Shattered Bastions

Dylan's life was coming to an end.

As the sun streamed in through the classroom window, the June heat was barely held at bay by the school's aging air conditioning, which gave the building a distinctive wet, cloying, weirdly sweet scent that everyone at Miskatonic High had long since gotten used to. The feeling in the room was anticipatory, almost nervous, but mostly relieved.

Classes were over, the last tests were finished, college admissions had been filed and accepted, and now the only reason anyone was even present was that they, legally, had to be here a certain number of days before they graduated, today being the very last one. Even the teachers weren't taking it seriously, Mrs. Whately sitting at her desk, reading a book, while the rest of them just killed time, his Honors BioChem class now just another Study Hall.

Grabbing his own book from his bag, to have something to do, it didn't really help, as his eyes just slid off the page, his own nerves seemingly turning the words into an incomprehensible mess of symbols. He put it away with a sigh, running his fingers through, as his girlfriend called them, his 'chestnut locks', looking around. He didn't really have any friends in this class, though he was friend-ly with a lot of the kids in his grade, not that they were kids anymore, but friends and friendly weren't the same thing at all. The closest thing he had to the former would be Robbie, who he was on the football team with, but that guy was taking a nap, a folder on his head to block out light, and Dylan wasn't gonna disturb him.

Which just left him to be idly philosophical.

… I think… therefore I'm bored.

Technically not wrong, but not terribly helpful.

Looking around again, everyone talking to their friends, or doing their own thing, one of his classmates, Malik, was looking at his own book and frowning, so lacking anything to do, Dylan walked over, asking, "What's up, Mal?"

"Huh?" the black guy questioned, "Oh, hey Dyl…" there was an awkward pause between them at that, before Malik winced, "Yeah, that doesn't work. Um, hi, Dylan. Uh, does… this look weird to you?"

Showing the book to him, Dylan looked at what turned out to be a comic book, or 'Manga' as he distantly remembering the other guy insisting it be called. No one else was really into that stuff, something that'd made the guy a bit of an outcast, even among the nerds, but the pages seemed… strange. There were pictures, some blonde girl saying something while shooting beams at a monster, but, as he tried to read what was said, the words… weren't, causing him to blink, even as the image seemed to shift, in a way that what he remembered seeing happening was what was happening, but he could've sworn the girl hadn't had dark hair a moment ago.

"Weird, right?" Malik questioned, seemingly excited, even as, a headache starting to form, Dylan shook his head.

"Yeah, guess I didn't get enough sleep last night," he responded absently. "Nerves. You too?"

"Huh?" the other guy replied, before chuckling, "Oh, yeah, I, uh, might've pulled an all-nighter finishing up HuntressXHuntress! Wanna hear about it?" he grinned, before hesitating, "Unless, uh, it's fine if you don't care."

More out of looking for anything to do than any real interest, Dylan sighed, grabbing a chair, before motioning Malik to continue, prompting him, "Lay it on me."

Only half listening to the guy talk, it was kind of interesting, though, "Wait, so the entire world is a lake?"

The other boy nodded, "Nah, just the world on the map. The actual world's, like, waaaay bigger than it seems, but you don't find that out until chapter three-hundred and twenty-eight!"

"If it takes that long to find out," Dylan argued, "how come it never came up before? Do people not know? How?"

Malik shrugged, "There's a lot going on, and, I guess, if you're worried about what's going on next to you, you don't worry about what's happening further away. Unless you have to, like a super-powered termite shows up or something. Anyways-"

Before he could continue, the bell rang, ending class, and over the loudspeakers came the announcement, "This is Principal West. Would all seniors please kindly report to the gymnasium for the leaving assembly. I repeat, seniors, would you kindly all report to the gymnasium."

"Already?" the other boy questioned, though to Dylan it couldn't've come soon enough. Not as a dig at the other boy, but he'd been here for twelve years, metaphorically speaking, and couldn't wait to leave. Turning to Robbie, the guy was already out the door, and so, shaking his head, Dylan grabbed his backpack and followed the others down the winding halls of the school, having to cross most of it to get to his destination, the AC working overtime there as the smell intensified.

Technically, the graduation ceremony wouldn't be for another couple weeks, where they'd get their diplomas, shake hands with Mr. West in front of their parents, all that stuff, but they'd been told this was a 'personal sendoff', and was mandatory. He didn't really see the point, but, hey, it gave him something to do, so he wasn't going to complain. Stepping inside, however, the setup wasn't the normal rows of chairs, like they had in the auditorium, which they weren't using because the drama club still had the set up from the last play they did, from what he'd heard, but something… else.

The folding seats were instead set up in circles of thirteen, each around a large metal crate, one that was wide, and so tall that whoever was sitting behind it would have trouble seeing the stage, except maybe the podium that'd been put up at the back of the space, the basketball hoop lifted up and out of the way.

"Hey, Dylan!" a familiar voice called, and, smiling, he turned, as Annabeth was waiting for him. His girlfriend practically pranced up to him, grabbing his arm and starting to drag him off towards a group of her friends, except as she did so the last two seats in that circle were taken. "Oh, damn it."

Not super upset at not having to spend the entire time sitting around the cheerleaders hinting at things he didn't get, and spotting his friends, mostly from their football team, Dylan moved to take her that way, as there were two chairs free, except Robbie grabbed one of them, spotting Dylan and giving him a mocking salute, the jerk. Glancing around, the spots in the circles were filling up fast, and while he was friendly with a good bit of the school, there was 'remember their name and nod to them in the hall' friendly, and there was 'hang out during an assembly' friendly, and while he felt like he was probably the second one with a lot of them, he knew Annabeth wasn't.

"Please, everyone," the Principal stated, up on the stage, their teachers all standing behind him, even Mrs. Whately who he could've sworn had a class of freshmen right now, "take your seats."

Looking around again, Malik gave him a friendly wave, and that circle was only half-full, so, sure, why not. Pulling his girlfriend with him, he didn't exactly miss the look of distaste on her face, which he knew wasn't a race thing for her, it was probably a social status thing, which he didn't care about, but he knew she did, and while she'd probably complain later, they'd be fine for now. Either way, he made sure to be the one sitting next to the nerdy guy, preemptively telling him, "Hey, let's focus on the assembly, we can talk later," to stop any other issues.

Though, given he'd probably never see the boy again, that was kind of a lie.

Eh, there were going to be 'rehearsals' for the ceremony, so he'd find the guy then, if only for a few minutes.

Thankfully, Malik nodded, while Anna sat on his other side, the girl nodding to Ivy, who Dylan had Physics with, his girlfriend having a sour look on her face, and he realized it might not've been the nerd she didn't like.

Sure enough, way meaner than she'd ever been with him, the Asian girl remarking acidly, "Didn't expect you here, Beth."

"Didn't have a choice," his girlfriend responded with equal hostility. "Think you can keep from trying to sleep with my boyfriend for an hour?"

Ivy flicked the blonde off, while Dylan was left confused, Ivy never having even flirted with him, and he'd never cheat on Anna anyways. Malik glancing between the two girls, while Sophie, on his other side, looked uncomfortable, and the last girl, who he didn't know, physically leaned away from the pair. Then there was Logan, who'd put the box between himself and the stage, almost like he was hiding, who didn't really react, and just looked high, but that guy always looked high.

"Hey Anna," another voice said, as Kyle took a seat on the other side of the blonde, smiling at her, who Dylan knew from Football, not any shared classes. The big, dark-haired boy wanted to be quarterback, the shot caller, but like Dylan he was an End, who'd either tackle or catch as needed when they played. "How you doin'?"

"Could be better," Dylan's girlfriend responded, glancing to Ivy. "What do you think."

The other girl scoffed, "I have taste," which didn't make a ton of sense, and, looking to Kyle, the other guy was confused too, but, meeting his eye, Kyle sent Dylan an annoyed look, the two of them never having gotten along for some reason.

The rest of the chairs were filled. Kristen, who Dylan remembered from some of his honors classes, before she'd started taking advanced placement ones, next to Kyle, along with Bart, sorry, Bartholomew, who was the same. Scott, who lived on the same street as Dylan, and Val, who'd been in a couple of his more physical electives, were next, with Samantha taking the last seat, though, from how she was glaring at a different group, she'd rather be with the other theater kids, that circle full as well.

Quiet whispering, the kind that always happened in assemblies, filled the hall, the fact that they were holding it here instead of in the auditorium just making it that much louder, as sound bounced off the basketball court and the folded up bleachers. Looking at the crate between them all, it was made up of pentagonal metal tiles, without any rivets or fasteners, the edges irregular. Curious, he leaned forward and putting a cautious hand on it, the dark blue metal strangely warm to the touch.

"Good," Mr. West stated, making Dylan jump, the doors into the space closing with a slam, everyone going quiet, as the teachers all stood behind the Principal in a row, expressions nearly identical as they watched on, seemingly calmly disinterested. It was as Dylan turned to look at the stage that he realized he had to turn to look at it, the seats around each box facing it, instead of the stage that'd been set up. He wasn't the only one to realize that, from the sound of scraping chairs as most people shifted themselves to face the Principal, rather than have to look over their shoulders, or, for the person in front, completely behind themselves to do so, Dylan picking up his own seat and shifting it along with the others, the folding chair heavier than it looked.

"I'm glad you're all here," the man stated, once things quieted back down, the administrator about as average looking as it was possible for a man to be. Not tall, or short, skinny, or fat, and from what the girls said, he wasn't good or bad looking either. Mr. West was the very definition of 'Mid', but when he talked, people listened, and anyone who got sent to the Principal's Office usually didn't need to go a second time. "I'm sure it's felt like not long enough, and far too long, but you've all done well here, in this institution of learning, and now it is time for all of you to leave these hallowed halls, time for you to enter the wider world."

It was all the same sort of thing they'd heard before, as the man continued talking about their time here, their accomplishments, just vague aspirational statements that did nothing to hold anyone's interest. While Dylan wanted to say something, either to Malik or Anna, a feeling at the back of his neck stopped him, everyone else also unusually quiet too.

