Will I kill another cape today?

Aldeheid leaned against the windowsill and looked down at his hands. They were no different than any other magician's. Ten fingers, like everyone else. Lines running through his palms, like everyone else. But his hands killed capes.

Unlike everyone else.

"Ready?" Berard's voice cut through his idle pondering. He'd almost forgotten he wasn't alone in the hall. His friend stood before him like an angel of death sent to whisk him to the other side. If only that were the case. Berard was to escort Aldeheid to the Etheria Bastion's heart, where he'd meet his potential cape. Or potential victim.

"No." Aldeheid started down the hall anyway. As they walked, his feet itched with the temptation to turn and run away. More than once, he gave a longing look back down the corridor, like a puppy who'd been thrown out into the cold. His time would be better spent pouring over tomes and scrolls until he figured out what was wrong with him. But defiance was not in his nature.

"Being nervous about it won't help you," Berard said. "Try to relax."

"I suppose." Aldeheid's face twisted into a scowl. Everyone seemed to think they had the solution to his problem.

It's because you're nervous, they said. 

It's because you say the spell a certain way, they said.

Just keep trying, you'll get there, they said.

He didn't need any more useless advice.

His eyes scanned the hall, looking for the usual distractions to veer his attention from what was about to happen. He'd walked this way so many times that he knew the walls and floors better than the person who'd built them. He knew that the windows sat at three meter intervals, on one side of the hall, and sconces were in two meter intervals on the other. He knew that there were exactly thirty-seven mundane paintings and two alcoves, and of the 3,836 variegated stone tiles on the floor, exactly nine hundred were a darker shade of grey than the others.

But most importantly, he knew it did nothing to calm his racing heart.

They stopped in front of the polished wood doors of the antechamber. Voices drifted in from another set of doors further down, carrying the hushed urgency of child-like anticipation.

Berard clapped Aldeheid on the shoulder. "May the gods favour you, my friend."

May the gods do everyone a favour and strike me dead. He opened the door to the antechamber and slammed it with enough force to rattle the windows, as though the wooden barrier could shut out all his problems.

The room's lone occupant jumped and swiveled her head around, her glossy black tresses swaying with the motion. She stared at him with wide, green eyes, one hand over her heart and the other clutching a dagger.

Excellent work, Aldeheid, he thought to himself. Such a stellar first impression. "My apologies," he said, stepping around the stuffy furnishings with care. He approached her slowly, like she was a deer that would bolt at the slightest hint of danger. "I'm Aldeheid." He extended his marked hand, palm up, as was customary.

"Gwen." She placed her pale, dainty hand in his. The elegant swirling lines of her mark were a stark contrast to the sharp jagged nature of his.

Aldeheid felt the magic pulsing through her. Magic he may be free to use if he didn't ruin their trial. Magic another magician would use as a source of their power when he ruined their trial.

He couldn't help but notice how small she was. Granted, everyone was small compared to him, but she was only a head above his waist. That, coupled with her delicate bone structure and lithe form, made her a beauty. And made him feel worse about what was going to happen to her.

Aldeheid found himself hoping that she would stab him. Hate him. Something. Anything to mitigate the guilt burning through his chest. The thought of her as a corpse at his feet made his stomach sour, and while he'd never killed any capes at the Etheria Bastion, he'd killed quite a few in his old home. Which meant Gwen dying by his hands was still a very real, very frightening possibility.

Perhaps they could stay in the antechamber. Talk. They could get to know each other a little better, exchange niceties. He could convince her that this trial was a bad idea. That she'd regret this day.

"Nice earring," she said, pulling him from his thoughts. She tip-toed to flick the gaudy bauble dangling from his ear and looped an arm around his. "Shall we?"

"Did anyone tell you about me?" He bit his tongue. That wasn't meant to be said out loud.

Gwen laughed, a gentle sound that reminded him of wind chimes, and pulled him towards the door. "I was told, but I do like a challenge."

Aldeheid suppressed a groan. "I'm not the kind of challenge you want."

Arm in arm, they walked into the heart of the Bastion. They entered the circular chamber through its heavy wooden double doors. Every magician and cape present at the Bastion was gathered on the upper circle except for Berard and his cape, Anha, who stood near a stone pillar. They gave Aldeheid encouraging nods as he stepped inside.

Morning sunshine streamed through the skylight high above their heads, illuminating the stone pedestal at the room's center. Five empty cauldrons formed a semicircle around it, each with a different symbol etched on its surface.

Under the scrutiny of a hundred gazes, Aldeheid and Gwen stood on either side of the pedestal - the instrument that would allow him to use Gwen's magic without them being bonded. Of course no one would want to miss this. One would think that after so many failures, it would've gotten old. But no, even those who'd been out and about during the wee hours had dragged themselves out of bed to witness his inevitable embarrassment.

Among them were the Bastion's King, Gallitel. He stood with one hand on the banister, his rings winking in the sunlight as he drummed his fingertips on the stone surface. Claudia, his magician, partner, and the Bastion's Queen stood beside him, a scowl plastered on her face and her eyes burning with the fury of a hundred suns. The medics stood to their left, near the stairs, ready for the impending disaster.

Gallitel cleared his throat and the room fell into silence. For a moment, he peered down at the pair, his grey eyes betraying nothing.

"Berard, the spell, please," Gallitel said.

Berard took Anha's hand and a glow settled in her chest. It spread through her body, down her limbs until she was obscured by it. Finally, she morphed into an elegant, silk cape the colour of red wine, and Berard secured her upon his shoulders with a gold clasp. The transition took only a few seconds, and he went straight into reciting a spell.

Aldeheid watched the shimmering barrier form around him and Gwen, stretching up to where the spectators were gathered. Envy burned deep within his gut, and he ground his teeth together to quell his annoyance. That could've been him with a cape on his shoulders, casting magic, were he not such a worthless magician.

"You may begin," Gallitel announced.

Aldeheid placed his marked hand on the pedestal, and Gwen placed hers atop it, giving him a small smile. Please... stop being nice to me. He did his best to return her smile before facing his nemesis.

The cape trial. It was simple, really. All he had to do was light the damn cauldrons with one simple spell. Even a half-witted child could do it. Aldeheid had been through this song and dance so many times that he knew every note, inflection, step and twirl. Yet his execution was always off.

Well, by one definition of the word.

He sucked in a breath and aimed his free hand at the cauldrons. The lilting words of his home language flowed from his lips as he recited the spell. The pedestal grew warm as magic flowed from Gwen, to it, and finally to him. He looked over to make sure she fared well, and she gave him a nod. A sliver of hope wormed its way into his heart as a small flame came to life in each cauldron. But that hope withered and died when the last words of the spell were uttered.

