She checked the space—empty, no footsteps, no watching mages—then closed her eyes.
The warmth beneath her chest pulsed faintly, as though drawing breath with her. She focused her mind to a single point of intent. A spellcard—but different, mana condensed even more tightly than before.
The air bent subtly around her fingers as mana condensed, shimmering softly.
The spellcard formed cleanly in her hand. The mana contained within the card far exceeded what she had made before.
Eis quickly began imbuing the card with runes—instructions, not for power or destruction but restoration.
She turned it once in the fading sunlight, then slid it into her deck. The other cards pulsed faintly, acknowledging the arrival of something new.
The bells rang the first evening hour. Gold darkened into violet.
It was time.
Eis stepped back into the corridor and made her way toward the infirmary.
The infirmary smelled faintly of herbs and enchanted linen. Soft blue lanterns lit the hall, casting gentle patterns on the walls. Eis slipped inside unnoticed, walking toward the private ward.
Arin lay awake in the third cot by the window, the last of her injuries fading beneath healing charms. She looked up the instant she sensed movement.
Relief softened her expression.
“Eis…”
Eis stopped beside the bed, arms loosely folded.
“You’re recovering.”
“The healers said I’ll be fine.” Arin’s hands curled in her lap. “They keep asking about dreams I don’t remember. About runes…” Her eyes lowered.
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“I can still feel something. Like… something inside me is humming. Calling to the relic you carried.”
Eis’s gaze flicked briefly to archmage division.
“It’s mana resonance,” she said calmly. “It will fade.”
Arin studied her face, then slowly nodded.
“You’re going back tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Arin swallowed once, voice trembling but clear.
“Then… promise me something.”
Her eyes met Eis’s, unwavering.
“If you find others down there—don’t just free them. Bring them home.”
There was a weight in the words, not born from one night, but from something older. Deeper.
Eis nodded once.
“I will.”
A small, tired smile touched Arin’s lips.
“I knew you would.”
As Eis turned to leave, Arin whispered softly:
“Good luck.”
Eis didn’t answer, but her hand brushed the pouch of spellcards at her hip—a silent vow.
Twilight deepened into indigo. Lanterns flickered awake along the canals. Mist curled low through the district—the perfect veil for moving unseen.
Eis took to the rooftops.
She traversed the slanted shingles with quiet grace, the city shrinking beneath her. Her intent, to scout the shallows before meeting up with Team Argent.
From above, the Shallows sprawled in jagged grids of shadow and flame.
Below, she noticed the patterns:
- Two slaver patrols on the southern embankment.
- One group guarding the canal grate near the western bridge—Team Argent’s entry point.
- And deeper east, a faint flicker of bloodstone wards—the side-cells.
The mana signature there pulsed with the same frequency she’d felt underground the night before.
They were preparing to move the captives.
Soon.
A man in a black coat checked sigils near a tunnel mouth. His voice carried upward, echoing faintly:
“Get them loaded before the next patrol loop. We move when the moon peaks!”
Eis looked toward the sky.
Half an hour. Maybe less.
Team Argent was already gathering beneath the western bridge—unaware schedules had changed.
She exhaled slowly, grip tightening on the rooftop tiles.
Time had just run out.