"And, while not all of you will survive, we have done what we can."

Wait, What?

Suddenly focused, Dylan looked towards Mr. West, who continued, unabated, "I'm sure your travels will take you far and wide, but the lessons you've learned here will help you greatly wherever you go. The path forward will not be paved, will likely lack signage, and may need to be forged entirely, but what you are girded with is not just facts and formulas, but methodologies and mindsets that, if you can adapt, will carry you far. For those of you who cannot, I only hope it is swift."

"The heck?" Sam questioned. "What's 'swift'?"

Others had started to whisper, though the sounds were oddly muted, the Principal continuing without pause, heard clearly, "You are unformed, one and all, having not found your place in this world, but you will need to, as all must, for it is only in finding one's role that one can truly find oneself, though, as I hope you will understand, while one can be defined by such a thing, to be truly great one must step beyond one's [Job]."

The last word resonated outwards, making Dylan flinch, and he wasn't the only one, as it seemed to ripple through the air with physical force.

It was only in that ensuing silence that he realized there was another noise, a faint, subtle whine, like that of the old televisions the school used when they first turned on, though, unlike that sound, which quickly faded away the second you noticed it, this one kept going.

"The greater world is a chaotic place," the man stated, and Dylan, looking around, had the oddest feeling like the gym was getting darker, even though he knew these lights didn't dim at all, "and I'm sure you may wish to return to the safety, the security, of the halcyon days you spent in my establishment, but one must strive forward, into the known unknown, the unknown known, and everything in between, with one's shoulders back, one's head held high, and one's phalanges straight."

"What?" Val questioned, beside him, her voice not a whisper, yet still seemingly muffled.

"Fingers," Kristen clarified absently, though she sounded just as uneasy as he felt. "Specifically, finger bones."

The room continued to darken, only, at the same time it didn't, everything as bright as it was before, but there were shadows in the corners of the room now that didn't seem to make sense. To his side, Malik nudged him, and, looking at the other boy, Dylan followed his pointed finger to the frosted windows, high up to avoid stray balls, which were now pitch black.

"You may believe yourselves without purpose, but nothing could be further from the truth," the man on stage informed them all, seemingly unconcerned by the strangeness, smiling in the fatherly way he usually did when he walked the halls. "What purposes you may find for yourself are, indeed, up to you, but the very act of finding purpose, of taking the world as it is, and seeing what it could be, is, in of itself, a glorious purpose, and one that will now be entrusted unto you all, as it has countless graduates before."

The faint whine had gotten stronger, the shadows at the corners of the room seeming to subtly twist, and, while Dylan glanced at the others, everyone was now uneasy, but it was Logan's horrified whisper that caught his attention.

"Why don't they have faces?"

"What?" Sophie asked, voicing his thought, and, wondering what bad trip the stoner was on, while also wondering if it was contagious, Dylan glanced at the skinny boy, then followed his gaze up at Mr. West-

No, at the teachers behind him, who, trying to look at them, Dylan's eyes slid off, knowing what they looked like, remembering, a quick glance telling him they were who they were, but as soon as he tried to look at them, he… couldn't.

Meanwhile, Mr. West continued, unabated, "There will be times you will feel small underneath the weight of the world, feel as if it will crush you with its uncaring, unthinking, unending vastness, and in those times remember that you are small, for now, but you are young. Seeds, from which great things may grow." The whine was now a drone, that should've filled the space, but, at the same time, the auditorium seemed smothered in silence, except for their Principal's slow, ceaseless speech. "From a small sapling a mighty oak may grow, or a vast banyan, or even something far more unique, though what you all will grow into, should you be able to, will be a flora entirely of your own making. For your future will be what you make of it, whether you want it to be or not."

The shadows at the edge of the room suddenly flowed outwards, Anna giving out a shriek as she grabbed tightly onto his arm, not that he blamed her, other screams and shouts ringing out, but only the ones from their group sounded close, sounded loud, sounded real. However, the shadows didn't sweep over them, like a dark tide, but broke before they did so, splashing to the side. In an instant it flowed throughout the room, diverted into a hundred inky rivers, each circle of chairs becoming an island of light in the ever-darkening gymnasium.

His eye caught by the next circle over, Dylan watched as Kim, the girl he sat next to in his Literature class, tried to run, into the shadows, only to bounce off the air and be sent sprawling back, hitting her chair as she did so in a way that looked painful.

"You may be tempted to let the tide of fate carry you, but that is the one thing you must not do," The Principal stated, with calm grandiosity, as if nothing had happened, even as more people panicked, Jon, Dylan's best friend, now pounding on thin air at the edge of his circle. Beside him Tom, one of their linebackers, grabbed a chair and slammed it as hard as he could into that invisible barrier, four circles away, only to be thrown backwards, not a scratch on the metal and fabric seat. "You are not animals," Mr. West stated firmly, "following your instincts, but bear the shape of man, and carry within you that spark of greatness that no beast doth possess. You hath been granted the gift of choice, great and terrible, and to sacrifice that is akin to a living death, one from which you will never recover."

"What's going on!?" Bart demanded.

"You think I know!?" Ivy shot back.

Dylan could hear other arguments, the shadows between each circle now so thick they were solid black, yet, at the same time, glimmers of color seemed to flicker within them. However, he stared, transfixed, at Mr. West, who seemed to shimmer, the lines of the pinstripe suit he wore almost writhing, and, from behind the podium, long streaks of darkness extended out to the rest of the staff, who still stood… probably, Dylan unable to focus on them at all now.

"I have safeguarded you all until the hour came for you to step forward, not merely to guard your own fragile flames of life, but to be bastions of strength for others," the Principal stated, voice becoming oddly fluid. "While, one day, you may have the capability to stand alone, that day is not today, so stand together, younglings, for until you have found your true fate, you will have need of each other, or else be consumed separately."

The yelling, the crying, all sounds faded, at once, as if the world was muted except for that single, overriding, near-deafening drone. As one, everyone present all turned to watch the speaker, unable to stop themselves, Mr. West now a teeming mass of tentacles that looked fondly upon them with a thousand eyes, and smiled wistfully from twice as many mouths.

"The Day Is Long, And Full Of Terrors. I Have Given You What I Can. Goodnight, Goodbye, And Good Luck."

With those final words, the shadows shattered, impossible colors streaming out, as each circle fell into the churning rainbow abyss, and the Light took them all.





AN: And thus begins a new original story! As always, the next four chapters can be found on Patreon and Subscribestar. I look forward to your feedback as I write this, with the caveat that, when this is published, Book 1 will be stubbed (everything past chapter 3 removed) to comply with publishing requirements.

Dylan came to with a groan, still in his chair, a cool wind on his face helping him to wake up, the smell of greenery thick in the air, along with just a hint of metallic ozone, like from a lightning strike, even though it didn't feel humid at all.

"Anyone got the number of the truck," Scott groaned, from a bit away, as Dylan blinked, rubbing his eyes, finding them oddly crusty. Beside him, Anna yawned, as he sat up straight in his chair, back feeling a little sore, thoughts sluggish, wanting a coffee or something, before his brain finally came online, and-

"Where the fuck are we!?"

It wasn't him, that was Kyle, but, as Dylan looked around, he agreed.

Because they were in a forest.

Deep in a forest.

Deep in a very dark forest.

He could see everyone else clearly, and their chairs, like the lights were on, but only for them as the grass around them was faint, and the trees were barely there, huge and towering over them, tops only visible as they screened the overcast sky, the clouds thick but faintly glowing from the moon somewhere behind them.

In the distance an owl hooted, though something about the noise seemed… off, like there was a subtle hiss to it that put his teeth on edge, prompting him to stand. Taking in his surroundings a bit more closely, slipping his phone out of his pocket and hitting the flashlight app, others followed his lead.

It was only as he turned, and his sneakers squeaked on the court floor, that he realized what he was standing on wasn't grass.

Looking down, it was the polished wood of the gym floor, with the basketball court lines and everything, though, as he followed them, and they hit the edge of the circle, the ground suddenly became grass, bits of it seemingly cut sharply so none of it hung over the floor. Taking a cautious step to the side, he waved a hand where the barrier had been, but now there was nothing but air, and taking a step onto the soft grass he turned and saw several others doing the same.

"The hell?" Ivy muttered, the girl having squatted down next to a sapling. No, as she shone her phone's light on it, it wasn't a sapling, it was a root, and a bit of tree that, like the grass, seemed to have been sliced cleanly to make way for them.

"I'm not getting any service!" Anna stated, holding her phone up high.

The girl he didn't know frowned, stating softly, "We're in a forest. Why did you think you would?"

"Shut up, Amelia," his girlfriend snapped. "It could!"

"Hey, guys, let's be nice," Dylan stated, holding up a forestalling hand. "None of us know what's going on, it might've worked," he nodded to Anna, who smiled back, "and we're all a little weirded out."

Malik, looking around, offered, "This is kind of like one of my Isekeis!"

"Your what?" Dylan questioned.

"Uh, my Anime," the black guy stated. "Only, normally you're hit by a truck first. Oh, and usually you also get a cheat item, and, like, maybe a girl to help."

Kristen scoffed, "That's the only way you're getting a girl, that's for sure."

"Not helping," Dylan stressed, still trying to keep an eye out.

"Who died and put you in charge?" the nerdy girl demanded.

"Hey, don't talk to him that way!" Anna shot back, stepping between him and Kristen.

Kyle cut the other girl off before she could continue, "Not now. Let's… figure out where we are. Amy, you like plants. Can you…" he waved towards the trees.

On the spot, the girl's eyes widened, "Uh, I like to garden. Not, uh…" she trailed off, before shrugging, and walked over to one, using her phone to get a better look at it.

"Hey," Logan called, looking at Malik. "You said they'd get something?"

"Yeah," the other guy nodded. "Like a helmet that turns you invisible, or a sword that wins every fight, or a cloak that lets you fly, or something! But, we didn't get one of those."

The stoner slowly nodded, before pointing at the box in the center of the circle. "Ya mean like that?"

