Beneath the towering spires and shadowed halls of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, two figures walked side by side, their footsteps echoing like whispers against polished stone. Tension hung between them—unspoken, but sharp enough to ripple through the silent corridors.
Raybarn, the elder, wore the weathered face of a Fulmenian scholar. His brow was furrowed in thought—over his company, perhaps, or more likely over his son who had just been sent on his first mission, and not a simple errand. He carried a crystal of rare importance, bound for King Fulmen himself. Failure was unthinkable. Still, even that worry wrestled for space in Raybarn's mind, already clouded by troubling signs: strange spirit phenomena, and the inscrutable alicorn beside him.
Naegissa was no mere companion. Her presence was the stillness before a storm, her expression cold and unreadable. A Pythonian—aloof, enigmatic, and unshakably composed. As they passed, younger students hesitated. They greeted Raybarn with respectful nods, but at the sight of Naegissa, their voices died. Raybarn answered politely, though his thoughts remained far from the present.
It was Naegissa who broke the silence, her voice cool and measured, as though she had calculated every syllable before it passed her lips. "Raybarn, we should make use of the Academic Teleportation Service to take us to Phenta. It will hasten our journey."
Her suggestion was practical, though not without compromise. Phenta would indeed bring them closer to their destination, but it was not the nearest point to where the spirit had last been seen. The scholar regarded her with a moment's pause, weighing her words as one might weigh a blade.
"It would indeed save us time," he conceded with a nod, his tone betraying neither agreement nor dissent.
Together, they turned their steps toward the Sand Section of the Academy, one of the orbital cubes that housed the teleportation service. The shadows seemed to grow deeper as they moved, as though the ancient halls themselves were listening, watchful and waiting.
The Academy, with its numerous wings and countless hidden chambers, might have been an insurmountable maze if not for the portals crafted by King Saburo himself. These shimmering gateways, bound by intricate runes, allowed scholars to traverse distant sections of the Academy with ease. Yet even these marvels paled in comparison to the grandeur of the Teleportation Service—a feat of arcane engineering on an altogether different scale. The energy required to sustain it was immense, and so its use was strictly rationed, reserved for the Academy's most esteemed researchers or for occasions of the highest importance. Raybarn and Naegissa, as recognized luminaries, easily qualified, and their current investigation into the enigmatic spirit gave further weight to their request.
The chamber housing the teleportation array was vast, its vaulted ceiling adorned with constellations of glowing sigils. As the pair entered, Raybarn greeted the Saburian researcher stationed within. The alicorn, gray-haired but spry, was flanked by two big constructs, their forms aglow with the quiet hum of magical energy.
"It has been some time since I last used this service," Raybarn began, his tone warm and cordial. "How have you been?"
The researcher turned with a smile, his memory sharp despite the years. "A long while, indeed. If I'm not mistaken, the last time you came through was to make it home for your son's birthday, was it not?"
Raybarn chuckled softly at the recollection, the sound tinged with nostalgia. "You've a good memory, my friend. That was indeed the occasion, and I made it just in time. I wouldn't miss one of his birthdays for anything."
As the two alicorns exchanged pleasantries, the Saburian researcher glided forward, a parchment suspended in the air. Raybarn signed it with practiced ease before passing it to Naegissa, who took it without a word. Her face remained a mask of impassivity, her sharp eyes fixed on the glowing runes of the array rather than the conversation unfolding before her.
The Saburian, unperturbed, continued with a chuckle of his own. "I remember how flustered you were that day. This week has been no less hectic for us here—ensuring that our Ardenian and Luxian colleagues made it to the Festival of Sorority. None of them wanted to miss it, of course. Family is family, after all."
Raybarn smiled at the sentiment, though Naegissa's patience was visibly fraying. Her cold voice cut through the warmth of the exchange like a blade. "We need to get to Phenta. It's the nearest city to our research site, and we've no time to waste."
Raybarn glanced at her, offering a placating nod. "You're right, of course. My apologies, old friend," he said, turning back to the Saburian. "We'll have to catch up properly upon our return."
