The Synner: Weavings of Fate: The Synner, #1

Prologue

I

heard my mother’s voice grow increasingly distant, her features much less defined now than only a moment ago. She walked through the main entrance to our house as my eyes began to blur and my heart began to pound.

Where are you going? Why do you have to leave? I shouted. Tears streamed down my face and snot fled from my nostrils as I called out after her. I couldn’t have been much older than the age of five when I saw my mother for the last time; her steel-colored hair was stuck close to her body from the rain as she walked out into the twilight.

There was no warning, no sign of anything being wrong, or of anyone at fault. I wept, but I didn’t know for how long. It felt like an eternity, though, as I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. The only thing I did know was that my life was about to change forever.

An older man with a scar on the left side of his face and silver hair walked in the door, but I didn’t recognize him at all. For a few moments, he argued with my father, who was a plump piece of shit, though all I can recall is their stuttering silhouettes bouncing off the walls just as angrily as their tones of voice.

"That monster of a mother of his is finally leaving, and you think you’re going to take care of him better than I will? my father said, his jowls were shaking just as much as the light bouncing off the wall. Absolutely. You’ve already sent his older brother to me out of spite for her, and yet you have the gall to believe that I’m going to believe you will take care of this child?" the scarred man asked. His face was twisted and angry, but that wasn’t what I was focused on.

It was his eyes.

They glowed like twin suns against the darkness of the room that the fireplace’s light couldn’t touch. W-well yes, my father said, his voice beginning to tremble as the scarred man growled before speaking. You’ve done enough already. You’ve gone against her will and done the unthinkable, and yet you expected her to forgive you for it? the scarred man asked, his anger was evident and almost tangible in the thickened air.

I could feel a sort of pressure emanating from him, like the world was itching to bend to his will. I wiped the tears from my eyes, trying to make sure it wasn’t just the light of the fire being blurred in my vision, but it wasn’t.

What is that glowing stuff? Is that fire? I thought, trying to understand what I was seeing.

Oh, how wrong I was.

The scarred man looked at me. He couldn’t have been much older than my father, or at least, he didn’t look like he was. There was, however, something with the way he carried himself that told me he was strong.

Extremely strong.

He was in the middle of saying something I either couldn’t understand or chose to ignore; I don’t know which. I reached my hand out, and these odd hair-like strands of this aura that surrounded him came towards me. I felt it gathering in my palm and around my hand like a warmed glove.

He stopped mid-sentence and stared at me more intently. Whatever it was I was doing had certainly drawn his attention. I remember laughing as the warm cloud of golden... whatever it was began to circulate around my arm and chest.

Suddenly, it halted all movement, and a sharp pain riddled my body that started in my chest. I couldn’t figure out what in the realms had just happened, but whatever it was, my father had clearly taken some delight in seeing me suffer.

I blinked, and I immediately saw a smokey arm materialize in front of me. It grabbed my father by the neck, and pinned him against the wall, making sure his feet were off the ground.

"What the fuck did you do to him? the scarred man growled through clenched teeth as spittle flecked my father’s face. I did the only reasonable thing to do to him," my father said through his tightened throat. He began to chuckle, though the sound wasn’t a clear and cheerful sound. Instead, it was more like a wet gurgling, as the large, smokey claw tightened even further.

With a heavy sigh, he tossed my father aside, slamming him into the wall. The scarred man walked over to me, and after having seen that display of power, I could only wonder what would come for me next.

Hello there, he said in a much warmer voice than he had used when he first arrived. You’re Thoma, right? he asked with a smile, wrinkling the scar on his face. I could only nod out of fear of saying something that might anger him. Gods above, he’s done a real number on you, hasn’t he? he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure my father was still unconscious.

Yes, I said, the only words I could muster in my confusion. "Yes to what, exactly? he asked, keeping the same, warm tone as if he’d somehow forgotten I was only a small child. I-I’m Thoma, I said bashfully. He chuckled lightly and tousled my hair. Yes. Yes, you are. So, can you do me a favor, young Thoma?" the man asked.

I nodded my head.

Just as I did, my father groaned in an apparent regaining of consciousness. The scarred man sent another fist of what I could only describe as hardened smoke smashing my father’s face into the ground without him even bothering to look, keeping the same, warm smile on his face.

Like I was saying, I need you to do me a favor, Thoma, the scarred man said. He paused, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully, and I thought I almost saw his smile fade for a moment, but he recovered before any significant change was made. I need you to grab some of your things, and grab your best raincoat, he said.

But why do I have to go? Are we going after my mother? I asked. The man shook his head. "I’m sorry, but we can’t go after her right now. Things are... complicated, and she’s going somewhere we can’t follow right now. I’m sorry," he said dejectedly.

I sniffed back some snot as the tears began to well in my eyes again as his words set in.

