Lina entered the magic altar on the seventh day; Senior Sister Phil followed on the eighth.
Once home to hundreds of magic apprentices, Shadow Valley now lay sparse. Beginner apprentices were nearly wiped out, and quasi-mages and high-level apprentices had all filed into the altar. By the tenth day, fewer than three hundred apprentices remained—almost all intermediate or low-level.
And then, surprisingly, the Academy halted all apprentice deployments to the altar.
Kay had no idea why.
"What's the status?" Vice-Dean Darlon asked, stepping into the observation room at the top of the magic tower. "Have any apprentices successfully arrived? Any news at all?"
"Dean Martin and Dean Jonny are monitoring the rift personally," a Dark Mage replied. "Some high-level apprentices and quasi-mages were injured, but most made it through. We don't have detailed intel on the other plane yet, but we've analyzed the elemental energy leaking from the rift—it's likely a plane with abnormally high earth-element concentration."
"Earth-element?" Darlon's brow furrowed. Having ruled the Underdark for a millennium, he felt a faint, instinctive unease. It wasn't the plane itself that troubled him—it was the implications.
"An earth-element plane? Why exactly one with such high concentration?" he muttered. "Martin and the Dean are both earth-element mages… Could this be related to the Dean?"
It had been over a century since the Dean had last appeared publicly in Menzoberranzan—even Darlon hadn't seen him since. Rumors had circulated centuries ago that the Dean had failed to advance to Tier 4 and was on his deathbed, but those had been disproven when he founded Menzoberranzan a century prior.
"Why has he stayed hidden for so long? Martin's been acting in his stead this whole time…" Darlon's thoughts spiraled. He wouldn't have dwelled on it normally, but recent threats from the Surface Holy Tower had left him anxious and overthinking.
He even dared to wonder: was the "exploration of the spatial rift" just a ruse by the Dean and his apprentice Martin? Why else would Martin have invited an alchemist like Moses to the Underdark a century ago? Why had he personally contacted those dark creatures? There had to be more to it.
The realization sent a cold sweat down Darlon's spine—even for a Tier 2 Dark Mage. But in the end, it mattered little. The earth-element plane was real; if they could invade and plunder it, his centuries as Vice-Dean would be worth it. Whatever the Dean and Martin were plotting, Darlon knew better than to meddle. In the Underdark, strength ruled—and the Dean, once a renowned Tier 3 Great Dark Mage, was far beyond his reach.
If the Dean was behind this, Darlon would likely benefit. A powerful Dean meant more protection and fewer external threats. His only annoyance was the sense of being deceived—had his role as Vice-Dean been a lie from the start?
"I wonder if Jonny knows something," he thought. "I should test her."
The halt in deployments let most surviving apprentices in Shadow Valley breathe easy—but not Kay. He was consumed with worry for Lina. What lay deep in the altar? What was a spatial rift, really? And what of the other plane?
Night after night, he tossed and turned in his empty tent, unable to sleep. He would have gladly followed Lina into the altar's depths—facing danger together, rather than waiting alone. Their bond had been sealed over a decade ago, when Lina had chosen him, an eight-year-old boy, to protect.
He thought of Senior Sister Phil, too. His feelings for her were complicated—gratitude for her care, passion from their nights together, and affection beyond mere同门ship. Any irritation at her occasional stubbornness had faded, drowned out by his fear for both women.
Weeks dragged by in this torment. Then, finally, news came: the Academy would resume deployments, starting with 50 intermediate apprentices.
"I'll go!" Kay's voice rang out first, cutting through the silence of Shadow Valley's central square as Darlon issued the order.
Every apprentice turned to stare. Even the Dark Mages, including Darlon, looked amused by this eager intermediate apprentice.
Darlon seemed to recognize him. "Aren't you Moses' disciple?" he said, pointing. "I remember you."
"Yes, Your Excellency. I am my mentor's fifth apprentice," Kay replied respectfully.
Darlon nodded, approving. "Good. A brave, talented boy. Go on—you'll be among the first intermediate apprentices to enter the rift." He waved toward the magic altar.
Ignoring the whispers of other apprentices and the scrutiny of the Dark Mages, Kay walked to the altar's center. He took a deep breath, and when Darlon had selected all 50 apprentices, Kay—near the back of the line—stepped forward into the altar.
Outside, the altar had glowed with pure white elemental light. But inside, Kay saw countless magical inscriptions and energy crystals embedded in every corner. A thin layer of crimson liquid coated the surface; the faint metallic tang in the air revealed its true nature—blood.
At the altar's deepest point, an elliptical energy gate stood at the heart of the inscriptions. As the apprentices ahead stepped through, Kay followed.
The moment he entered the gate, his mentor's voice echoed in his mind: "Kay, you shouldn't have come." Moses sounded exhausted.
All around Kay was a swirling chaos of colorful elemental mist. He couldn't see Moses, or even the dozen apprentices who had walked ahead—their figures blurred into the fog. A sickening, suffocating pressure weighed on his chest, as if he'd been torn from his own world and dropped into a foreign realm.
"Mentor, where are you?" he whispered.
He'd fallen behind the group after hearing Moses' voice, but no one noticed.
"I'm at the rift stabilizer," Moses replied, his voice urgent. "I'm speaking to you via mental link—you'll master this naturally when you become an official mage. Listen closely; this is critical."
Kay held his breath.
"We were all too optimistic," Moses said. "There are no resource-rich sub-planes or intact realms waiting for us in the Astral Sea—not by chance. Reports from the first apprentices confirm the rift leads to a broken plane. The environment is brutal—sandstorms, endless deserts, nothing but ruin."
"I've explored three other planes, but they were peaceful, fit for human mages. This broken plane? Even quasi-mages will struggle to survive there. I suggested recalling all apprentices immediately to cut losses, but Martin and Jonny refused. They want to send more apprentices to scout… even try to activate the coordinate generator and open a path for official Dark Mages."
"I don't know why they're so fixated on this worthless plane. Kay, your chances of survival are slim to none."
"I had to come," Kay whispered. "I'm worried about Senior Brother and Senior Sister. This is worth the risk."
A hint of pride—and sorrow—tinged Moses' voice. "Follow the marked path. When you see red elemental ripples, turn right, then left. I've hidden something there for you."
"Your senior siblings are stronger, and as high-level apprentices, the Academy is watching them closely. Their survival rate is higher if they can find a way back. You, though… you're weaker. They might abandon you."
"That device will pull you back in an emergency, but it drains massive energy. I don't know if it will be enough."
Following Moses' instructions, Kay found a black handle hidden in the mist. Grateful—this kindness meant more to him than Lina's protection over the years—he bowed silently, then hurried to catch up with the group.
The vortex tunnel deep in the altar wasn't long, but progress was slow—littered with mangled limbs and hidden dangers.
Danger, Kay soon learned, came without warning.
A scream erupted ahead. When Kay reached the scene, he saw an intermediate apprentice clutching his shoulder—his arm had been severed clean off, the limb still stuck in the elemental mist.
Such was the rift's cruelty: even its smallest eddies could kill an apprentice who hadn't reached official mage status.
This was the third casualty in their group of 50. The first had lost his head, killed instantly. The second had been cut in half, left to die slowly.
The deaths slowed the group further. But thanks to their caution—and the "blood path" paved by hundreds of beginner apprentices before them—no one else fell before they reached the rift's main entrance.