The researcher inclined his head in understanding, stepping aside to allow the constructs to activate the array. As the chamber filled with a low, resonant hum, the glowing runes began to shift, aligning into the intricate pattern that would send them to Phenta. The warmth of their earlier conversation was left behind, eclipsed by the cold urgency of their task ahead.
"I'll hold you to that," the Saburian said with a sly grin, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Beer it is. Though I doubt you've managed to best your wife in a drinking contest since last we spoke." He winked, his tone teasing but warm, as he activated his magic to channel the arcane energies needed to activate the portal.
Before them, the room hummed with power as the Academic Teleportation Service came to life. A golden glow radiated outward, swirling into a spiral that expanded with a slow, deliberate grace. The edges of the portal shimmered like grains of sand caught in a windstorm, glowing faintly as they scattered outward in sparks of magic. The portal itself resembled a vortex of sand viewed from above, bound and held in place by an otherworldly radiance. At its heart, the destination became visible—a room of similar design but distinct in its details. The telltale flourishes of Pythonian architecture, elegant and austere, marked it unmistakably as the ATS chamber in Phenta.
Once the swirling energy steadied and the portal's edges ceased their restless dance, the Saburian gave them a parting nod. "Safe travels," he said, his voice rich with sincerity. "I'll look forward to hearing of your success upon your return."
Raybarn inclined his head in acknowledgment, his expression a mixture of gratitude and resolve. Without a word more, he and Naegissa stepped forward, the golden light swallowing them whole as they passed through the shimmering threshold.
On the other side, they emerged into the Pythonian city of Phenta. The air here was subtly different, cooler and tinged with the faint scent of nature from the nearby forest. The chamber they entered mirrored the Academy's design in form, yet its intricate carvings and subdued color palette bore the unmistakable signature of Pythonian craft. Side by side, the pair paused only briefly, their mission pressing upon them like a gathering storm.
The ATS chamber in Phenta lay nestled within the city's central library, a sanctuary of quiet study and ancient knowledge. As Raybarn and Naegissa stepped beyond the confines of the teleportation room, they found themselves within the heart of the library itself. Though smaller and less grand than the Arcanic Academy's legendary halls, it still possessed a charm all its own—a testament to Pythonian craftsmanship and reverence for history.
Raybarn's gaze roamed as they walked. The vaulted ceiling was supported by beams of polished wood, their surfaces alive with intricate carvings. Each was a tapestry of spellcraft and nature, depicting tales of ancient myths, local heroes, and the natural world intertwined with the city's spirit. "Phenta always has a way of delighting the eyes, doesn't it?" he mused aloud, gesturing toward one of the beams adorned with delicate etchings of avian spirits in flight, their wings trailing arcane symbols.
Naegissa spared the carvings a brief glance, her expression as unreadable as ever. She offered only a small nod in reply, her focus unwavering from their purpose.
The craftsmanship around them was exquisite, each carving a story unto itself, recounting legends and linking the city's present to its storied past. The woodwork seemed almost alive, as though the trees from which it had been hewn still whispered of the forest.
Once they left the library, the two scholars moved purposefully into the streets of Phenta, their steps steady but deliberate. Their destination lay beyond the city, deep within the Slitherroots Woods. The spirit they sought had been captured there, and they knew that any lingering traces of its magic—or the struggle that had ensued—would fade with time. Delay was a luxury they could ill afford.
Even so, Raybarn found himself unable to ignore the sights around him. Phenta was alive with quiet elegance, from the weathered stone facades of its buildings to the murmured hum of daily life in its streets. His eyes lingered on a café near the city square, its terrace adorned with garlands of flowering vines. A smile touched his lips as he made a mental note to bring Feyn here one day. He had yet to properly celebrate his son's induction as a researcher and Protector—a rite marked with an introduction feast and the first ceremonial drink of beer.
The thought of Feyn's likely reaction—wide-eyed determination followed by a grimace at the bitter taste—brought a chuckle from Raybarn's lips. He shook his head, amused by the image of himself stepping in to finish the drink, as fathers often did. The sound caught Naegissa's attention, her sharp ear tilting ever so slightly in his direction, though she said nothing.
