Chapter 5:

The Witch­­wood

*

The road heading north from Fehn­darlai ran near the river and through farms on either side. Keolah had to won­der just how humans grew their food if there weren’t many among them who used magic. Did their Earth Mages know how to cover large areas like this and go from farm to farm, ensuring the plants were healthy and the soil rich?

“What are those weird machines out in the fields?” Haw­thorne asked.

Delven chuckled. “Do you want me to spend this whole trip dis­cussing agri­cul­tural technology, or teaching you how to communicate in the common tongue?”

“Right, the latter, I guess,” Haw­thorne said. “But you could at least summarize.”

“In summary, humans use machines to help them farm,” Delven said. “They don’t use as much magic as elves, so they build devices to do stuff you’d prob­ably use magic for.”

“Oh, okay,” Haw­thorne said.

After spending several days traveling and briefly staying in a few smaller villages along the river, they entered forest again as the road turned away from the river.

“Be sure to stick to the road in this part of the country,” Delven said. “And if we must leave the road, we’ll be making camp south of the road. Don’t set even one foot north.”

“Why?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

Delven pointed to the woods on their right hand side. The forest looked very odd com­pared to the jungle they’d traveled through before, twisting and turning in on it­self. A stone fence enchanted with what looked to be wards lined that side of the road, and beyond it, strange curls of mana wafted through the forest.

“It’s called the Witch­­wood,” Delven said. “People who go in there tend not to come back out, or emerge confused at best, gibbering madly about strange visions at worst.”

“Huh.”

Haw­thorne con­tinued to stare off at it as they walked. The road they were traveling was fairly smooth and paved nicely enough for the horse-drawn carriages that had reg­ularly passed them. No villages dotted this stretch of road, al­though the camp­site they stopped at for the night seemed to be rel­atively reg­ularly frequented by travelers even if there were no per­manent buildings.

“So, what’s in the Witch­­wood?” Haw­thorne asked as they were setting up camp.

“Trees, I’d ­imag­ine,” Delven said. “Weird, magic trees or some­thing. I’m not the ex­pert on magic here.”

“I’d hardly call myself an ex­pert, either,” Keolah said. “But I can readily tell there’s some­thing odd there. There’s mana emanating from there.”

“What do you mean?” Haw­thorne asked.

“I can see these waves of mana—”

“Wait a minute,” Haw­thorne said. “I thought you were a Fire Mage?”

“Tech­nically I’m an Earth Mage,” Keolah said. “My aura is green.”

“But you can see magic,” Haw­thorne said. “Only Seekers can see magic.”

Keolah stared at her. “What? No. I can clearly see every bit of magic you’ve done. I can see your aura is cyan, Delven’s is amber, Zen­dellor’s is red. I can see the enchant­ments on the stone fence.”

“There’s enchant­ments on the fence?” Delven asked.

Keolah nodded. “Wards. Presumably to protect the road against what­ever is coming out of the Witch­­wood.”

“But if you can see auras, you must be a Seeker, not an Earth Mage,” Haw­thorne said.

“Nonsense,” Keolah said. “Seekers have a more yellow-green aura. Mine is definitely the dark green of Earth Magic.”

Haw­thorne scoffed. “Forget your damned aura. Have you ever been trained to see auras?”

“Well, no,” Keolah said.

“So what magic can you use in­stinctively with­out having any training in it?” Haw­thorne pressed.

“Can’t you see mana?” Keolah asked.

“Abyss no,” Haw­thorne said.

“How can you even use magic with­out being able to see what your mana is doing?” Keolah won­dered.

“I don’t know, I just do,” Haw­thorne said. “My wards protect me even if I’m not thinking about it. My Wind Magic helps me lift heavy things and fall with­out hurting myself. Nobody had to train me in those things, and I picked up a few other things on my own.”

“Yes, your aura is the correct color for Security Magic, but Wind Magic is a slightly diff­erent shade of blue-green,” Keolah said.

“Argh, what does it matter?” Haw­thorne grumbled. “I know what I do. And you can app­ar­ently see magic. Could you use Earth Magic on your own, or did some­one have to teach me?”

“Some­one taught me,” Keolah said. “I guess it never really occurred to me that other people couldn’t see mana.”

“Right then,” Haw­thorne said. “I hereby officially or what­ever dub you a Seeker. I don’t give a twig what color your aura is. You’re obviously doing Seeking with­out training. And what about that Fire Magic?”

“I learned it, because I like fire and it’s very con­venient,” Keolah said.

Delven cleared his throat. “Keolah, with your newly officially dubbed Seeker ex­pertise, what do you see in the Witch­­wood?”

“Color­less mana,” Keolah said.

“Is that sig­nificant?” Delven asked.

“It means it’s mana no one has used,” Keolah said. “If it were an actual enchant­ment, it would be the color of the magical sig­nature of the per­son who cast it. The warding on the fence, for instance, is cyan, since a Warder prob­ably cast it.”

“A Warder, or some­one who knew how to cast wards and whose aura just happened to be cyan?” Haw­thorne put in.