Magic bloomed in the air, thick and heavy, making every breath an agonizing struggle. The cauldrons shook, and the fire within them erupted into a hellish fury. Soft, sweet clinks echoed through the chamber as a spider's web of cracks formed on Berard's barrier.

Aldeheid grabbed hold of Gwen, tucking her small form into his. He ran from the pedestal, ducking behind a pillar just as the air ignited in a fiery maelstrom. Heat enveloped him, licking at his clothes. They grew warm but didn't catch due to the enchantment weaved into the fabric. The fire roared through the room drowning out the shouts from the upper circle

It culminated in a loud bang that shook the Bastion to its core. What followed was a quiet that felt out of place after such commotion. Pebbles and dust rained down, and acrid smoke clouded the air.

Aldeheid coughed and blinked as his lungs burned and his eyes watered. He unfolded his body from Gwen's. She was limp and unmoving in his arms, her skin pale as porcelain and eyes half closed and glassy.

"No..." His heart slammed frantically against his ribs as he felt for her pulse with a shaking hand. "Please, please, please."

Footfalls filled the chamber as Gallitel and Claudia came down from the upper circle along with several other magicians and capes. The former assessed the damage done to the chamber while the latter marched towards Aldeheid in a blaze of fury.

"You animal!" Claudia screeched, and smacked him over the head. The black smudges of soot dirtying her face and her chestnut hair made her look more deranged than she was. "Get away from her!" She snatched Gwen from his arms, passing her off to a medic before pushing Aldeheid to the soot-blackened ground.

Less than a second later, she was on top of him. His head cracked against the stone as her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard. Her gaze was wild and fiery like a crazed animal's, and her lips curled into a snarl.

He tried to pry her hands away, but her grip was strong, and his vision was darkening. It took the combined strength of Gallitel and Berard to pull her off him.

"Get him out of here," the Bastion's King ordered.

Berard helped Aldeheid up and guided him towards the door. Shards of cauldron crunched under their feet, while ashes fluttered down like dying birds. The podium was split in two, and soot covered the ground and walls, nearly reaching the skylight.

His friend seemed no worse for the wear. His breathing was a little ragged, and sweat dripped down his face, making streaks of his olive skin appear behind the soot that covered it. With Anha in cape form, she wouldn't have felt anything, thankfully.

"Go for a walk," Berard said, neither his voice nor his face holding any malice. They held something worse instead - pity. The kind of pity that one gave a small, injured animal. It fell over Aldeheid like cold rain, chilling him to the bone.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Aldeheid struck the nearest wall, the pain radiating through his hand. Why am I such an idiot? And Gwen... poor Gwen. He wanted to convince himself she was fine. That she would be fine. But he hadn't felt a pulse, or any sign of life.

He sank to the floor and leaned his forehead against the wall. History was repeating itself. A history he thought he'd wanted so badly to be just that. History. His cape-killing curse was supposed to remain in his old home, in Magika, to be forgotten.

Aldeheid swallowed the bile that was salting his tongue. But it did nothing to calm the churning contents of his stomach. He needed to get out. To get away. To breathe some fresh air.

His feet took him down the hall, long strides moving him further and further from the Bastion's heart. For the umpteenth time he'd failed another cape trial. Aldeheid was convinced that he was doomed to remain a capeless magician for all eternity. And perhaps it was better that way.

He looked down at his hands, the cursed hands that had destroyed so many capes before. The cursed hands that couldn't even light the damn cauldrons. Every trial had been the same thing. When he recited his spells, they ignited with a ferocity that capes couldn't handle.

Nicks and burns covered his hands, and the dominant one was swollen from punching the wall. His left cheek was burning, and he rubbed it to make sure it was still smooth. He deserved so much worse.

Aldeheid wandered the halls until he reached the east balcony. The autumn breeze ruffled his clothes as he stepped outside, carrying with it the scent of ripe fruit. Etheria Valley was awash in reds, yellows and oranges as the harvest season reached its peak.

The humans in the village below were going about their daily duties. They were like ants from Aldeheid's vantage point, moving in and out of their stone houses. Children were chasing each other through the streets while adults harvested crops from their personal gardens.

Their lives were so short and yet so simple. No one judged them for their shortcomings. Mistakes were expected and acknowledged and learned from. They made the most of their lot, though it was a hard one. And they looked happy.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there watching them, but eventually he was joined on the balcony by Gallitel. The Bastion's King stood shorter than him - like everyone else - and had delicate features that were offset by his cropped, healthy beard.

"Gwen?" Aldeheid asked.

Gallitel only shook his head, but he may as well had punched Aldeheid in the gut.

He planted his elbows on the banister and buried his face in his hands. His heart shriveled up in his chest. I killed her. The King's next words only reached him subconsciously.

"Listen, I know Mellidius saw promise in you. But we can't keep doing this. You have three days to get out." He turned away, but stopped by the door and looked back. "And please stay away from Claudia. She right cross with you, as am I."

Aldeheid couldn't even be mad, getting kicked out was a light-handed punishment considering what he'd done. But the problem was, he had nowhere to go.

***

Hello dear reader,

Thanks for checking out Magika. If you're in search for more awesome content, check out my friend AWFrasier and her LGBT+ Fantasy, Horns. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Twenty-four.

That was how many cape trials Aldeheid had done at the Etheria. And he'd failed each and every one of them. Out of those twenty-four, Gwen was the first one to die. But that was one too many. All the others had fallen ill from having so much of their magic drained. 

Then again, cape trials had always been a problem for him, even before he came to earth. But that was a time he didn't want to think or speak of. Earth was supposed to be a new beginning for him, a time to leave the things of the past in the past. He'd started the song and dance of cape trials all over again, because he'd found a mentor who convinced him his problem was remediable.

After all, reciting spells was a magician thing. Having a cape as a source of magic was a magician thing. But killing capes wasn't a magician thing. It was an Aldeheid thing.

It seemed no matter what he did, disaster followed. No matter where he went, he could never find peace or purpose. Such was his lot. Mellidius had been wrong; his problem wasn't remediable. Because if it were, he would've been fixed already. There were only so many ways one could recite spells.

Some may have blamed his predicament on bad luck, but Aldeheid couldn't, in good and sound conscience, blame his fate on such a silly notion. No, what was happening to him was far more deliberate. There had to be a cruel god following him around, pulling the proverbial strings in the background, gaining pleasure and sustenance from his misery.

Or perhaps everything was his fault. There were those who believed one could speak their own fate into existence. And he wasn't exactly a warm ray of sunshine. How many times had he convinced himself he'd fail before even trying? Countless.

With that considered, it wouldn't be so farfetched to think that his serial negativity had contributed to his hard lot. Perhaps if he'd been more optimistic about finding a cape, he'd have one. One who was fearless, strong and capable. More importantly, one who could handle the insanity of his spellcasting.

