The Game - Gathering the players [Team Dusk, closed]

[Kamalia Timandre]

There was wisdom behind Gromhir’s words. This “game” would require more than just brute force and arm muscle. What deeply concerned the konti wizard, though, was not the mechanics of the Game itself, but the reason and motivation behind the design of such arcane structure. In the yellowed pages of her books were tales of the ancient empire of Alahea engineering spell-powered constructions to defend their lands against the storms of invaders from the nation of Suva. Those ancient, musty tomes detailed accounts of how the forces of the Suvan Empire swept through the borders of Alahea, leaving pain and destruction everywhere. Alahea was not without defense, however, being the more magically-developed between the two nations. The eastern empire had raised strongholds such as this one through sorcery and faultless engineering, along armed golems and summoned creatures, to augment their military and turn the tide of the war. By the scores, by the thousands, Suvan soldiers died. Kamalia swallowed hard as she pondered the array of magecrafted traps and riddles that awaited them inside the castle. And the castle itself? The answer to this seeming puzzle was plain enough for one who had been raised as a wizard. Before the Valterrian, Mizahar was rife and abundant with magic. Magic was hardly unknown in the world today, but it was comparatively rare. The level of magicks and engineering required to replicate a pre-Valterrian fortress seemed highly unlikely to exist to this day, unless. . . Kamalia’s trail of thought was cut off abruptly when she heard the sounds of grating metal. The konti-girl’s gleaming red eyes widened as the castle’s drawbridge lowered, revealing a latticed portcullis being lifted by an invisible force. The Game was beginning! There was no turning back now! The young wizard was not sure what to make of this, but Gromhir’s reassuring caress on her slender arm melted her apprehensions away. She softly smiled at the kelvic, and just by smiling she quietly promised her friend that everything will turn out fine. She turned her gaze upon Stitch once again as he ripped off the bandages that concealed his sightless eyes. Those milk-white, opalescent eyes never failed to unnerve her. How enigmatic it was—the strange turns of their fate. Stitch had led them here to play The Game, but why? Aside from being an aurist and a practitioner of flux, what had Stitch to do with magic? Her sightless friend did not seem to be a man who coveted wealth and fortune. More enigmatic still was the agenda and the motivation behind the creation of this “Game”. How would the game’s creator benefit from all these? Did the creator conceptualize this game only for his own amusement, or was this a multilayered trap? And who, on the charred face of Mizahar, was daft enough to squander resources and employ dangerous magicks to make such a silly pastime, anyway? Kamalia sniffed derisively as an answer came to her. Wizards, of course, she thought dryly, knowing by heart how overgiving could disfigure even the sturdiest of minds. Facing Nyahna, the konti maiden bowed her head slightly as a gesture of courtesy to the dhani assassin. “My name is Kamalia, and this “wolf” is Gromhir,” gently murmured the girl in softly-accented Common, before pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and walking after Rhylen and Stitch into the courtyard. The message on the signpost was strange and curious at best, but she paid it little heed. There would be time to contemplate on that later. What caught Kamalia’s full attention was the beating heart set upon the pedestal. The sight of it made her stomach churn and educe a low, audible ‘ugh’ from the beauteous konti-girl. Its existence supported her theory that the game's creator had predilection for the magical arts. Now, she was more than half-convinced that the creator of the Game was indeed a wizard—and an insane one, at that. Fleet and graceful as a silver shadow, the konti-girl stood before the pedestal, garnet eyes glinting with an undying curiosity as she perused the inscriptions. She was trying to piece together a puzzle but to no avail. One very important part of it was the myriad of clues that indicated the true identity of the game’s creator. Was the heart truly the key to open the door? Frustrated beyond words, Kamalia made her way to the Questions Shop to search for more pieces to the puzzle, not even mindful of her companions.

[Gromhir]

The massive wooden drawbridge creaked and fell as it was lowered to open the way before them. Gromhir could almost smell the magic used to cause such a feat. But now was not the time to ponder such things. His ruby eyes watched the others as they crossed. He was reluctant to enter even as Kamalia crossed the threshold. Here was not somewhere he wished to be. But he could feel the Konti Wizard’s mind ticking away with questions and curiosity, maybe this would be good for them.

