Alexander Mihaljevi?

  Alexander leaned back in his chair and took a long huff from his pipe of loki before blowing the smoke out slowly. He watched as the cloud drifted into the night’s air, visible within Radiance’s colorful light. It twirled and shifted, wafting towards the west. The wind was changing. He could feel it around him. For days now, he has noted the drop in temperature and the shift in pressure, not only meteorically but also magically. The wisps, little beings drawn to ether, like motes of light seen only by a few around magic when it’s being cast. Thought only to be particles created by spells.

  Except they weren’t. They were creatures like humans and elves. Except not of this world. Not usually, anyway. Wisps were beings attracted to magic, or more specifically, ether. Alexander didn’t entirely know why; perhaps they fed off of it. Or maybe they are like honey beetles attracted to colorful clothing, thinking they’re flowers? That is beside the point.

  He could feel the wisps changing with the air. Only the trained eye of a wizard could see these beings without using the spell detection. Besides, using such a spell would be cheating. He watched them move, unlike the wind, towards the east. Twirling and dancing in the air like star beetles. There were dozens of them, no hundreds, all around in every direction, rising from the earth in various colors and sizes. It was a remarkable yet equally unnerving sight to behold.

  Alexander took another drag from his pipe and leaned forward. Nearby, he could hear the soldiers in the camp hooting and hollering as they celebrated yet another victory. News of the attack on Johanneson had yet to reach the rank and file, and after this morning’s unsuccessful probing attack, Alexander knew that the Colonel would wait until the morning to break the news to the men.

  Another probing attack, Alexander thought as he watched the wisps drifting towards the east, like a flock of birds flying south for the winter. Days after the assault across the river and destruction of the factory, the Veinrites had sent probe after probe after probe at the river, each ending in disaster for the fighting machines—a careless loss of life. Or, well, no, it wasn’t. He corrected himself; they were machines. Machines made of the souls of those murdered, he once again reminded himself.

  Even then, constructing such a frightful machine must cost a fortune. Yet they threw them away carelessly, mashing them against their defensive lines. Something was coming, but what? Tactfully, he knew why the Veinrites attacked Johanneson. Destroying the airfield and blowing up the Ionan airships would stall their reinforcements. Probing the frontline kept the soldiers on edge and wore them down, yet why were the winds changing and the wisps acting up?

  They wouldn’t be so stupid, would they? Alexander thought to himself.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding, Alex.” A familiar voice piqued Alexander’s attention, and he turned to look over his shoulder.

  Celena Lasker, the high priestess, or so the soldiers knew her, stood a few steps behind him, her arms crossed and her brow perked. The hood of her priestly garb pulled back, exposing her lengthy, bck, curly hair, which loosely blew in the cool breeze. “Spell Marshal,” Alexander greeted her with a nod.

  The dark-skinned woman frowned, crossed her robed arms, and gred at him. “I told you not to refer me by that here, Ancient One.,” She said with emphasis as she leaned toward him.

  Alexander snorted and straightened up. He dumped his pipe beside him before gesturing around the open field with it exaggeratedly. “I highly doubt anyone here is listening to us now, Celena. That is unless you’re concerned the wisps are listening.” He lowered his voice to that of a hush. “Though I guess they are an enigma best we py is safe.” He winked.

  Celena rolled her eyes, but then her frown deepened, and she turned her gaze toward the flocks of wisps. Her eyes followed the drifting orbs of multicolored lights as they drifted to the east, and as if noticing them for the first time, her eyes widened a bit.

  “What did you do?” She asked, turning back to Alexander.

  The ancient human scoffed and brought a hand to his heart, feigning pain. “Celena!” He croaked.”You wound me!”

  “Stop being coy, Alex,” Celena said, her expression darkening as she stepped towards him. “What is going on?”

  Alexander took a deep breath and dropped the act. As much as he loved to toy with Celena, now wasn’t the time. He straightened up in his seat, rested his hands on his p, and looked at her briefly before returning to watch the wisps.

  “I’ll be honest, Celena,” He said, pursing his lips. “I frankly don’t know. Ever since the assault over the river, things have been changing–”

  “Wait, what?” She interrupted, insufferable woman. She never knew when to let him finish. Then again, he was in no position to judge. Perhaps that’s why he enjoyed her company. “You knew something was going on and didn’t say anything?” She groaned. “Alexander, for all that is holy, why–”

  “Can I finish, Celena?” Alexander asked, and thankfully, Celena muttered an apology and nodded for him to continue. “I had noticed changes, yet I thought nothing of it at the time. First, it was small temperature changes. Have you noticed that? Despite the warmer season coming upon us, it’s been getting colder.” He fell silent briefly as he gathered his thoughts.