The man seemed unsure of what to do, but he resorted to conjuring a swirling sphere of light in front of me. It looked a lot like the fire that was dying down behind me, only far more controlled and compacted into a sphere not much larger than an apple.

Do you know what this is? he asked. N-no. Is that like the shining stuff that I was playing with earlier? I asked, almost reaching for it. "This... stuff is called mana," he said softly. He began to mold it into a few different but easily recognizable shapes.

All things have mana in them, Thoma; you, me, your mother. Some of us even go so far as learning to control it with special powers, he said, turning the sphere into an arrow-like shape.

He sent the arrow barrelling through the room, turning sharply and avoiding all kinds of objects in the room, then coming to a quick stop in his hand, where it turned back into a sphere. "Ooh! That was so cool! Can you teach me to do that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes to see it better if he decided to do more with it.

I can, but remember that favor I asked you to do for me earlier? he said, dispelling the mana and putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded my head quickly. Good. Go grab your things. I’ll deal with your father in the meantime, he said.

I raced upstairs and grabbed the items he asked for, failing to notice the note left on my pillow, and ran back downstairs. When I came down, I saw that my father was being loosely tied up to a chair. Not so tight that he couldn’t have escaped on his own, though it was more to hold him upright than anything else. The scarred man had sat him down on a chair that was near a smaller table with an open bottle of wine on top of it.

Ready to go? he asked me from over his shoulder. I’m ready, I said, still unsure of what to call him or even who he was. He merely grunted a response and jabbed something into my father’s leg. I could hear the drops of blood hitting the ground from where I stood, and when I noticed it, I saw the letter attached to the cheese knife my father always used, which was now embedded in his upper thigh.

Sorry about that, the man said softly, turning my head away. Your mother said I should do what I can to protect you, and this is my version of it, he continued. Why couldn’t she do it herself? I asked. That’s a difficult question that I can’t answer right now, Thoma, he replied, looking down at the floor. "Oh... okay," I said, feeling my facial features slump a little more.

Come on. We need to get going. I know it’s dark and rainy outside, but we need to leave tonight, he said, ushering me out the door. Just before we stepped outside, he bent down and made sure that the small notch around the neck of my cloak was clasped correctly, then patted me twice on the shoulders.

He grabbed an iron cage with small panes of glass embedded into it from just outside the door. He opened one of the glass panels that had a small knob on it, and pushed a sphere of pure mana inside, and closed the door. The cage sealed shut with a sheen of a blue, translucent mana, allowing the light to shine through cleanly.

Where are we going? I finally asked. I’d trusted the man until this point, but that was more out of survival instincts than anything else. I didn’t know much about him, but something felt familiar about him that I couldn’t quite place. He helped me onto his horse then mounted the beast behind me, making sure I was secure in the saddle before kicking his heels into the horse’s sides.

We’re going to my home in the North-Western corner of Coltend, he replied, having to use a bit more of his voice since the rain had gotten worse. We rode for a few minutes in silence, as I tried to piece together everything that happened until this point. My chest was hurting a little bit, but I couldn’t tell if that was from all the crying I’d done, or something else entirely.

What’s your name? I finally asked. I’d spent the better part of an hour trying to figure out what it might be, but when nothing of the conversation that I recalled held the information I was looking for, I decided I had to ask that question myself. In response, the man chuckled and patted my shoulder again.

"You can call me The Master of Codrean," he said warmly.

Chapter 1

Thoma Fayren

Cold, piercing rain fell from the sky.

It was late in the afternoon, and I stood at the entrance to the stables of Codrean waiting for someone, who was supposed to present me with a gift for my eighteenth birthday. After about an hour of waiting, I finally saw who I had been waiting for: Bernar, my older brother. He was wading through the newly muddled path towards me, with a wry grin on his chiseled face.

Bernar and I have an age difference of about five years, give or take a few months, but he is much stronger and fleshed out than I am. Granted black hair like a raven’s feathers, golden glowing eyes, and a generally athletic build, he also wore a pendant around his neck which he often kept tucked away. The black, leather jerkin, with hose and boots to match, was shrouded by a rain repellant cloak.

The heavy downpour made it a little difficult to see whatever it was he had behind him, but as he approached, it became evident that it was, in fact, a very large horse.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t immediately become ecstatic with the gift.

Gods above and below, this thing is massive, I said, not bothering to hide the excitement in my voice.

"Yes, he is! I figured it would probably be a good gift to get you for your horse-caster certification today. By the way, what kind of psychotic turd decides to do something like this on their birthday, huh?" he asked, his voice sounded a lot like mine, if not a little higher in pitch, making us rather difficult to tell us apart by just hearing our voices.

"Haha, well, about that... I trailed off as I rubbed the back of my neck. He also cost me three months’ worth of my salary, but I’m glad you like it," he chimed in, cutting me off slightly. Seeing as I was a little too short to get my foot in the stirrup, Bernar dragged a nearby shodding stool my way. I crawled up onto the horse’s back with difficulty, as the size of the damned creature was much larger than the one I was previously used to. This, in turn, also meant I struggled to get my right foot to the other side.

