The trees glowed blue.
Griffyn grinned as he peered up into the brightened canopy. He snaked his way through the under-brush, pushing past ferns and shrubs. He didn’t carry a torch, since the forest was easily bright enough to see in at night, and his eyes had adjusted to the dim blue of the surrounding plant life. Mushrooms, flowers, insects, and even the elk shimmered with a familiar bioluminescent glow. Griffyn drew in a deep breath and the smile that pulled on his lips stayed for a while. This was one of the few places he actually found some sense of peace.
“Did you see something?” a female voice asked from behind, startling him.
He looked over his shoulder toward the voice, spotting the familiar gleam of lines and dots that trailed the bridge of Hazel’s nose. She was twirling around a stick in her hand that she’d found in the woods. “Honestly, Hazel, you don’t have to scare me like that.” She stood about twenty feet away from him, her slender figure and long white hair silhouetted against the forest’s light. “How’d you get here so quietly?”
She looked at him, crinkling her nose. “Cause I’m sneaky, that’s why. Better yet, why’d you leave your best friend to go gallivanting around the forest alone?”
Griffyn eyed her with a teasingly stern glance. “Because I'm trying to be alone, that’s why.”
They held a stare for some moments, testing which one would cave first. Then Hazel’s facade broke, causing the two of them to burst out in laughter. The sound echoed through the trees, no doubt disturbing nearby wildlife. Sparks, she was annoying, but her nearly constant smile was always infectious.
Once they had both recovered, Hazel looked around at their surroundings. “This is pretty different from our usual spots. Are you thinking some exploration will take your mind off things?”
Admittedly, he was hoping for that. He was looking forward to going to warcasting academy tomorrow but things with his dad had been tense the past few days. At least, more than usual. He’d left the Choice Ceremony pretty quickly, after a conversation with his father had started to turn sour. Griffyn felt a tinge of guilt for not letting Hazel know about his escape. “Well, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“I’m pretty excited, actually. I’m looking forward to helping the people on the front lines,” Hazel said.
Her sense of optimism was one of the first things people noticed about her. She’d often talk about the importance of choice and her hope to make the world a better place. To Griffyn a lot of it felt far too idealistic. To him, the world was a lot harsher than she gave it credit for. Then again, he knew Hazel could also be very pragmatic when a situation called for it.
“For the record, I’m glad you’re applying too,” he said.
“I bet you are. You’d survive if I wasn’t.”
That made him chuckle. They both had their own reasons for applying to become warcasters. Hers was to help the world. His was just to prove he had a right to be in it. He supposed he’d find that out start-ing tomorrow morning.
The two of them continued walking through the forested hills of the glimmerfen, spotting a few large animals that eyed them warily. The forest really was quite beautiful. It had this sense of magic that magecraft itself couldn’t produce, like it was made by the hand of the Choice Mother herself.
Clearly Griffyn was too distracted by it all, because the next thing he knew, his foot had stepped on empty air. He fell to his left, tumbling down into a small divot, as his shoulder hit a set of paved stones with a thud. He lay there, dazed, while Hazel rushed over to help him.
“Griff, are you okay?” Hazel asked with surprise.
“Y- yeah, I think I am,” he responded. His head was spinning a bit, but it didn’t seem he had bro-ken anything. “Careful, there’s a pit over here.”
“Clearly,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. She helped him stand and then picked up the stick she had collected earlier.
“Why do you still have that, Haze?”
“Because you never know when you’ll have to fend off a pack of graymanes. The fen can be a wild place sometimes," she answered. “Speaking of which, what is this place?”
“Good question,” Griffyn replied. Both of them scanned their surroundings. They were on an old patio, lined with weathered stone bricks. Thick plant-life reached down the edges of the pit it was nestled in, filling the cracks between the chiseled rock as if the forest had been trying to reclaim the stones for centuries. On the side opposite to them, there was a building made of the same stone embedded in the earth. It had intricately carved slabs that formed a gaping entryway with no door.
Hazel expressed a sense of uneasiness, mixed with a flash of interest. “It looks like they’re ruins. And old ones at that.”
They both made their way over to the entombed building, and she stopped to study the walls on the left side of the entryway. The intricate blocks were covered in moss, but there were just enough carvings exposed to see in the glow of the forest. There were pictures of figures arranged in battle, and old writing neither of them could really make out. Then Hazel perked up, as she made some connection in her mind.
“These are about the Tyrant Wars, Griff,” she said.
“What, those random battles from like two thousand years ago?”
