Mountains were tall.

Everna had always known that, but peering up at them from the base put into perspective how tall the Scintillating Peaks truly were. They towered overhead and, much like spears molded from stone, the snow-capped peaks pierced the heavens above. No one knew how tall they were; the steep inclines made climbing over them impossible. Those who dared met a grisly end, if they didn't vanish, never to be heard from again.

Folktales claimed the gods created the Scintillating Peaks to separate Trellan from Indaria in the wake of a devastating war between mortals and the immortals a thousand years prior. The mountains rose from the ground at sharp angles, as if the gods pinched pieces of the earth and flung them skyward. The Scintillating Peaks had no foothills. Flat plains met abruptly with solid rock, and beyond the stony mountain faces pocked with caves and jagged edges, the geographical features of the area suggested nothing of a mountain range within the area.

Forced isolation, many believed, was their punishment for defying the deities that ruled their world.

The clergies vehemently disagreed with the folktales, as they insisted not every unusual feature of their world stemmed from divine intervention. The deities followed strict rules regarding their involvement in mortal affairs; the clergies acted in their stead. The gods maintained enough of a presence to keep the peoples of Iridia aware of their existence, but withheld from direct interference. They limited their blessings and wisdom to a few and offered them only in exchange for offerings or devout worship.

Regardless of how they formed, the Scintillating Peaks were stunning, especially on the nights the ribbons of light danced across the sky. Pendel's Harvest Festival fell on the first night of the year when the aurora, as the elves called it, appeared and many of the townspeople found their way to the rooftops to watch the shifting array of colors towards the end of the festivities. Assuming they were in the goblin's cavern for only a day, the aurora should take to the skies any night now.

Everna pursed her lips. Had it already been that long? It would have to be as the Harvest Festival fell in the middle of Leaffell, the final month of the autumn season. If no further complications delay it, the Harvest Festival would be tomorrow, on the fifteenth. With that startling realization came another; her twenty-fourth birthday was now only seventeen days away.

It'd been nearly a month since Mayor Ashburn died, though it felt far longer. With the exhaustion wrought by her sessions with Wil and with how much time she spent in the safe house's dismal library, the days seemed to blur together. Even before that, the days leading up to the disastrous break-in seemed fewer than they should be. Had she not glanced at the calendar before they departed, she wouldn't know what day it was, let alone what month.

Yet, those realizations were of little consequence compared to the revelation Lissette had given her earlier in the day. It weighed on her mind as they continued their trek across the plains, and her attempts to probe her for more information proved fruitless. Lisette refused to elaborate; she'd already defied Osain's orders and told her more than she should have.

Still, even without the details, Wil's initial suspicions no longer struck her as baseless paranoia. How could they not think she was involved if someone had told them, prior to the assassination, that she would be the culprit? They'd have been remiss to ignore it.

Had Shroud pulled the wool over their eyes, or was there a third party involved that none of them considered?

Though the situation was still very much a concern, the boundless plains of the Wildlands offered what might be her only chance to have a single day without fretting over the intricacies of her impending doom. She'd be wise to take advantage of it while she could.

"How far off are we now?" Everna asked, shifting into a more comfortable position in her saddle.

After the first hour, discomfort set in. Her leathers chaffed thighs. A dull ache pitted at the base of her spine and slowly extended outward. By the third hour, her rear went numb. Now, her legs buzzed with the telltale signs of lacking blood flow. They'd need to stop soon.

Beside her, Lisette hummed. "We're still a day's ride out, I'd wager. It'll be noon tomorrow before we arrive."

"Only because she took us off track!" Vina complained from behind. "Then took her sweet time getting us out of that mess!"

"Every time she opens her mouth, I further regret not leaving her behind," Everna grumbled.

"You were the one who insisted we go into the cave," Lisette reminded Vina. "You also said not to worry about the dead goblins all over the forest. That it wasn’t unusual."

"They were dead! And it isn’t unusual!"

"Dead, but still present."

With a frustrated huff, Vina fell silent.

The western road, which picked up half-a-mile west of the forest, ran parallel to the base of the mountains. A wide grassy plain, dotted with scattered oaks and apple trees, stretched far to the north. They passed herds of wild cattle and antelope grazing in the distance. They were an ideal solution for their lost rations, but after much debate, they settled for apples.