  Celena cleared her throat and said, “I noticed that, but I simply thought it was due to us being so far up north and close to Veilnd. The Ursan winds are known for blowing this far west, so it isn’t uncommon.”

  A reasonable assumption, Alexander thought. He, too, considered this at first. Except that ever since that girl showed up, Luna Ashflow, the one that surged with ether. Like a raging typhoon corked inside a puny vial screaming to burst, it was after she showed up that the wisps began to show. Ever since that day, she had ignited the sky. He saw how they followed her and swirled around her constantly. Invisible to most, but not him, of course. Alexander knew the signs to look out for.

  Was she the cause of this? The change in weather? No. Don’t be ridiculous. The girl was gifted magically, a prodigy waiting to be molded. There is no way a simple fiery mote in the sky would cause something like this. While she probably could shift and control the weather, she would know the proper stance, gestures, and incantations to fit within the Pattern.

  “Alex?” Celena prompted him, and the old man jerked back into focus.

  “Oh, sorry,” He cleared his throat. “I got a little lost in thought.” He smiled at her. “You see the wisps, don’t you?” He asked as he gestured with his pipe towards the orbs of light drifting eastward, and she nodded. “You see where they’re going?” Again, she nodded. “The Veinrites are doing something. Attacks have been nearly nonstop across the frontline, and recently they struck Johanneson.”

  “They what?!” Celena once again interrupted, and Alexander sighed. While the Spell Warden was within the higher echelons of ranks, she was also currently on a mission posing as a high priestess whose rank did not grant her immediate authorization to know. While the news would eventually reach her, it would probably not have done so for at least a couple more hours at best.

  Alexander sighed and gred at her, and once again, she apologized. “Yes. Johanneson was attacked by a new form of flying machine, to no one’s surprise. At this rate, news is going to hit us that they’ve somehow built a vessel that can travel the Void, and no one will bat an eye.” He joked.

  “Please don’t say that,” Celena muttered, and Alexander snorted.

  “Why? Do you think me saying it will bring it into reality? I thought you weren’t one for such foolish superstitions, Celena?” He smirked.

  “I’m not,” She said but waved her hand for him to continue. “What else do you know?”

  Alexander took a deep breath, and his shoulders sagged slightly. “Afraid not much. Anything else is purely specution. My gut tells me it’s the Veinrites.”

  Despite both of them knowing this to be the case, hearing Alexander voice his concerns out loud made the already bitter air even more intolerable. Celena cursed softly. “Weather augmentation to this scale falls within the Mystic tier on the scale, Alex.” She said, her voice hollow.

  Alexander nodded. “Aye, it does,” he said, wanting to start packing his pipe again.

  “You don’t believe they’re this stupid do you?” She asked as he caved to his craving and began stuffing the pipe with fresh loki. “They already have an advantage, we’re on the backfoot, throwing a damned archaic storm is overkill!”

  Alexander lit his pipe and breathed in the smoke. As he inhaled, his body rexed, and his mind cleared. He was silent for a moment until he exhaled the smoke. “I agree,” He said. “I thought I knew Natasha, but as, I guess I didn’t. The handful of times we’ve met, she had always been curt and straightforward, I didn’t take her at the time to be that kind of woman.”

  “She wouldn’t be a good con artist if you made her out to be one,” Celena said, stepping up beside him.

  Alexander frowned and nodded as he raised his pipe towards her in agreement. “Exactly. I’ve been pyed.”

  “What’re we to do then?” Celena asked.

  Alexander cocked an eyebrow. “You’re the marshal, why ask me?”

  Celena cringed and blushed. “I just…” She started then hissed, “This has never happened before.”

  It had, Alexander thought, two thousand years ago. However, the rules around cataclysmic spell usage were practically non-existent back then.

  “I’ll protect us,” He said, taking another huff from his pipe. “That is why I’m here. This storm, or whatever it is, they’re going to throw at us, I’ll divert it or shield us.”

  “All of us?” Celena asked. “Alex, there are thousands of soldiers here, even refugees. The frontline stretches for gilos in either direction.” She gestured with her arms exaggeratedly.

  Alex nodded solemnly. “You’re right. At most, I can protect this brigade and its refugees, perhaps more so if I can extend my reach. Other ethereal archons along the frontline might be able to protect more, but…” He trailed off.