Ridiculous, he thought, as he ventured further away from the Bastion. Dried leaves crunched under his feet and more fell from overhead, painting the mountain trail with the colours of autumn. Birds flitted back and forth in the canopy and forest rodents disturbed the underbrush.

Gallitel had warned Aldeheid to stay away from Claudia, and he planned to do just that. By getting as far away from the Bastion as possible. His hair was still damp from the quick bath he'd taken before leaving. He'd used balms to soothe the burns and bruises on his hands but no amount of medicinal treatment would take away the guilt that weighed him down. 

So he walked, as he always did in moments like this. He walked until his legs gave way beneath him, and exhaustion left him too weak to think about what had happened.

Claudia should've strangled him to death. Or better, Gallitel should've thrown him head first off the west balcony, and done to him what he'd done to so many capes before. Maybe he would've seen said capes on the other side. Maybe they would beat him senseless like he deserved.

Gwen, the beautiful flower that she was. He'd crushed her.

Like the murderer he was. Gallitel's punishment for him was almost comically light-handed. He should've been beheaded and thrown to the scavengers.

Aldeheid continued his trek well into the valley, bypassing the town to wander the rolling foothills beyond. Their heather-brushed crests rose and fell like waves on the ocean, and he waded through them until he reached the Phantom Orchard.

The cluster of trees was laden with fruit, but even the human villagers knew better than to eat any. There couldn't be any beneficial sustenance hanging from trees that disappeared and reappeared randomly.

Aldeheid instead moved beyond it to the small lake at its east.

The still, clear water reflected the clouds that dotted the sky. A herd of deer were grazing on the opposite bank, and a hare darted through the tall grass at the north edge. He found a shady tree to sit under and rest. He was a long way from the Bastion, but could still see it in the distance, sitting on the mountainside.

Tall and proud, gleaming white in the sunshine, it was a sight to behold. An abundance of towers stretched up from its base, their pinnacles topped with flags bearing the Bastion's crest. For nigh a hundred years it had been his home, and he'd managed to ruin that in one morning.

The meaning of Gwen's death wasn't lost on him though. It was time for him to stop. No more cape trials. No more crushing flowers. A capeless magician was a worthless magician, that's what he'd been told. But if that was the case he'd have to accept the fact that he'd be worthless for all his days.

If only Mellidius could see me now...

Still weak, still fumbling around in the darkness like a lost child. Aldeheid leaned his head against the tree and watched the clouds drift by. What would he have said, were he there?

Maybe: You make it hard for me to pity you, Aldeheid. Since you seem to pity yourself enough for both of us.

Or perhaps: When you stop feeling sorry for yourself, meet me at the training grounds.

Or something better: Rise Aldeheid, so long as you have breath, you have hope.

Aldeheid smiled as he remembered his mentor's words. That's right, I'm not done yet. There had to be something he could do, some glimmer of hope on the horizon that he'd yet to see. And he wouldn't find it by moping around the valley.

Aldeheid braced his hands against the ground, and something flashed in his peripheral. In the Phantom Orchard. He leaned over to get a better look and a horse came into view. It was being guided by someone, but only their hand was visible. After more leaning he caught a swath of braided hair adorned with jewels.

A woman? His body tilted forward as though it was being guided by her hand, and he fell face-first on to the ground.

Idiot... When he looked up again, both the person and the horse were gone, but his curiosity was ignited. Or perhaps his mind was latching onto any distraction it could.

Wandering around the Phantom Orchard would be unwise. There were rumors of people going missing or turning up dead after venturing inside.

Well, wisdom be damned.

Aldeheid weaved through the trees, looking every which way, but he spotted no trace of the woman or the horse, not even a hoofprint. There were strange markings on the ground, and his eyes tracked them, wondering what secrets they held. Runes, maybe? Were they the cause of the orchard's disappearances?

"Are you lost?"

He almost jumped out of his own skin. His heart hammered as he whirled around. And there she was, at the other end of the orchard, one hand reaching up for a ripe fruit. The other held the reins of a fearsome black steed that stood many hands high. She pulled the fruit down and her dark eyes examined it. Her skin was nearly identical to its smooth brown surface and glowed in the filtered sunshine.

Well?" she asked, tossing the fruit into a basket on the horse's back.

"I... I'm Aldeheid." And I'm a moron. He could've kicked himself. She didn't ask for your name, fool.

"Aldeheid." The gentle lilt of her voice stroked the syllables of his name like rich, soft silk. "Are you lost?" She moved a bit closer to him, examining the fruit on another tree.

"N-no... I'm just..." Just what? An idiot. An intrusive one at that.

"Then are you running from whoever's trying to kill you?" She gave him a measured look, one eyebrow raised.

What? "I don't know what you're talking about?"

"You have bruises on your neck." She turned away from him to pull down more fruit. "Hand-shaped bruises, your own hands are little beaten up too, and only a fool would come in here otherwise."

Images of Gwen's lifeless body and Claudia's murderous expression flashed through his mind. "Oh, it's fine. I deserved it."

"Ah, so you're just another curious fool." As she plucked another fruit, the sleeve of her blue tunic slid back, revealing an elegant, swirling mark on the back of her hand.

"You're a cape..." The words escaped his mouth before he could think better of them. Good job pointing out the obvious.

She looked down at her mark with mild disinterest. "Indeed I am."

Aldeheid was tempted to slap himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. After such an abysmal morning this was the last thing he expected to find on his self-pity walk. A cape... All the way out here. He looked up and down the meadow before settling his eyes on her again. "No magician?"

"Who needs them?" She turned from him and started up the path again, the horse plodding along beside her.

"But you're so beautiful," he said, starting after her. "I'm sure any magician would be honoured to have you on their shoulders."

"Is that why you've been visually raping me from the moment you caught sight of me?"

Aldeheid coughed. "I... I apologise. T'was not my intention to cause you any discomfort."  He supposed he should also take that statement as a warning to stop berating her. Although he wanted to talk her some more, she didn't seem keen on sharing his company. Which was understandable since he was being a bit of a nag.

"You know." She turned to face him fully. "Your eyes are quite beautiful."

Heat crept up into Aldeheid cheeks and his lips tipped into a small smile. He'd gotten that compliment a lot, but it was always a little bit more special coming from a stranger. "Thank you."

She took a step closer and tilted her head, studying him as though he were a fancy piece of art. "Indeed, I would like to pluck them out and keep them in my back pocket. Then I could look at them whenever I please."

A chill washed over him as the blood drained from his face. "I... please don't."

"Shame," She took a step back, and the air felt suddenly cold between them. "Well then, my silver-tongued fool, if that's case, I'm going to have to ask you to get out of my orchard."

He blinked several times, his mind not fully registering what she'd said.

"Go on." She flicked her head towards the exit and made a walking motion with her fingers. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared into the trees, her long braid swaying in her wake.

