. Thing is, this Cloud Giant got a beady set of eyes that stare out from the card like it’s meeting my eyes, and with Detect Magic bolstering my sight, it’s almost like I’m looking at two different cards in my hand. There’s the real one which I’m holding in my hand, and overlaid atop it is a second card that looks exactly the same and takes up the same space, with the only difference is that the eyes on the second card are actually meeting my eyes.

  Seriously. I even move the card around to make sure, but it tracks me here, there, and everywhere, which is really throwing me for a loop. Magical glow and moving eyes aside though, there ain’t nothing else about these cards that screams ‘Magic’, and I check the other cards to make sure they’re the same way.

  On the Jack of Hearts, the Native Shaman in a feathered headdress that kinda looks like Sergeant Begaye locks eyes with me too, and so too does the gorgeous, sultry brunette on the Queen of Hearts, whose soft hazel eyes just brimming with unspoken promise. Same goes for the Swordsman and four Spearmen on the King of Hearts, all standing ready in a V formation with harden gazes that show they’re spoiling for a fight.

  Which is magical sure, but the glow on these cards is too strong for something as simple as making me think their eyes are staring at me, especially since that doesn’t happen without Detect Magic. It ain’t powerful enough to be a Spell storage device either, but I don’t know much of anything about tools like these or how to find out what they do. When I finally give up on trying to figure it out, I look up to see Aunty Ray all pleased as peach because she done finally gotten me a gift that’s got me intrigued. She’s so pleased, she only leaves me in the lurch long enough to derive a tiny bit of satisfaction before spilling the beans. “This here is what’s called a Deck of Illusions,” she says, with more than a bit of theatrical flair. “You draw one, actuate it, and put it on the ground, and it’ll create an Illusion of the creature drawn onto the card right then and there. Anyone who falls into the Illusion will see the creature or creatures menacing them, but they won’t actually attack.”

  Which makes it great for distractions and buying time, because some of these cards got pretty normal creatures on it. Like the King of Hearts with the swordsman and guards, or the Goblins and Troll and whatnot. Even if they don’t attack, the sight should be enough to give folks pause, and might well fool Abby into thinking there are friends abound, or foes as it were seeing how the Feral Bugs of the Divide are at war with the Goblins of the Serpent’s Fang Mountain Range. What’s more, unlike people, Abby won’t stop to wonder why a Cloud Giant of all things suddenly appeared on the Frontier, because that there is a high value greenie Abby that stands heads and shoulders Bugbears, Ogres, and even your standard Giants, as a Cloud Giant is actually an Evolved Giant, the Hob to your every day Gob as it were.

  The Aetheric Concentration would have to be high enough to sustain Sixth Order Spells at the very minimum before any Proggies get to making plain old green Giants. As for Cloud Giants? They’re a breed of super high value Elemental Abby capable of unleashing the Seventh Order Whirlwind Spell to create widespread damage, alongside a plethora of other water and lightning themed Spells. They were calamities on par with Archmagi, powerful Abby that required significant investment on the part of the Proggie to create, with the Rangers getting called in around the world to take out any powerful Giants that looked like they was close to evolving.

  “Each card got enough juice to last five minutes,” Aunty Ray explains, making sure I know the ins and outs of the tools so I can make use of them best. “And they can only be used once, because the Illusion is spent and gotta be redrawn, which takes a whole lot more time and effort than slinging a Spell or even drawing a picture, so don’t expect a fast turn around time on that. You can move the card after it’s been actuated, and the Illusion will move with it, but it won’t move convincingly. Make sure to weigh the card down, because you won’t be foolin’ no one when your Cloud Giant gets carried away by the breeze, and if something tries to attack it, it’ll look mighty suspect when the attack misses without the Illusion doing any sort of dodging.”