“Does it matter?” Keolah shrugged. “At any rate, it is sig­nificant that there’s color­less mana in there.”

“What do you mean by ‘color­less’?” Haw­thorne asked. “What is it, like, gray?”

“No,” Keolah said. “Even gray is a color. I can’t ex­plain it.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Haw­thorne said. “So this mana is just, like, there? Not being used for any­thing?”

“It means the forest is it­self magical, not that some­one cast an enchant­ment over it,” Keolah said. “It’s a natural phenomenon, not a spell.”

“Oh, okay,” Haw­thorne said.

“Is that normal?” Delven won­dered.

“I’ve only ever seen color­less mana in one place before,” Keolah said. “There’s a node in western Ras­calanse. A mana spring, in effect. It’s in a cave with a glowing pool in the middle. Raw mana wells up out of this pool. You can do stronger magic at a node, since there’s more mana avail­able.”

“So this forest is a ‘node’?” Delven asked.

Keolah nodded. “Looks like it.”

“Guess that would ex­plain why it’s so weird,” Delven said. “Did any­thing strange happen in that cave you men­tioned?”

“Aside from it glowing for no app­ar­ent reason?” Keolah said. “Sometimes. I’d see things, or hear things. Whispers. Ghosts. Nothing sub­stantial, though.”

“Either way, let’s best stay away from there,” Delven said.

“Agreed,” Keolah said. “We stick to the road and get to Scalyr in no time.”

Come morning, they broke camp and got back on the road. Haw­thorne ran up to the wall and leaned over.

“Be care­ful there,” Keolah said. “The wards aren’t a solid thing. They’ll only keep magic out. You’ll pass right through them.”

“I just want to take a closer look,” Haw­thorne said.

“Well, look from over here,” Keolah said. “I don’t know what a node that size might do, but it doesn’t sound good.”

“I’ll be fine.” Haw­thorne hopped over the fence.

“Haw­thorne!” Keolah ran up to the fence.

“I won’t go far,” Haw­thorne said, heading into the forest.

“Damn it, Haw­thorne, come back here!” Keolah called out.

Zen­dellor leapt over the fence and trotted after Haw­thorne. Keolah sighed and jumped over as well, and Delven joined her after a moment.

“I guess going into the Witch­­wood is a thing we’re doing now,” Delven commented as he caught up with Keolah.

“Come on, let’s try not to lose sight of her,” Keolah said, then yelled, “Haw­thorne, if you’re going to do this, at least wait for us!”

The trees warped disorientingly in front of them, the raw mana al­most seeming alive. Keolah pressed on even after losing physical sight of them, the cyan and red colors of their auras vis­ible even through the trees and foliage. But as they con­tinued for­ward, the color­less mana in the air became stronger and denser, making it hard to trace even that.

“I’ve lost them,” Keolah finally admitted with a sigh, pausing to make sure Delven was still with her at least.

“Crap.” Delven looked back over his shoulder, then looked to her in un­spoken ques­tion.

Keolah shook her head. “I can’t see the wall any­more, either.”

“Double crap,” Delven muttered. “Now what do we do?”

Keolah turned and headed further into the forest. “We find them.”

“It would prob­ably be easier to find the wall again,” Delven said. “It’s a pretty big target. They’ll either come out even­tually, some­where, or they won’t. But there’s no way we’re going to be able to find a woman and a horse in the middle of the magical forest.”

“I’m not leaving them behind,” Keolah said. “You’re wel­come to go back to try to find the wall if you want.”

Delven sighed. “No. I’m staying with you.”

Keolah nodded, and said, “Take my hand. Let’s not get separated, too.”

Delven grasped her hand and said, “I hope you have an idea.”

“I might,” Keolah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. Having her eyes shut didn’t affect how she saw auras. They were just as clearly vis­ible through eyelids as they were through trees, walls, and solid rock. The only things that blocked them were cer­tain kinds of wards and, app­ar­ently, excessive amounts of raw mana. But maybe she could do some­thing about that latter.

Focusing deeply, she tried to suppress and filter out the ambient mana. While she wasn’t sure if she was success­ful on that account, she did think she spotted a trail of gleaming cyan mana winding off through the trees.

“Come on,” Keolah said, opening her eyes. “This way.”

There wasn’t any trace of red mana. Either Zen­dellor had gotten separated as well, or this was really just residue from Haw­thorne’s own use of magic, prob­ably her wards protec­ting her from thorns and branches. It was enough, though. Clenching tightly to Delven’s hand, she set off following the trail of bright mana through the forest.

A foot­step here, a handprint there, a few strands wisping against a shrub, shimmering, effer­vescent. Keolah rushed after the ephemeral glow, chasing it even as it faded. If she lost sight of this trail as well as her friends them­selves, she feared she might never be able to find them again.

She tripped and stumbled on a protruding root, and only Delven’s hands kept her from going down hard.

“Sorry,” Keolah said, con­tinuing. “My eyes are on the trail of mana Haw­thorne left behind and not my own feet, app­ar­ently.”