“They were three thousand years ago, and they weren’t random. That was the last time anyone heard from the Choice Mother. It also led to the creation of the Coalition,” Hazel said. “If you’re wanting to become a warcaster, you really should brush up on your history.”
Griffyn shrugged with no real response. He didn’t really care to learn about the Tyrant Wars. As far as he remembered, they were just something that happened in stuffy books. Besides, he wasn’t really pay-ing much attention to the carvings. What drew his eyes more was the gaping void of an empty doorway to their right.
He wandered over to it. As he approached, he could see that the doorway led directly to a set of de-scending stairs. The steps continued on for what seemed like forever, disappearing into the darkness.
“Want to check out what’s down there?” Griffyn asked.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to do it no matter how I answer?”
“Fair point,” he said with a smirk. “But if you don’t want to go, then we don’t have to.”
Hazel eyed him, making sure he wasn’t being sarcastic. After she knew he really was letting her choose, she sighed in exasperation. “Fine, but it’s your fault if we die down there.”
Griffyn chuckled and spoke a few words in an ancient dialect of their Soelian language, moving his hands to pull at the threads of creation. A bright orb of yellow light formed in the air next to him, glowing like a torch. Hazel cast the same spell and took off her cloak, revealing the rest of her glowmarks. Hers were in different places than his, with the glowing blue lines and speckles also running down her neck, shoulders, and arms.
Once she had packed her cloak they both began down the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls of the stairwell.
After about five minutes of descending, the two could see the end of the stairs. Down here the air smelled musty and old, like a library that had been buried in dirt for years. Griffyn was in front, using his light to see where they were going. He slowed down as they approached the last steps which opened into a massive antechamber.
Both of them gasped, taken aback by the beauty of the room. It was intricately decorated with col-ored mosaic murals that wrapped around the large circular space. Depictions of people, creatures, and beasts spread across the walls toward the vaulted ceiling. Tiny stones formed interweaving patterns along the edges of the floor as another open doorway rested on the opposite side of the room.
“It’s beautiful,” Hazel said, her eyes filled with wonder. The glowmarks on her nose and neck shone blue in the shadows cast by their spells’ light.
Griffyn had to agree about the room’s impressive decor. He’d never seen anything like it. “What do you think everyone in the village would say if we brought them here?”
“Oh, the stone masons would go wild for this,” she replied. “They’d sell their own sons to learn how to make something like this.”
They continued into the room, taking time to inspect the different sections of the artwork. A lot of it was covered in dust which further strengthened the musty smell. Griffyn found himself thinking about the figures on the walls. He wondered what they were fighting for. Was it for glory? To prove something to themselves? Or were they fighting to protect the people they loved? A lot of the warriors were fierce, as if victory was inevitable for them.
Griffyn wished he could have that kind of certainty. He didn’t really know what to make of his life. He’d decided to join the academy mostly just to get away from home. And maybe to prove to himself that he was more than what his dad said he was. That destiny could make something of his life. Of course there’d be things he was going to miss. It’d be a while since he would see his mom again, and Hazel’s fami-ly had always made sure he felt at home whenever he visited. He would have missed Hazel the most if she hadn’t decided to try to become a warcaster too. They’d been best friends their whole lives. Thinking about it, he was really glad they were going together.
Once they crossed the room, the two of them peered into the other door. This one opened into an even larger rounded chamber, open space spreading out before them. Similar mosaics lined the walls. From the entrance, a narrow bridge led to a central circular platform, surrounded by a chasm on all sides. Looking down into the murk, neither of them could see its bottom.
On top of the platform was a short stone altar, intricately decorated with carvings that became clearer as they walked forward. Once they got close enough Griffyn could see that the altar was an open stone box, almost like a coffin. It was filled with a dark liquid that emanated a curious hum.
“It feels almost…. magical,” Hazel said as she used the stick in her hand to slowly swish the fluid. It seemed more viscous than water, but not thick enough to be tar despite its color.
Griffyn kneeled down to run his fingers through it. “I wonder if it—”
As soon as his fingers touched the substance, his body contorted unwillingly. The fluid moved on its own, climbing up his hand and arms. It seeped into his skin causing his mind to sear with pain. A gut-tural cry escaped his throat, and Hazel wrapped her arms around his chest to pull him away. By the time she did the entire pool had drained into his arm, and the two of them collapsed onto the floor in a heap.
Within seconds, Griffyn’s vision blurred and everything slipped out of consciousness.