What just happened? Aldeheid asked himself, silently. He sucked in a deep breath to clear his head and stared at the space the woman had occupied. She had just summarily dismissed him. He started towards the orchard's exit, none the wiser of the mysterious woman that had drawn him in there. Well, he knew she was a cape.

A cape who thought his eyes were beautiful. Quite beautiful. But she also wanted to keep them like a gaudy trinket.

A blast of fresh air from across the lake hit him as he stepped out of the trees. He inhaled it deeply, a smile breaking out on his face. My, she was beautiful, and the way she said his name...

Realization struck him. He'd forgotten to ask her name. Of course an idiot like him would overlook something so simple. He whirled around, prepared to run back into the trees to find her. But both the orchard and the mystery cape were gone.

The things I have to put up with...

Kitaya watched Aldeheid exit the Orchard with more of a pep in his step than when he'd entered. To think simple things like compliments held so much power. She'd seen him, sitting by the lake, looking as though someone had stripped him of every shred of hope. Such a rare thing for an immortal.

But seeing him in such a vulnerable state had reminded her of a time when she'd felt as pitiful as he'd looked. And in that moment she'd felt connected to him, somehow. A complete stranger.

Too bad he was a blithering idiot.

She shook her head and extended her marked hand. Cryptic words from a language nigh forgotten spilled from her lips, and a golden glow engulfed the swirling mark that denoted her as a cape.

Vibrations tingled up the soles of her shoes as the markings beneath her feet activated, shifting the Orchard into its state of invisibility. She glanced up in time to see Aldeheid whirl around with clear intentions of reentering the Orchard.

His abrupt halt told her what she needed to know. From his vantage point, there was only rolling heather knolls to be seen. A gambit of emotions moved through those beautiful eyes of his, then he turned and ran off to the east.

Not the first traveler to wander unwittingly into my Orchard, Kitaya mused. But definitely the most amusing.

She leaned her head against the tree as a wave of dizziness hit her. The fruit-laden trees doubled and tripled into an amalgamation of colours. She sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for the bout to pass.

While being able to use magic was both wonderful and convenient, getting sick every time was a crippling annoyance. But capes weren't supposed to be able to use magic, so Kitaya supposed this was the price of being an abomination.

When her vision finally cleared, Kitaya took Alvere's reins and guided the black steed deeper into the trees. The late blossomers came into view, their floral scents permeating the air.

Such a beautiful place, the Phantom Orchard. But, as many humans and immortals had learned, it was a beauty to be admired at a distance. And as Kitaya got closer to its sinister heart, she was reminded why.

Alvere stopped and pulled against her, nickering softly.

Kitaya swore under her breath. They weren't even halfway there and he was already kicking up a fuss. "I know, I know." She stroked his silken fur to calm him. Animals were always the first to react. "Go, Alvere." She let go of his reins and continued up the path alone, the fallen blossoms crunching under her feet.

Please let it be something trivial...

As the sound of Alvere's hooves disappeared behind her, she broke into a jog. Her long strides ate up the distance, and in short order, she was passing the pillar that marked the Orchard's center. The air was as still and quiet as death, making her heavy breaths sound louder than they should. The tall grass and wildflowers that dotted the clearing stood ramrod straight, like soldiers at attention.

Kitaya crossed to the row of stones that ran the length of the clearing. They stood half her height, lined in a neat row. The swirling runes that covered their surfaces reacted to magic, and they, along with the animals in the area served as her only warning system. The first stone was warm to the touch, the second was hot enough to burn her finger.

It's not trivial.

So, there was a surprise waiting on the other side. Well, it wouldn't hurt to peek. She rolled up the sleeve of her tunic, and pushed her hand past the marked rocks to a place beyond the human realm. To Magika. Her hand disappeared as though the air had swallowed it up.

She already knew what was on the other side of the sinister portal, but a groan still escaped her throat. What a damn nuisance...

Pinpricks of chilling magic danced over her skin. The magic of a monolith. A sharp pain radiated through her hand, and she pulled it back quickly. Several gashes marred her skin, blood from the wounds welling, pooling and trickling before decorating the grass at her feet.

"Ow!" Kitaya screeched indignantly at the portal, as though whatever was on the other side could hear her. With a scowl, she turned on her heels and headed towards home.

She was supposed to head south that afternoon, to run from the mountain's impending, brutal winter. But this little mishap with the monolith needed to be dealt with. Securing the Orchard was top priority, which was why she made rounds every day, checking every tree, every rune, every blade of grass. 

Kitaya bit down on her thumbnail, oblivious of the blood trickling down her arm. "What are my options?" she asked the trees.

Leave anyway and let the immortals at the Etheria Bastion deal with it? Ugh, no. She didn't want Gallitel and his rats running through her orchard. Although... Mellidius may still be amongst those rats. He probably had their fleas too. Disgusting.

Erect a barrier around the portal and contain the monolith? That would take too long.

Delay her trip south and deal with the monolith herself? It was the least desirable but most feasible of the three. And at least she could take her frustration out on the blasted beast.

Kitaya's cottage finally came into view, and so did Alvere. He was plodding around the small clearing where her home sat. Her other horse, Kaza, was nowhere to be seen. She'd probably already broken out of the stable and ran off somewhere.

Kitaya sighed and sidled up to Alvere. He jumped out of her reach.

"Alvere... it's just me." She inched closer to him, but he reared back before she could grab his reins. Then he charged forward, and she had to dive to the ground to avoid being knocked over. "Fine! Go!" she yelled after him as he disappeared down the south path.

Her suspicions surrounding her other horse were confirmed when she saw the stable door banging in the wind.

I'll have that monolith's head. Kitaya turned on her heel and stomped into her home. It was pitch black inside, but she weaved through the familiar layout with ease.

The scents of honeysuckle and wildflowers greeted her as she walked into her bedroom. A bed and a trunk were its only furnishings, as she neither had the time nor patience to personalize this one of her many living spaces.

As she crossed to the trunk, the shadow of a box on her bed caught her eye. Inside was the Behemoth, her weapon, and something that would make dealing with the monolith a breeze. As tempting as it was, she wanted her strength alone to be enough. So she tore her eyes away.

After she was dressed to kill, and her injuries were taken care of, she headed out. Only stopping to grab her weapons from the door. The sword was strapped to her hip, and she kept the dagger in her hand, flipping it around as she walked.

The rows of trees had quieted enough for her to hear her own breathing. No bugs, no birds, everything had fled. And she was getting the itch in her feet, an uncomfortable sensation that made her heartbeat quicken and her stomach quiver. The closer she got to the orchard's center, the more the feeling intensified.

It had been a while since she fought a monolith on her own. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. But the human town was halfway between the Bastion and the Orchard. They'd be in the most danger if the monolith went on a rampage unimpeded.