That got everyone's attention, as they all turned towards the large crate, at least ten feet long and wide, almost half that high, and, really looking at it, there seemed to be a faint light coming from it, from the seams of the tiles that made its roughly cubical form.

"Is it supposed to be glowing?" Sophie questioned.

Val shrugged, walking up to it. "Does it have a latch or some-" she started to ask, putting a hand on top of it, the box breaking, falling apart in a wave of metal tiles, the girl leaping back out of the way, while they bounced harmlessly off Logan's legs, revealing racks of all sorts of things that swung out on their own, unfolding automatically, barely missing the stoner as they did so.

It was full of what Dylan could only call 'gear'. There were sets of clothing, armor, and robes. There were even medieval weapons, from swords to maces to bows. But there were also thin rods that seemed to shimmer, as well as a couple racks of glass vials full of glowing liquid, labelled with different symbols.

And, in the center, were thirteen backpacks, arranged in a circle, hanging off a metal post topped with a crystal that was the source of the light, shining in a way that you could practically see the rays coming off of it, but, at the same time, it cast no shadows.

"That works," Sam shrugged, walking up to the racks of clothing, picking up one of the robes, and nodding as she ran her hand over it. "Not into cosplay, but this isn't half-bad."

Ivy walked up next to her, grabbing a leather top, examining the stitching. "More than not bad, this is hand-made. And the materials… But, why is it here?"

"For us, duh," Bart scoffed, looking over the vials. "It's all from our school. See, even has its crest."

And, stepping forward, turning off the flashlight on his phone and grabbing a shield, the omnipresent lighting making it easy to see, on the front of it was Miskatonic High's symbol.

Slipping the shield onto his arm, though, it didn't really feel right, and he put it back, as the others made their way over. Kristen leaned down and grabbed one of the tiles that were scattered at their feet, and, flipping it over, showed it to Kyle, Dylan glancing over to see the inside had been inscribed with the symbol as well. Grabbing one for himself he saw they all had the same symbol, the pentagons lighter than they looked, he noticed the metal of the weapons were all made of the same blue-tinted material.

Ivy shook her head. "No, I get that, dumbass. I mean why is it here?"

"For us," Malik offered, grabbing a sword, unsheathing it, and waving it a bit and frowning, as, next to him, Val grabbed a stick with a spiked ball on a chain. Trying to swing it, though, she almost hit herself and glanced around. Seeing Dylan seeing her, the tanned girl cringed, and put it back, grabbing what looked like a baseball bat with a hammer on the end, which, since he was pretty sure she was on the softball team, was probably a better choice for her. Meanwhile, the black guy perked up, grabbing a long, curved sword. "Huh," he said, unsheathing it, their school's symbol stamped on the bluish metal, "it's not a katana, but this works!"

Annoyed now, the Asian girl sneered, "Freaking weeb. No, I mean-"

Tschrak!

Everyone froze, as the grove momentarily brightened, and turned to Sam, who was staring at the end of the metal rod she was holding, a bright yellow crystal at the end, which was sparking, after having thrown a lightning bolt.

Suddenly realizing everyone was staring, she looked panicked, stating, "I meant to do that!" as she turned around, waving the wand at them, as they all ducked, Dylan grabbing Anna and pulling her down with him.

"Don't point that at us!" Kristen yelled.

"Sorry!" Sam yelped, pointing it straight up. "But, like, what? Is it a taser or something?"

Bartholomew, who'd taken cover behind the clothing racks, argued, "What, are you stupid? Electricity needs a thousand volts per inch of arc length, and that was over a dozen feet! That's enough to kill someone!"

"But," the theater girl stated slowly. "It didn't arc. It kinda just… went."

"Also, Bart," Kristen corrected, "It's not the volts that kill, it's the amps. Are you stupid?"

For a moment, the boy glared at her, before he glanced away, muttering, "Well it still is enough to hurt. And it's Bartholomew."

"Whatever, Bart," the nerdy girl dismissed, turning back to Sam. "How'd you do that?"

"I, um," the other girl responded, reddening, "I waved it, and pretended it was a magic wand. And… it was?"

Pulling her hand back, everyone flinched, before she froze, then turned her back to them, and waved it again, only for nothing to happen.

"No, it worked," Samantha muttered, centering herself before murmuring something under her breath as-

Tschrak!

Another mini bolt of lightning sprung from the end of the wand, shooting forward, before petering out into the air.

"That's…" Bartholomew stated, at a loss, "That's not how electricity works."

Sending the boy a smug look, Sam waved the wand again.

Tschrak!

And then she staggered, suddenly breathing hard, having broken out into a cold sweat out of nowhere.

Everyone else just stared, so Dylan moved forward, asking, "Sam, are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," she answered, getting her breathing under control. "Just… just tired. That… what?"

"Ran out of mana," Malik nodded sagely. As everyone turned to look at him, he added, "Well, it's magic."

"Magic isn't real," Kristen scoffed.

The black boy blinked, then gestured to the glowing crystal in the center of their gear, then where the circle of gym floor seemed merged with the ground, then at Sam.

"Holy shit magic's real," Kristen declared.

Walking over to the remaining wands, a green, a blue, and a red one still on the rack, Bartholomew grabbed the last one, and looked at it skeptically, turning and waving it away from everyone else.

Nothing happened.

"What did you say?" he demanded of Sam.

"What?" the girl responded, getting her breathing under control.

"When you cast, what did you say?" he pressed.

She hesitated, before smoothing her shirt, declaring, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Amy, on her other side, offered, "She said 'Bippity Boppity Boo'."

"No, I didn't!" the theater girl fumed with a stamp of her foot and a glare at the redhead who'd sold her out, before wilting. "Yes, I did."

"I'm not saying that," Bartholomew replied flatly.

Kristen, meanwhile, rolled her eyes, and grabbed the blue wand, taunting, "What's wrong, scared of a few words? Fine, then let me. 'Bippity Boppity Boo!'" she sang out.

And nothing happened.

Bartholomew gave a crowing laugh, as Kristen turned a sour look Sam's way.

"You have to pretend you're going to do magic," the theater girl explained. "And then… you do?"

With a sigh, the nerd girl once again tried to cast with a "I swear. 'Bippity Boppity Boo'."

KRSSSH!

A hand size spike of ice formed from the rod's glowing blue tip, and flew off, before burying itself into a nearby tree with a heavy thunk, leaving the girl staring at the wand in disbelief. "I… did magic."

FWOOM!

A fireball flew out, before hitting a tree, detonating with an explosion that scorched it, tearing bark off, but thankfully not setting it on fire.

"Said I wouldn't say it," Bartholomew announced smugly, a few embers dropping from his own wand.

For a moment, it looked like Kristen was going to cast at him, before she turned away, and, show over, everyone else turned to look back at the gear laid out before them, Logan having grabbed one of the backpacks and, having unpacked it, surrounding by all sorts of things, was now reaching into it up to the shoulder, despite the bag not nearly being that deep.

Noticing people staring, he shrugged, "Magic stuff is magic."

"I'm dreaming," Sophie stated, with a nervous laugh, not having moved from her chair. "I have to be."

"If you are, the rest of us are too," Logan offered, pulling out a cylinder, which, pressing a button, created a small deep red flame. "Sweet, a lighter. Oh, if ya are, Soph, could you dream up some weed? I left mine in my locker and, uh, I don't think I'm getting it back."

That got some scattered laughs from the others, though the girl didn't seem to find it that funny, Ivy clearing her throat loudly, dragging everyone's attention back to her. "Anyways! If we've got armor, and weapons, and, and magic wands, and those are probably potions," she stated, pointing to the glowing glass vials, "doesn't that worry anyone!?"

"Why would it worry anyone?" Kyle questioned, getting a cross look from the girl.

However… "I think what she's saying," Dylan put forward, "is that if… whatever brought us here gave us all this, it's 'cause we might need it."

"Yes!" the Asian girl shouted. "At least one of you isn't an absolute moron!"

"Excuse me," Kristen snapped. "Who's the one who took all Advanced Placement classes? Because it wasn't you!"

"Says little Ms. 'Magic isn't real'," Ivy sneered. "Oi, Nerd boy."

"What?" Bartholomew responded.

But Ivy shook her head, "No, the one that actually has ideas," Giving Malik a significant look.

"Uh… me?" the boy in questioned replied, pointing an unsure finger at himself, even as Bartholomew sent her an offended look.

"No, the other one," she told him mockingly. "Potions, we got a baker's dozen of each, what do they do?"

Malik blinked, before moving over to them, picking up the red one. "Uh, well, not sure, but red is usually health potions, and it's got the first aid symbol too, which, actually, the red cross sued video game makers over because-"

"Don't care," she interrupted. "The blue one?"

"…Mana?" he shrugged. "It's got a lightning bolt on it, though that could also mean it might give you speed, or electrical resistance, or maybe it gives you electrical attacks, or-"

"Give it to lightning girl," Ivy ordered.

Sam looked over, "What? No. I'm not drinking that. What if it, like, electrocutes me or something?"

"Eh, I'll try anything once," Logan offered instead, walking over and taking the vial from Malik, looking it over, and removing the stopper. "Bottoms up," he offered tossing it back, before stiffening, twitchy slightly.

"You okay?" Dylan asked, even as Anna turned on Ivy, arguing, "Look what you did!"

The Stoner replied before the Asian girl did, yelling, "WOOO! That's a rush! Like if you concentrated down a half dozen energy drinks!" He looked back to Dylan, moving fast, eyes jerking a little. "Don't do that, by the way. Doesn't work. You don't get twenty hour energy, just pain."

"Fine," Sam admitted, walking over, and drinking one too, going stiff herself, eyes widening, as she twitched a little. "Oh. Oh. Okay, I feel better!"

Ivy folded her arms, giving a very 'I told you' look to everyone else, while Dylan nodded. "Okay," he sighed, taking in everything, "so they give back whatever the, uh, the wands take. Everyone with one should take two. And, I guess we should all grab weapons and stuff? Oh and a backpack."

