Tradition should only be followed until it stops making sense.

  This was a firm belief of Grand Magus Reylana Rootsong, a belief she was reminded of as she climbed the nigh-endless steps of the ancestral spire, exposed to the harsh elements of deep winter. She would have loved to know what her ancestors were thinking as they built a grandiose spire with gaping holes where there should be glass windows. The uninterrupted view of the city far below did nought to make up for the biting wind she had to squint through, nor the snow-laden steps that threatened to steal her balance.

  It was a treacherous journey up, but alas, despite her misgivings, she made it to the top in the end, and so she straightened out into a more dignified stride before reaching the looming double doors at the end of the stone hall. It wouldn’t do to be seen hunched over, embracing her body heat as she shivered. Even if the others secretly felt the same way.

  The crunching of her steps through the snow paused momentarily as she stopped before the ornate wooden doors, admiring the carvings of those before her. It was a prideful thing to walk through these hallowed doors as the great arcanists of old did in times past. She always savoured it for a moment or two. She sought her grandmother’s image, halfway up on the left side, thrice her height beyond her, and found it looking down at her as it always did.

  Grand Magus Kefira Rootsong was depicted as always amidst the prettiest of trees and flowers, surrounded by fairies and pixies, and yet even in such company she looked daintiest of all. It was amusing to see, knowing how not-so-dainty she could be behind closed doors.

  She smiled, and her grandmother smiled back, though only with her eyes, for that was all that seemed left living of the wooden face. Reylana took a deep breath and put her hands against the doors. Another tradition she wasn’t fond of - not using any magic in the ancestral spire - meant opening these godforsaken doors with mortal power alone while all of her forebearers watched on in postmortem amusement.

  She sighed and then pushed with everything she had, her boots only just maintaining grip on the wet floor. The doors groaned loudly in displeasure, or perhaps it was her bones -likely both- but the weighty doors yielded in the end. A slight crack between them both gave way to the light beyond and a gust of chilled air, and then momentum was in her favour, and the giant double doors swung slowly open to reveal the chamber beyond.

  Large, hollowed-out arches of stone played pillar to a domed ceiling more than fifty feet overhead. The floor was covered in a layer of snow, and the room was decorated only with stunningly detailed statues of former Grand Magus that ran a ring around the edges of the room.

  “Reylana!” Boomed Grand Magus Jayson Kheler, his voice less than a shout but only just, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.”

  “Jayson,” she smiled at the unexpected address as she strode gracefully over to the table in the chamber, “why ever would you think that? I, for one, love late-night rendezvous in the cold. Especially here, where we may truly appreciate the weather!”

  Jayson laughed heartily as she took the only vacant seat opposite him. Grand Magus Ozhar Phedall, to the left of the round table, stretched his wrinkled face into a smile, though Grand Magus Esmerelda Etrrea to her right didn’t seem to find her joke so funny.

  Upon the table were scrolls and candles of wax alight with meagre flames not fighting nearly as well against the wind as the sconces that lined the pillars. But Reylana was freezing, and so they’d have to do. She shamelessly pulled a few of them closer to herself as Esmerelda began to speak.

  “Now that we are all here,” she said in her nauseatingly soft voice, glancing at Reylana through narrowed eyes, “we may begin. I summoned you all regarding matters the king has deemed an emergency.”

  The ancestral doors slammed shut behind them with an ominous bang. Esmerelda’s orange eyes flickered through the faces of her crowd, waiting for someone to speak in turn, though all she found in their expressions was the unspoken shared sentiment of get on with it.

  Her face twitched before she took the hint and continued, “The kingdom of Stars is gone. Or, more accurately, its people are gone.”

  The only thing that challenged the silence as the three Grand Magus stared at her was the wind whistling through the chamber.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Grand Magus Ozhar Phedall found his bearings first and broke the silence by asking, “What is meant by this?” his aged face scrunched in displeasure and confusion.

  “I mean, they have vanished.” She stated bluntly, a small smile playing on her lips as she took in their expressions.

  “I think we all understood that part, Esmerelda. What happened? If you have any more information, do spit it out.” Spat Reylana.

  “Spit it out?” Esmerelda repeated, her eyes widening. “Have you no manners, Rootsong?” Esmerelda looked at the others for support, her jaw hanging in disbelief, but she found none. The old man looked at her with an expression mirroring the tree-hugger, and Jayson was staring off into the distance, lost in thought over the news. She clamped her jaw shut and took a sharp breath to compose herself. “I have nothing more to give,” she said icily before gesturing to the few scrolls on the table and continuing. “These are eyewitness reports from those that have gone to investigate.”

  “Is this simply to be believed?” Said Jayson, suddenly snapping out of his thoughts with a hardened expression. “Which report is most credible?”

  “The one closest to you belongs to Magus Julian Ward.”