“Watch the trail, I’ll watch your feet,” Delven said.

For what felt like hours, she pressed on through the forest, refusing to stop to rest. The mana prints were becoming stronger. She was catching up. There! She spotted a glimpse of part of two actual auras through the field of blank mana.

“I see them,” Keolah said. “Haw­thorne! Haw­thorne!

The cyan and red auras paused, turned around, and headed toward them. Keolah breathed a sigh of relief as she came face-to-face with Haw­thorne and Zen­dellor again. She released Delven’s hand and ran up to put her arms around Haw­thorne.

“I was afraid I’d never see you again,” Keolah said, clutching her tightly.

Haw­thorne tensed for a moment, then relaxed and hugged her back. “Yeah. Sorry I ran off like that. I should’ve at least waited for you.”

Keolah released her and looked around. She’d long since lost any idea of where they were. Raw mana waved slowly around them like wind in the leaves. Only now did she realize that none of these plants were native to the region and it was much colder here than it ought to be.

“So, what now?” Delven asked.

“We stick together, first off,” Keolah said. “Then… we try to find a way out.”

“We might be stuck in here a while,” Delven said.

“I have a canteen of end­less water, so we don’t need to worry about that,” Keolah said. “And if our rations run out, I can fast-grow food plants if necessary.”

“Really?” Delven said. “Elves can do that?”

“Earth Mages can do that,” Keolah said. “It’s not good for the plants or the soil in the long run, though, so it’s really only good in emergencies and not a sustainable prac­tice for farming. We’re hope­fully not going to be in here long enough to make a sub­stantial impact on the health of the forest.”

“I don’t know that I’d be too worried about the health of the forest, regard­less,” Delven said. “This place is… very odd. I’m no Seeker, but even I can tell that.”

“It doesn’t quite feel real,” Haw­thorne said.

Delven nodded. “I’ve been seeing things. Hearing things.”

“Oh, good,” Haw­thorne said. “I mean, not good, but I’m glad it’s not just me. For a moment there I thought I was going mad.”

Delven chuckled. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s not just you.”

Keolah realized that it wasn’t just the high levels of raw mana that were causing her prob­lems, but that on top of that, ghostly images teased at the edges of her vision. It was prob­ably even worse for a Seeker — and she might as well admit to her­self that she was actually a Seeker, even if she’d never really con­sidered it before. This forest felt like she was one step in the real world, and one step inside a dream.

“Whatever we do, let’s stay close,” Keolah said. “No wandering off, not even to water the bushes.”

“We might as well get moving, then,” Haw­thorne said.

Keolah nodded, picked a dir­ec­tion, and headed off that way. “Let’s go.”

“You have no idea where you’re going, either,” Haw­thorne said.

Keolah didn’t answer. She wished she knew. In truth, she was more than a little worried. But at least she wasn’t alone. Her friends were with her, and she wasn’t going to let them out of her sight again.

*

Keolah drifted in dreams, and felt like the world was crumbling around her. They were just dreams and visions. The ground was solid at her feet, the trees stark, and the hands of her friends firm. Maybe she should make some potions to allow them to sleep with­out dreaming, but then she was afraid that some­thing dan­gerous would actually show up in the night and they’d be too deep in a potion-in­duced sleep to wake and deal with it.

She tried to keep focus, and after a while, she thought she was actually getting used to it. One might even be able to live in a place like this. Had some of those who had gotten lost in this forest sim­ply decided to stay here and build a home for them­selves after realizing that they couldn’t find their way out? It wasn’t like the place was full of monsters or any­thing. The old im­perial ruins had been more dan­gerous. There were an­imals, and she spotted their faint auras at times, heard their cries and movements. None of them seemed like they belonged here, either.

“So, did you see that?” Delven asked.

“See what?” Haw­thorne asked. “Another ghost?”

“I don’t think they’re really ghosts, but no,” Delven said. “Some sort of small an­imal, climbing in the trees.” He pointed. “There it is again.”

A pointed, white face with a pink nose looked down at them from a limb overhead, gray-furred and with pink toes and a long, hairless tail.

“Some sort of an­imal,” Haw­thorne said. “Never seen one of those before. Whatever it is.”

“Nor I,” Keolah said.

The mammal climbed further up into the tree and out of sight, and they didn’t see it again.

The group con­tinued on. It started raining again, and Haw­thorne lifted a hand for a moment to surround them in a shield of cyan mana that blocked it and kept them dry.

“That’s very con­venient,” Delven said. “Why don’t I travel with elves more often?”

Keolah giggled. “You can stay with us as long as you like, as far as I’m concerned.”

A crack of thun­der boomed around them, and a flash of light­ning split the air.

“I think I’d definitely best stay with you,” Delven said, voice wavering.

“We should find shel­ter,” Keolah said.

“Don’t worry, my shield will hold,” Haw­thorne assured her. “It’s not like there isn’t plenty of mana here.”