Those beasts were feared even by immortals, as they could wield magic better than most magicians.

Kitaya took in a breath as she stepped into the orchard's centre. The magic stung her lungs like the bites of tiny insects, and the portal made the air writhe and coil as though it were a living breathing thing.

Stay here and wait? she pondered. Or jump inside. As though facing the monolith alone wasn't crazy enough. Perhaps she should've let that curious fool stay a bit longer. He would've made excellent bait.

With a sigh, she sat in the grass next to the pillar and waited. And the more she waited, the more she stewed in her frustration, until nothing short of seeing that monolith's head on a stake would grant her any satisfaction.

The shadows grew long, and the warm yellows of dusk gave way to the cool blues of twilight. A screeching wind blew through the orchard, shaking fruit from their branches, and thick grey clouds gathered overhead.

Here we go.

Kitaya rose and stretched, working the stiffness from her muscles. Sparks of electricity skittered across the grass as the tear in the veil rippled outward. The monolith bust fourth, swathed in lightning and fury.

It stood twice her height, its lupine body covered in thick white fur that glowed. Sparks of electricity arched and slithered through the luminescent strands.

A little one. This should be easy.

The monolith released a howl that Kitaya cut short with a swift kick to its jaw. Her boot connected with a force that snapped its head to the side. Its lips peeled back to reveal wickedly sharp rows of teeth, and blood dribbled down its jaw from where she'd knocked one loose. Icy blue eyes glared down at her, filled with promises of death.

The monolith lunged, quick as lightning and Kitaya barely got out of the way in time. The wind picked up, and bolts of lightning struck the ground with a fury to rival the gods'.

She took off, zigzagging through the trees. Tiny vibrations rumbled up her boots as the skies punished the earth. The loping strides of the monolith sounded in her wake, growing ever closer. Every hair on her body stood on edge, and she pumped her legs faster.

A blur of white passed over her head and the monolith appeared before her, its paws skidding in the dirt. She didn't slow her gait as the beast lunged with its mouth poised to swallow her whole. As they collided, she grabbed him by the fangs. Heat rose through the soles of her boots as she skidded backwards.

She twisted her body, using the beasts momentum to swing it around and slam it into a group of trees. Fruit rained down, bouncing and rolling across the ground, some breaking open to colour the breeze with their sweet perfume.

The monolith recovered quickly and swiped at her with a claw the size of her head.

Kitaya skittered out of the way, and the claw connected to a nearby tree, tearing it clean in half. Another flash lit up her peripheral, but her reaction was too slow. Heat shot through her body, and she didn't realize she was flying until she hit the ground. The wind left her lungs, and pain bloomed in her shoulder as the ground caved in from the force of her impact.

She blinked the haze of white from her vision in time to see the beast descending upon her, back-dropped by streaks of lightning. Her mind was screaming for her to move, and she would've if her bones didn't feel like they'd been liquified.

At the last moment, she flung her body to the side and stood on wobbly legs. They weren't in the Orchard anymore but just outside its western side, near the lake. The monolith lunged again, but another clumsy dodge took her out of danger. She sucked in a quick breath to clear her head before charging it head-on.

Whatever strength she had left was gathered in her fist, and when she struck the power radiated outward like the burst of a dying star. The monolith yelped with pain, the cry drowned out by the crunch of its skull caving in. It bounced and tumbled across the ground like a weed in the wind, stopping just short of the lake.

The familiar sound of steel on steel echoed through the din as she unsheathed her sword. "Now you," she said, ambling forward, "will make me a lovely winter cloak." She shoved her sword deep into the monolith's chest, past the ribs and into the heart.

Blood welled out and stained the grass at her feet, and the light faded from its coat.

Kitaya stood over the corpse, chest heaving and vision blurring in and out of focus. That should've been an easy fight, but it seemed she was losing her touch. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and forget this ever happened. But she couldn't leave the body there, out in the open. More curious idiots may wander near her Orchard.

She exhaled a sigh through her nose, and looked into the monolith's dead eyes. Burning the body would be such a waste, and there was no way to burn it completely either way. This was such a nuisance. She watched the rivers of blood meander through the grass, and an idea sprung to her mind.

A forbidden idea that would get her in trouble if anyone found out.

Kitaya dipped her fingers in the monolith's blood and drew a series of crude runes on her marked hand. "Ancestors, forgive me." The spell left her lips in a breathy rush, a cadence of words and power that warmed her skin to a fever.

Black spots clouded her vision and obscured her view of the void that materialized in front of her. It sucked up the monolith's body, and whisked it away to a faraway place where it would be someone else's problem.

Kitaya collapsed onto the grass. That was it, the last of her strength, used on a thankless job.

Wyllera 100 years ago.

Aldeheid sucked in a deep breath and held it, letting the frigid air soak through him. Above him, the moonlit sky was dotted with an abundance of stars. Below, his home kingdom was coated in a fresh blanket of snow. Spots of golden light from torches added a splotch of colour to the otherwise monochrome landscape.

Such was the tundra during the dead of winter, and he hated it. Everything was at a standstill. The constant snow and storms made trade and travel nigh impossible. So all they did was hide away, trying to stay warm and making sure their food stores would last until the thaw. He couldn't remember the last time it was anything but freezing in the tundra, but winters held the type of cold that even the sun couldn't chase away.

It was still and quiet enough for Aldeheid to hear his pulse in his ears, and his breath clouded the air in front of his face. After an exhausting evening of entertaining dinner guests with the King, he wanted to end his night on a high note. A successful cape trial would be said note.

"Cold feet?"

Aldeheid smiled over his shoulder at Amelie. She stood in the doorway, warm light pouring over her form and illuminating her chestnut hair and hazel eyes. The cacophony he'd retreated from spilled from the confines of the castle walls, a combination of music, laughter and indulgence.

He shrugged. "I just needed a little air."

Amalie closed the door and the small distance separating them. "You're not... well..." she trailed off, looking past him towards the city. "Are you having second thoughts about this? About us?"

Aldeheid took her hand and squeezed it. "Of course not. This is just a trial. Even if it fails, it won't change anything between us, I promise."

"I understand. But whoever becomes your cape will be the future queen of Wylerra, and if the trial fails—"

"You will be my Queen regardless. And, either way, that's a long, long time from now. We'll have plenty of time together before that." He grinned at her. "You'll make Wyllera a fine Queen, I know it."

A blush coloured her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. "I got you something. To celebrate." She reached into her coat and pulled out a velvet pouch, before emptying its contents into her palm.

"An earring?" The gaudy bauble had three beads of varying sizes stacked upon each other, interspersed with tiny gold rings.

"Diamond for prosperity, jade for protection, and onyx for strength." She held it by the little loop at its top. "May I?" When he bowed his head, she worked the sapphire stud from his ear and replaced it with her gift. "It suits you."