Gromhir pulled the green cloak from his back and slid it into the saddlebag. The man became Ivaski once more as he followed the others across the bridge. It was not too different from when they first entered Syliras just smaller and not as busy. The massive white beast padded along casting his gaze briefly to the signpost. Some sick joke on the part of the creator no doubt. Gromhir turned his eyes to the rest of the scenery that surrounded them.

There were a few buildings placed almost randomly around the courtyard. Gromhir could not place what most of them were, except the question and opportunity shops. They were labelled but Gromhir had no idea what was inside. Then there was the heart. A heart and a door. The very thought made a shiver run down the Kelvic’s long spine. He listened to Stitch speak and simply nodded in approval. Searching the buildings, finding out about their surroundings was best.

Then he felt it, Stitch’s heart wrenched in agony. Gromhir felt it like a cavalry charge. He steeled himself to prevent the emotions running through the link to Kamalia. The Kelvic returned to human form briefly, placing a hand on Stitch’s shoulder. “I have many questions for you, Master Stitch,” Gromhir spoke in a hushed tone so nobody else could over hear. “But we shall win this together first before I shall ask them. We must press on, my friend.” Gromhir said nothing more as he stepped now beside Kamalia.

“I will stop you until you stop me?” The Kelvic spoke outloud. “Doors, hearts, magic, it sounds like one of those tales from your storybooks. Those ones before the death of the world.” Gromhir reached a hand out to touch it but stopped himself short, remembering the arch and what it did. “I can’t help here, I will search the towers,” it was an excuse to cover the fear he felt, Kamalia could feel it through their link. It was the first time the Guardian had ever felt fear for himself and not worry for her.

Ivaski once more, he went towards one of the towers. Maybe there were less magical puzzles inside.

[Demetri Velutina]

Demetri's left arm rested on the knotted handle of his whip holstered on his hip but due to his elongated arms it gave the young Symenstra a awkward stance. His wandering eyes scanning the Konti girl for moments longer before a natural interest in the rest of his teammates took hold. Turning towards the blind one Stitch, Demetri nodded his head. "Auristics? I have never seen someone use it in person. A good skill to have." After a quick smirk it faded away Demetri looked to the sky to try and mark the signs of time as Stitch added on where each should stand guard and it wasn't bad.

It wasn't so surprising as the one called Gromhir turned into a beast. Luckily, now Gromhir showed some promise in Demetri's temporary red eyes. The calm of the moment was broken by sudden laughter from Kamalia who showed childlike wonderment taunting each person ending in silents. The pale of her skin made the reddening of her cheeks evermore vibrant. Demetri kept that moment in mind for later use if necessary as he listened to Gromhir speak.

As the drawbridge lowered to its resting place on the ground and portcullis raised, Demetri turned to each of his partners before venturing into the castle courtyard where the Signpost caught his attention making his stop his graceful pace. "Once upon a time there was innocence?" Looking around Demetri kept on walking towards the Main Keep behind his Teammates Gromhir, Kamalia,Ryhen, Sasin,and Stitch. Demetri stood before the pedestal of the beating heart watching it beat for more then a minutes. Turning his back to the heart he started off to look around.

Stopping Demetri took a knee as he removed his cloak, folded it, then neatly placing it into his backpack. Standing back up Demetri was no longer hindered as it was clear the Symenestra black leather armor wasn't what gave Demetri's form his build because he was actually muscular. Demetri soon came upon ~The Forge~ to look for anything of use.

[Stitch]

Stitch stood there, simply watching his fellow players, his mind somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away.

Stitch was observing his classroom of children while they drew. He would occasionally walk around to see each child's artwork, compliment them on it a bit, pat their shoulders, and continue on. They weren't the best of artists, but they did well with what they could do, and he was quite happy with that. This was kind of a break from the normal mundane school work, and they seemed to be enjoying it. Who was he to mention that they were drawing outside the lines? He should likely encourage it. Think outside the box, and all that. As Stitch got to Trish, who was working diligently, he asked what the drawing was. The girl replied, "I'm drawing your mommy." Stitch paused, blinking, and said, "But.. This one doesn't know what his mommy looks like." Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing the girl replied, "You will in a minute, Stitchie. And she will be the most beautiful girl in the whole world."

Ba-bump.

Stitch's heartbeat matched that of the heart on the pedestal. Distantly, he heard Gromhir approach him, and offer a few soft words. He absorbed them, tried to hold onto them and press them close to his heart. As he reach out for them, curling fingers of hope around words of encouragement, the word swam. The words slipped from his fingers, from his mind, and Gromhir was forgotten, lost in another memory.