Naegissa's attention was soon drawn away by the alicorns moving through the streets. Unlike the bustling flow of life in Phenta, these villagers gave the pair a wide berth, their unease palpable. They stole furtive glances at Naegissa, their discomfort as obvious as it was telling. Even in a city accustomed to all manner of wonders, the presence of this enigmatic researcher seemed to cast a shadow.
Raybarn noticed their reaction and sighed inwardly. It was no surprise to him. The alicorns here likely knew even less about Naegissa than the scholars at the Academy, and even there, whispers and wary looks often followed her. Despite the quiet suspicions he harbored himself, Raybarn found no pleasure in seeing her treated as an outsider. He decided to shift her focus—and perhaps that of their silent observers—back to the city around them.
"The craftsmanship here," he began, gesturing to their surroundings as they continued along the cobblestone streets, "is truly something to behold."
They passed building after building, each distinct in design yet united by the intricate woodwork that adorned their facades. Flowers spilled over windowsills, their bright petals a riot of color, from pale blue to vibrant green, while their sweet and calming fragrance mingled with the warm, inviting scent of baked goods wafting through the air. The midday hour was drawing near, and the streets were alive with the quiet rhythm of daily life. Raybarn breathed in deeply, letting the mingled scents settle into his memory.
The woodwork was as varied as the city itself, some carvings rough and utilitarian, others delicate and painstakingly detailed. Each told its own story, offering a glimpse into the lives and traditions of those who dwelled within. One particular building caught Raybarn's eye—a hall for the forest watchers and guards who guided travelers through the Slitherroots Woods. He paused before its entrance, his gaze fixed on the carving that adorned its frame.
It depicted a spirit—a creature resembling an alicorn, yet distinctly different. Its horn and wings were absent, its form simpler yet imbued with an unmistakable air of guidance and protection. Raybarn stepped closer, studying the lines and curves of the carving, the care that had gone into its creation. "This…this is the guiding spirit…Mindy, isn't it? The one said to dwell in the forest at the border of Luxia and Ardenia, in Python's Garden," he mused, his voice touched with quiet wonder.
Naegissa turned her gaze to the carving, her icy demeanor softening, if only for a moment. "It is," she confirmed, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "A symbol of guidance, deeply revered here in Pythonia."
Her tone, so rarely tinged with warmth, shifted back to its usual frost as quickly as it had thawed. But the fleeting change was not lost on Raybarn. He smiled faintly, his eyes lingering on the carving. "I should take Feyn there one day, in the hope of meeting one," he said softly, almost to himself, before resuming their journey. Naegissa fell into step beside him once more, the moment passing as the streets of Phenta stretched onward.
The Forest Watch stood as a sentinel at the city's edge, the final outpost of civilization before the untamed wilds began. Beyond its sturdy walls and intricately carved woodwork lay the open fields, and beyond those, the looming shadows of the Slitherroots Woods. The sight of the ancient forest, its dense canopy sprawling like a sea of green and shadow, seemed to pull the horizon closer.
Raybarn and Naegissa crossed the quiet fields without a word exchanged between them. The air here was still, carrying only the faint echoes of city life from behind and the rhythmic sounds of labor from the alicorns tending to the farmland. The golden light of midday bathed the landscape, but even under the sun's warmth, the looming forest ahead seemed to exude a cold presence, a whisper of the peril it held.
It wasn't long before they reached the forest's edge. The towering trees, their trunks gnarled with age and roots twisting like serpents, formed an imposing barrier. The Slitherroots Woods had a reputation well-earned—an entanglement of dense foliage and shifting trails fraught with danger for even the most seasoned travelers.
Raybarn paused briefly, his eyes scanning the darkened path ahead. He could feel the weight of the task before them, the quiet threat that the forest carried. Beside him, Naegissa stood as still as the trees, her face unreadable. Together, they stepped into the shadowed embrace of the Slitherroots, leaving the sunlight and open fields behind as they began the most treacherous leg of their journey.