  “It’s going to be bad,” Celena said, voicing his thoughts out loud, and he nodded.

  Just then, a bestial roar echoed from the east, and a screech of a red fre pierced the air, igniting the sky. It was a Scale Warden. Silhouetted against the starry sky, a massive true-kin dragon flew towards the manor house where the colonel stayed at great speed. The gargantuan beast reared back, swinging its lower legs forward as it beat its enormous wings to slow itself. Distant shouts of soldiers and aids could be heard as the beast dropped like a stone and nded before the wooden structure, creating a minor quake.

  Alexander pursed his lips and gnced at Celena. “And you just had to go and say it,” He said with a feigned huff and twinkle in his eye.

  Celena started for a moment and shook her head. “Huh?” She said as Alexander dumped his pipe out and began to clean it hastily. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, I am,” Alexander said with a wink as he stood up and stowed the pipe in his jacket. “Celena,” He shook his head and wagged a finger, “What did I say about airing such concerns? Doing so allows such dark energies to fester and manifest.”

  She gawked at him. “Aren’t you the one who said such superstitions were foolish–”

  He silenced her with a wave of a hand. “Figments of your imagination. Come, let us go see what the Warden has to say.”

  A rge crowd gathered around the manor and true kin. A beautiful green-scaled creature with a tan underbelly stood nearly as tall as the manor and about as long as a train car. It sat on its haunches, its head held high towards the stars, though its left eye peered at all those below, observing.

  The crowd respectfully kept a wide birth around the creature. Only those who held its scale could step towards the beast without its permission. Anyone who went against this, well, it never ended well for them. Alexander, however, did not entirely care for such traditions. He respected them to a degree, but when he wanted answers, he tended to get them.

  Dragon or no dragon. He would hear what the warden came here to say. It was rare to see deliberate action taking pce. If news were to be sent from beyond enemy lines, a simple letter written in a contact journal would’ve sufficed. The warden flying directly here could only mean one thing: Alexander’s fears were coming to light.

  The crowd parted for Alexander and Cena as the two approached the towering dragon and manor. As they approached the true kin, the green-scaled being snorted, its only warning for them to stop. It held its head high, its snout pointing to the sky, as it gazed down upon the two with a single amber eye, the color of which swirled perpetually like a roaring tempest harboring the ancient beings' arcane power.

  Alexander stopped and held a hand behind him to halt Celena, though she had already stopped a few strides back. His eyes narrowed on the beast's single, slitted eye, which bore into him. Yes, he thought. He recognized this one. Clearing his throat, Alexander dropped to one knee and spoke in the ancient draconian tongue, “Ancient One, Iodu, Defender of the Everwood, the Syer of Nefandreus, what brings you to this battlefield so te in the evening?”

  He gritted his teeth. The ancient tongue was a killer on one’s throat. He rubbed his neck gently as he gazed up at Iodu. The massive dragon’s head shifted so that both eyes trained on the old mage. Despite his years and stubborn courage, Alexander couldn’t help but shudder faintly under the True Kin’s swirling amber eyes.

  Iodu said nothing for a long moment, simply staring as his nostrils fred with each deep breath. As he exhaled, Alexander could feel their hot breath wafting over him, leaving him with the scent of scyora nuts and kal leaves. After what felt like an eternity, the dragon took a deep breath and spoke, his voice sending deep reverberations into Alexander’s core.

  “Beyond the mountains east, a surge of power reigns supreme. Shackeled by their power, the Ursan god, now a sve, comes to bnket all and freeze.” Iodu snorted once and pawed the earth, his cws inadvertently digging a deep hole in the front wn of the manor. “My oath partner recounts these findings now to your warlords.” He nodded to the manor.

  The Ursan god, Igor, shackled? Alexander blinked, confused. It was said that Empress Natasha of Veilnd was his avatar. Could the roles instead be reversed? As in, she was his master? He thought. Well, now, this has certainly made things more interesting.

  Alexander bowed his head. “Thank you, Ancient One,” he said. "When you say they wish to bnket all and freeze, are you referring to the cold we are now feeling?” He asked. True kin always spoke in ways that were hard to make out for those unaccustomed to speaking with. Therefore, he wanted to be sure, just in case.

  Iodu's eyes narrowed, and they cocked their head in the form of frowning. “Little ones, never understanding. Your ears are too small to comprehend.”

  And here we go with the insults, Alexander thought with an inward sigh.