Fentya was a very serious girl once who didn't even know the meaning of sarcasm, and back then, she was seven. She came home once from the Great Bazaar, and admitted calmly to Stitch that Jhonnie had kissed her after inside one of the empty stalls. "How did that happen?," grinned Stitch, eager to hear about Fentya's first kiss. "It wasn't easy," admitted the young lady, "but three girls helped me catch him."

Ba-bump.

We must press on, my friend.

Gromhir's words swirled up again, and Stitch leaped for them, a slowly drowning heart reaching for that last life line. He grabbed hold, and clung to it, focusing his gaze on Gromhir and Kamalia, and not letting go. Seeing them, it made a small light come to his heart. Perhaps they didn't see it, not yet, perhaps they did. He knew they didn't see it the way he did, but one day, he hoped to show them. They were so in love, and when they came close to each other, it showed. Their auras danced and twirled in harmony, stroking each other with the embrace of a passionate lover. They glowed bright, fluxing between a variety of colors, but those colors always complimented their partners. For now, they were in perfect harmony. He prayed it would stay that way for them forever. Their love was as existent in the air as the wind itself, and he could taste it on his tongue, so sweet and soft.

Glancing from Gromhir, to Kamalia, to Demetri, to Sasin, to Rhylen, he forced a smile onto his face. They were in this together. He just had to help for now, and trust them. This was a game. It wouldn't be that bad, he hoped. With a deep breath, clearing his mind, he headed to the 'Opportunity Shop'. His Auristic gaze would study the door for a few moments, veins twitching to life on his face as he carefully molded his own aura with that of the door, checking for traps, or anything to be worried about. If there was nothing, he would reach forward and attempt to open the door, to see what was within.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Sasin hesitated a moment more before he walked in. Looking around, he took stock of his surroundings. In front of him was a tower. There was a door, and a heart on a pedestal. He was somewhat amused to find that he didn't seem to care. He was more detatched than he thought. What interested him more were the towers. He could see doors on the walls of the central tower. Walls that were accessable to both sides.

"Stitch." He didn't know why, or how, but the blind man had somehow become the leader of this ragtag bunch. "Look up there. Those doors. We need to secure them. If we hold those doors, they'll have to go through the heart." He said. Glancing around, he saw his team wandering off in various directions. Walking briskly over to Demitri, he spoke. "Demitri, we need to secure those doors." He said, indicating the doors. "How fast can you get up the north wall? I'm going to take the south."

[Rhylen]

Rhylen, caught up in his own reverie, gazed at the heart for a long time, feeling the powerlessness of innocent status. The riddle seemed simple. Destroy the beating heart and clear the way. He delved deeply within himself for another answer, another way, and could find nothing. His heart, like that on the pedestal, seemed detached in this place. Far from his home and his people, in an unfamiliar world, he could not help but feel apathetic towards the others around him. They, like him, were apparently trapped here, but unlike him they had motive to be here; motive to seek the boon of whomever had created this immense maze. Rhylen suffered no such motivation; instead feeling as though the spirit haunting his body had given him no other choice.

He was drawn back to the problem at hand by the conspiring of his teammates. It appeared that a conflict would arise sooner than expected, and Rhylen felt the need to find his own little bit of solace. His growing discomfort, borne of the unexpected company, had an effect on his ability to focus. Nervously he sought a bit of solitude, his eyes resting a moment on the black door, before they came to the small chapel. No matter the people, a reverence for the gods and goddesses of the land and the sky seemed to take hold of the mind. As a man of the Cyphrus, his beliefs were somewhat more tied to the balance of all things, and the beauty of life. He did, however, understand the gods to be an influential factor in the lives of most, if not all mortals. He would seek that influence now, and perhaps gain some further knowledge of their predicament.

Navigating the cobbled walkways, Rhylen took in the buildings around him with a bit of awe. The Drykas often erected beautiful pavilions on the grass, reminiscent of the great plateaus in the region. Never had the horse clans taken to building with stone, however, and the foreign nature of the ancient architecture awoke an unearthly sense of spiritual presence within him. He came to the small temple quickly, noting any symbols of the gods he could see, and stepping through the doorway, his eyes taking in its subtle beauty. He moved towards the most intricate of alters and took a knee, lowering his eyes to the floor and muttering a series of prayers to various deities, requesting courage and clarity.