Now it was his turn to blush. "I didn't get you anything."

"I have everything I need right here." She looped her arms around him and stood on her toes. But their moment was interrupted by a soft sound coming from the door.

Queen Iyari stood in the narrow shaft of light coming from inside, her ashen hair stained gold from its glow. "We're ready for you two."

Hand in hand they followed her into the warmth of the castle. The halls were alight with sunorbs that radiated heat and golden light. They took the stairs up to the top floor, where the trial chamber awaited them.

Aldeheid looked over the the cauldron, the pedestal, the refreshments off the to side. Everything seemed to be in order. He'd spent the better part of the week preparing for this, heating and cooling the cauldrons, testing the pedestal, making sure everything was in perfect, working order.

Only a small group of people were gathered in the chamber, mostly castle guards, along with the King, Wenry, Jayer and Jetei.

Wenry bounded over to them, all smiles and bouncy golden curls. "Al, look at this new Tactica figure!" She held up the little, stone dragon fixed to a wooden base.

"Another dragon?" Aldeheid said with a chuckle. "But you have so many."

"Because dragons are the best! Jetei is going to help me—"

"Wenry, get out of the way!" King Baldavin snapped.

She startled and skittered towards Jetei and Jayer, hiding behind them as Baldavin gave her a frosty glare.

The room fell silent, and Aldeheid felt as though all the food in his gut had solidified into stone. It happened whenever Baldavin lost his temper, especially with Wenry. He distracted himself by trailing his eyes over the pedestal on the cauldrons.

This was to be his first cape trial, and hopefully, his last. He and Amalie had gone over the process hundreds of times in the months leading up to this moment. They knew what needed to be done. And so, they took their positions on either side of the pedestal.

"Aldeheid," the King began, his grey eyes shifting to his charge. "I trust you've thought long and hard about this decision, but for the sake of the witnesses present, I will ask. Are you sure about this, about her?"

He saw Amalie tense in his peripheral. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, with every bit of conviction he could muster. The King could be quite intimidating when he wanted. Heck, even Aldeheid found himself cowering from the man on many occasions, but he had no intentions of backing down from this decision.

"Then I'll have you know, if this trial fails, you will still be expected to find a cape. 'Tis a tradition as old as Magika itself. Every cape needs a magician and every magician a cape." He swirled the wine in his goblet and examined Aldeheid carefully. "You are no exception. A capeless magician is a worthless  magician, and my Sahn Cera, my legacy, will not be worthless."

Aldeheid wasn't sure if the king was trying to scare him out of this decision. Or perhaps it was Amalie he was trying to scare. The only thing Baldavin had ever shown her was stoic indifference, and that attitude was likely the source of her doubts.

"I understand," Aldeheid finally said, before giving Amalie's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Very well. Begin at your leisure."

Aldeheid turned towards Amalie. "It's alright," he said, loud enough for only her to hear. He had every confidence that this would work. That she would be his cape. "Ready?"

She nodded and placed both hands on the pedestal.

Aldeheid sucked in a breath and looked towards the cauldrons. A strange sense of peace came over him, the kind one felt when smelling the air after a heavy downpour. And he knew he was making the right decision, that things would work out no matter what the outcome of the trial, and most importantly, that he was setting himself on the right path.

So when he uttered the spell, his voice was clear, resolute, unwavering. Magic weaved around him and curled in the air like smoke, starting pleasant like a gentle incense. But it soon became, so thick and unbearable that he couldn't breathe.

Sharp cracks rebounded off the walls as the cauldrons cracked. Wisps of fire spawned around them, multiplying until they obscured the whole room. Their heat held the intensity of lava, and their brightness was blinding.

Aldeheid rounded the pedestal and pulled Amalie close to him as the fire encroached on them. All he could hear was their little crackles, like laughter of a thousand damned souls. All he could feel was their heat bearing down on him. But all he could do was fall to his knees and shield Amalie with his body.

A spell rose over the noise and the wisps gravitated towards one corner of the room. Through the haze of fire, the King appeared, the Queen a pristine, snowy cape on his shoulders. The flames swirled into his opened palms, compressing to the size of a fist. They cast an ominous glow over his hawk-like features. He closed the fire up in his hands, the light seeping through his fingers.

Then he redirected it towards a window. A stream of flames burst through the glass and shot into the frigid night air. What was left behind was a silence only to be disturbed by the howling tundra winds.

Aldeheid looked around the room, feeling lost for some reason. Their refreshments were reduced to smoldering piles of ash scattered across the floor. Jayer was kneeling near the door holding Jetei, in cape form, over his body. He moved the blue fabric aside and Wenry crawled from under his arm.

"Amalie?" Aldeheid asked, looking down at her. But she didn't budge. Her skin was as white as the snow falling outside and her body was limp in his arms. "Amalie." He shook her. "Amalie please." His heart hammered a staccato against his ribs and body suddenly felt weak.

"Get us a medic!" the Queen yelled at the guards. She was at his side a moment later. "We need to get her down to the infirmary."

One of the female guards came over and knelt beside them. "Will it be safe to teleport her in this condition?"

Aldeheid only heard their conversation subconsciously. His body was grounded but his mind had checked out to some faraway place. She can't be dead. He grabbed her wrist, hoping to feel some sign of life. It felt so small and frail in his hands. "Please, please, please." He barely got the words pass the growing lump in his throat.

A flurry of activity erupted around him. Someone tried to pry Amalie from his arms, but he pulled her close to his chest. "No, you won't take her from me!"

"Aldeheid!" The Queen clasped his chin and tilted his head so their eyes met. "We need to get her to the infirmary. Now."

He gave a stiff nod and allowed the guards to take Amalie away. He was pulled to his feet and guided through the castle's maze of halls.

This was supposed to work. She was supposed to be my cape. He kept moving, his vision tunneling and body obeying despite his mind not being there. Moments later, they were down in the infirmary. No, she'll be fine. She has to be fine.

Someone pushed him down in a chair, while Amalie was taken into another room. "No, wait!" He flew out of his seat to follow them, but the Queen stopped him.

"I'll make sure they take good care of her." She disappeared into the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Aldeheid paced to the other side of the room, clutching his head in a vain attempt to stop the dark thoughts encroaching on his mind. How could everything have gone so wrong? They'd been so ready, so sure.

He sat, clasped his shaking hands together and prayed to the ice God that everything would be fine. That Amalie would walk out of that room while and hale.

Aldeheid didn't know how long he sat there, looking but not seeing, listening but not hearing. But eventually, someone sat beside him and placed a hand over his. Pale and dainty, it sported a ruby ring on the middle finger.

"Aldeheid..." the Queen's voice was soft, gentle like a summer breeze. "Look at me please."