Bernar let out more of a maniacal cackle than a regular laugh while watching me fumble-fuck my way about the giant quadriped. Infinite mocking was his prerogative as the older brother, after all. "I should have thought this was a possibility. It’s true that you’re a fine sword-caster, but if mom had seen you struggle like this, there is absolutely no way she would have let you try to become a horse-caster," he said, between laughs.

I felt my mouth grimace and squinted my green eyes. "Oh, just lay it on thicker, you derisive thundercunt. It’s my first time trying to mount a horse this large. My old horse was much shorter than this one, and that’s not even mentioning the fact that you put the stirrups a little too high," I replied with a sardonic sneer.

Bernar shook his head, still chuckling a little to himself. That’s because our rotund father had used this saddle for decades until it was passed down to me. I’m not sure if you remember much about him, but he used this saddle often and ended up tearing through the leather straps that were used to buckle it in the right spot, he replied.

After having kept it in storage for so long, I had forgotten about the tear. I’ve since had to compromise with them being a little higher up until I can get them repaired properly, as the horse alone already drained a lot of my savings, my brother continued, giving me a shrug.

I recognized that my brother did, in fact, spend a lot on this present; it was a beautiful horse, after all. I’m not saying that I’m ungrateful, brother, I began. I do appreciate the gift a lot. I’m just trying to figure out how to get into it smoothly. So, give me a minute, will you? I continued. Bernar merely shrugged in response, continuing to watch me struggle a little longer before finally getting into the saddle.

After finally settling in and readjusting the stirrups as closely as I could to my liking, I patted the horse’s nape. "There, that’s much better, I stated proudly, pushing a lock of mid-length walnut hair away from my eye. Is it comfortable at least?" Bernar asked, eying the stirrups to make sure his younger brother hadn’t made his situation worse.

"Well, Father, being the oversized shit-nugget that he is, has definitely broken this saddle in, I spat. Bernar let out a snort, but immediately cleared his throat. Good. I hope you’re ready for your horse-caster certification. If worse goes to shit, at least you’ll have a horse that could belong to a god. Just, uh... make sure your spell doesn’t backfire, okay? That would suck," he said with a grin.

A spell was the simplest form of magic we Synners used. We’re a group of warriors who gained improved mana-based abilities through the consumption of a plant known as Gwynnleaf. While this wasn’t the only reason we could control mana, it certainly aided the process. We’d earned our moniker of Synner due to the Church of Mideia branding us such, as we opposed the natural order between gods and men, or so the priests and leaders of that cult said.

"And what if I do pass this certification? Do you think the Master will finally train me to become an all-caster? I asked, openly displaying my hopes and dreams for the future. Well, you’re still missing your spear and bow-casting certifications, and that’s not to mention reaching the next stages of mana manipulation, so I can’t say for sure. But, in the event he does accept you for all-caster training, I would suggest you dig deep and dedicate yourself to succeed," my brother began.

"All-casters are rare enough as it is, and we Synners are likely to become a dying breed. Some have even become outcasts of society for having done some ill deed that would hinder the betterment of humanity. However, we must always do our best to avoid following in their footsteps, because when all is said and done, we were created for ridding the world of evil, or so the Master says, anyway," he continued, giving his best impression of the Master he could.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the impersonation, but I also knew the depth of what my brother meant from his history lessons over the years. Tales of Synners turning their backs and betraying their own kinsmen over conflicting ideals or other such reasons had reached the far corners of the Continent - deeming them outcasts and traitors to their own kind.

In any case, let’s begin, Bernar said with a wave of his hand. I nodded and stuck my heels into the horse’s side. Hoof-fall like rolling thunder whipped up a splash of mud, and I could feel the strands of my hair flowing in the wind. I held onto the reins as tight as I could, focusing on breathing in rhythm with the horse’s gallop, relaxing my mind to focus on the challenge ahead.

Casting from a solid stance is relatively simple, but this is a whole new devil I’ll have to manage, I thought.

I was closing the distance between himself and the target quickly, and knew I had to begin gathering mana. The enchanted ring - which all junior Synners wore - served as a magical ward that helped to stave off, but not entirely block the heat produced by the condensed mana just before casting a spell. I focused on the one I had to produce, and reviewed the training I’d had since I was only five years old.

First decide, transfer, then conduct, and finally, release! Never mix the order up or the spell won’t work, the Master’s words echoed in my head.

I, for whatever gods-forsaken reason, decided it would be fun to try to impress my brother with a bolt of lightning that could be cast from one’s fingertips in any direction desired. The target was well within striking range for the spell’s effect, and I took a deep breath before the channeling process.

This process required anyone who wished to use a spell to draw mana from the Ethereal; The invisible realm surrounded all things, both living and inanimate, which was the origin of mana itself. I began to focus as intensely as I could manage, while still maintaining my posture in the saddle.