It was far too much work for a single meal, and Lisette was not in favor of killing an animal only to waste half of it. Without their saddlebags, they had no way to carry the remaining meat. Everna agreed with the sentiment. Hungry as she was, she couldn't eat an entire cow, and the antelope proved far too difficult to catch without a bow. Vina couldn't get close enough to strike one with her spells before they bounded off into the horizon. Lisette lost three daggers in her attempt.

The apples were both plentiful and filling enough, and the juice would stem their thirst until they could restock their supplies in Windhollow.

The rest of the day passed in tedious monotony, the landscape unchanged. Every so often, she dozed off in the saddle, only to jolt awake after another slew of shrill complaints from Vina or a brief squabble between her and Lisette. By the time dusk touched the sky, her back was stiff and her legs sore. When Lisette finally allowed them to stop for the night, Everna was more than grateful to be on solid ground.

The camp was little more than a smokeless fire and clothes strewn across the grass. Dinner came as three pheasants plucked out of the sky by an admittedly skilled use of Vina's magic. She was proud of her accomplishment, annoyingly so, despite it being the only contribution she'd made beyond constant headaches and unnecessary drama.

Everna and Lisette elected to ignore the fact that she burnt one of them nearly beyond edibility.

Vina sat several feet away from the fire, fumbling with the tuning pins of her lyre. The dissonance of the notes, and the sharp twang that accompanied each pluck of the strings, grated on her ears. It was so horribly out of tune that Everna barely resisted the urge to snatch it from her hands and fix it herself. It would be pointless, though, as Vina would ruin it just to spite her.

"Though Leah would have me believe otherwise, I can't help but question if Shadowguard has standards," Everna said. She tore off the last scrap of meat from the pheasant breast in her lap and popped it into her mouth. "How on Iridia did they scout her, of all people?"

Lisette sighed as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders and settled beside her. "They didn't. She's an honorary member."

"Honorary member?"

"One of the organization's more controversial recruiting methods. She has a badge, but that's as far as it goes. Her father's one of the Lords that sits on the Anwellian Council. He dumps a hefty sum of coin into Shadowguard's coffers," she said. "He bought her way into the organization, which is why she runs these kinds of missions. She's not good for anything else."

Everna scrunched her nose. "You and Leah make it sound like Shadowguard's organized, which isn't the impression I got from Wil. He made it sound like a rag-tag group of do-gooders."

"There's organization up to a point." Lisette pulled her legs to her chest and folded her arms over her knees. "The training cohorts and the upper ranks have a staunch adherence to order, but everything in between is a chaotic mess. The Overseers run their posts differently."

"It's a bunch of scattered groups that operate independently, but work together under a generalized principle, then?"

"Exactly. It makes things difficult for our enemies, but for the average grunt as well. We agents bounce from place to place. We don't get a say, either; you go where you're told. Outside a few exceptions, such as Wil and Leah, as soon as you get used to one Overseer's way of doing things, you're shoveled off onto the next one."

"How did you get in, if you don't mind my asking?"

Lisette said nothing for several moments, her gaze distant and her lips turned into a deep frown. "Let's just say it's a long and unpleasant story that involves two slaves escaping Indaria, and Shadowguard taking pity on them."

"Oh." Everna didn't know what else to say. Knowing that Lisette came from the other region piqued her curiosity, but even she knew there were times it was better not to pry. She'd talk about it when she was ready to.

Lisette waved her off. "It was unpleasant, but I'm free now. That's all that matters. On a less depressing note, I'm going to ruin Vina's night by informing her that her beauty sleep's going to be cut short because she has last watch. She hates having the last watch."

"Don't do that to her," Everna snorted. "She needs all the help she can get."

"An eternity wouldn't help her," Lisette chuckled as she climbed to her feet. "I'd get some sleep, if I were you. Your turn's in four hours and I think you look the most worn out of the three of us."

"I can't say I've ever done this before," Everna admitted.

"With how well you're handling it, I'm surprised. Most rookies would've lost their nerve and demanded we head back by now."

"My parents were adventurers. I grew up with their stories. I had a vague idea of what to expect, though I think this is turning into more of an adventure than I'd envisioned."

"Most people don't have to barter for their lives with a cavernbrute during their first trip into the Wildlands. I've been all over the region and I can't say I've ever had to, either."

A cheeky grin spread Everna's lips. "Make sure you tell Vina she's getting the last watch because she picked the wrong cave."

Morning brought with it gray clouds and a silent promise of rain. It hung in the air. The earthy stench of petrichor, which often proceeded the storms in Pendel, sat heavily on Everna's tongue. Though the potential for another storm was an unpleasant uncertainty looming over their heads it was a welcome change from days of snow and ice. It felt right where the early winter that seized Inverness had not.