"HOW ARE YOU ALL SO CALM!?"

Everyone turned to Scott, who had backed away from the others, and was staring at them like they were crazy.

"I'm… not?" Dylan responded honestly. "Kinda freaked out, really. But, like, focus on the now?"

But, if anything, that seemed to make the guy's panic worse. "Now? Now!? We're lost in the woods! That was magic! Our principal turned into tentacles!" he shouted, looking around. "And, what, are, are we gonna fight each other or something?"

Everyone else was confused by that, though it was Kyle that spoke for all of them when he responded, "What."

"I've seen The Starving Trials! I know how this works!" Scott declared. "Thirteen of us! Weapons in the middle! We're gonna be forced to fight to survive! Well, well you won't get me!"

"Pretty sure the books didn't have magic," Sam corrected.

Val shrugged, "I only watched the movies."

Dylan grabbed an axe, and held it out to the guy by the head. "We're not going to do that, dude. Here, take this if it makes you feel better."

However, that just made things worse, as Scott declared, "I'm onto your games!" before taking off and running into the forest.

"… Don't remember him being that touchy," Kyle commented into the ensuing silence.

"Are we just going to let him go?" Amy questioned concernedly.

Ivy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, let's run into the strange forest after the guy who thinks we're going to kill him. I'm sure that'll go well."

"Could you try not being a bitch?" Anna questioned scornfully.

"Why, you aren't," the Asian girl shot back.

"Guys," Dylan stated, stepping over and gently grabbing his girlfriend's shoulder, putting himself between them. "Or, girls, I guess. In a forest. Weapons and stuff. Focus on that? Maybe everyone should grab one, and a, er, health potion?"

Annabeth turned to him, "Don't' tell me you're-"

In the distance, faint, but distinct, sounded a howl, like a wolf's, but deeper.

"Having a great idea," she nodded, everyone quickly moving over to the weapons, and grabbing some.

Kyle picked a longsword, one big enough he could swing it with both hands, while Logan grabbed a spear, looking at the flared bits behind the pointy end that swept forward as he chuckled, "It's like a pokey plane on a stick!"

Amy grabbed the shield Dylan had put away, Ivy grabbing a pair of short swords on a belt, sliding it on, before grabbing a bow and slinging the bag of arrows over her back. Meanwhile Annabeth picked up a mace, giving it a few swings, muttering to herself, "Kinda like a baton, I guess?"

Looking at the axe in his hands, it wasn't really what he would've chosen, but it'd be okay for chopping up firewood, at least. As the others moved to the potions, Dylan looked at the leftover weapons, seeing a bunch of daggers. Calling out to Sam, Bartholomew, and Kristen, he tossed them to the three wand-ers. As the nerdy guy moved to throw it back Dylan called out, "Using your stuff tires you out, right? You should have something else!"

That caused the other guy to pause, before nodding, awkwardly trying to fit the sheath in his pocket, Sam just putting hers in between her boobs, which at least would make it easy to draw?

However, as he was poking through the leftover weapons, Dylan found a box, which, taking it out, and opening the top, a revolver sat inside, made of the same blue metal as everything else. Picking it up, he turned it over. Remembering the gun safety course from PE, he checked it, and it was unloaded, but looking in the box, there weren't any bullets, nor was there any extra box of ammo around either.

"Mine!" A voice next to him called, and Kyle grabbed it out of his hands.

"Dude, the hell?" Dylan called back, the others turning.

With a smug grin, the other football player declared, "Finders keepers!"

"And I found it," Dylan shot back.

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law!" Kyle smirked. "Or are you gonna try and take it back?"

"What are you doing?" Anna demanded, coming up to the pair of them,

Turning to her, the guy smiled, "Taking what I want."

"You want an unloaded gun?" Dylan questioned.

"What?" Kyle frowned, checking the weapon. "Where's the ammo?"

Sighing, Dylan gestured to the mostly empty weapon rack, only a couple things still left hanging up. "There isn't any."

"Like I'd believe that," the other guy stated, shoving Dylan aside. "Lemme see."

Dylan gave his girlfriend a disbelieving look. She rolled her eyes and held out a red potion for him, as well as a green one that had an arrow going to the right on it.

"Ugh, take it," Kyle spat from behind him, throwing the gun at Dylan, who caught it, the other guy stomping over to the armor. Dylan walked back over to the weapons, looking over bits and pieces in a bin at the bottom, finding a holster for the gun hidden among all sorts of belts and sheathes. He threaded his own belt through it, so the empty revolver could sit on his hip.

In the distance, there was another howl, which was joined by several more, causing everyone to freeze.

Then there was a scream.

A distinctive scream.

Which was cut short.

"That," Sophie stated, breaking the sudden silence. "Was that Scott?"

"That was Scott," Bartholomew stated, most of the girls turning glares his way. "What? Everyone was thinking it!"

Dylan took a deep breath, as he found his heart had started racing, only now noticing it, "I think we need-"

Tschrak!

The lash of lighting whipped out, cutting him off, but it was the low, animalistic squeal of pain that dragged his attention, something large retreating through the underbrush, the momentary flash of the lightning only showing dark, furred, with gleaming claws and deep yellow eyes.

"W-Wolf," Sam stuttered, staring, where whatever it was had retreated. "Big wolf."

No one moved, so Dylan forced himself to, looking around. "We need armor. Now. And move the chairs, and the tiles, so we can make a barrier, and not slip on them. Ranged people on the inside, and, uh, Logan, since you can poke stuff over the racks. Other than that, get some stuff on, and circle up."

"You're not in charge," Kyle scoffed.

"Now's not the time, Kyle!" Anna snapped, and he winced, before nodding, heading over to the clothing racks, while she turned to Dylan. "I'll, uh, grab the last wand."

"And blue potions," he nodded, a little relieved that she'd be behind him, where he could protect her, even if it was a little sexist.

Everyone rushed, almost frantic, but they remembered what they'd learned in Life Skills, that Slow is Smooth and Smooth is Fast. Grabbing what they could, Ivy took off her shirt to grab the long-sleeved leather top she'd picked up before, sending an acid look at Malik and snapping, "Eyes off!" The boy having frozen, staring at her bra.

"Sorry!" he yelped, grabbing a shirt made of a bunch of thin metal plates, tossing off his hoody, and putting it on.

FWOOM!

Another fireball shot out, another yelp, as a dark shape that'd tried to come out from the trees fled, Bartholomew looking a little panicked, one arm in a robe, wand extended, taking a deep breath before putting the rest over his head.

In seconds, everyone had something, and while some stuff looked like it might be good, like the armored pants, ain't nobody had time for that, as, circling up, glancing around, a dozen pair of deep yellow slits, lacking any kind of pupil, stared at them from the treeline, far too high to be dogs.

Something round was tossed out towards them, bouncing and rolling, before it stopped, and Dylan felt his gut clench.

Because, almost unrecognizable, Scott's dead, sightless eyes stared back at him.

"Oh," Malik whispered from his right, Val to his left, and Anna behind him. "We're in trouble."





AN: They, indeed, are! As always, the next four chapters can be found on Patreon and Subscribestar. Once again, I look forward to your feedback as I write this, with the caveat that, when this is published, Book 1 will be stubbed (everything past chapter 3 removed) to comply with publishing requirements.

Dylan stared at the head for only a moment longer, dragging his eyes off it to the monsters that lurked among the trees nearby, almost out of sight, black against black, the light of the glowing crystal at his own back not reaching that far.

"Bartholomew," he called out, glancing to the nerd, only to see more of those glowing slits, paired in a way that had to be eyes, behind them. "Think you could set those three trees on fire?"

Motioning in a Y shape, the gawky-looking boy pulled one of the four blue potions from the shoulder strap he had over his robe, nodding as he turned, downing it and cast, a fireball arcing high, not hitting the trunk but the branches high above them, which instantly caught fire, spilling light out over the flinching shapes, revealing them for what they were.

If pressed, Dylan would call them werewolves, though their snouts were too long, almost crocodile-like, arms having an extra elbow which caused them to fold up almost like springs, and long, sinuous, cat-like tails twitched in aggravation.

But more than that, they were smoking.

Or, maybe misting would be better, thin streams of black vapor rising off of them, making the, the Not-Wolves, because they were definitely not wolves, harder to see clearly, especially in groups, but, as Bart sent out two more shots, it was undeniable there was something unnatural about them.

Which… magic wands, potions, how they even got here in the first place. That shouldn't be that surprising.

"M-Maybe," Sophie spoke up, fearful, which he got. "Maybe they'll see we're armed, and leave us alone? Animals do that, right?"

However, almost in response, one of the Not-Wolves leapt forward, howling, eye slits opening wide, a dark yellow tongue visible behind pitch-black teeth.

Thwap!

And, almost creasing his ear, a blue-tipped arrow was fired past him, taking the creature in the eye, faintly glowing yellow blood splattering across its shadowy fur, cutting its challenge short as it pitched backwards, falling to the ground with a thunk, dead.

Casting a glance back, Ivy smoothly pulled another arrow from her quiver, even as a replacement rose up in from below to take the pulled bolt's place, commenting, voice tight, "Parents made me learn."

Another Howl got everyone's attention, though, as the Not-Wolves charged.

Watching the creatures, easily as tall as Dylan was, rushing them, he tried to firm up his stance, axe held in front, the chainmail he'd grabbed clinking on his arms as he did so, green leather gloves that glinted with strands of blue metal tightening, even as his time playing football told him that if the monsters just tackled them, they were all going to die.

A Tschrak of lightning lashed out to the side, taking out three as the bolt jumped between them, a KRSSSH of ice forcing another back, dead with a shard through its chest, tripping up the others, but there were just too many, another arrow flying out as Dylan raised his axe, ready to take at least one out before he was overwhelmed.

Only for, right before they hit, the Not-Wolves to stumble, trying to pull back, even as the ones behind them forced the monsters forward anyways.