  “Yes. The wisps of winter rouse early from their slumber. The false call of Enora ushers them to the east, culminating into the frostwinds. Your enemies of the false god fool the natural order seeking to weaponize it, for I and my oath partner have seen this beyond the mountains east.”

  It was just as Alexander theorized and feared. He bit and held his tongue and bowed his head once again. “Thank you, Ancient one.” Just then, the front door to the manor opened, and two of Hass’s maids, Shilia and Liro, stepped to either side of the entryway and bowed. A rge dark figure loomed at the entrance, a hulking figure whose footfalls creaked the floorboards within and then cnked loudly on the stone steps as they came out into the moonlight.

  Judging by their figure, they were a man in archpte, magrite-infused armor capable of granting wearers immense strength and durability. It didn’t take Alexander long to figure out who this person was due to how rare such armor was. The scale warden, Levi Becker. His armor was beautiful despite its simplicity. Sleek and segmented along the arms and legs, it gave the appearance of scales painted silver and green to match Iodu’s colors. Heinmarran dragon was painted golden and roaring on his chest.

  Currently, the man has his helmet on. It was a bizarre piece with no visor for the eyes and was connected directly to the bevor, entombing the user’s head. Alexander had never worn such armor but had studied it in years past. Supposedly the armor granted ether sight, the ability to observe and hear the world around them without the need for the vulnerability of visor slits. It is a marvelous piece of archineer ingenuity.

  Levi’s armored-cd head briefly turned in Alexander’s direction in acknowledgment before shifting up towards the dragon and, in a metallic voice that boomed louder than one would expect from behind the helmet, he said in the ancient tongue, “Iodu, we are to make haste for Alterham immediately.”

  The capitol? Alexander thought to himself. If they send a warning, the spell contact will surely be faster. He began to step back as the true kin lowered its massive body. With a sudden burst of ether light from beneath Levi’s feet, the scale warden rocketed himself upwards at least a dozen gotts before nding on a rge saddle situated at the base of the creature’s rge neck.

  In maurich, Levi shouted for the bystanders to move back, and the crowd, along with Alexander and Celena, began to make space hastily. Moving away from the manor, the Iodu stretched their enormous wings, and with one mighty beat that sent a torrent of wind bsting outward, they took to the sky. The air smmed into the crowd, and Alexander quickly used mote gust to blow the dust away from himself, Celena, and those lucky to be nearby. As the air cleared and the dust settled, Alexander saw Hass and another figure he didn’t recognize stepping outside, a handful of her advisors trailing them.

  The individual beside her was a tall person with broad shoulders, a valendi, which was interesting as few lived this far north. His scales were an oily bck that sparkled in the moonlight, and his purple, swirling eyes practically glowed in the darkness. He wore a finely tailored suit with a bowler hat perched upon his head, with pointed spines running down the back of his neck and presumably his back and thick tail. Alexander felt pity for whoever had to be his tailor.

  Meanwhile, Hass was wearing her casual clothes—a simple, drab olive blouse and khaki pants, which surprised Alexander. The woman always seemed to be in uniform; he honestly half expected her to sleep in the damned wear. The two spoke animatedly in hushed tones as they quickly made their way out of the manor, their direction shifting towards the command tent.

  Alexander was about to join them to learn more when Celena stopped him with a snatch of his wrist. “What’s going on?” She hissed.

  That was right. He thought to himself, she doesn’t know the old tongue. With a sigh, he said, “I don’t entirely know myself, but it seems that storm that’s coming is worse than I thought.” He took a deep breath. “Why did you have to air your grievances, Celena?” He tsked and shook his head.

  Freeing himself from her grasp, he quickly followed the colonel and the well-dressed valendi before Celena’s gaze could destroy him.

  "Dr. Traeshen, I hope this letter finds you well or at least in a much more suitable condition than mine. I am writing to you from the front in Elsfen. It has been a long while, old friend, since we st spoke. I fear that you may still have ill feelings toward me since our st outing, and though I've said it numerous times before, please forgive me. I wasn't aware then of how little I could hold my own drink. I hope you received my payment for your vase. I am genuinely sorry.

  As, that is not why I'm sending this letter. Quite frankly, sir, I find the topic I'm about to discuss deplorable. I urge that if others are around while you're reading this, you either dismiss them or go somepce else. My dear friend, during my time on the front, I have seen a lot of death, but what I saw the night before on the 39th of Orpheus was dreadful. Traeshen, the dead are beginning to speak..."

  - The first intercepted letter from Dr. Hans Steinfen. This letter, along with many others regarding such a topic, is to be disposed of immediately.