Radeon laid his palm on the small, dried tree behind his house. The bark was cold, though no snow had touched it.
He pressed in three spots that looked no different than any other flaw, and the wood answered with a soft give, like a door sighing open.
The world folded. He stepped through an array and into a narrow passage.
Smaller arrays lined the corridor, and Radeon used his Myridion Seersight to observe them.
The array was powered by ghosts and the faith he had been gathering.
Its task was simple. Counter scrying through heaven, earth, and even the stars.
In his vision, webs of different colors of divinizing arts descended, layered and probing.
Their intention was clear. They meant to find the men sent to test his gates, to gather scraps of information, to start violence, and to turn some small slight into an offense.