After a short time, he came to his feet and continued his examination of the chapel interior, hoping to find a clue. From his position, just inside the archway, he could see a few of his companions. He hoped that their combined mettle and experience could navigate this game without any of them coming to harm. Rhylen was doubtful, however, for he knew the hearts of some folk were easily swayed to darkness. It was a belief ingrained in him as any other of Raghnall’s lessons, a belief that might yet save him the dangers of betrayal. His hand came to the ceremonial dirk at his side, testing its attendance.

[Tarot]

First day, 12th bell and 15 chimes

Kamalia - Question shop The Question shop was a smallish building consisting of just a single room built from the same stone as the rest of the castle. It was devoid of furniture save for a long wooden table spanning the entire length of the place. Upon the table were three large eggcups carrying eggs that were just as large. They could easily be Glassbeak eggs or even bigger. There were also a quill and an inkpot, as well as an ornate golden hammer. A plaque on the wall contained the rules governing this room. Question shop: usage 1) Write your question upon one of the eggs (for example, "Who wants to burn down Stitch's orphanage?"). 2) Break the egg and receive the answer to your sin. 3) You must be Innocent when you break the egg to have your question answered.

Gromhir - Tower The tower entrance was on ground level and far from fancy. It was just an open door leading to a long set of corkscrew stairs only interrupted by the occasional narrow window. This part of the castle looked entirely mundane, truth be told. There were no beating hearts or strange phenomena. Daylight streamed from the windows. Birds were chirping. And a masked man was sitting on the third step. He was decked out in elegant brocades and wore expensive-looking rings on his gloved fingers. The mark was ivory white, with the left side of the mouth smiling and the right side frowning in a curious mix of comedy and tragedy. "Greetings, Kelvic," said the man, in a deep voice that did not even seem to come from behind the mask, "I should probably warn you that your mistress risks more than most from participating in the Game. She is, how to put it gently... somewhat unstable, and this endeavor may very well push her over the edge." "If you love her, you should make her quit before it is too late," the masked man concluded quietly before disappearing altogether, as if had never been there to begin with. His message delivered, he had no further reason to be here, it seemed.

Demetri - The forge The forge was another one of the more mundane locations in the castle. It was a blacksmith's forge, though it seemed cold and unused for a long time, assuming it had ever been used before. Weapons of all sizes and types were on display on several racks; they were of average craftsmanship and not unlike their Syliran counterparts. The sword carelessly tossed next to the anvil was different, though. Demetri could see inscriptions forming all over the blade's length as he laid his eyes on it. It read "I only speak the truth." Then they shifted as the letters formed another sentence. "The blind man is desperate to win." It then shifted once again. "Right now he is inspecting an item that lets one defect to the other team." The sword changed no more, but there was nothing preventing Demetri from taking it with him.

Stitch - Opportunity shop The Opportunity shop was a large, but mostly empty one-story building with the occasional row of shelves against the far wall. There were no traps or secrets to be found, not even under the scrutiny of Stitch's Auristics. Everything here was in plain sight, no gimmicks, no money back. The shelves contained scrolls neatly arranged inside leather tubes. Plaques indicated the intended usage for each. Opportunity shop: usage 1) Any participant to the Game may carry any amount of scrolls, but may only use one scroll throughout the Game. 2) Recite the formula and have the targets willingly identify themselves. Nothing will happen until the targets have agreed to it. As for the scrolls themselves, they came in three varieties of which there were more than they could ever hope to use. The three types could not be told apart from the outside as they all looked identical. It was up to the carrier to remember which pile they got each scroll from. 1) Scroll of sacrifice. A Sinner regains Innocence, at the cost of a team member volunteering to leave the Game altogether. 2) Scroll of banishment. If all remaining Innocents reach consensus, they can banish a Sinner from their team and from the Game. 3) Scroll of betrayal. The reader can defect to the enemy team, provided at least one of its members is willing to sponsor him or her. Defection is a sin.

