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“I know. That’s why we’ll immediately report it to my father. We’re adepts, not magi. We should let those who are more experienced deal with this.”
But he only ventures farther into the sewers, the floating orb illuminating his path.
I follow him for a few strides, dread growing with every step until it becomes too much. Even if Arluin is a talented sorcerer, I have no idea what lies ahead of us. And whether we will be outmatched.
We must turn back now, before it’s too late.
But Arluin refuses to listen to me. I will have to leave him here, though I hate the thought of abandoning him. My father needs to know something dark and rotten dwells within Nolderan’s sewers.
I turn and race back to the hole we came through. This part of the tunnel is cast in darkness now that Arluin’s orb has drifted away. I glance back, wanting to tell him that I will meet him at his manor. Hoping that he will see sense.
But then, the shadows hiss. They swirl and obstruct my path. From them, the hooded silhouette emerges.
I take a step back.
Darkness pours out, thick and heavy like foul smoke. When I draw in a breath, the air suffocates me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a man demands, his voice frighteningly familiar. Before I can respond, or teleport to safety, he raises his hand. “Vorikaz.”
Dark magic flings toward me. Obsidian chains wrap around me so tightly I fear they will snap me in half. I struggle beneath the bindings, but my arms are pressed into my sides and I can’t move them at all.
Nor can I use any magic.
I can feel aether humming in the surrounding air, but it refuses to answer my call. The obsidian chains sever me from my magic.
“Laxus!” Arluin cries, appearing between us. Aether blooms in his palms as he prepares to unleash an attack on the hooded figure. “Release her at once!”
“Or what?” the man taunts. His deep laugh rumbles around us, echoing down the endless, dark tunnel.
Arluin’s heels dig into the stone beneath, refusing to yield. But before he can release his magic upon our enemy, the shadows shift, spinning into clouds of darkness.
From them, a dozen more figures appear. Humans, orcs, and elves form their ranks. All are clad in black robes, and the same terrifying presence oozes from them.
Arluin can’t defeat them all. Even if I were not bound by these chains, the odds of success would remain impossible.
A group of dark sorcerers lurk in Nolderan’s sewers and threaten the safety of our city. My father must be alerted immediately. Before it is too late.
“Go!” I cry to Arluin. “Teleport to the Arcanium. Tell my father. Now!”
Arluin doesn’t heed my words. The aether in his hands shines brighter, moments away from unleashing a spell upon our enemies.
But fighting them is futile.
“He looks the spitting image of you, my lord,” says an orcish woman. She stands to the right of the hooded figure. Her skin is ashen green, and her white hair is woven into many long braids.
“He does?” the hooded man replies. “I’ve always seen more of his mother in him.”
Horror hits me like a sudden blow to the chest. I can’t breathe.
My legs betray me by giving way, and I tumble to the ground. Stone strikes my knees, and sharp pain jolts through them.
I stare up at the hooded figure, praying against all sense that I am wrong.
Shock too slams into Arluin. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape. The aether in his hands fizzles out and returns to the dark air. His shoulders tremble as the man strides toward him.
He throws aside his hood. The illumination orb high above shines over his face.
He shares Arluin’s dark curls, though silver dusts his hair, and their bold jawlines are identical.