Dylan struck, as best as he could, the Not-Wolf in front of him lashing out with a claw to his shoulder, the attack mostly blocked but the tips of tis claws momentarily pierced the gaps in his chainmail and passed through the shirt underneath it without issue. The pain was mere pinpricks as the slashing claw were mostly blocked by the rings of his armor, the tearing swipe turned into a mostly harmless skittering paw, while his own weapon came down, the monster's hide parting with ease as the axe practically soared through its chest, opening up a faintly glowing yellow furrow.

He could feel its bones through the handle, tougher bits that were still cut through as the Not-Wolf tried to stagger back, its fur, which had faintly smoked before, now partially burned away, but, how?

"The light!" Sam yelled behind him. "It's hurting them!"

The first wave of Not-Wolves backed off, the one he'd hurt only making it a few steps before collapsing, his blow fatal, the glowing yellow fluid on his axe faintly sizzling, outright boiling as he took a half step back and he brought it closer to the central crystal for just a second.

For a moment, there was hope, hope that the monsters would just leave, but instead a few at the front of the mass lunged forward, too-long arms snapping out, one for him, only for Val to swing with a shout and a Crack as she broke its bones. Malik slashed out on his other side, more flailing than anything, but still catching another creature's grasping, clawed hand, blue blade slicing into its dark flesh easily.

The Not-Wolf that came for Dylan, however, didn't try and grab him, at least not normally. No, it speared, head leading, long jaws wide, eyes closed, right for his neck, as he reflexively tried to use his free hand to hold it off, but the second he hit its snout it twisted and snapped, right down on his arm, spikes of pain making him grit his own teeth as only his armor kept the Not-Wolf from tearing a chunk of him off like it was clearly expecting to, pausing in confusion.

His own return swing hit it, in the moment its guard was down, catching the monster's arm as it tried to reach forward to grab him more firmly, Dylan's blow taking the oncoming limb off, but that didn't stop the creature from yanking backwards, hard, starting to pull him forward and out of line, despite his best efforts.

"Dylan!" Anna yelled behind him, grabbing onto him from behind, trying to save him, Val turning and, swinging as hard as she could, crushed its skull, causing it to go limp, but not letting go, now starting to drag him down.

Mal, on his other side, caught the beast, holding the creature up long enough for Dylan to try and wiggle his arm to get some leverage on the death-tightened muscles, shoving the axe-blade into its teeth as well. Twisting the weapon, he pried the jaws open enough to pull his hand out, shoving the body back towards the other monsters as they came again.

Arm now bleeding, he covered Malik with his own axe swing as the boy staggered back into position, more knocking the dark, unfolding limb that reached for the black guy away than really cutting it, but that was enough for Mal to grab his own dropped sword and swing at the creature. Dylan turned, another coming for him, and, off-balance, he took a step forward and punched the next monster, the glove he was wearing protecting his hand as he did so, catching a little on the creature's teeth, but he pulled away before the jaws snapped shut, having learned.

Flexing his off hand, arm warm with shed blood, he got ready to-

Vwooosh!

A rush of Green whipped by him, a translucent mass of something that expanded and passed through the creatures, opening up great gashes on them as it kept going. Behind him Anna's voice called out, "Got it to work!"

"Good!" he called back, not looking, taking a step forward to sink his axe into the head of the next Not-Wolf, the blade hitting wrong and sliding off its skull, still doing damage, but not nearly enough, the thing's return swing blind, still hitting his chest, a few pinpricks of pain from the claws momentarily tearing through his shirt, drawing more blood, but nothing deep.

His next attack, a little wild, caught it in the shoulder, slicing into it, and he almost lost the weapon, but despite now being a bit bloody his gloves' grip was good and he yanked it back in a spurt of yellow that added to the rest, the ground increasingly splattered with a yellow glow, like radioactive paint had been thrown around, the bodies of the dead Not-Wolves dragged away by the surviving ones to better get at him and the others.

Again and again, the monsters came, and were pushed back, Kyle bellowing as he cut one in half, Amy next to him forcing them back by slamming her shield forward, a shout from Logan and a "Look out!" from Anna making him look, then dodge, as the Stoner fell backwards, butt of his spear caught on the edge of a rack, as a Not-Wolf, howling and snapping, was carried up and over the group, caught at the end of Logan's long weapon.

It hit the ground next to him and Dylan struck, beheading it, even as the creature seemed to shrivel in close proximity to the crystal.

Yet, at the same time, he realized the light that protected them was dimming.

Grabbing the corpse and tossing it at the next monster, who was already charging, Val had his back and clotheslined it with her hammer-bat, breaking something important as its legs went limp and he rushed to take his position, not sure how long they'd been doing this, feeling like hours, but probably not even five minutes, but he didn't have much of a choice than to keep going.

Except there was just no end to them, and while he fought them off, just like the others, each time he did he was clawed a little more, barely avoiding another bite, the magic from their Wand-ers helping, but not enough as Malik breathed so hard beside him it seemed like the boy might pass out, and Dylan could only do so much to help while keeping himself safe and stop any of them from reaching Anna.

Another swing, catching the Not-Wolf between its first and second elbow, didn't chop through the limb like he wanted, but still hurt it, still caused the creature to pull back, but another just took its place.

Whirr-tik-tik-tik

The sound, coming from his hip, distracted Dylan, almost getting him bit, throwing off his swing. The swipe of his weapon didn't do that much damage to the newest Not-Wolf of uncountably many, only enough to ward off the monster, and it took a long few seconds for him to realize what it was that'd caught his attention.

Moving more on instinct than thought, he shifted the grip of his axe to right hand, his left pulling the empty revolver, which was no longer empty.

A faint crimson glow came from within the now blood-splattered gun, as it cleared the holster, and, pointing it right at the snarling Not-Wolf, he pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A blood-red shot, more beam than bullet, leapt from the end of the barrel, which was kicked up by the recoil, and into the monster's head, only a few feet away, blowing the black-furred skull into glowing chunks, which painted the Not-Wolves behind it with its deep yellow brains.

For a moment, everything stopped, and the blood on the gun, his blood, was slowly drawn into the cylinder. Dylan could feel a connection to the weapon that he wasn't exactly sure about, but he couldn't exactly turn down any advantage, and, with a tired smile, turned and fired it again, the Bang taking out the Not-Wolf that Malik was facing.

As the glow from the gun dimmed, though, he realized that, even as it reloaded itself, using his blood, it wouldn't do so quickly, and the monsters pressed forward again.

Axe in one hand, gun in the other, Dylan did his best, supplementing his swings with shots, but while that helped him, it wasn't enough, everyone getting tired, the constant movement, pushing themselves as hard as they could, wearing on them in ways that even the worst punishment exercises his coach had made them do hadn't.

The crystal behind them had almost gone dark, and they were forced back, again, and again, until they couldn't back up anymore, the axe, which seemed so light at first, now heavy in his hand.

Malik was the first to stumble, the nerdy guy just not that athletic, a Not-Wolf's claw lashing out and tearing bloody lines across his bare arm, flaying it open, the black guy falling back as the monster moved to follow him down, slavering, elongated jaws open wide.

A Bang, Dylan's last bullet, took it out, even as the creature he was fighting took advantage of his distraction, slashing open his pant leg cutting him deeply, driving him down as well.

Dropping the axe, it thunked into the polished, blood-soaked wood floor, now slick with gore, both his and his enemy's, a flash of green light from above telling him that Anna had his back, using her wand to hold them back, no idea how many potions she had left, as, gritting his teeth, Dylan jammed his gun into his wound, the Whirr-Tik-Tik-Tik of it instantly reloading the silver lining on this typhoon as he whipped it up and unloaded, getting light-headed as he did it again, grabbing the health potion from his pocket as he lifted the weapon once more and biting the cork off, firing again, almost blindly, to hold them off as he drank it.

And felt good.

Warmth surged down his throat, seeming to skip his stomach entirely as life flooded his muscles, leg steaming as flesh repaired itself before his eyes. Dropping the vial and grabbing his axe he surged to his feet, feeling well rested, more than well rested, and took the next Not-Wolf under the chin with a rising strike that clove its jaw in two, slicing up through the bottom of its skull, and killing it instantly.

"Red potions heal tiredness!" he yelled, Malik, also steaming, scrabbing to his feet, slashing out wildly himself, letting them push back the endless dark tide of creatures, a bit, but the press of monsters, endless monsters, quickly started to wear them down once more, as-

"Ahhhh!"

A terrified scream caught his attention, shoving a snarling Not-Wolf back, using the butt of his revolver to smash its snapping jaws aside, so beyond panic, beyond anything other than just fighting that he was just moving, only to see Amelia had been shoved down, a monster on her, barely held off by her shield, but she hadn't been the one to scream.

Sophie had.

The girl, standing with the Wand-ers, was grabbed, Anna slamming her mace into the attacker's side, but it wasn't enough, as the other girl was dragged back, away, Kyle's swing missing it, though hitting the one on Amelia.

The dark-haired girl was gone in an instant, out of the almost completely faded circle of light, the crystal in the center sputtering, barely active at all, and while Dylan took a step that way, to try and help, not sure what he could actually do but needing to do something, the monsters fell on her in an instant, their assault pulling back, giving the others a moment of reprieve.

And Dylan hated it.

Her screams were cut short, a wet tearing sound filling the space for several long seconds, but, looking out past them to the still-burning trees, there were just more monsters, an endless amount, and he wanted to give up, to stop fighting, as all he'd do is die tired, and do so slowly, already having started to get torn up once more, bleeding from dozens of cuts that would build until they reached a thousand.

One of the monsters turned back towards them all, and lunged, not for him, but for Malik, the boy completely open, just as transfixed as he'd been, and Dylan didn't think, didn't plan, he just moved, turning and swinging, as hard as he could, muscles straining as he cut the monster down, spattering himself in a fresh shower of deep yellow.


Something in him seemed to snap into place, with deafening silent finality.

As the next Not-Wolf attacked, Dylan turned, his foe just as fast as it was before, yet at the same time it seemed slower, clumsier, while the axe in his right hand felt oddly comfortable, as did the revolver in his left, both moving almost as extensions of himself.