Rhylen - Chapel The chapel was small and cozy, and while its altar was not luxurious it could easily accommodate the religious needs of the castle's inhabitants, if it had any. As Rhylen murmured his prayers to the gods, he slowly came to realize he was being watched. His Spiritist's senses tingled, alerting him to the presence of a ghostly woman, a young brunette, standing in a corner of the chapel, smiling. She had all the trappings of a priestess, and white robes stained with her red blood. "Praying will not help you figure out the Game," she said with a sad smile, "but it still helps, doesn't it? I admire your devotion, young man. Let me tell you something." "The Game is borne of great despair. You can either win it its way and satisfy its cynical views, or you can win it your way and prove it wrong. At all times, young man, do remember who your opponent really is."

Sasin - Courtyard It seemed Sasin was left alone with the heart - even Demetri seemed to ignore the Dhani's suggestion to scale the walls and reach the upper doors. People around him went about their business and scattered all over the courtyard, and Sasin was, for now, alone with the beating heart on the pedestal. It was in this brief solitude that a voice seemed to enter his mind. "They don't trust you," it said, and the piercing thought seemed to come from the beating heart itself, "and that is no news, right? Nobody ever trusts you. You are alone, alone in a world that wants to crush you under its heel. Watch out, Sasin, you are their expendable tool. Your race has spelled your fate. They will use you until they have no use for you anymore. Poor, pitiful creature."

Everyone A loud metallic noise could be heard. It came from the central tower, and any who just happened to look up would see that a small platform was slowly rising from its top. Upon this platform was a large white flag that billowed in the wind. There was a single piece of information written in blood red letters on both sides of the fabric, certainly visible to both teams. It read, "1 Sinner".

[Gromhir]

The man’s words presented more questions than they did answers. In fact, Gromhir wasn’t entirely sure if he’d had questions before the man had spoken. Did the man even speak or was it simply a coincidence that the man had appeared and disappeared while a voice spoke to him? Gromhir never shifted to speak to the man; he merely observed what he had to say. The masked figure filled him with more questions the more he thought about him. The Ivaski continued on, he had to get to the walls and find out what was behind those other doors. Other paths maybe?

More questions. Why was this game designed so? Questions upon questions, it made Gromhir’s head hurt as he tried to make sense of it all. He climbed the corkscrew staircase slowly, one step at a time. Partly looking for the door to the walls and any traps and partly because his mind was distracted with other things. He had to force himself to think lest all these questions drive him mad. He had to focus on what he knew, what he could piece together, even if it was just to give him some peace of mind now. He had to start from the bottom, the beginning and work it out.

Questions? Why the questions? It was a game. It was designed to be like this surely. Were they supposed to figure out the answers to everything? Should they simply accept the answers they were given? It was clear to Gromhir that whoever created the game had designed it to present more questions than could ever be answered. Nothing was simple here; nothing was Nature’s way. It was all designed to toy with their minds, manipulate them. They were meant to accept the answers they found but were they the right answers to the questions? That was his test.

It suddenly occurred to him. There was a noise hidden behind the raging torrents of thoughts that ran through his mind. Gromhir stopped part way up the stairs and looked through the window. Birds. Sunlight. Even in a place such as this. A place filled with magic and the stink of human corruption and meddling, Nature was indeed still present. Nature was still with him and he still walked its winding path. Why did he doubt that this was not something else to test him? But this was different, this test was to be harder than any that had come before, Gromhir knew that much. He no longer had himself to watch out for.

Gromhir stepped out onto the wall, back into the sunlight. He cast his gaze over the courtyard. His eyes fell on the graceful maiden as she entered the building of more questions. Maybe she’d find answers there? He was her guardian. He was the one who had to be there for her when she faltered. But it was not a duty he took lightly. Kamalia had been there for him when he had needed someone. She had become his bondmate and she completed him. If he ever lost her…

Unstable. How did the man know she was unstable? How did he know anything about them at all and how did he know how to say the exact things to get Gromhir to worry? The pair of them knew the risks. Why was it that hearing them out loud made them seem all the worse? He had to be there for her. He had little choice in the matter. Would pushing her out now save her or would the repercussions tear them apart? Did he wait and see what happens, push her out if it become too much? Would that cause more damage still by giving her nobody to hold on to? Would she destroy herself if he did so? Should he talk to her about it? He knew the answer to the last one. But he also knew what would come of the conversation were they to have it. She needed the test as much as he did.

Gromhir approached the door to the side of the keep and searched for some way to open it. Even as he saw the flag marking an innocent had sinned. It was of little consequence to him. He turned his gaze to the other courtyard however, to try and see what the other team were up to.