I forcefully closed my eyes for an instant, using all my willpower to divide my attention, sending my consciousness into the other realm. My eyes reopened, as the familiar feeling of my dilating pupils covered the olive-green irises and the whites of my eyes as my consciousness went from the Between into the immaterial world.

A realm of pure and plentiful power where bright, colorful shafts of light circled a bright sphere of pure power in the sky, while stars of all sizes wheeled overhead and meshed together with the shafts. The merging of a star with a streak of power, which was a magnificent sight in and of itself since it released a blue and orange flare whenever they merged.

I looked around me and observed the ongoings above me as I did every time I wished to draw from the realm. I never had any need to rush this process, as time was not something the realm took into consideration - the only one of its kind to have such a characteristic. It was filled with life forms that roamed the vast forest of magnificent trees. The shimmering lake that was a stone’s throw away shimmered and reflected the light produced from the sphere above it.

The river that flowed from it constantly changed its shape and color, according to the merging stars with the tendrils of power. I outstretched my right hand towards the sphere, spreading my fingers as wide as I could. The mana began to flow in tendrils towards my hand, warming the air around it wherever it went.

They wrapped around my fingers, and the connection began harnessing the shafts of light and transforming them into a nebula of raw mana that encased my body like a flowing, gaseous cocoon, which began to show itself in the Between.

I exerted my will, absorbing the mana into my body and mind quickly, where it could be shaped and molded into the spells I’d already learned. I condensed what I had gathered into my hands, proceeding to cast the spell out just in front of me.

The mana cloud surrounding my body suddenly condensed, and moved with the fluidity of a river towards my right hand, warming what little armor I was wearing and making the hairs on my arm stand on end as it went. The warmth gathered into an indigo, opaque sphere that glowed in the palm of my hand. The heat it generated grew rapidly, and was beginning to seep through the small ward from the ring on his hand.

Time to cast. Otherwise my ward will fail and my hand will melt from the heat, I thought, feeling the heat begin to seep through my measly protection measures.

I locked onto my target and whirled my arm the same way I’d practiced so often in the late hours of the night - a clockwise circle with the casting hand, followed by a pull-push motion with my arm. I made quick work of it and released the spell, its heat going along with it like removing my hand from a campfire. It all happened in a fraction of a second as the bolt of indigo lightning shot out from the fingertips of my glove.

The mana-bolt, now traveling through the air and any falling drop from the sky, vaporized anything and everything as it went. With the massive differential in temperature between the bolt and the air around it being as drastic as it was, the resulting boom from the rapid compression and decompression of the air was so great, it sounded as though the hammer of the thunder god had struck a mountain.

It quickly met its target, leaving it in little more than shards and splinters with an explosive reaction. Charred bits flew everywhere – a few of them passing him by a little too closely for comfort. The unfortunate chicken who pecked at the ground behind the target, was, unsurprisingly, turned into little more than a pink, feathery mist.

Bernar’s jaw dropped as he looked on in astonishment. Haha! You’ve done it, you lanky, little bastard! Well done! he shouted in excitement. I looked over my shoulder as I turned the horse. Did you have some kind of wager with Roburn as to whether I would’ve fucked it up? I asked sarcastically. N-no, why would I have that? Bernar chuckled nervously. "On the contrary, I was actually hoping you would be able to do it. Some of the others, however..." Bernar replied, his words trailing off with a shrug.

I rode up to my brother’s side and dismounted with more grace than I’d had when I tried to mount the large horse. Bernar embraced me, and patted him firmly on the back. Finest use of the Kyr spell I’ve seen in awhile, he began, smiling brightly. Well executed, but dangerous, he warned. "Horses get spooked easily, and most horse-casters recommend using quieter spells while riding. Luckily, this one’s well-trained and kept his composure," he continued.

So I’ve heard, I muttered under my breath. Although I’m sure that the Master will be surprised once he hears what I’ve accomplished, I said, hopefully. I don’t doubt it, little brother, Bernar replied, patting my shoulder. "I know for a fact I wasn’t pulling these kinds of stunts at your age. Hell, he might train you to be the best all-caster of all of us. After all, he does sense that you have much more power than most of the other boys here."

I really hope you’re not just saying that to make me happy, brother. You know damn well I would do my best to be the best he’s ever seen, I said with ironically little self-confidence.

My brother smiled and put a gloved hand atop my shoulder, tilting his head down a bit and looking at me from beneath his dark eyebrows. I’m sure you will be, and I’ll help you in that endeavor wherever I can, he said warmly. Does that mean you’ll let me kick your ass during sword training? I asked.

Bernar laughed heartily. You’re more than welcome to try, but I guarantee you won’t land a blow if you don’t pack on some muscle and learn a few new tricks. Your arrogance far outweighs your flagpole build as it is, he said. I might not have your strength, but I’m at least twice as fast as you, I replied.