A sizzling burst of light­ning split the tree dir­ectly in front of them.

“Shit!” Haw­thorne jumped back. “Okay, we need to find shel­ter.”

Delven pointed. “I think I see some­thing over that way.”

Keolah turned her gaze in that dir­ec­tion and blinked. There was some­thing… very odd inside those rocks, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. As they passed out of the trees, its general shape became app­ar­ent.

“Delven,” Keolah said. “That rock for­mation is shaped like a skull.”

“Oh, who cares what it’s shaped like,” Haw­thorne said. “There’s a cave there. Let’s get inside.”

“In the ­in­ter­ests of not getting struck by light­ning or caught in a forest fire, I am going to forego my misgivings about walking down the gullet of a giant skull,” Keolah commented.

Haw­thorne dispelled her rain barrier and hastily shielded the en­trance to the cave. The four of them hurried inside, and headed as deep in as they dared go. Keolah started a camp­fire, Delven took the packs off of Zen­dellor, and they laid out his bed­roll and put up their hammocks.

“On the upside, the weird skull-shaped cave is con­siderably lower than most of the trees around here,” Haw­thorne said. “Hope­fully it’s less likely to get hit by light­ning. Don’t try hiding in a cave on a moun­tain during a thun­der­storm, by the way. Actually, don’t be on a moun­tain during a thun­der­storm if you can help it, period.”

“Speaking from ex­perience there?” Delven asked.

“Possibly,” Haw­thorne said, looking around shiftily. “Let’s just say I’m frequently glad I’m a Warder.”

“Hope­fully there isn’t any­thing deeper in this cave that wants to eat us for dinner,” Delven added.

“My shield should keep the water out, at least,” Haw­thorne added cheer­fully. “We won’t get flooded or any­thing. I won­der how far this thing goes down.”

Keolah sat back and watched the waves of mana flow through the air. It hadn’t been app­ar­ent out in the forest, but here it was clear that they were all emanating from inside this cave.

“Keolah?” Haw­thorne said.

Keolah looked over to her.

“Do you see some­thing in the cave?” Haw­thorne asked.

Keolah turned back toward the source of the emanations. “Yeah.”

“What is it?” Delven asked.

“I have no idea,” Keolah admitted. “I’ve never seen any­thing like this before.”

“Well, is it alive?” Haw­thorne asked.

Keolah frowned thought­fully, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. Living beings, even an­imals, have an aura around them. Normal an­imals have a faint aura with­out much color, but it’s definitely there. Normal plants don’t have an aura. Nothing alive, not even an­imals, has a color­less aura. And I’m not detec­ting any color to this.”

Haw­thorne stared down the tunnel leading further under­ground, prac­tically twitching.

Keolah sighed. “Haw­thorne. You want to find out what it is.”

“Well…” Haw­thorne said.

“You don’t have to sneak off or run off, you know,” Keolah said. “This may well be in­credibly dan­gerous. But I’m not letting you go off alone to do what­ever stupid thing you’re going to do.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not the least bit curious your­self,” Haw­thorne said.

Keolah paused thought­fully, then chuckled. “I’d be lying if I said other­wise.”

“Well, we’ve come this far,” Delven said. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

Zen­dellor nickered. Keolah took this to mean agree­ment, al­though she wasn’t en­tirely cer­tain.

“Alright then, it’s settled, I think,” Keolah said. “Let’s dry off, get some food in our bellies, get a good night’s sleep, and then we can go in and see what’s inside the mys­terious, dan­gerous skull-shaped cave.”

Why does it have to be shaped like a skull?” Delven mum­bled.

“It’s prob­ably just a coincidence,” Haw­thorne said.

“There’s rarely such a thing as coincidence where magic is concerned,” Keolah said.

“And every tall rock is shaped like a dildo, too,” Haw­thorne said.

Delven cleared his throat.

“You know, I could have just said ‘Hey, let’s go into the vagina cave!’,” Haw­thorne said.

“This cave is not shaped like a vagina,” Keolah said.

“All caves are shaped like vaginas!” Haw­thorne said. “You know what I used to call that tunnel near Wish­ings­dale?”

Delven put his face in his palm.

“Right then…” Keolah said with a smirk. “This cave is definitely not shaped like a vagina.”

“Fine, fine,” Haw­thorne said. “We’ll ex­plore the cave in the morning.”

“Whatever is back there might actually be the key to getting out of here,” Delven said.

“Or might be more im­por­tant than sim­ply getting out of here,” Keolah said.

*

Haw­thorne was in love. At first, it had just been a crush on a cute girl who had walked into her village one day, nothing more. And now she didn’t know what to think. Keolah had come through a dan­gerous, magical forest for her, hugged her and ex­pressed feelings of gratitude at seeing her again. Surely she clearly shared Haw­thorne’s feelings. But more than that, Keolah was willing to share her ad­ven­tures with her.