OOCSlightly out of turn, sorry. Just had to get my thoughts down.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Sasin flinched as the thought popped into his head. It hurt. Of course it did. He could use the fingers on one hand to count the number of people who trusted him here. And all of them had reasons. Devandre was half dhani himself. Calovan was a young kelvic, inexperienced and innocent, he felt. Kadurro, who didn't even know he was a Dhani. And stitch, who would trust anyone. His heart clenched. Four people, one of whom didn't even know he was a dhani, and another who was practically family, being half viper. Pathetic. Anyone else who knew what he was feared and hated him. At times, it was a blessing, but often.....it was a curse.

He had, and would never be ashamed of his race. But he had always hated people who assumed he was untrustworthy just because he was a Dhani. He really was alone out here. Here, there were no other Dhani. No one else to help him. Here, he truly was expendable, a tool to be used.

No! He wouldn't be used, and discarded. He could, and would fight them if they showed any signs of trying to manipulate him. He would not lie down and be trampled over by racists. He would die before that ever happened. And he'd bring them down with him.

It crossed his mind that he might be being paranoid. He could be feeling the stress. They could just want to win. Perhaps they wouldn't try to use him like that. Sasin groaned in audibly. His head hurt terribly. Biting his lip, he made a decision. He'd keep on co-operating with his team until he saw the first sign of trouble for him. Then.....

His eyes roamed over his team mates. Demitri was a symenstra. They were fragile, and shattered easily. But they were fast, and could climb to hights that Sasin could not. The konti, Kamalia, and her bondmate would prove difficult. Stitch had said that she could use magic. His best bet was surprise, then. Rhylen would be easy. He obviously wasn't a fighting man. Stitch.....He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He didn't want to hurt him. And he doubted that Stitch would approve of them using him anyways.

His internal musings were inturrupted by a loud noise, not unlike a bell. His eyes were drawn to the center tower, where a flag that certainly hadn't been there before. Glad for the distraction from his fretting, he squinted, looking closer. There was writing on the flag. "1 Sinner". Automatically, his gaze turned to the heart to make sure nothing was wrong. The other team, then. Good.

Wait no, not good. "Damn it, they're a head of uss!"

[Rhylen]

Rhylen knew neither fear nor confusion as the apparition spoke. I’m getting too used to this, he thought grimly as he listened to the dead priestess and her cryptic warning. She spoke with the bearing of one whose wisdom was beyond her years, an odd consideration, for it was likely true. His understanding of death had led him to believe that spirits often lingered in the world of the living for a purpose. Perhaps this was hers, to caution foolish mortals from meeting a similar fate. He regarded her blood-soaked robes, wondering what horror had befallen her in the end. Death was not something Rhylen liked to think about, but of late it seemed he could think of nothing else. ”I thank you, Gracious Spirit,” he said softly, bowing his head.”May the Death Goddess find you. May She guide you from this place.”

The clang of metal shook him from the pious calm that had overcome his earlier anxiety. His eyes quickly found the rising platform and the billowing white flag, marred with the blood of the game’s first sin. ”It’s already begun,” he said to himself sadly, leaving the ghost and comfort of the chapel for what felt like the first and last time. He scanned the courtyard, seeing the small man near the heart and then the white wolf, its gaze meeting his own. He raised his hand, a sign of regard and indecision. I see you. I’ve found nothing. Tearing his eyes away from that gaze went against his strictly honed grassland instincts, but for now the beast posed no threat. Surely it was more human than animal; with any luck.

The young shaman moved uneasily towards the main gate, passing the Question Shop as he did so. The open door invited his attention and he peered in, seeing the bizarre witch as she observed three large eggs on a long table. Each was massive, larger even than the predators’ of his homeland. He knocked the door gently, standing half in and half out of the frame, wary that the woman’s guardian might tear his throat out should he venture further. ”Anything of use?” he asked shyly, it would take some time before he’d be comfortable enough around any of these people, least of all the one he wanted to tutor him in magic.

”I think we should be very wary of this place,” Rhylen offered, wanting to convey the severity of the ghost’s message. ”I believe the game may be alive.” It sounded absurd coming from his mouth. “Or at least aware,” he added as an afterthought, hoping the words would carry more meaning for one more versed in the magics of city-folk. His eyes turned again to the short man and the heart as he lowered his voice. ”We’d best not deceive ourselves to thinking that Team Dawn is our only enemy.”