Sure, sure, Bernar said sarcastically. But what is speed when your legs are sore, arms are tired, breathing heavy and all that after only 10 minutes of having it out with one of those damned-ugly creatures outside? he asked. No, little brother. You’ll need both to survive out there. Being good with mana manipulation will only get you so far, Bernar said with a seriousness that, until this point, I had never seen in him.

I began to think about the reality of the world outside the fortress’ walls I was yet to explore.

He never explained why I haven’t been allowed to go on expeditions yet, has he? I thought, trying to remember any conversation we’d ever had about the topic.

But, enough about that for now. We should head back to the dorms and celebrate your accomplishment today, Bernar said, flicking the back of his hand onto my chest. "It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here, and pissing more than the sea goddess herself can muster. We still have some time before supper, so we should change our clothes before the Master rips us both a new one, he continued. I guess you’re right," I agreed reluctantly because I loved the rain and cold.

"I’m always right! Bernar exclaimed. Not always... I said, grinning slyly. If you’re going to mention that incident with the Dawn Nymph... Bernar began. I didn’t say anything! I raised my hands placatingly. We chuckled lightly and continued on our way. I suppose we could try another horse-casting, or perhaps spar with each other tomorrow?" I asked my older brother.

Bernar shrugged and displayed a one-sided smile "I suppose we could do some sparring tomorrow, but we’ll have to deal with whatever the Master has planned first. I hear he wants to give us his version of a surprise test tomorrow," he replied.

I held a pensive expression for a few seconds, but quickly dismissed any ideas that came to mind. You don’t happen to know what that might be, do you? I asked. I do, actually, Bernar began. But, due to certain circumstances, I’m not allowed to talk about anything coming from the Master that he doesn’t clearly state himself, he spat. I’d rather like a challenge, I said cheerfully.

Granted, I was blissfully unaware of the reality outside the fortress.

I’d love to show him the new spell I’ve been working on. If I’m able to do it under pressure, with the off chance that he doesn’t know some variation of it already, I think he’ll be pleasantly surprised. I said, to which Bernar simply shrugged. Perhaps. Nevertheless, we should go back to the dorm to get a change of clothes before he kicks both of our asses. You know how he is when it comes to being late for the evening debriefing, he said. I replied with a nod, and placed my new horse in an empty stall, patting its neck as I closed the gate.

A fine horse if ever I’ve seen one, I thought as I returned to my brother’s side.

Half an hour and a change of clothes later, we arrived at the mess hall. A long wooden house, with well-thatched roofing where two massive pillars supported the front of the roof above the main entrance, both engraved with tales of past Synners and their heroic actions. We walked under the tall doorway, and were relieved at the sight of the feast before us.

Normally, the food we would eat during the majority of our days at Codrean tasted little better than watered-down nasal mucus, which held all of the necessary nutritional value we needed. The feast that awaited us was certainly a surprise to be remembered for the next few months.

On the tables, there were slaughtered pigs with apples in their mouths, deer and lamb haunches. There was more than enough vodka and ale to go around, and the Synners, both seniors and juniors alike, were just going in for their second round when we walked in. Many of the Synners acknowledged our presence, as Bernar was one of the few there who had been recognized by the Master at the age of eighteen, and I hoped to match it.

Since our daily training often consisted of various different types of exercises, sword and spell drills were modified to fit each Synner’s own style, while still honing the core basics. Some preferred more flashy styles, whereas others would take preference to the more conservative movement types. Bernar was one of the few who had mastered over four styles of blade-and-spell-work, leading him to be recognized as a prodigy by the Master.

Although we would all spend hours each day, training, polishing and perfecting our techniques for our preferred weapon systems, we would also have to face the rigorous physical conditioning part of it all; league-long runs in minimal amounts of time, lifting and tossing tree trunks, and endless weapon swing repetitions to name a few. This all had to be done in full gear, so that there wouldn’t be a difference in performance when the time to do battle came. In turn, it made us formidable warriors that were nearly unmatched in our physical capabilities.

Usually, there was no such feast waiting for us at the end of a long training day. The habitual gruel we would eat sufficed to supply their bodies with nutrients. However, today was a day unlike the rest. Our eyes glistened at the sight of the feast before us. We walked towards the long hearth running down the center of the barracks, which heated the general area to a fair temperature, and chose some empty seats their comrades had saved for us.

"Ah!" the Master, who now stood at the far end of the hearth, exclaimed. His voice rang out across the mess hall like a tidal wave of sound. Everyone’s hearts skipped a beat, and sat still with eyes peeled. He was not a man any of them would have liked to have annoyed or anything of the sort. Rumor had it that he had killed a Synner a long time ago for insubordination in the mess hall. At other times, he was known to beat future Synners, or new bloods as we called them, for being even a single minute late.

The scariest part was that no one had seen him come into the hall.