He obliged but the sullen look on her face made him wish he hadn't. His throat dried up, and his stomach churned. "She's going to be okay, yes? Amalie is okay...?" He clasped Iyari's hand tightly, pleading with his eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

What is this? Aldeheid  looked down at his marked hand. The jagged lines that denoted him as a magician were stained red. He tried to rub it away on his pants to no avail.

He was in the trial chamber again, he place he was a little too familiar with. Sunlight rained down on him, illuminating the pedestal and cauldrons. A spider's web of cracks covered the walls, floors and ornate glass of the skylight. Chunks and slabs of stone were helter-skelter around the room, making it look as though an earthquake had shaken the place.

Or an Aldeheid.

"Help!"

Aldeheid looked up and saw Gwen trapped under a slab of concrete. He lunged for her, only to be yanked to the ground. His foot was shackled and chained to the pedestal - the only thing in the chamber that wasn't crumbling. He grabbed the chain and pulled until his arms were weak.

Dust and debris pelted him from above, and large pieces of stoned nicked at his skin.

"Aldeheid!"

When he looked up again, it wasn't Gwen he saw, but Amalie. Her hazel eyes were misty and she had one hand outstretched, reaching for him.

His heart beat and frantic rhythm in his chest as he strained to reach her. The crashes and booms of falling debris filled the chamber, drowning out the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears. Come on, he pleaded silently. Their hands were nearly touching, just a hair's breath apart.

"Please," Amailie begged.

Aldeheid clawed at the ground in a desperate attempt to drag himself closer to her. He would reach her, even if he had to tear his own leg off.

A deafening boom rebounded through the chamber, and the shadows of large slabs of stone appeared around them. And that's all the warning he got before the room came crashing down.

Aldeheid awoke with a start, sitting upright in his bed. Sweat dripped down his face and his breathing was heavy. It was just a nightmare. It was wasn't real. He laid back on his bed and twisted his earring as he stared up at the ceiling of his chamber. 

After a few deep breaths, he set his mind on other, more pressing issues. Like the fact that he had to find a new home. He only had two days left to decide where he was going, how he would get there and what to do with all his belongings. The moment he'd returned to the Bastion the day before, he'd begun sorting through everything.

His chamber was a mess. Tomes, scrolls and loose sheets of parchment stood in heaping piles and stacks like monuments of wisdom. He'd horded them over the course of his life, some bought, most gifts from his former mentor. There were a few he'd read so many times that he knew them by heart. Yet there was always more to learn, always more to know.

Like that cape's name.

His mind kept going back to her, that woman in the orchard. What was she doing there? Was she alone? Did she have a magician? He hadn't seen any jagged lines through her mark, but that didn't mean she wasn't training with one.

Aldeheid flung the bedding from his body and swung his legs out of the bed. The cold floor under his bare feet made him more alert as he rose and stretched. I need to forget about her.

His eyes drifted towards the window. The sun was out, it looked like a perfect day to go for another walk. Perhaps to the Phantom Orchard again. 

A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"It's us," Berard said, before coming in with Anha in tow. He glanced around at the mess that was Aldeheid's chamber. "I see you're getting things together."

Aldeheid stayed quiet and looked down at the ground. He hadn't been expecting any visitors after what had happened the previous day.

"Is something the matter?" Ahna asked. Her feet appeared in his line of vision a moment later. And when he looked up, her dark brows were tight with the concern lingering in her gaze. Not anger or hate like Aldeheid expected and deserved.

"No," he finally said. "I'm just surprised that you both aren't angry with me. . . considering what happened."

Berard leaned against the door and stuff his hands in his pockets. "What you did was awful. But I have no room to judge you, as I've done much, much worse. Unspeakable things, my friend." His eyes became distant, shadowed, like he was remembering a dark time.

Aldeheid couldn't imagine his friend hurting anyone. "How did you... get past it? Atone?"

"It's. . . I'd rather not talk about it." Berard gave a sad smile. "But I try to do better, be better, every day. Put some good into the world to mitigate the bad."

They lapsed into silence as he took in Berard's words. Do better and be better. . . how? 

"Where will you go?" Anha asked, cutting into his thoughts. She blurted the question out as though she'd be holding it in for a long time. "Do you even know anyone else in earth realm? Do you know where you're going?"

Aldeheid blew out a long breath and roughed up his hair. "I'll manage somehow. I want to find Mellidius, but I'm not even sure where to start looking."

Berard laced both hands atop his head in a contemplative gesture. "Perhaps there are other Konians here in earthrealm? They may know where he went."

They lapsed into silence again and his eyes drifted towards the window, towards the Phantom Orchard. Again. Was she Konian? Her accent wasn't thick like Mellidius' but perhaps... "I saw a cape yesterday."

"A cape? You mean outside of the Bastion?" Anha asked.

"In the Phantom Orchard to be exact." He planted his elbows on his knees, fingers laced in front of his face.

"Well, what did she look like?" Berard asked.

"Beautiful," Aldeheid replied with a smile. "Tall, she came all the way up to my chest. Dark skin, dark eyes. Her accent was lovely. And she—" He paused when he realized Berard and Anha were snickering at him. "What are you two tittering about?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, my friend but you sound pathetic."

"I think it's adorable." Anha looked at him as though he were some cute, baby animal. "I've never seen him fawn over a woman before. Was she nice, Aldeheid?"

He shrugged. "Well... she thinks my eyes are beautiful. Said she wanted to pluck them out and keep them."

She grimaced. "That's. . . interesting."

Berard barked a laugh. "The ladies love the eyes hm? From the way you describe her, she may be Konian. Which means she may know where Mellidius is."

"I thought that too." Which meant he had excuse to see her again – the mysterious Orchard lady.

"You should be careful though." Berard said. "I've never met a Konian who couldn't rip me in two."

Aldeheid nodded. "Could you spare me a few ether stones?"

Anha and Berard exchanged glances like they were conveying some silent message.

"What?"

"Just be careful this time. The last time we gave you ether stones, you blew a gaping hole in the south garden," Anha explained. A flash later, she was cape on Berard's shoulders.

Berard held his hands out, and Aldeheid cupped his under them. The ether stones fell into his hands with soft sweet clicks, glowing in a rainbow of colours. They were pure magic made manifest and his key to finding that cape again.

"Well, we need to head down to the village," Berard said. "The place is a mess."

Aldeheid tucked the ether stones into a velvet pouch. "What happened?"

"You didn't hear the storm last night? It wrecked everything." He waved as he walked out the door. "Good luck with finding that cape."

Aldeheid smiled. He'd miss those two. But now his focus was on finding that cape. There was no guarantee that she'd be able to help him, but even so, he'd be no worse off for trying.

Unless she ripped him in two.

He crossed to the table opposite his bed. After rummaging through the pile on its surface, he found his spyglass. The wood and metal made a sickening screech when he extended it. He rubbed both ends on his pants to clean off the dust and crossed to his room's lone window. If he'd been able to see the Bastion from the lake then the opposite should be true as well.