Haw­thorne’s heart was light and she couldn’t help but smile when she looked across the weird green camp­fire at her. That green fire that per­fectly framed Keolah’s face in light like her green hair, and shone off of her silver eyes. Haw­thorne was no poet, but right now, she felt like waxing poetic about this woman in front of her. She could hardly focus on her con­tinued lan­guage lessons. It took a long time to get to sleep.

She couldn’t see magic like a Seeker could, like Keolah could, but even she could tell some­thing was deeply weird about this place. When she dreamed, she dreamed a nightmare of the sun winking out above her head, of the edges of the world falling away as she looked on in horror. Why couldn’t she have some nice dreams about Keolah in­stead?

Come morning, they packed up every­thing and headed into the cave. The thun­derstorm had tapered off over­night, but she couldn’t tell if any­thing was still burning out there. Either way, it was best to stay in here for a while.

The visions grew stronger as they traveled through the cave. Not people, not ghosts or spirits or any­thing else. The visions were always the same. That of a world breaking apart into an end­less void. Back in the forest, there had been whis­pers, even screams, faces of people confused and terrified. There was none of that here.

But then, they stopped. There was no clear tran­sition. They just faded away as if they’d never been there. Keolah’s eyes flicked all around them, and Haw­thorne had to won­der just what she was seeing.

“What’s going on?” Delven won­dered. “Some­thing is… odd.”

“You mean some­thing is odd by not being odd,” Haw­thorne said. “The visions stopped.”

“Not just that,” Delven said. “Wait a minute. Do any of you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Keolah asked.

“We’re too light,” Delven said.

“Huh?” Keolah raised an eye­brow. “What do you mean?”

Now that she thought about it, Haw­thorne realized she did feel strange. Her feet didn’t quite connect to the ground as firmly as they normally did, like when she was using Wind Magic to help her jump or fall. Experimen­tally, she jumped up and touched a hand against the ceiling.

“That’s possibly stranger than the fact that the flow of mana has settled off,” Keolah said. “It’s still there, it’s just not flowing out any­more. Like a fine haze over every­thing. Hon­estly, it’s a lot less distrac­ting this way, too.”

“Let’s keep going,” Haw­thorne said. “I think I might see an opening up ahead.”

“You see sun­light?” Delven asked.

Haw­thorne paused and frowned. “No. No draft, either. Probably a larger cavern.”

The tunnel opened up into a larger space, and Haw­thorne looked up, ex­pecting to see a roof covered in stalac­tites. A heavenly dome stretched overhead, but it was no blue sky dotted with white clouds. A black void encompassed them, swirling with pur­ple streaks that gave off a faint light, enough to see by with­out Keolah’s mage-flame.

“Is… Is that the sky?” Delven gaped.

Haw­thorne frowned. “That can’t be the sky.”

“I think that’s the sky,” Keolah said.

“How in the Abyss can that be the sky?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

“What else could it be?” Keolah asked.

“I don’t know, a weird magical dome over this weird magical place?” Haw­thorne said.

“Forget the sky, look at the ground,” Delven said.

Haw­thorne hardly called her­self an Earth Mage, but what she saw under her feet was nothing like any stone she had never seen. For one thing, it was pale yellow. Further ahead of them lay some­thing vaguely resembling a road lined with black markings like words in an alpha­bet she couldn’t read.

“Where in the Abyss and the everlasting Void are we?” Haw­thorne said, walking up to the curve of runes.

“I don’t know that I’d want to touch the weird magical markings,” Delven said.

“It’s prob­ably okay,” Keolah said. “I’m not detec­ting any mana in them. They’re totally inert.”

“For now,” Delven said. “How do you know they won’t just suddenly reac­­tiv­ate and do some­thing weird and magical?”

“To be fair, most magic is weird,” Haw­thorne said.

“It’s really not,” Keolah said. “This magic, on the other hand, is definitely weird.”

“Well, I’m going to go poke the weird magical markings,” Haw­thorne said.

“Right, I’m standing over here then,” Delven said.

“I don’t think that will help if it does ac­­tiv­ate some­thing,” Keolah said.

Haw­thorne went over and nudged the runes with the toe of her boot. Nothing happened. She bent over and poked at them with a finger. Nothing con­tinued to happen. By the time she was dancing around between them, she was pretty sure that nothing was going to happen.

“Safe to ex­plore, I think,” Keolah said. “Let’s take a look around, but let’s stick together.”

“Right,” Haw­thorne said.

The four of them set out to take a closer look around. Before pressing too far into the curve of runes, they went over toward the edge of, well, the world, app­ar­ently. Haw­thorne had thought it looked odd that there didn’t seem to be a horizon or any­thing vis­ible in the dis­tance but more pur­ple sky, and sure enough, the world sim­ply came to an edge, dropping off into an end­less void.

“I don’t suppose you see any­thing down there, Keolah?” Delven asked, hesitantly looking over the edge.

Keolah shook her head. “Just a lot of mana, nothing sub­stantial. I’m starting to think that we’re not in the ‘real world’.”

“This place cer­tainly seems real to me,” said Haw­thorne, turning back toward the broad circle of runes. “Weird, but real.”