  His expression soured briefly upon hearing the name, and he stole a quick look at Reylana, but her eyes were glued to the scroll before her. He reached for his scroll almost disdainfully and unfurrowed it, reading through it in silence. The other two mirrored his actions with the scrolls nearest to them, and Esmerelda watched as their expressions grew grimmer with each passing moment. Jayson’s face was particularly satisfying.

  The wind picked up during the lull in the conversation, and Esmerelda scowled as the screaming gale tore through the chamber, throwing her fiery red hair amuck. It managed to snuff out much of the firelight in the room before it wained, plunging them into a dimly lit darkness with what few sconces remained, fighting losing battles against the night.

  Esmerelda watched as they put down the scrolls almost in unison and chose to break the silence herself, “The king seeks answers, and he was disappointed that the arch wizards and Magus we dispatched were unable to provide anything. He has hopes we will not be so useless.” She pulled a small bottle of ink and a quill from her crimson robes as she spoke, preparing to record the relevant parts of the conversation that followed. “Fortunately, we do not share a border with The Kingdom of Stars, so our neighbours are likely to act as a buffer should this problem move further inland. However, he wishes to be proactive and would also seek our guidance on what action we should take to prepare our people for whatever this is.”

  “Naturally, we should prepare for war.” Came Jayson’s muscular voice. It had regained the steel in it, and from how the little remaining light shifted over his armour, he had straightened up, his usual confidence and demeanour seemingly finding him once more.

  Reylana briefly wondered what he was doing before this to be in armour before replying wearily, “War against what?” her green eyes glowing faintly like gemstones as she sought out her peers in the dark. “We shouldn’t scare the public with unknowns.”

  “Better to be prepared for hardship should it come than to be caught unawares.” Came Phedall’s voice, laced with the wisdom of a hundred thousand years lived.

  “What should be done in the way of further investigation?” Esmerelda interjected. “To be frank, I’d rather not be the one tasked with looking into things.”

  “Better things to do, have you?”

  Esmerelda narrowed her eyes at the grass-sniffer, only for her expression to ease into a haughty smile as she noticed her shivering. She stood a little straighter as she subtly cycled fire mana through her body. “Better? I cannot say. But I am busy nonetheless. Perhaps it would be best if you went? You’re certainly the least busy of us all.”

  “Oh, pray tell, Princess Esmerelda,” the old man snapped, taking her back with both his interjection and the venom in his voice. “How would you know that?”

  “‘Princess?’ What kind of transgression is this? I forewent that title the day I became an arcanist! How dare you miss title me. In here of all places!”

  “Oh? And where is this?”

  She stared at him in disbelief. His weathered face and dangerously narrowed eyes. His dreary robes, unbefitting of his station. What have I done to warrant this? Why is it always me they have a problem with? We are supposed to be equals as Grand Magus! To be equal with me should be your li-

  “Can we stop this?” Came the muscular voice of Jayson. He paused for a moment as he looked down at them all from his prodigious height. “We’d all like to be done with this, I reckon. Let us get on with it before we freeze over.”

  The old man snorted but otherwise broke from his stand-off with Esmerelda. He chose instead to stroke his bone-white goatee and gaze off at the double doors as the conversation resumed.

  ***

  In the end, it took a few hours of going back and forth before the four Grand Magus could settle on a path forward that they agreed would be best, and so they had advice that they would present to the king. Or at least Esmerelda would; the rest had business to tend to.

  Reylana found herself descending the spiral stairs alongside Jayson. Esmerleda had left just before, and it seemed Ozhar wanted to be alone atop the spire for a while before he would leave.

  It was quiet as they descended the first half of the spire. The distant stars glittered overhead in the night sky, and the city’s nightlife glowed down below beneath snowy rooftops like a swarm of orange fireflies reaching for the horizon.

  Reylana smiled softly at the tranquillity of it all.

  “When will you head out to investigate, then?” Jayson suddenly said without facing her, as he was on the outside of the staircase, also admiring the view.

  She stared at the back of his head, at the slicked-back black hair, waiting for him to turn and face her. He didn’t. She sighed, “Tomorrow, probably. A matter like this could only ever be my highest priority.”

  She waited for him to speak again but was left wanting. They walked in silence, if not for the snow crunching softly beneath their feet. Or the wind whistling as it picked up sporadically. Or the gentle clanking of his silver armour.

  They eventually reached the bottom and found themselves a mile or so deep into the forest that bordered their capital city of Etrrea. The thick canopy of trees blocked all light, night and day, so it was only by the grace of the surrounding firelight the guards had set up that she saw his expression.

  A smile dominated his ruggedly handsome face. He looked the tallest man in the world in both body and spirit. Her stomach twisted knots, knowing he wasn’t. Knowing it was a performance, one he put on for others whenever she was around. The guards couldn’t tell the difference, evident by their gleeful smiles at seeing two of the kingdom’s most powerful arcanists in all their glory.

  “Stay safe out there,” he said with a wink before turning to speak with a young man on guard duty. They embraced each other like old friends. Likely a wizard he taught or sponsored.

  “I will,” she said, her voice lost in their hearty greetings before she strolled off into the forest towards the city.