The fresh morning air washed over him as he threw the window open. The tree just outside was broken and mangled, the arboreal equivalent of a mangy animal. Some of its fallen limbs were being cleared away from the courtyard below.

Aldeheid debated going down to help with the clean-up, but decided against it. His was the last face anyone probably wanted to see. He brought the spyglass up to his eye and trained it to the east, scanning the valley until he found the lake.

And the Phantom Orchard was nowhere to be seen. He swore and lowered the glass. She'd probably be angry if he showed up there. Get out of my Orchard, she'd say.

My Orchard... Aldeheid moved from the window and paced the little floor space he had left. Perhaps she lived there then? Was she the one that made it disappear? No, she was just a cape, and capes couldn't use magic.

There had to be some reason for the Orchard disappearing and reappearing, and he was willing to wager magic was involved. What could it be? He stopped in front of the coarse black slate mounted on the wall opposite his bed. What could cause an entire orchard to disappear?

After rummaging through his books again, he found chalk and a dusting cloth. He cleaned the slate and wrote down everything he knew about the Phantom Orchard. Which was almost nothing. It disappeared. That was all.

To where? he wondered. And who kept making it disappear. The spellcasting needed to make an entire orchard disappear would require a powerful magician with an equally powerful cape.

He paced across the room again and stared at his rumpled bedding as though it held the answer he needed. What if it isn't disappearing? What if it was still there, just invisible? He rolled the chalk between his fingers and paced back to the slate. Cloaking spell, he wrote.

Then again the magnitude of spellcasting and magic needed was unthinkable. It had to be something else, something permanent. If only he'd paid more attention when he was in the orchard, instead of fixating himself on that cape.

Aldeheid threaded his fingers atop his head and thought back to the previous day. Nothing had seemed off about the orchard and when he'd stepped inside to track the cape...

By the gods. The markings. There had been strange markings on the ground.

He all but dove into his pile of tomes. A cloud of dust rose up around him, invading his lungs and eliciting a coughing fit. But he didn't stop digging until he found his tome on rune magic. It had been a long time since he read it, but he distinctly remembered a section dedicated to dispelling runes.

As he gazed down in the book, a sense of purpose ignited in his chest. He was going to find that cape. And she would help him find Mellidius. Or she'd kill him for wandering into her Orchard again. Either way, he had to try.

After a trip to the bath house, Aldeheid wandered his way to the front courtyard. He'd stopped briefly in his chamber to grab a few necessities, mainly his pack and long sword. He'd also packed a few of his mentor's old journals. Perhaps there were clues regarding his whereabouts hidden in the pages.

The people he'd seen down there earlier were gone, along with the fallen branches. He descended he front steps and headed east.

The trail down the mountainside was littered with tree debris. The hairs raised on the back of his neck as he picked his way through. Leaves rained down, hitting the ground with patter that shattered the silence. His breathing and heartbeat were loud in his ears and goose flesh rose up on his skin. Why is it so quiet? he wondered.

The previous day there had been birds and creatures about, a brisk breeze blowing. The storm couldn't have killed them all. Could it?

When Aldeheid arrived at the Phantom Orchard, he found a similar scene. The tree he'd sat under the previous day was even more broken and mangled than the one at the Bastion. There were no deer, no hares, no anything.

The grass near the lake was trampled and a gash was dug into the earth not far from the tree. It was longer than he was tall and deep enough to hide him up to his knees. A sinking feeling settled into the pit of his gut as he neared the Orchard – or where he'd estimated it to be.

He fished only three ether stones from his pack along with his tome. Overdoing it was not an option so he would limit the amount of magic available to him. He tossed his bag a few feet away and got to work.

Dispelling the rune was a simple task, one short spell and a little magic. Ruining it would take a special kind of talent, or lack thereof. Aldeheid fisted the ether stones and took a knee. With his mind clear and his body relaxed, he recited the spell.

The stones grew hot in his fist. Their light intensified, spilling through his fingers and into the cloaking rune. It followed the intricate lines that were carved into the ground. Row by row trees appeared as the Orchard became visible.

Aldeheid grinned and got to his feet, but that smile disappeared fast when he saw the broken and mangled trees on the southern side. They were ripped up, their limbs helter skelter across the ground. More gouges scarred the earth and the metallic tinge of blood was ripe in the air.

His heart plummeted. He retrieved his pack and went to examine the carnage. No storm did this... He ran his fingers over a gash in one of the fallen trees. His hand brushed something soft, a small tuft of white hair. The cape didn't have white hair.

He picked through the carnage, stepping over smashed fruit and broken branches. Deeper into the Orchard there were more broken trees. But when Aldeheid turned down a random path, he encountered something much worse.

Blood.

Her blood? He swallowed thickly and took several breaths to calm his racing heart. He'd find her, and she'd be fine.

Aldeheid picked through the wreckage. Following the destruction deeper into the trees. Scorched patches of earth and fallen trees were here and there along the path. He stopped near one that looked as though a beast had ripped through the trunk. What in damnation happened here?

Something glinted in his peripheral. He knelt near a patch of grass and found a dagger nestled inside. It was an unremarkable thing. Double-edged steel, simple crossguard, braided leather grip and round pommel. Did it belong to the cape? he wondered. If so then was she fighting whatever caused this destruction?

Aldeheid swore under his breath and resumed his trek into the Orchard. The trees seemed to go on forever, yet the place didn't look nearly this large from the outside.

He took the paths at random until he happened upon a clearing. The ground there seemed to hum beneath his feet and pillars stood at its four corners. He ran his hands over the runes etched in the closest one's surface. Perhaps they were the source of the Orchard's magic.

Aldeheid could test that theory. He thumbed his pouch of ether stones, but before he could reach inside, a soft sound reached his ears, an animal-like trill. He closed his eyes, waiting and hoping for it to come again. After only a beat of silence, he heard it - a horse. The cape had a horse.

Aldeheid took one last look at the pillar before turning away. He'd come into the Orchard to find that cape, not to learn its secrets. And so, he followed the sound of the horse at a jog, determined to find it, to find her.

After what felt like an eternity, he stumbled into another clearing. Wildflowers dotted the grass and coloured the air. A wooden cottage sat on the rise at its center, flanked by a garden filled with ripe wheat and vegetables.

Aldeheid walked further in, stopping by the cottage's porch. Planters sat in the windows on either side of the door and clay pots hung from the porch's rafters, filled with fragrant spices. Gardening tools were lined up beneath them along with several wooden pails and an old saddle.

A whinny came from behind the cottage, and when he circled around it, he found the black stallion from the day before. It was trotting around an enclosure along with a smaller, honey-coloured mare. His heart danced in his chest.

The cape was here.