“Right, maybe ‘real’ is the wrong term for it,” Keolah said. “This place isn’t so much un­real as it is diff­erent from our reality.”

Haw­thorne pointed off toward the center of the circle. “I think there’s some­thing in the middle there.”

“Best be cautious,” Keolah said. “If any­thing is likely to do any­thing in this place, it’ll be there.”

Within the large ring of runes, straight rows lead off toward the center at angles like eight spokes of a wheel. At each inter­section where the spokes met the wheel, a round, raised basin sat empty. In the center, eight obelisks loomed in a smaller circle, covered in black runes. Haw­thorne went up and touched one of them, and looked around at them, frowning thought­fully.

“Whatever is here, this is the focal point,” Keolah said. “And it’s all inert. There’s magic here, there’s mana every­where, but it’s dead, or just inac­tive, I’m not sure which.”

“Right, I think I speak for all of us when I say, what in the Abyss is this?” Haw­thorne said.

Zen­dellor nickered in agree­ment.

“One way or an­other, I think we’ve figured out what’s causing the weird­ness in the Witch­­wood, though,” Delven said.

Keolah nodded. “Raw mana is flowing out of this realm and into our realm.”

“Does mana normally cause people to hear things and see things?” Haw­thorne won­dered.

“Well, no, but app­ar­ently raw mana does?” Keolah mused. “Probably because it hasn’t been filtered through any­one’s soul and is just kind of floating around there on its own.”

“Didn’t you say we’re basically standing in the middle of a cloud of raw mana?” Haw­thorne said.

“True,” Keolah said. “I have no idea, then.”

“Either way, can we get a fire going here?” Haw­thorne asked. “That pur­ple light in the sky is creeping me out and here I was just starting to get used to your nice green flames. I’m sure Zen­dellor might like to lay down all that junk we’ve had him carrying around, too.”

“Are we going to stay here for the moment, then?” Delven asked.

“Eh, why not?” Haw­thorne shrugged. “I want to check things out and test out a few things.”

“Alright then,” Delven said.

“I agree,” Keolah said. “I’d dearly like to get a closer look at these runes. And copy them down. Make some sketches. When we get out of here, I want to see if we can find any sort of infor­mation on this place, and coming back here to double-check things would be non-trivial.”

Keolah moved off a little ways from the circle of obelisks and conjured a green camp­fire, then jumped back in sur­prise at the size of it. Haw­thorne realized a little late that that could have gone badly, with the amount of mana in the air, but the fire seemed to come up normally and not burn any­thing it wasn’t supposed to.

“That was… easy,” Keolah said. “I was only even try­ing to make a candle-size flame just to test it out. Gods, I could prob­ably keep that burning for­ever with no drain on me. This is ab­surd.”

“Well, if it’s so easy, maybe you could give us a ceiling, too,” Haw­thorne said. “You know Earth Magic, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Keolah said. “I’ve never tried to make any­thing big before, though, and with the amp­lified magic in here, I’m not sure what would happen.”

“With all the mana in the world, this is the place to find out, right?” Haw­thorne said.

“This is reckless,” Keolah said with a sigh.

“You’ll need to grow some plants to feed us in here any­way, though,” Haw­thorne said. “Unless we’re just going to live on rations for­ever. How many of those do we have left?”

“I’ll start small,” Keolah said. “But maybe we shouldn’t do this right at the obelisks.” She dis­missed the fire. “For all I know this might trigger some­thing, and some­thing not necessarily good. And no, I don’t really think throwing mana at the obelisks to try to get them to do some­thing is a good idea, either.”

Haw­thorne went up to an obelisk, grinning wildly. She put her hand against it, and before any­one could stop her, pulsed her mana into the runes. The en­tire com­plex lit up as the runes flashed cyan. She had no idea what might happen or what she’d just done, but she didn’t feel any diff­erent, at least, but she’d gotten a very odd sensation when she did that.

“Haw­thorne!” Keolah cried.

“It’s not totally inert,” Haw­thorne observed.

“I can see that, but please get away from there,” Keolah said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This prob­ably isn’t a weapon,” Haw­thorne said.

“How can you be sure of that?” Keolah asked.

“I don’t know,” Haw­thorne said. “It didn’t… feel hostile?”

“Just because it’s not a weapon doesn’t mean it can’t hurt us,” Delven pointed out. “Steam engines aren’t meant to hurt people, either, but they can still do so if you’re not care­ful with them.”

“I guess.” Haw­thorne shrugged. “But I wanted to see if it was really inert or not.”

“Well, now we know, so can you please get away from there?” Keolah looked at her with such concern that Haw­thorne sheepishly stepped away.

“Sorry,” Haw­thorne said, looking at the ground.

Keolah went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go. We can set up camp out­side the circle of runes. I’ll grow some small trees to attach our hammocks to, and I’ll see if I can get a small farm set up to feed us while we’re here. We’ll come back here later and take notes on these runes.”

“Alright,” Haw­thorne said, sighing.

