Selene is silent, but her confusion is palpable—the very same as our own. Does at least know who these mystery figures are?

  I give the pair another glance just as the taller one steps forward, catching a glint of light from the towers deeper into the city. Dark olive skin, black hair that only reaches just above their shoulders, a mantle of ebon feathers that seem to shroud them, and then—something else. Something I only barely notice through all the details seemingly intent on obscuring it.

  The tips of pointed ears poking out through their hair—an elf’s ears. An elf?

  But the rest of these details… I’d be a fool not to recognize them for who they are, considering that I was told about them only a short time ago. This is Isa—it has to be. The Pioneer of Deceit. They lock eyes with me, then, lips parted into an entertained smile—almost imperceptible. Our shared gaze is interrupted by Selene.

  “Not quite how I expected us to meet again after all this time, Isa.” She says, and I can almost feel the way her eyes must surely be boring into them.

  The one accompanying Isa is the next to speak, “Thank goodness for that…”

  Isa looks toward her, and then back at us, saying “We could do battle here, Selene—but you know what would result from it, don’t you?”

  My fight with Josephine was catastrophe for this part of the city. It created a raging inferno that consumed all but the stone of a manor—and would have spread further if the city were made of wood. I’ve only heard some of what the both of them can do—and the information must be outdated for Isa, who’s lived decades past what I last heard about them. If I had to guess, though, a fight between the two of them would surely spell danger for the rest of the city, especially if that were Isa’s intent.

  “What do you want, then, old friend?”

  Isa leaps down from the wall, and the one accompanying them follows suit soon after. They look past me, to Selene, and say, “These five—I want ”

  I expect to hear a scoff, or some other sort of exasperated noise—but there isn’t one, only silence. Cold, precise silence. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least for someone in her position to deny that request outright. Instead, she says, in a tone dripping with venom, “You can have all but the daughter of Cirix and the new Sorcery.”

  “You insist on that?” They ask.

  She only says, “I do.”

  Less than a second passes between her words and the feeling of mana probing against my shoulder—against everyone in our little group. Someone else—that person who was with Isa? She’s standing beside us-

  Tugging, pulling, on my soul, moving me somewhere else. It’s a brief flash between there and here, before I’m standing at Isa’s side, still holding one of the unconscious dwarves. This person… She can warp? She did it twice in a row, and moved five people at once—even with Cairbre’s handiwork it would be impossible for me…

  A golden circle forms underneath us, swaying runes dancing at its edge. Chains of light spring up from the ground, making their way toward my limbs. [Anathema]

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  Fields of grass, a dark sky, glowing towers looming overhead, and a wall ahead with a sizeable hole in it. We’re outside of the city?

  “Now,” Isa says, “Loulia—if you would?”

  Loulia, which seems to be her name, raises a hand skyward. Her eyes are closed, black feathers swaying from the release of mana within her body. A glow crests over the wall like the rising sun—Selene. Then, just as a half-dozen spears of light sail toward us, Loulia grabs at something invisible in the air.

  No—invisible to most, but not to me. Now that she’s pointed it out, I see it for what it is: the Sea of Mana. Branching paths carved out all around us, flowing to places beyond where I can see. Her fingers have grabbed at the thickest part nearby.

  “Now!” She calls, extending a hand to us all.

  Isa throws out a dozen daggers—two for each of Selene’s projectiles. The blades are destroyed, but they hamper the speed of the spears enough to cause them to fall short.

  I clasp a hand against Loulia’s, as does Adeline and Aidan. A surge of energy courses through all of us, then, connected by our proximity—by our contact. Isa finally puts a hand on Loulia’s shoulder, and in another split-second everything has been replaced by vibrant colors.

  Prismatic threads on a white backdrop, a familiar sight from the trials. It’s shifting, though. The threads are growing larger, expanding. Before I know it the white backdrop has been consumed entirely by the colors, trapping me in some sort of painted vortex. It’s only once the backdrop has been taken away, though, that I realize what’s surrounding me. Mana, an unquantifiable amount of mana.

  This is the Sea of Mana, then? Was it always?

  I get the vague sensation of the rest of my fellows standing beside me, but I can’t see them. Are they seeing the same thing as me—or have I been afforded this privilege through [Child of the Sea]

  It feels as if we’re moving, rushing about through the Sea—passing through different points and taking odd turns here and there. The colors become thicker and thinner, depending on the area we’re in. My body has some sort of innate sense of the directions we’re taking—as if it has a compass within the Sea. We go west for a few moments, reaching a particular intense concentration. The Dreadspire, it must be.

  Then, we pivot toward the east, traveling along one of the main branches of the Sea. Minutes pass. Then south, then west a touch more. This dizzying refinement of our position continues on, until eventually—and quite jarringly—the colors disappear in favor of the actual world.

  The blistering sun beams down on all of us, the chattering of hundreds of people not far away. We’re in some sort of nook in a city—the street made of mud bricks, flat walls surrounding us save for where the footpath leads out. Crates are stacked up all around the corners of this place, marked with a flowing language that I can’t read. Wrack your brain, Sybil—where in the world are we?

  Loulia sighs, putting a hand to the wall to keep herself up. Her legs are shaking—she’s probably running out of mana after… Whatever she managed to do.

  Isa comes to stand in front of me, eyeing me up and down. In particular, they stare at my injuries. “Are you alright?” They ask, “You’ve survived something exceptionally foolish today.”

  “Before… You threw me…” I say under my breath.

  “And I’m quite glad that the impression that gave made you remember my words.” They reply, a satisfied smile on their face. “And you—Adeline?”

  She blinks, scratching her head. It takes her a moment to say anything, but her silence is eventually broken with a baffled tone. “U-um… Yes, I’m fine. A bit hungry, maybe?”

  Isa nods, “We should probably awaken your allies—make sure that their injuries are attended to. Then, I promise, I would be happy to oblige your hunger.”

  Somehow, someway, this isn’t all just a dream. The feeling of disbelief keeps firmly in my mind, though.

  Isa beckons us to follow them, and we do. Out from this nook and into a narrow alleyway—then, into the midst of a bustling city street. Hawkers behind carts shouting in a foreign language, tradesmen selling fine fabric and vessels of clay or glass. Somehow, despite the sheer number of people, there’s no chaos to their movements. As if they’re all in sync, they travel together—making way for any who’d seek to get ahead.

  And most interesting of all—their ears. It isn’t just a small amount, no. Most of the people here seem to be elves.

  “W-where in the world are we..?” I ask to Isa.

  “One of the largest nations in the world,” they say, “my home—my dream: Trinsilia.”