Stepping into the attack, he struck, not to sever, but to hook, using the bottom edge of his main weapon to slice partially into the reaching, unfolding arm, the blunt underside of his axe's blade pressing into glowing flesh as he brought the searching claws across his body, inches away from his armor, while his secondary weapon lifted, almost casually, pointing the end of his revolver at the monster's eye, and he didn't jerk the trigger, as he realized he'd been doing before, but smoothly, almost gently, depressed it, the bark of the recoil no longer making the weapon buck in his hands, as he was moving with it.

It was a feeling as strange as drinking the potion had been, yet at the same time, unlike that it seemed utterly natural, as he took another step, chopping low to the left, striking the Not-Wolf that moved to lunge towards Val, bringing his secondary weapon up to skim his bloodied armor, reloading it.

That motion, too, was utterly normal, seemingly practiced, even obvious as he did it, and he couldn't argue with the result, taking out one monster, then the next, then the next, all without getting hit himself, seeing what he had been doing wrong, where he had been wasting effort, and just… not.

Holding the line, watching out for Val and Malik, they appreciated it, he could tell in a way that, too, was new, as, for the first time since they'd gotten here, Dylan felt like he knew what he was doing.

Even stranger, a moment later, so did Valeria.

Striking down another Not-Wolf, as Kyle on her other side swung outwards with a yell of frustration, clearing a space in front of him, she froze, Dylan shifting to shoot the monster that tried to capitalize on her hesitation, before she, too, took a step forward.

Not in a batter's stance, but with a solid, furious stride.

Face twisted into a glare, the Hispanic girl whipped the weapon, the warhammer he now knew, out so quickly it whistled, catching the next monster in the temple, making it crumple as she flipped the weapon around, using the bounce of its recoil to shift her hold, using the butt of her tool to shove the corpse back, twirling it about to strike the monster lunging for Dylan, not killing it but setting it up for him, stumbling and allowing Dylan to step forward again himself and dispatch it.

On his other side, a similar change overcame Malik, who, barely holding a Not-Wolf off, paused, and looked at his sword in confusion, before standing straight, left foot slightly behind the right, back heel raised, shoulders relaxing as he faced his enemy, his weapon, a calvary saber, shifting and dipping in a way that Dylan knew it wasn't meant to, but as the monster leapt for the black man, he took a short, sliding step, simultaneously diverting its questing claws and opening it, hip to shoulder, in a single motion that seemed to surprise Malik in a way that Dylan knew all too well.

Fwooomoomoomoom!

From behind them came not a single fireball, but a shower of smaller ones, raining down on the masses before them, Dylan sparing a glance backwards, as the Wand-ers moved with purpose too, each one of them trailing streams of their element which they wove into complex shapes that pulsed in the air. From those shapes came hailstorms of icicles, showers of bolts, and wide green ribbons that tore the dark shapes in half.

At the same time, behind them, Logan and Ivy both stood atop gear racks, balancing easily, the stoner's spear spinning as he held off a dozen monsters, eyes wide with surprise, but at the same time focused, the Asian girl grabbing a seemingly limitless supply of arrows three at a time to fire them off in rapid succession, taking out a Not-Wolf that lunged at her from only a couple feet away, shifting as the rack shook from its corpse falling atop it, and using its slumping form as a step up to angle her next shot.

"WE GOT THIS!" Kyle yelled, and Dylan felt himself smile, nodding and giving a yell of agreement along with the others, as they all moved forward once more, not enough to leave themselves open, but with a good five feet between each of them now they could swing freely, the monsters' corpses dropping faster than they could be cleared, even Amy spinning about to slam the side of her shield into a Not-Wolf's neck, collapsing it, before shoving it backwards.

And, at the same time, the Not-Wolves started to thin.

Pressing onwards at first the creatures weren't packed into rows but with room to maneuver themselves, making them a bit more dangerous, but they all could handle it now. Then the Not-Wolves came coming in at a lope, which they handled, before the creatures were finally sprinting at Dylan and the others as fast as they could, with nothing to stop them.

Before, that would've been deadly, but he knew how to handle that now, dipping to one side or the other, not taking the tackles directly but lashing out with his axe and gun to make sure that the flying Not-Wolves didn't survive long enough to hit the ground behind him, keeping the ranged fighters safe.

Then all at once, it was over.

Standing ready, panting from the exertion, feeling himself rapidly approaching that point of failure again but this time knowing how hard he could push himself in a way that was as reassuring as it was strange, Dylan looked around, at the yellow-stained battlefield, the corpses which covered the grove slowly fading away, bodies oddly insubstantial, like mist after the sun came out, and they were finally saf-

Grrrrrrr

The sound was low, and deep, the big brother version of the Not-Wolves' own growl, and one that caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise in primal terror.

Stiffening, and turning, one more Not-Wolf stepped out from the darkness beyond their luminescent blood-soaked grove, though this one seemed inexplicably more. Nine feet tall, visibly muscled under inky-black fur, its most unique trait, however, was that, in the twin yellow slits that were its eyes, prismatically glowing pupils stared back at them.

Visibly annoyed, but confident, it slowly strode out of the trees towards them, an arrow from Ivy flying out towards it, and it moved, so fast Dylan couldn't track it, and caught the bolt.

Turning it over, studying it, while its long snout made its expression hard to read, Dylan was pretty sure that was contempt on its furred face, before, with a flick, it sent the bolt flying right back at Ivy, catching the girl in the stomach as she was taken off the rack she was standing on.

"Hit it with everything!" Kyle ordered, Sam, Bartholomew, Kristen, and Annabeth all weaving symbols into the air, from which came four lances of lightning, fire, ice, and wind, streaking for the monster's chest.

And it, with a wave of its long, double-jointed arm, batted them all aside.

Then, once more, it slowly started to stalk forward.

"I'll take it!" Kyle yelled, charging it, long- no bastard sword held high, and it slowed just enough to scornfully sidestep his swing, clawed hand held flat as it struck, loud enough to resound through the clearing, right in the man's breastplate, over his heart, sending him flying backwards to land in a heap.

It, in turn, paused, looking at its claws in confusion, as the tip of one had cracked.

The footballer now to the side of the monster, rallied, shoving himself to his feet, and once more charged the Alpha-Not-Wolf, even as Dylan could see the monster's stance shift in a way that Kyle seemed not to.

Dylan raised his revolver, yelling, "Kyle! Don't!"

But the other guy didn't listen, sword raised, as the monster lunged, crossing a dozen feet in an instant, claws reaching up from below to hook into the boy's unprotected chin and rip his head clean off, and Dylan managed a single shot, the streak of crimson blessedly striking the moment before the creature did, slamming into its black wrist and forcing the clawed hand only an few inches to the side, still leaving them to carve bloody furrows into the other boy's face.

In turn, his sword struck true, cutting into the creature, who twisted at the last moment, turning the blow into a glancing one instead of lethal strike it should've been.

Then, with a second, almost negligent blow, before Kyle could do more than stumble, shocked by his injury, the Alpha struck, with a bone-shattering Crack that seemed to break the swordsman's neck, sending him ragdolling away as Amelia screamed and ran towards him.

While the Monster turned to face Dylan.

"Run," he ordered, the same unnatural knowledge that let him make the shot telling him he was dead. "Everyone, run! I'll slow it down! Try and hamstring it!"

"What? No!" Malik responded, trying to step up next to him, but Dylan had already started running way from the others, firing another shot to keep the attention of the thing that was going to kill them all.

A shot which the Alpha leaned out of the way of, the blood that dripped from its wounds not a dull yellow but a corroded gold, before it leapt, closing the dozens of feet between them in an instant, slashing out at him with claws that parted flesh and fabric like they were nothing.

But not his armor.

The force alone sent him flying backwards, ribs groaning, but he turned his flight into a roll, coming up firing, having more than enough ammunition now, causing it to have to dodge around his shots as it closed on him once more, this time its claws coming for his unarmored head.

It was only seeing it do so before that gave him enough warning to throw a hand up, taking the claw on his left arm, which broke, his gun only not dropped from the pain by instinct, as he went flying again.

A barrage of elements struck out at the monster, as he landed painfully, the Alpha easily sidestepped them, though in turn it sent a growl towards the others in a way that promised it would be their turn soon enough.

Turning to face him, eyes dropping to the revolver in his now-useless arm, the tips of its jaws lifted in a malicious smirk. Making a show of it, the Monster leapt for him, his broken arm unable to get his gun on target, as he tried to hold up his axe, bracing it against himself as best he could, the monster dropping, claws forward, like a descending guillotine, prismatic eyes staring gleeful into his own brown ones, as-

THWUP

As a purple comet flew over him, so bright and strong that it seemed to sear through the air, slamming into the monster's forehead and knocking it backwards at the last moment, the unexpected light fading and showing itself to be an arrow, with bright green fletching, which had buried itself into the now dead Alpha's skull, the creature hitting the ground next to him with a boneless wet whump.

Gritting his teeth, moving through the pain, Dylan forced himself to turn around and look in the direction the arrow had come from, as a pair of warm orange lights came out of the forest, showing themselves to be lanterns, floating in the air behind a tall woman in heavy armor, a thin man in purple and green leather, and a short man with the biggest beard he'd ever seen.

It was the short man who stopped, took in the scene, and let out a low whistle, before nodding in appreciation.

"Ah, Outlanders!" he called. "Wait! I remember your ancestral greeting!"

Clearing his throat, with a bad accent and a shit-eaten grin, the short man yelled out a phrase he'd clearly memorized, and which left Dylan without any reply.

"Come with me if you want to live!"



AN: As always, the next four chapters can be found on Patreon and Subscribestar. Once again, I look forward to your feedback as I write this, with the caveat that, when this is published, Book 1 will be stubbed (everything past chapter 3 removed) to comply with publishing requirements.

For a moment, no one moved, just staring at the three people who'd come out of nowhere, and killed the Alpha like it was nothing, Sam finally asking, "…what?"