Ten minutes later, they crossed out­side of the large circle and set up camp some dis­tance away. Even though this pocket-world wasn’t es­pec­ially large, maybe two miles or so from edge to edge, there was still plenty of room to work with with­out being afraid of sim­ply dropping off into the Void.

“First things first, I’m going to need to convert some of this…” Keolah tapped her foot on the yellowish ground. “… what­ever this is, into dirt. A top layer will do. A few feet deep is all that’s really needed.”

Haw­thorne had no idea where one might even begin to do some­thing like that, but Keolah seemed to know what she was doing, so Haw­thorne just sat back and watched. Bit by bit, the ground started changing into loose dirt.

“Keolah,” Haw­thorne inter­rupted. “Not to be the one to advocate caution here or any­thing, but, how do you know there’s any­thing solid under the dirt you’re making? How thick is this weird yellow stuff?”

Keolah paused thought­fully. “I’ll avoid standing on what­ever I’m changing.”

Haw­thorne stood up and went over to her. “I’ll help.”

“How?” Keolah asked. “You’re not an Earth Mage.”

Haw­thorne grinned and put an arm around Keolah’s waist, lifted them both into the air, and put a shield under­neath their feet. “Like so.”

“Well, that works,” Keolah said, then grinned back at her. “Do you normally hug people to cast spells on them?”

“Sorry.” Haw­thorne released her, cheeks burning. “I was never good at doing magic at a dis­tance.”

“By all means, keep hugging me, then.” Keolah’s grin broadened, prac­tically teasing her. “You wouldn’t want me to fall.”

“Get a room, you two!” Delven called over from the camp.

Haw­thorne put one arm around Keolah’s waist again, and lifted the other to extend her middle finger toward Delven. Keolah floated away from camp, forming dirt as she went as Haw­thorne con­tinued to main­tain the barrier at their feet.

“Could you have done this in our realm?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Yes,” Keolah said. “But it would have taken a lot longer, and I would have had to reg­ularly rest to let my mana rep­lenish. There’s so much ambient mana here that it rep­lenishes as fast as I can use it.”

“So is what you’re making going to be real food — or mat­er­ial food, I suppose — or just ethereal food that will leave us still hungry or possibly starving once we get back to our realm?” Haw­thorne asked.

“I have no idea,” Keolah said. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Haw­thorne chuckled. “Now who’s being reckless?”

“Well, one or an­other of us can remind the other when we’re being silly.” Keolah giggled.

“Deal,” Haw­thorne said.

Being next to a cute girl not­­with­standing, it was nice to be able to use as much magic as she liked. She’d never been able to get a strong enough lift in the mat­er­ial world to actually fly, not even with the additional mana she could draw using her sword, and now she was finding her­self liking it quite a bit. She could prob­ably just use Wind Magic to sus­pend her­self in the air like she did when she jumped, but figured the plat­form she was using was more use­ful when holding up an­other per­son like this. Once they returned to the other side, she was going to miss this.

Once they reached the edge of the world, Keolah said, “So, want to take a look over the edge?”

Haw­thorne made a soft squeaking sound and clenched Keolah tightly.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Keolah said.

The thought of all that drop into nothingness was terrifying, and Haw­thorne wasn’t quite confident yet in her ability to main­tain the plat­form holding them up. She’d stuck to holding them a foot above the ground, close enough that a fall into soft dirt wasn’t going to seriously hurt them if her magic fal­tered.

“Alright, let’s head back then and sweep down a stretch of ground I haven’t converted yet,” Keolah said.

They headed back over to camp, which had remained firmly where it had been before, al­though Zen­dellor was now in human form chatting with Delven. At least splitting up didn’t seem to be a prob­lem here. For all that the place was definitely not normal, at least it didn’t cause any sort of confusion effects or have space con­stantly change. Haw­thorne still wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten lost in the forest. She’d only taken a few steps in and suddenly Keolah and Delven were gone and she couldn’t see the wall any­more even though it had been right there.

Since the ground seemed to be not going any­where, Haw­thorne set them gently down on the ground and dispelled her floating plat­form, but she didn’t let go until she was sure the dirt could hold their weight. Whatever the pocket-world was made of seemed to be thick enough that a few feet of dirt wasn’t going to make it collapse, though, at least.

“Let’s see about getting some plants going, then,” Keolah said.

Haw­thorne took a seat over next to the fire and watched as a garden emerged from the ground.

“I’d ask whether you need any seeds for that, but app­ar­ently not,” Haw­thorne said.

“No, but I do need to know every plant I’m making very well, or it will come out wrong,” Keolah said. “I don’t ­imag­ine that when the elves came to Ras­calanse, they brought seeds with them. Their Earth Mages prob­ably just rem­em­bered how to make the plants they’d been able to make back in Zar­hanna.”

“You know, I was just telling Zen­dellor,” Delven said. “There didn’t seem to be any bones in the cave or in the pocket-world. Whoever got lost in the forest didn’t make it this far.”

“I bet it just needed a Seeker to find it,” Haw­thorne said.