I’m glad to see you’re all enjoying yourselves, and you aren’t wrong to do so, he said in a voice much warmer than most were used to. His audience was quiet and attentive, holding their breath as the white haired, glowing-eyed master spoke. I believe everyone present heard the sound of a single thunderbolt strike near our home this afternoon. I thought the thunder god would have brought more with him, given the amount of rainfall we’ve had today, his piercing gaze fell upon the two of us.

Oh, fuck! We’ve been had, I thought.

Surprisingly, the Master didn’t dally on the subject, but a thin-lipped grin managed to escape the corner of his mouth, wrinkling the scar on his cheek. He waved his hand, and decided it was better to move on to what was most important. But I digress. I expect you all know that at the end of every day, we have our debriefing for the following day. Now, I know that many of you have more than obviously noticed that something is very different from any other day up until now.

Here it comes, we thought, glancing at each other.

We’re having this lovely feast for one reason: tomorrow we’re going on an expedition, he said, and watched carefully as some of the younger Synners shifted in their seats. I expect all of you to be looking sharp as ever at first light. We’re going south-west towards Coltend Castle to take part in a war council we have received an invitation from King Truls himself to attend. As things currently stand, I will be the only representative of our section present at the meeting. If any of you have any questions, now would be the best and only time to ask them, otherwise keep your shit to yourselves, the Master said.

A few of the young ones grew uneasy; some with a certain anxiousness to go on their first expedition while others were uneasy out of pure fear. The fear of knowing what they may encounter on the road there made even some of the seniors shake in their hardened leather boots.

I abruptly raised his hand, and in the same instant, the Master raised an eyebrow. Yes? What is it, young Thoma? he asked. I’ve never been to Coltend, Master, and I was just wondering what sort of beasts or monsters we may encounter on our way there, I said with a slight tremble in his voice.

I know others have similar questions, but hopefully I can get enough out of him right now to help them out, I thought, assuring myself I hadn’t just made a mistake.

The Master must have sensed that I was as nervous as a whore in church, and wrinkled the scar on his cheek once more. I’ve only ever been there a few times myself, and I still don’t know every monster or beast that lies on the path towards it. the Master said in a nicer tone than he normally carried. The one thing I can tell you, however, is that if we do encounter any threats along the way, you’ll need all the skills you’ve learned until now, he said with an air of caution.

So, you’re suggesting that the likelihood of us engaging one or more creatures is more than probable, Master? I asked the moment the last word left the Master’s mouth. The Master looked at me with a look I could only assume was a nostalgic one; eager to get into a battle and show my prowess as a Synner. He chuckled lightly through his nose in response to whatever he was thinking.

In case any of you forgot, the creatures we have long since trained to deal with are rarely ever alone. I wouldn’t count on there not being in a skirmish at some point along the way, he said. In any case, be prepared and remember your training. You’ll do well enough from what I’ve heard, Thoma, he said and everyone in the room sat in awe.

The Master had not - in recent years - given a compliment to any of the other juniors, and while I couldn’t read minds, their expressions showed they instantly felt jealousy stirring in their hearts. Thank you, Master. I’ll do my best, I said with more excitement than I had originally intended. I know you will, the Master said calmly, and sent a small chill down everyone’s spine.

I, for one, almost froze solid.

What do you think he meant by that? I quietly asked Bernar after we’d left the mess hall as we headed back to the dorm that was in the main fortress of Codrean. Fucked if I know, he shrugged. The Master’s been awfully strange these days and I’m not too keen on finding out what’s been eating him. Besides, it’s not like he’d let us figure it out anyway, right? I mean, the bastard’s creepy as hell, smart as can be, and meaner than my friend’s ex-wife when she’s on those days of the month, Bernar said with a short chuckle, scratching the back of his head with a shit-eating grin strewn across his face.

I smiled, and felt a little calmer as the last comment was aimed to cheer me up and remove the chill that rolled up and down my spine.

"Ah, screw it, he blurted out. At least we’ll get to truly see what you’re made of if we do face any creatures along the way, he said excitedly. I’m sure that if you can prove yourself to the Master, then you’ll soar up the ranks," Bernar said with confidence.

I sure hope so, I thought, averting my gaze slightly.

Well, we should get some sleep, little brother. Got a long day tomorrow, and not enough sleep or women to keep us company through the night, Bernar said briefly. I have to review the spell I’ve created. It’s best to always keep it fresh in mind, I said.

"Oh, you mean you practice that thing every night? Very well, then, Bernar replied as they reached the entrance to the large, stone fortress - pushing the wooden door open. Just don’t stay up too late, you mischievous little turd, he said, scuffing up my hair. Alright, alright! I won’t!" I replied with a smile from ear to ear. My brother looked down and raised an eyebrow, as though expecting something more.

"Okay, I promise I won’t, I said in a murmur. Better not, Bernar said. Otherwise, I’ll make you drink a bowl of goat’s piss, he said, pointing his finger right at the tip of my nose. Rest well, brother. Tomorrow’s a big day... for both of us," he continued.