The short man hesitated, smile fading, "Oh, I be sure that'd work."

Behind him, the armored woman sighed, while the thin man reached over and lightly smacked the short one in the back of the head with his bow, stating, "They recognized it, Thrain, they're just in shock."

Brightening, the now-named Thrain smiled broadly once more. "Oh, that be normal then! And looks like we made it in time, though, aye, lassie, that boy be needin' one o' your reds, and him too," he added, gesturing to Dylan.

The archer frowned, "You know how much those are worth."

"And they be needed, Pascal," the shorter man argued. "Not you, over there, that be a waste," he added, as Malik moved to drink a healing potion. "We'll have ya patched up with somethin' other than liquid gold soon 'nough."

Annabeth had moved over to Dylan, and, hesitantly, uncapped her red potion as he sat up, his everything hurting, offering it to him. Downing it, the same feeling of warm life surged through him, his arm making cracking noises as it forced itself straight, the bones resetting themselves with a series of meaty, gristly sounds in a way that should've been painful, but wasn't.

Grabbing his revolver, he shoved it into its holster and accepted her hand, standing, as something about the three people put his teeth on edge, the same knowledge that told him how to use his axe telling him that these people could kill him easily.

Though, looking at the dead Alpha Not-Wolf, which didn't dissipate like all the others, one that'd taken him out easily, and been taken out even easier, by the transitive properties of asskickery, he didn't need magic know-how to tell him that.

Glancing around, Kyle was also sitting up, a shaky hand going to his now unbroken neck, the others unsure, so Dylan offered, "Uh, thanks for the save, Mr. Thrain, but… where the fuck are we?"

"It's Maine, isn't it," Kristen added.

"Why would it be Maine!?" Bartholomew questioned, turning to look at her skeptically. "That's a hundred miles away! No, we're clearly in the upper valley! Imagine the effort it'd take to transport us all the way to Maine!" he spat.

"Uh?" Sam offered, "Amy didn't recognize the trees."

"Well," Kristen responded, looking for an explanation. "She obviously hasn't been to Maine!"

"…I have," the quiet girl in question put forward.

"Oh god, you're all insufferable," Ivy sighed, shaking her head, turning towards the amused trio of adults watching them. "Where are we?"

It was the armored woman who spoke, a hint of an accent Dylan couldn't place in her voice, "Halfway between New Agartha 'nd Dar al-Nur. Closer to 'Gartha."

"That's not gonna mean anythin' to 'em, lassie," Thrain informed the tall woman, whose full helmet hid everything except her oddly blue eyes, bearing light blue pupils set against dark blue that'd replaced what should've been white, and which seemed to subtly glow.

Turning back to the rest of them, the smallest of the three looked over each one of the students, studying them in turn, until he paused at the dark red patch that no one was looking at, except for Malik, who couldn't help but do so. The bearded man grimacing at what little remained of Sophie. "Ah, not quite in time enough. Well, nuthin' for it. Everybody, don't worry 'bout packing up, we'll be sending a crew here to pick it up."

"Who's 'we'?" Dylan felt the need to ask.

"And who said we're goin' with you!?" Kyle added, unhelpfully. "Who even are you people?"

The short man nodded, "Ah, right, where be my manners! I be Thrain Rookforge, [Trackrunner]."

It was the last word which took Dylan aback, as it was more than just a word, it was… a statement, one that he understood instantly, again, in ways that didn't make sense. The young man knew, knew that the older man was one who found traces, tracks, any hint of something, and ran them down to their source, beyond any shadow of a doubt.

And, looking at the short man's smirk, he knew that they knew, just as he knew they didn't know why they knew. Thrain gestured to the other two, who were watching them, the armored woman making an odd, complicated gesture, and tilting her head.

"Zhae'ran Virn, [Stormblade]."

Again, the knowledge, that the large sword on her back was the true danger, that it would crackle with lightning while she struck with her armored fists like thunder.

The other man turned up his nose at Thrain's prompting look, before he finally announced, with an air of annoyed boredom, "Pascal Moreau, [Spellbolt Archer]."

Which made sense, given what Dylan had seen.

Which made no sense, because… what?

"Those are… definitely words," Ivy stated, into the silence, glancing at the dead monster. "Are there, uh, more of those, uh, things out there?"

"There not be another Shadow Pack for a bit, they spread out," Thrain offered, "but if ya mean beasties, lassie, then yea, there be more, and worse besides. But don't ye worry your little head over it, 'for as long as ye be travellin' with us, the Caravan will be keepin' ya safe!"

Kyle frowned, jaw tight, "And, and if we don't want to go with you?"

Looking to the taller boy, his face healed, but still bloody, Dylan wondered if he was really trying to pick a fight with the people that just saved them, but, from how white-knuckled the other athlete's hands were on his sword, it was clear he was terrified, not that he blamed him.

"Then ya be takin' a loadout, and I'll prolly be scavangin' it off your corpse 'fore the week is out," the short man stated, not angrily, but almost regretfully.

"Thrain," the armored woman chided.

But he shook his head, "They look to be adults, Zhae, and we not be slavers. That said, it be a mistake."

"I think we should go with them," Dylan argued, the others looking to him. "If they just wanted our stuff, they could've waited until we were all dead. Instead they saved us. That's gotta count for something."

"At least one of you Outlanders has some sense," Pascal muttered, moving towards them. "Gather your gear, we shouldn't tarry."

Everyone grabbed a pack, Logan handing them out, trying to be helpful, while the archer, carefully, removed the crystal in the center of the racks of equipment, twisting it up and out, revealing it to be a staff slotted into the racks, the pale gem inset into the top still illuminating the space, but barely lit, yet even that faint light seemed to overlay the oranges from the lanterns, in a way that made Dylan's head hurt a little as he stared at it.

Thrain and Zhae'ran grabbed the packs that Scott and Sophie never would need now, pausing to scoop up the pentagonal blue metal tiles that'd scattered everywhere, several of the others copying them, adding unused potions, weapons, and so on to their packs, which accepted them all without getting any heavier.

"Oh, Ivy, do you need more arrows?" Dylan questioned turning to the Asian girl, who paused, frowned, and looked over her shoulder at the quiver, which was completely full. "Oh, you already got them."

"No, I… didn't?" she responded, confused.

Pascal, who'd grabbed one of the other blue leather pouches of arrows, noted, "They're Ever-Full. Don't be concerned. As the rockhead said, the others will be by to take what we don't, or don't have the tools for," he added, looking at… the ground?

No, not the ground, the floor.

Yes, he was definitely looking at the bit of gymnasium floor that'd been seemingly merged with the grass around them.

"That be enough," Thrain called out. "We should be goin', it be a hike, for new uns like yourselves. With any luck, we'll be makin' it back to the rest by Daybreak."

"How long is that?" Sam questioned, glancing upwards.

At her question, Zhae'ran laughed. "You are Outlanders."




They pressed on through the forest, seeing nothing, though, a couple times, the archer turned and shot another glowing purple arrow into the darkness, before walking off after it, only to later be waiting for them, leaning against a tree, seemingly bored. Watching him do it the third time, Pascal lifted his bow, but as he pulled back the arrow, the tip of it started to glow, and, when he let go, the string lit up too, sending the shot streaking off into the forest.

They kept moving, the chill of the air just a little too much to be comfortable, as his bloodsoaked shirt dried, becoming stiff, almost itchy, the weight of the chain shirt he wore over it strange, yet, at the same time, strangely comforting.

It took him even longer to realize he was walking weirdly, because it felt comfortable, but his steps moved to keep his axe, now resting in a sheath at his hip, its butt by his knee, from bouncing. Just like swinging it, the movement just felt… natural, and, glancing over, Malik was walking a little differently too, not quite a swagger, but in a way that kept the saber at his hip steady, though, thinking of how he'd use a sword, Dylan's new knowledge gave him nothing.

Looking up, it was still overcast, the faint light of the moon illuminating the clouds from behind them, but even that looked… wrong, the color a bit too blue, in a way that he could've sworn it hadn't been when they'd first started walking.

How… how long had they been walking?

It felt like they'd been going for hours, but, checking his phone, hadn't even been one, the gesture causing the others to do so too, prompting Thrain to laugh. "Huh, ya all really do do that."

"Do… you guys not have phones?" Malik questioned, before pausing, "wait, my charger's at home!"

"Mine's at… a hundred?" Annabeth, beside him, questioned, and glancing at his own device, it was too, which… didn't make sense.

Like anything else here does, he thought, but, weirdly, it was that which bugged him the most, for reasons he couldn't say.

"No, we should've lost a few percent, just having them on," Bartholomew argued.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's almost like magic!"

That caused everyone to go silent, as Dylan glanced at the revolver on his hip, one that used his blood for ammo. But… that'd been from the cube, he'd had his phone, for a couple years, that was different!

… wasn't it?

"We almost be there, young uns," the short man at the front called back. Despite his smaller legs, Thrain not only easily kept pace with the rest of them, but, if anything, seemed faster than them, just as fresh now as he'd been at the start of their hike, while his classmates… were actually kind of fine?

Dylan knew that he and Kyle would be fine, having had to run laps during team practice, let alone the off and on sprinting which the coaches called 'Suicides', but Malik was… a little heavy, and he remembered how much Kristen had hated gym, but even she was doing okay.

Looking to Annabeth, he reached out and took her hand, causing her to look his way. "How you doin'?" he checked.

The question took her aback, her eyes, which had been unfocused, gaining clarity as she frowned, replying quietly, "Not the greatest? But. Better than you. You sure you're…"

Squeezing her hand, he smiled, "Feeling pretty good, actually. Could use a shower, though."

That got a snort of laughter from the blonde girl who nodded. "Absolutely. You kind of stink, Dyl."

He felt his smile dim a bit at that, as, he hadn't exactly wanted to get covered in blood and dirt. "I'm sure you still smell like roses," he shot back.

"Gardenias, actually," she corrected him with mock haughtiness, giving his hand a squeeze back before letting go, as, in the distance, lights could be seen, but there were too many trees to make out anything more.