  “Still real handy,” I say, going through the cards and looking at all the various pictures. Face cards are mostly people, while numbered are mostly Abby or monsters, with higher numbers corresponding to stronger characters. There are even two Jokers included that got drawings of me standing there, looking all dark and menacing as can be with my hat low, duster open, and hand on my gun to boot. “Hey now,” I say, holding out the Jokers for them both to see and smiling along with the joke. “You trying to say I’m some sort of clown?”

  “No try about it,” Tina says, grinning from ear to ear as she declares, “Ain’t no other card a better fit.”

  I open my mouth to give the obvious reply, that the Firstborn is clearly deserving of a spot on an Ace, except I ain’t the Firstborn no more. I’m the Yellow Devil, so I suppose the Joker fits just fine, and I concede without a fight. Hide my feelings well enough though, and get to looking through the rest of the deck with the family and singing their praises, because I can’t imagine how much work went into this. Or money, because even though Aunty Ray only mentioned the time and effort, I know a piece of magical gear like this would need magical parchment and inks too, expensive Alchemical products which might well require Aether-infused materials to create, or at the very least, plenty of Aberrtin and crystal Aether in order to contain what I’m guessing is a Third Order Major Illusion drawn onto each card.

  So even allowing for the fact that Aunty Ray did all the illustrations and Spellslinging herself, it probably still cost her a pretty penny to make these. Doubt she’d use the money I give her to buy me a gift either, meaning she done saved her pennies from selling her leatherwork, wally wool, and other miscellaneous jobs to pay for the materials. Can’t help but smile as I lock eyes with the woman who done raised me, because this here is a thoughtful gift that ticks all the right boxes, one she probably been working on for months now in hopes of cheering me up. Ain’t no words to convey how much that means to me, so I give her a hug and don’t even sigh when it runs far too long for my tastes.

  Makes for a perfect end to the festivities though, as we all call it a night and head for bed. All save for Tina of course, who heads out to take first watch, her figure blending into the shadows long before moving out of the dim light and disappearing into the darkness surrounding camp. Reminds me to warn everyone not to use lights come tomorrow, because if there are people causing trouble in the badlands, they’ll see it and know we’re here. Same could be said for Abby, but they ain’t all that bright. Don’t mean you can underestimate them, because they’re damned good at what they do, except you can’t expect much from them when it comes to anything else.

  An Ankheg can tell if there’s a Bug, human, horse, or hostile Abby moving above ground simply by reading their footfalls, but if they see a bright light shining in the darkness, the only thought in their head will be to avoid it. A Razorscythe might investigate the light, but it also might disregard it, because a faint light ain’t the same as a roaring fire or the smell of food. All in all, I typically go dark while I’m out here in the badlands, but I’ve also tried using decoy lights to lure Abby into traps and gotten nowhere fast. That’s just how Ferals be, highly specialized and limited at the same time, whereas greenies and Goblins especially are far weaker in comparison, but got far more flexible minds to make up for it.

  Takes saying goodnight 3 times and Merry Christmas 3 different ways to Chrissy before she’s ready to settle in for a Catnap, one I request every night just in case. She’s happy to cast it, and her reserves are usually higher than mine because she’s been really good about not wasting Spells out here in the badlands. Not that I asked her to, but she’s picked up on the concern and tension and figured it was the best course moving forward. Which makes her doubly pleased to cast Catnap since she so loves to sling Spells, putting me, her mama, and herself all out quick as a blink without so much of a fuss. Makes it look and feel so effortless, while I still struggle to cast the Bolstering Compliment Cantrip on my best bird Stella because she don’t trust the magic coming out of me.

  Really goes to show how skilled an Enchantress Chrissy is, and how she ain’t simple or air-headed as most people think. Even takes me by surprise sometime, , so when Aunty Ray wakes me for my turn at watch, I give Chrissy’s temple a light kiss followed by three quick squeezes of her fingers just to convey how much I love her.