Bernar patted me on the shoulder, and turned down one of the stone hallways that lead towards his own quarters. I, on the other hand, proceeded down the opposing hallway, reaching one of the rooms where he found the others in a drunken sleep on their beds. I removed my clothes, avoiding a bucket of someone’s piss along the way, and got into my sleeping attire. I did my best to stay quiet as I tucked myself under the covers and lay awake. I stared into the dark shadows of the thatched roof above me, and wondered what sort of things I might encounter the next day.

As my imagination ran freely, I pictured myself in the middle of a flat, grassy meadow at twilight to review my new spell; calculating how powerful it might be, and how much mana I would need to cast it. Obviously, I knew of the dangers of casting an untested spell in battle, as they were frequently addressed during training. I just hoped that whatever happened the next day wouldn’t force my hand to use it, but that answer would only come the next day.

When, at first light, I’d depart on my very first expedition.

Chapter 2

Eve of the Expedition

Ugh, this sucks, I thought as I writhed beneath the covers of my bed.

The thatched roof above me, saturated from the rain earlier in the day, hung lower than usual, and the distinct drip-drop from it was helping me keep track of the sleep I’d lost.

I closed my eyes once more, and held them shut for a few minutes before giving up and smacking the cold, stone wall behind me. It had hundreds of individual scratchings on it. Names, dates, and drawings of all sorts had turned the plain granite wall into a canvas by the ones who came before to express themselves however they saw fit.

Doesn’t look like I’m going to be getting much sleep tonight anyway. I should probably use this time to review my spell, just in case, I thought.

It was one of the most mana-demanding spells I had created, and I knew it would be devastating if used correctly, to say the least. I lay there, calculating and recalculating every movement to the single-digit degree, the amount of mana needed to condense the spell, how it would react with the ring’s ward and whether the ward would hold. As time passed, I continued tossing and turning, probably more times than a dung-beetle would roll a turd-ball back to his home.

I absolutely hate having to wait to try this out. Although, if I go out and test it now, my energy levels for tomorrow will be severely drained, and I’m certain the Master will pick up on the mana it will disperse because of it, I thought.

I decided against going outside and tugged on the woolen blanket I was using to keep warm in the cold night.

Gods above and below, this new blanket is a bit itchier than I thought it was going to be. I can’t seem to find a comfortable spot around my neck for it, I huffed, nearly giving up on the idea of sleep entirely.

Since it had rained all day long, the ground was saturated with near freezing water, which made the air even colder and more difficult to stave off. The gray, cotton pajamas I wore to sleep did little to keep the cold off my skin, and what little hair I had on my limbs stood up on their ends as gooseflesh riddled my skin, causing me to shiver.

It’s absolutely freezing here. I wonder if I can use that spell I had seen Roburn cast earlier this morning, I pondered through chattering teeth.

Roburn was another one of the Synners who had graduated some years before that fateful night. He often liked to show off his abilities with mana-cloaks and masterful sword-casting techniques. Although I had never used a mana cloak before, I had read about them in the dark hours of the night, and decided to try one for myself.

What’s the worst that can happen? I thought as I reached into my memories of past late-night adventures, and chose the Pyrus spell.

There. This should do the trick. I remember Roburn using it to keep warm during winter training last year. Now, if I can just condense the mana properly around me, I should be just fine, my thoughts trailed as I began to focus on the next steps

My eyes darkened once more, coating my sclera black as I stretched out my hand once again to draw from the sphere in the sky. I knew I only needed a little and used my will to control the flow from the spiraling rings of light above me, even though I wasn’t fully attuned for just how much was actually needed. The mana tendrils wrapped around the tip of my finger, down my arm, and onto the rest of my body, encapsulating me in a cloud of mana. I severed my connection to the realm, and my consciousness of the world around me lurched as it returned.

I could still feel the pulsating cloud of mana around me, warming the air around my entire body like the heat of a small hearth.

Hmm, It’s still not hot enough. It’s helping, but not quite there yet, I thought, smiling warmly with the small amount of newfound warmth.

In truth, I was entirely unsure of exactly what I was doing, but whatever it was seemed to be working and, thus, thought it would be alright.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I condensed the mana that was lining my entire body and creating a small barrier between myself and the blanket. I, stupidly, flicked my index finger against my thumb, as though I were lighting a flint and tinder kit. The result, as one might have already guessed, sent sparks of mana from the inside of my palm towards the barrier.

As soon as the sparks touched the barrier, it began to burn like the coals at the end of a wood-fire’s life. However, instead of dying out, it quickly gained copious amounts of heat in such a short period of time that I could feel the heat coming through my pajamas.

Ah, there it is! The Fuckening has begun, I thought, accepting my inevitable death.

The heat from the barrier rapidly set the blanket ablaze, forcing the protective coating to disappear about as quickly as it was formed.