"Lo, Galvonston," Thrain called out, as from a tree in front of them, a black clad bowman seemed to almost step out of the shadows themselves, arrow nocked but weapon pointed down.

"So it was Outlanders," the guard noted. "Well… shit."

"You won't be sayin' that when we be done," the shorter man shot back. "Send word to Hark, he's gonna want to handle this himself."

Returning the arrow to his quiver, the guard instead pulled a different arrow, this one with bright yellow fletching, turned, and smoothly shot it into the woods towards the lights, a distant thunk barely sounding, unlike the ensuing call of, "Goddamnit, Carl!" which rang out carryingly, as if whoever was saying it was right next to them.

"He be hatin' that you keep doin' that," Thrain noted.

"Then he can pay for a comm crystal," the newly named Carl Galvonston chuckled, before stepping back into the shadow of the tree, and, even though Dylan was looking right at him, he still lost track of the guard.

Heading deeper in, they slowed, as the 'Caravan'…

Well, technically, it was.

Maybe it was watching one too many fantasy movies, but he was expecting four of five carts or something.

Not close to a hundred.

And they were odd looking too, large, mostly boxy, and irregular. Some were metal, some wood, some a mix, one almost looking like plastic, each in a variety of colors, but yellow and white was on all of them. Tall, short, broad, narrow, with all sorts of wheels, some so thin they looked like they should snap, while some had what looked like armored tank treads, other than being 'carts', they had almost nothing in common.

Just like the people.

Men, women, even a few children, most human, but he could spot a lot that weren't, in a way that made him want to grab his weapon, but, no, they all had clothes on, and they all just seemed… busy, despite the seemingly late hour. People with horns, with fur, with scales, enough that they didn't stand out, in a way they probably should, and while some had that same sense of danger, of threat that the three that'd found Dylan and the others possessed, most… didn't.

"What the hell!?"

And everyone there now stopped, and turned towards them, or, more specifically, towards Kyle, who'd shouted.

"I…" Dylan stated slowly, "I don't think we're in Massachusetts anymore."

"Or America," Malik added.

Thrain shook his head, "Alright, keep followin' me. Commander Hark's gonna be wantin' ta see ya."

They did so, Pascal and Zhae heading off in another direction, the rest of them winding their way through the carts, many of them with their sides opened up, revealing kitchens, workshops, and more, tables set up, and people doing all sorts of things. It was mostly quiet, but there were muted sounds all around them, of the hammering of wood, of water hitting the ground, of crystals chiming, and of children asking questions, only to be shushed. Beyond that there was the smell of leather, bits of a dozen different perfumes, and even of food drifting in from one direction causing Dylan's stomach to rumble. There were torches, glowing crystals, and lightbulbs all lighting up the area with conflicting kinds of illumination that was a little disconcerting.

Soon enough, they came to what looked like a small castle, still larger than the carts around it, but with metal walls, metal lanterns atop four watchtowers, though only one person was up them, holding a long rifle, as he peered down at them, something built into the center of the castle that looked like it could be raised, but was currently folded up, at its top. Moving around it, there was a gate, now open, which Thrain walked through without pausing.

Following him, there was an electric feeling in the air through the entrance, almost like static electricity, a metal mesh covering the ground, while, at a central table, were three people, looking over a map, but not of any place Dylan recognized.

As the middle figure, an older man, a single streak of white in his dark hair that, matching his beard, almost seemed like a scar, looked up, Dylan stumbled, as did the others, a sense of Pressure seeming to slam down on his shoulders under the man's golden-eyed gaze, one that seemed to look not at him, but through him.

And Dylan knew to defy this man was to die.

"So it was Outlanders," the man, clad in armor that looked somehow both ancient and modern, stated, with a voice that seemed like it came out of the movies, the same voice they'd heard before. Standing up, the Pressure lifting a moment later, he smirked. "I do believe that means you owe Vexius a drink."

The woman to his right, wearing a red metal breastplate over orange and yellow robes, rolled her eyes, her voice soft and warm as she commented, "I do suppose he would be correct eventually. Need I remind you of the Goddess' protocols?"

"I remember," he nodded to her, while, on his other side, stood a tall armored figure, covered by so much dark grey metal, and so motionless, they almost seemed like a statue, whose only movement was a tiny shift of their helmet, the inside utterly dark, as he, she, or it, merely watched them.

The golden-eyed man walked around the table, and approached them, each step smooth and unhurried, the man's presence was somehow more… real, than the others, than even the rest of the world around him, in ways Dylan couldn't explain. Looking over the group, his gaze went to Thrain, asking, "Is this all of them, Trackrunner?

"Aye," the short man nodded. "Those that survived, Roadwarden, and it be a close thing for a couple of 'em. Had a Shadow Pack, Iron Grade, after 'em. Even managed to bloody it, a little."

"Indeed?" the older man questioned, something in his voice demanding an answer, and, almost despite himself, Dylan did so.

"Just a little. It was about to kill me. Thought it killed Kyle," he stated, waving towards the guy. "What… what was that? Are, um, are there a lot of werewolves around here?"

His question caused what was obviously the leader of the caravan to frown, looking to Thrain, who shook his head. "Ain't seen none of them, thank the Goddess."

"But, it was a werewolf," Malik argued. "Or, maybe you call that something different? What's the difference?"

It was the armored figure who spoke, voice low, gravelly, but at the same time, oddly feminine. "The Teleporting."

"It's why they call it a where-wolf, Lad," Thrain added. "But those are Bronze-rank, at least."

"But that is a discussion for another night," the man before them stated. "What is important, is that you all are Outlanders."

"What does that even mean?" Annabeth questioned, beside him, sounding as lost as Dylan felt.

"Exactly what it sounds like," was the unhelpful reply. "You, and those like you, are not from here, have no Bastion you hail from, and, without backing, will likely suffer a fate worse than death. Not at the hands of monsters, but men."

"Is that a threat?" Kyle demanded, hand going to his sword, while Dylan just turned to look at his classmate in horror.

Thankfully, the caravan leader didn't seem offended, and just shook his head. "No. It's a warning. The Farweald is no place for the unprepared, but the Bastions… dressed like that? Flip a coin thrice. Three heads? You're fine. Two, you're robbed. And one? Enslaved."

"…And all tails?" Sam questioned.

"Death would be far kinder," the robed woman stated softly.

"You said dressed like this," Ivy put forward. "Could we trade for clothing? They said the potions were worth a lot."

The dark-haired man nodded. "And that is what we're offering. Join our Caravan, and you'll have both protection, and training. Follow my orders, and, at the end of our tour, you will be free to leave, or sign up for another run."

"And what'll this cost us?" Dylan questioned, getting the feeling that they might not have a choice.

"Everything you are carrying, and, if we make good time, your obedience for the next year and a half," the gold-eyed man stated. "You will be given provisions matching a first-time caravaner, fresh from Neo-Avalon."

Bartholomew started to lift a hand, then paused, realizing he wasn't in class, and put forward, "Then our gear, it's worth a lot?"

"The windfall from it will be worth a full tenth of our entire tour's profits," the leader agreed. "However, we will also be running a significant risk in doing so, as many Bastions would not be… pleased at our hiding Outlanders within our ranks."

"And if we say no?" Kyle questioned.

For a second, the Pressure slammed back into them, before the older man gave them a one-shouldered shrug as it vanished once more. "Then we will point you in the direction of the nearest friendly Bastion. On foot, it will take you approximately two months to reach there, assuming you know how to keep yourself moving in a straight line through the woods, and avoid the worst of the monsters in your path. It's possible you will even make it. Not probable, however."

"Why not just take our stuff?" Ivy pressed, as the others looked to her in shock. "What? If it's so dangerous, and it's worth so much, why not just rob us? It's what you said would happen to us if we were lucky."

"Because that's not how we do things," Thrain answered, sounding a bit off-put by the suggestion that they would.

Their leader nodded, "Also, Outlanders have a great deal of potential, if they survive, That is why it is the policy of Neo-Avalon to support them, if possible. You'll understand later, but, I do require an answer. So, formally, I, Commander Aleric Hark, of the Sixth Caravan of Neo-Avalon, and [Roadwarden] offer you a place within my expedition, in exchange for your current wealth, and your fealty until the conclusion of our current tour. What say you, Outlanders. Yay, or Nay?"

Once again, the title carried meaning, of one who travelled paths, made deals, and more. One who was bound by oaths, and bound others in turn.

Looking to Annabeth, she looked back, unsure, but took his hand, so Dylan looked to Mr. Hark, and nodded. "Yay. At least for us."

And, in doing so, he felt something invisible encircle his shoulders, not locking in place, but seeming to give him the faintest feeling of direction.

His Leader nodded, noting, "You all need to answer, and for yourselves. Yay. Or Nay."

"Uh, me too!" Malik added, and, at the older man's prompting look, corrected, "Er, Yay?" then he paused, going, "Oh, that's weird."

"What's weird?" Kristen demanded, glancing between them and the older man.

The dark-skinned boy frowned, asking, slowly, "Geas?"

"Nothing that restrictive," Thrain answered. "Just his [Job] at work. Silver Rankers be somethin' else. It be a lead, not a leash."

Slowly, the others all agreed, Kyle doing so last, and not looking happy about it.

"Good," Mr. Hark nodded. "Thrain, put them up in Passenger Two. We'll be leaving as soon as the harvester team finishes, as we likely weren't the only ones that saw the Outlanders Pierce the Veil, and I want us long gone before the Voidwings come calling."

Turning to Dylan, and the others, the Roadwarden nodded. "It'll be good having you, Outlanders. And it will be interesting to see if my great grandmother's tales of your kind are true."

"Your great-grandmother knew Outlanders?" Annabeth questioned.

That brought a smile to Mr. Hark's face. "You could say that, given she married one."




AN: As always, the next four chapters can be found on Patreon and Subscribestar. Once again, I look forward to your feedback as I write this, with the caveat that, when this is published, Book 1 will be stubbed (everything past chapter 3 removed) to comply with publishing requirements.