If only she could enjoy the relative peace of the fall-touched plains.

Two hours after they broke camp, Vina's boredom had gotten the better of her and she broke out her lyre once more. With every discordant note she played, Everna found it exceedingly difficult not to pull her sword and sever the damned strings. There wasn't an inkling of harmony between them, only twangy pitches that sounded less like music and more like she'd loosened the strings so much they'd come loose with one more pluck.

Just when Everna thought she couldn't be that tone-deaf, Vina opened her mouth.

She was worse than the drunkards that burst into warbling renditions of folk songs when the nights at the tavern were slow and those with talent refused the stage. Shrill and nasally, the tone of her voice was enough to drive the most peaceful of clerics to violence. Vina had no skill to speak of; there was no distinction between her notes beyond those in different octaves. What she thought was a run came out as a wobbling elongated note that shifted between sharp and flat.

"She's tone-deaf," Lisette muttered. Vina jumped an octave, her voice straining to reach the note, and Everna winced. "You can't tell her that. She says she had lessons."

"I'd demand my coin back," Everna bit out. "Gods, you would think that being nobility, she could afford a decent teacher."

"Most people don't have the steel to find fault with an Anwellian noble," Lisette sighed. "Knowing her, though, she had one or two lessons and thought it made her a songstress. Add in her piddly magic and she likens herself to a bard."

"I'm going tone-deaf just listening to her," Everna muttered. "I could do better in a drunken stupor. In fact, I have."

Lisette raised a dubious brow. "You can sing?"

"I had lessons," she said, shrugging. "One of my father's old friends was a bard — an actual bard. After hearing her sing at the tavern once, I wanted to learn."

"With the wailing behind us, I'll need a demonstration before I believe it. Everyone thinks they can sing these days," Lisette said, flashing her a cheeky grin. "You sure you're not trying to get one over on Vina? Not that it'd be difficult to do."

"Goading me, eh?" Everna chuckled. "Nice try, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait. I can’t stay in tune with that caterwauling behind me."

"Making excuses now, are we?"

"Those who are truly confident in themselves and their gifts, even if they're relatively useless, don't parade it around," Everna said. "I'm not Vina. I don't need constant validation to convince not only myself, but everyone else that I have a talent."

"Ah, that's how to phrase it. I'll have to remember that next time Cedric insists he can write. He swears I'm just jealous I'm not as good as him," Lisette chuckled.

"He can't be that bad."

"He writes as well as Vina sings."

"At least writing's more useful."

Lisette cocked her head. "They both have their merits, but singing is more practical than you'd think. Many informants, spies, and assassins pose as traveling bards. If you joined Shadowguard, they'd likely train you as one of those since you've the hardest part down."

"I have the easiest part," she corrected. "Most people can sing to some degree if they have a good enough teacher. Casting is another matter. I've tried; a few of my friends tried to teach me, but nothing came of it."

Lisette pursed her lips. "You couldn't cast? Even from a tome?"

Everna shook her head. "They said I was magic-deafened."

A sound of vague disgust rose at the back of Lisette's throat. "Typical mages. You're not magic-deafened; they're just envious."

"Envious that I can't cast?" Everna asked, dubious.

"Mages are the ones who are magic-deafened. That's why they cast with tomes and runes and incantations."

"That makes absolutely no sense. How could they cast if they're magic-deafened?"

"Because there's two types of casters — three, if you consider the divine blessings." Lisette held up a finger as she listed them off. "Mages have to rely on alternative means. Those blessed with magic receive their spells from the gods. Then, there's people like you — sorcerers who have the innate ability to cast."

She'd never heard of such a thing. How else did one learn magic if not from a book? She'd never met a caster who learned any other way.

As if she could read her thoughts, Lisette said, "Magic's complicated. Anyone can cast, but not everyone casts the same way. It depends on the source."

"I still don't understand where why you think I'm a sorcerer."

"You can't cast from a book; no sorcerer can. No one knows why, but they just can't." Lisette paused, then asked, "Can you feel magic when you touch something enchanted? An artifact or a potion?"

Everna stared at her. "That's... not normal?"

Lisette shook her head. "Mages can't feel magic. That's what magic-deafened means."

Lisette's explanation made sense, but she still couldn't wrap her mind around it. No one ever alluded to the possibility some people could cast without the fanfare. None of the casters at the academy could.