Shit, it was too hot! I can’t just lay here and die! I have to do something! I thought, knowing I wouldn’t withstand the heat for much longer.

My eyes darkened once more, as I drew more mana to shield myself from the ever-intensifying heat. The mana surrounded me once more and acted as a shield between myself and the blanket. I tried to swat out the newborn flame with my hand, but to no avail. The fire engulfed the blanket and I threw it to the floor beside my bed.

Shit, shit, shit! That was too close for comfort, I thought.

The fire spread onto my bed and he began to panic even more so than before, given the fact that he had just lit something on fire at an hour when he should not even have been awake. The fire continued to spread, as he desperately searched for a way to extinguish the flame.

This is probably the second worst idea I’ve had today, I thought as I noticed a piss bucket next to one of the other boys’ beds.

I raced over to it, proceeding to throw the musky liquid onto the fire. A pungent steam immediately filled the air, and I began to choke on the stench I’d just created.

Well, that was dumb. Ten points to the dumbass of the day for thinking that would work! If I can’t stop the fire itself, I can at least prevent others from getting burned, I thought.

Fire! I shouted. The three other young Synners in the same dorm abruptly woke up and, after having noticed my mistake, displayed little more than pure, unadulterated panic. The flame that had now spread to the bases of their beds. The three were just as - if not less experienced - than I, and they all mimicked my shout sporadically.

The fear in their eyes was real enough, for none of the three had ever seen a fire-based spell in such proximity, as they would only begin to meddle in such matters the following year. Meanwhile I, now heavily influenced by the panicking trio, felt my stomach churn.

Oooooh, this is bad. This is really bad. Bernar will have my head on a platter, and there’s no telling what Master will do, I thought.

The three youngsters desperately attempted to douse the flames with their blankets, however, since the flame had been mana-borne, it spread to their blankets as well.

You’re a fool, Thoma Fayren. You could probably have a more intelligent conversation with a rock than with me, I thought as I shook my head. The three boys were wailing, but through their desperate cries, I heard a distinctive command. Keep away from the door! the voice shouted.

It was the Master.

The others and I hurried and pressed our backs as hard as we could on the wall adjacent to the doorway, assuming the door would have swung open the other way, leaving us untouched.

What kind of technique does the Master use that even I can feel him drawing mana? I thought, feeling the hairs on my arms and neck standing up once again.

The pulse stopped as quickly as it began, allowing a split second of pure silence. As the air became still and its pressure grew, it compressed their bodies as though they had reached the bottom of a lake. The pressure was released, and the resulting sound was that of the largest war-drum being hit by a giant. The pressure bent the door inwards, releasing screws and nails from their positions, as a violet wave smashed through the door, obliterating it entirely.

Our ears popped from the release, and our chests felt like they had been trampled by a herd of wild horses, though, at least the flame was gone.

It... it extinguished a mana-fire? How the...? I stopped, trying to piece it all together in my head.

As we recovered from the shockwave, we noticed all of our bedding now redecorated our room like some scary story a parent would tell their child. Overturned bunk beds, mattresses, pillows and sheets were strewn about the room, and the palpable smell of charred piss didn’t help the situation either.

We stumbled back from the doorway, looking back in awe. In all honesty, I don’t think any of us had ever seen such destruction inside the living quarters before, and knew that whatever came next would not be anywhere near a pleasant experience.

We all coughed due to the pungent steam and smoke from the now-charred blankets, making our eyes tear up as a result. The Master’s silhouette stood in the doorway, backlit by a wall-lamp that caused the figure to flicker. Two pairs of yellow eyes glowed in the frame of the doorway - one pair his, while the other was Bernar’s.

The Master was wearing a loose white shirt that had laces around the chest and neck, with his sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearm. His gray, cotton pants were tailored perfectly to his height, not dragging any of the material on the ground as he walked. He also wore leather-soled slippers that muffled the sound of his footsteps.

He moved forward, and his hands clasped behind his back. He held his head high and straight, like a statue. We looked up at him in fear, not knowing what came next. Bernar, his right-hand man, stepped in behind him with a noticeable amount of less grace and fluency than the Master; nearly knocking over a cup that had been on a bedside table nearby. He was wearing the same style of clothes as the Master, though they were a little dirtier. The thick, smoky air was filled with the sounds of our heavy breathing and coughing. I caught my brother’s eye, but he only shrugged subtly in response. The Master flinched his right eye at the sound coming from behind him, but decided to not turn around.

Boys, the Master’s voice rang out. I understand the common mischief youngsters find themselves in more often than not. However, I would like to know who was the one who attempted the Pyrus spell, he said.

Ahaha... shit, I thought, since I knew the Master had already traced the residual mana back to me.

The boys gazed at each other, bug eyed and shaking nervously. It was me, Master, I finally admitted. I was the one who attempted the spell and lost control of it, I said with my head bowed,