  The morning passes by without event, and when it comes time to wake, I got a pot of tea ready and a hearty breakfast for people and animals alike. It’s the most important meal of the day, because it’s pretty much the only one I can guarantee today, as it all depends on what lies ahead. Which doesn’t look promising as I scan our surroundings with Detect Aberration and find 2 separate groups of Abby moving in different directions. Sizable groups at that, though mostly Swarmlings and Spitters since they are among the more mobile Abby. Uncover a Razorscythe too, and track its whereabouts for a good long while until it moves out of range because I’m not entire convinced they can’t tell when I’m watching. They know good and well when you see through their camouflage, as whatever magic is at work in that slime they produce lets them know when it fails to draw a target’s attention away, and seeing how it can affect someone through a Detection Spell several klicks away, I don’t see why it wouldn’t alert them when it fails there too.

  Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean it ain’t a point of concern, so better safe than sorry.

  While the Razorscythe doesn’t double back around, one of the two groups appears to be moving towards us, so I get Cowie to pick up the pace and lead us away. At first, I’m fine letting him walk just a tiny bit faster, but then an hour passes and them Abby are still headed towards us, so I speed things up again and change headings too. Nothing changes, as the Abby change course to bee-line towards us, and I start looking for places to run to should the worst come to pass while telling Cowie to kick it up a couple notches.

  I don’t hide none of this from Tina or Aunty Ray, and while I don’t much like making them nervous, they’d be worse off if I kept them in the dark, so I get to explaining as Cowie and the horses canter along at a fair rate of knots. “I ain’t sensing no Razorscythes, so chances are we been marked by an Ankheg.” Smiling to show there ain’t nothing to fear, I explain how them burrowers can’t keep up with Cowie, who knows just how fast he needs to run to leave them behind. “We should be out of its range in a half hour at most,” I say, sound far more confident than I feel, because there’s a chance the Ankheg ain’t with the group of Abby pursuing us and is actually closer and just passing messages along however Abby communicate. “Another half hour after that, and we can slow down and maybe even find somewhere to rest.”

  Probably not. I’d much rather keep going until we stop for the night, preferably somewhere high and defensible with good, clear sightlines and an approach that’s been trapped and Alarmed to the gills before settling in.

  Alas, man proposes, and Heaven disposes, as them Abby are still following closely behind after an hour of moving about. At a curve that brings us closer towards our destination, removing the last doubt in my mind that them Abby are tracking us, except I have no idea how. There’s no way we’re still in range of an Ankheg, and even less chance of a Burrow Hulk tracking us still, while I’m 100% certain there are no Razorscythes about, and the skies have been empty save for the heavy, grey clouds. Ones that soon open to release a dusting of snowfall, which might well be a Christmas miracle as the cold slows our pursuers enough for Cowie and the horses leave them behind in our dust until I can no longer sense them with the Spell.

  The tense and worry-fraught morning is replaced by a cold and cheerless Christmas day as Cowie trundles onwards with heavier hooves than normal courtesy of the punishing pace. To help him out, I activate all six Floating Disc Cores to lighten the load, as he’s now moving slow enough not to burn out all the Aether in a matter of minutes. I can manually sustain a Floating Disc at higher speeds thanks to Concentration. A Floating Disc Spell Core can only draw more power under duress, which will fail miserable when the Spell unravels apart all the same because the Core ain’t built to handle variables like that. Ain’t no tech in the world that can manage it either, or least none when the First Wave passed through the Gate in April of 1989. In less than a week’s time, we’ll be welcoming in the new year of 2008, so who knows how far the old world has progressed since, without the added pressure of having to fight tooth and nail for their everyday survival.

  Not to say they don’t got their own problems, as Cloud Giants are just the tip of the iceberg, but those sorts of threats are a lot less scary when you got armoured tanks, gunships, and fighter jets in your arsenal, to say nothing of powerful Grand Magi serving on the frontlines with all the gear and gadgets they could ask for. Archmagi too, though they rarely show their faces, because just as we have Abby on high priority kill lists, Proggies have learned to pick out our Archmagi and know to send powerful Abby led by Synapse commanders to go bring them down.

  Me, I’d consider it a point of pride if Abby came a hunting for me. Sure beats all them no name hitters that have been bothering me lately, none of which even had bounties until those two Catteneo thugs on the boat.