Yet, with a flick of her wrist, Vina shot three birds out of the sky. Wil used magic without so much as a wave of his hand. She'd never thought to question it until now.

"You know more about this than I expected," Everna admitted.

"My brother's a bard," Lisette said. "And I dabble in magic from time to time."

There was one thing that bothered her, however; if she was a sorcerer, as Lisette believed, and she could, allegedly, sense magic, how had she not felt the magic Witt claimed he felt in Mayor Ashburn's room?"

When she voiced that thought, Lisette shrugged.

"Awareness is key for a sorcerer. When you're unpracticed and unaware, it's easy to miss it unless you come into physical contact with something enchanted," she said. "Cedric and I had the same problem before we were told. We could always feel it, but we were so accustomed to it, we thought nothing of it."

Had she been so thrown off by Mayor Ashburn's assassination that her emotions overpowered her senses? Or had she become so accustomed to magic that she simply hadn't noticed?

There was magic everywhere in the tavern; the torches and the hearth, which ceased to burn when activated by a rune etched into the underside of the bar; the plethora of artifacts her parents had stashed throughout the house; as well as her sword.

Perhaps Witt, with his divine magic, noticed the difference more easily.

Could she really feel it?

As if that thought awakened her, Leah's ring flared with warmth. Her sword followed suit, the accompanying tingle running along her thigh. It was comforting in the way a clear summer day was — a refreshing glow, much like sunlight on her skin. That feeling was always there, she realized, but with the revelation that she could cast and sense it, it seemed far more pronounced.

"I suppose I could convince my brother to teach you something when we get back," Lisette said. "As thanks for saving my life."

The rest of the morning passed in much the way the day before had. There was little to see and even less to do. The plains remained uninterrupted, and the mountains were a steady presence to their left. Lisette, despite the change in her attitude towards her, wasn't the most talkative of traveling companions. When she spoke, it was in short bursts, such as their earlier conversation, followed by prolonged bouts of silence or scattered idle remarks. Every once in a while, Vina complained of her aching back and sore rear in between the weak barbs and snarky comments.

At one point, Everna almost started an argument to alleviate her boredom, but a half-hearted glare from Lisette stayed her tongue. Everna almost felt sorry for her. Osain sent her along as a precaution. Instead, she'd become something between an instigator and a mediator. Vina seemed to respect her, somewhat, even if the feeling wasn't mutual.

By the time noon arrived, fatigue set in. Everna hadn't had a good night's sleep in two days now. Though the air remained cool and refreshing, the sun warmed her considerably. The inside of her armor was sticky with sweat, her thighs now burning as they chaffed against her armor. She needed a bath, a decent meal, and a nice long nap, which she might find soon enough.

Windhollow was still fifteen miles ahead of them, about an hour's ride from their current position if Vina's estimations were correct. The horses were growing tired as well; she couldn't say when they last stopped to allow them a drink. There hadn’t been a water source once they passed through the forest.

Lisette leaned forward in her saddle, eyes narrowed as she peered toward the horizon. "Is that smoke?"

Everna leaned forward as well, squinting. Darkened clouds hung low over the horizon, but at that distance, she couldn't tell if they were storm clouds or plumes of smoke, as Lisette suggested. The distinction, however, quickly became apparent.

Ten miles from the village, a haze choked the air. The passing breeze carried with it the stench of burnt wood and smoldering foliage. It smelled like the plains fires that occasionally followed violent lightning storms, but beneath the sharp, earthy tang of burnt grass, there was an unmistakable stench Everna had encountered only once before.

Burnt flesh.

Everna urged her horse faster. As she drew closer, the stench strengthened. Wood, grass, tar, flesh — the smells mingled into a single nauseating odor that burned her nose with each breath. Her eyes watered. Then, snow of a different kind tumbled from the air. Ashes peppered the ground and her armor, clinging to her horse's mane. She tasted it with every breath she drew.

When the village finally came into view, Everna gasped.

Violent tendrils of orange flame engulfed the village. Wood crackled and popped. Near the eastern edge, a house crumbled, and the flames shot skyward, tossing a shower of burning cinders into the air. There wasn't a single building spared from the raging inferno.The fire crept across the grasslands as well, leaving behind nothing but charred dirt.

Lisette pulled up beside her, her jaw set and lips pressed into a firm line. Disgust and pity pooled in her eyes as she gazed at the horror before them. Her hands tightened on the reins, knuckles white.

"I think Shroud beat us to the informant."

Smoke

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