“Okay, Keolah,” Delven said. “You’re growing plants over there. How are they supposed to live with­out sun­light?”

Keolah paused and looked over to him. “I have no idea.”

“So they might just die once you stop putting magic in them,” Delven said.

“The magic may well be enough to sustain them, though,” Keolah said. “We’ll have to see. If they die in the next few days, we’ll know it wasn’t enough.”

Delven looked to the sky. “However much a ‘day’ matters in this place. I kind of wish I’d invested in a watch.”

“I’m afraid I can’t make one for you,” Keolah said, chuckling. “I don’t know how one works. I know plants, I can burn things, and app­ar­ently I can find long-for­gotten caverns in the midst of magical forests.”

“And I can…” Haw­thorne stood up and jumped into the air, and just hovered there. “I can flyyyyyy!” She lifted further up off the ground, floated around in circles, faster and giggling madly.

“I’ll just remind you that, while I have healing potions, they can’t fix broken bones,” Keolah said.

“I’ll be fine,” Haw­thorne said, windmilling her arms in the air. “I never hurt myself when falling no matter how far I fall.”

“And you were afraid of falling off the edge of the world?” Keolah asked.

“Damned right I was,” Haw­thorne said. “If I fall off a roof, I know there will be ground some­where below. I don’t know what to think about not having a ground below. From now on, though, I’m going to be floating a com­fortable six inches above the ground at all times.”

*

They spent the next several days inside the pocket-world, ex­perimenting and taking records of things. They made sure to test going inside and out­side the tunnel en­trance, just to make sure it remained accessible and that nothing happened to any­thing left inside the pocket-world once every­one was gone. The plants Keolah had grown didn’t die, either. They didn’t seem to par­tic­ularly mind that there wasn’t any sun giving them energy, and there was really nothing natural about them. A quick look out­side the skull cave indicated that the forest immediately surrounding them was on fire. It seemed they weren’t going any­where for a while.

Upon seeing that the arcane ­con­struct remained stable and inert if no mana was dir­ected straight into it, Keolah acquiesced to growing a make­shift building near it as a con­venient central location. That was an ­in­ter­esting ex­periment on her part, as she’d never tried actually growing a building before, even though in the mat­er­ial world she’d made minor adjust­ments to her own home. every­thing seemed so easy to do here, though, and while her building wasn’t per­fect, it was more than suitable for their purposes. She’d always wanted to one day grow her own home, and while an inn in a pocket-world had not been what she’d been ex­pecting, it turned out well enough.

Delven took care­ful notes of the en­tire rune com­plex, faith­fully reproducing each one and drawing diagrams. Haw­thorne declared one section of the pocket-world “The Junk­yard” and dumped most of their old bronze weapons there. Nobody had wanted to buy them any­way, and Keolah figured it was just as well to leave them here rather than haul them around. It’s not like any­one was going to steal them from here. Not from the other side, at any rate. And if any­thing lived on this side of the portal, they had yet to see any sign.

“I’m full of ques­tions about this place,” Delven said. “It had to have come from some­where. Some­one had to have built it. But who, when, why?”

“You said Scalyr has a good lib­rary,” Keolah said.

“Probably the biggest in Kalor, yes,” Delven said.

Keolah nodded. “We’ll head there next, see what we can learn.”

“And here I was al­most starting to get used to this place,” Haw­thorne said. “Still, I’ll be glad to be out in the sun again and among people. Even people I can’t under­stand.”

“There should be more people in Scalyr who speak elvish,” Delven said.

“And I’ll be back to pretending to be an ordinary horse again,” Zen­dellor said. “Maybe it was just as well I couldn’t under­stand any­thing any­one else was saying, but I’ve been picking up some things myself.”

“But, Zen­dellor, your bipedal form is human,” Keolah said. “How do you not know the human tongue?”

Zen­dellor snorted softly. “Would an elf baby raised by humans know to speak elvish with­out any ex­posure to it?”

“Right, I guess not,” Keolah said. “That was a silly ques­tion.”

“I learned elvish from Haw­thorne there,” Zen­dellor said. “As she’s calling her­self these days. You know there was a full year when we were younger that she insisted on calling her­self ‘Lady Dawning Blade’?”

“It was a per­fectly good name,” Haw­thorne said.

“Do we have every­thing we’re taking with us?” Keolah asked. “Let’s make sure we’re squared away and head out the passage to the cave, and see what the time and weather is like out­side. Come morning, we can see about getting out of this forest.”

“I hope you have an idea how to get out of here,” Delven said.

“I do,” Keolah said. “All the mana in the forest ultimately flows out of the cave. If I just dir­ect us ‘down­stream’, that should get us out of the forest, one way or an­other.”

“I’ll leave that to you, then,” Delven said.

Haw­thorne grinned wildly. “Time for an­other ad­ven­ture.”

“You’re staying in sight if I have to hold your hand the en­tire time,” Keolah said.

Haw­thorne paused thought­fully. “I have no ob­jec­tion to this.”