  It’d be a lot harder to survive an Abby hit though, because they don’t mess around, so even though I sympathize with Cowie and the horses, I don’t let them stop to rest as we beeline towards the mesa. Which is where safety and danger lie as it were, intertwined side by side. To explain what I mean, I gotta talk about the Divide, which is pretty much a giant canyon we believe was left by a meteor or whatever. Hence all the giant lakes that once surrounded it, and why the terrain here is so broken and hilly. This means that there are long stretches of the Divide where you just walk right on up to an edge and peer down at the abyss, but our destination is a little different. See, even though said meteor carved a massive furrow that runs straight north to south for close to 600 klicks, there are sections where the surrounded land collapsed and fell into the Divide.

  Like a long dirt ramp pretty much, the entrance to the largest and longest of which is where we’re headed.

  According to my daddy, my mama’s thinking was that if they settled down somewhere close to the Divide, like smack dab at the entrance to what is essentially an Abby superhighway, them Feral Bugs would be less inclined to investigate any disturbances. Reason being is the area there had long since been stripped of biomass, so Abby wouldn’t be in the habit of looking for food outside of their goop pits. Pretty sure she was right, because in their three months of living up on the mesa and the 18 years since, her logic has held up as Abby ain’t ever gone up there. Course, we got plenty of Wards these days to help encourage them to stay away, and I’m super careful not to leave too much of a footprint every time I come visit, but either way, I ain’t ever seen hide nor hair of Abby up on the mesa.

  Whereas there are plenty of Abby moving about here, as I catch glimpses of bands moving to and fro with my Detect Spells as we ride on through the snow flurries, mostly Drones and Behemoths delivering biomass back to the Divide. Most I uncover seem to be digging in, because if they get covered in enough snow they won’t just freeze, they might well die if left above ground. Alas, the snowfall ain’t nothing more than a dusting, which I suppose is good and bad. Good because it means Cowie and the horses won’t have to work so hard anymore, but bad because a big enough snowfall would see us safe for the rest of the trip, albeit one that would’ve been all the more miserable by it.

  Still, the slight reprieve is enough to see us to our destination for the evening, as I pull up early at a rock formation jutting up out of the ground that I’ve camped at plenty of times before. Rock formation is underselling it, as it looks something like a natural arch from the ground, except we ain’t camping down there. We’re headed up top, where there’s a wide ramp that leads up to a long, somewhat narrow bridge at the top of the arch. The bridge is about 8 metres wide and brings us over to the top of a wide, flat area up top of the formation with no other approach save up the side of the steep cliffs. Unless a swarm of Skreeler Wasps come patrolling nearby, then we’re about as safe as can be up here. Safer still after I set up some Alarm Wards and traps along the bridge, which I get to right quick, Conjuring up a Wildshaped Hand and two Cantrip Mage Hands to speed things along. I’ve camped here most years since my daddy passed, because as much as I like to brag about coming all this way into the badlands by my lonesome, it’s a difficult and stressful affair. As such, a night of safe camping is always welcome this close to the end, and doubly so when tomorrow might bring all manner of unpleasant surprises.

  Because while living close to an Abby superhighway might have its perks, one definite downside is all the traffic. Well-fed or not, them dumb Bugs will come after you if you show yourself in front of their faces, so the home stretch is the toughest part of the trip.

  We have ourselves a delicious dinner once more, and even eat a little extra to make up for skipping lunch. Since we can’t risk lights anymore, we can’t setup the Silence Artifact either, as the best warning system was using Dancing Lights, and any others are just too risky to go for. Chrissy takes it in stride though, and we content ourselves with telling stories and making conversation until it comes time to sleep. Or that’s the plan at least, until the unmistakable crack of an unsilenced Aetherarm rings out in the distance, though nowhere near as distant as I’d like.

  Seems like our troublemakers from down south have gone and beaten the odds, and now they’re about to fuck things up for us all.