Azur adhered to a distinct hierarchy. At its pinnacle was the Council, consisting of leaders from the two paramount branches of power: priors and the Magister.
The Warrior’s Order, under the Paladin Ingwild’s watchful eye, honed elite warriors, essential for every hunter squad. Conversely, the Savants Circle, though limited in number, also played a pivotal role in the Labyrinth’s conquest. Despite their overwhelming numbers, the craftsman’s guild held the lowest status, its leader lacking influence.
The blood mages, considered the most formidable among the hunters, maintained the established order. And from the Council head’s perspective, Suri had no grounds to be an exception. Her appearance was suspiciously timely, and her behavior appeared contradictory. He believed that such traits would lead to complications down the line.
The Magister relaxed his shoulders, rubbing his stiffened palms. He recognized that the girl was exerting every effort to resist control. Yet, his objectives diverged from hers. She needed to grasp that without the power and knowledge of the castle’s inhabitants, her chances of survival were slim.
“Your abilities matter little,” the man retorted. “You’ve already shown enough. But, if you refuse to adhere to our laws, what then prevents us from executing you?”
Biting her lower lip, the girl clenched the edges of her tunic until her knuckles paled.
“I merely sought entry into the Labyrinth. You promised answers, yet in the end, you’ve offered nothing.”
“Did we?” A smirk twisted his lips. “After you ended the life of an experienced hunter, we still granted you the privilege of choice. Your current status among us is a consequence of your decisions.”
Suri’s eyebrows shot up, revealing her clear surprise at the revelation. The chance for a response never materialized; the Magister didn’t afford her the opportunity. “Indeed, the Paladin Ingwild is deeply displeased that the perpetrator behind the death of his hunter went unpunished. Just that alone risks souring relations with the hunters. Furthermore, they would never accept a wild blood mage, even if the Heart thrice blessed you.”
“But I didn’t kill…” The girl’s voice quivered. “I couldn’t…” A bitter taste flooded her mouth, and a lump in her throat constricted her breath. Suri tried to summon her memories. No matter how fervently she reassured herself that this reality was merely an illusion, the weight of guilt remained unshakable. Relief eluded her grasp. The once steady hands of the blood mage now trembled noticeably, a detail not lost on the warrior.
His brow remained relaxed, his eyes—hardened and unyielding—spoke volumes. The fate of one of his people seemed of little consequence to the Magister, who bore no thirst for vengeance. Mentioning it seemed a tactic to exert pressure on the disobedient newcomer.
“In the Labyrinth, worse things happen,” the man shrugged. “Hunters never know which descent might be their last. This accursed maze devours us as we seek a means to survive. At least down there, we can gradually discern the dangers, unlike on the surface.”
“Didn’t you once dream of leaving Azur? Of being free from such burdens?” the girl whispered, eager to shift the topic. Shug remained silent, and its lack of response only emboldened her.
The Magister slamming his large fist on his knee.
“Ha, beyond the dungeon, only death awaits. There’s nothing for us out there!” His expression remained inscrutable, leaving it unclear whether he genuinely believed his words or was attempting to persuade the individual before him. “Regardless, if you’re so keen on joining the squad, esteemed blood mage, obedience is paramount.”
[Does the creature truly dare to test me?] a mocking voice echoed in the girl’s mind, [Inconsequential! Shug wouldn’t deign to concern himself with such trifles.]
Suri’s eyes twitched with skepticism. Despite its assertions, the cube’s actions seemed at odds with its words.
[The creature doesn’t even have to bother. Shug is omniscient,] the voice persisted, refusing to be quelled. [The proof of the Heart’s favor lies right under the creature’s gaze.]
Suri’s eyes widened, darting around the Council chamber. Towering shelves surrounded her, stretching up to the ceiling and overflowing with countless scrolls—yellowed, fragile, and tantalizingly inviting. What secrets could they hold? She felt an irresistible urge to touch one. The grayish parchment seemed to pull her gaze.
“Here is everything we have learned about the Labyrinth and its inhabitants. Apart from the Council, only the captains of the hunter squads have access,” the Magister interpreted the wanderer’s intrigued expression. Suri’s brief silence and lack of reaction allowed him to regain his composure. “Individuals like you—blood mages—are uninterested in our findings, preferring instead to master their abilities.”
“May I have a look?”
“Why not?” replied Magister Pankratz, with an open palm inviting the girl to act. “You’re unlikely to understand anything…”
But Suri heard nothing more, completely absorbed in the scroll’s allure. The delicate parchment found its way into her hands.
Before her eyes unfurled a wondrous tapestry of intricate patterns, seamlessly weaving into a complete design. The lines seemed to pulse on the paper’s surface, at times sinking into its soft, yielding texture, then rising in gentle convexity. The scroll bore no words, only this mesmerizing artwork. Suri traced the edges of the design with her fingertips, treating it as one would a skittish creature. In response, the patterns seemed to come alive, their movements growing more pronounced.
[Fire,] Shug’s intrigued voice appeared in mind, [a rather mediocre and crude imitation, nearly devoid of true power. But Shug can discern genuine language. One shouldn’t doubt.]
Suri focused on the pattern, recognizing it as a word she’d never encountered before, demanding every ounce of her attention. As her fingers grazed the design, it responded, its lines coming to life under her touch, radiating latent warmth and light. In a mere moment, the intricate pattern ignited, and flames of vivid red consumed its aged, delicate form. All that remained of the once-precious scroll was a smattering of white ash.
“I… I’m so sorry…” the mage withdrew from the shelves, matching the speed at which the flames consumed the scroll.
Motionless, the Magister fixed his gaze on the remnants of the invaluable yet imperfect scroll, his breath stolen by surprise. How could he trust his own eyes? Even the most adept scholars under Velda required years to master one rune, a feat beyond the reach of common hunters. The girl’s combat skills seemed lacking, barely resembling those of an Azur novice and falling short of the basic prowess other blood mages exhibited. Yet, in this moment, both dread and admiration overtook him as he recognized her unparalleled abilities.
Truly, the Labyrinth seemed to be granting its blessings in recognition of the hunters’ valor. And the Heart was bestowing gifts unlike any before seen.
“Can you replicate what you did?” the Magister Pankratz perked up.
“I didn’t intend to. I remember the pattern, so I’ll attempt to restore it right away,” the girl exclaimed, her eyes darting around the hall in search of empty parchments.
[Gulyp-gulyp,] Shug’s laughter echoed. [Ah, the creature knows how to surprise.]
[Why didn’t you warn me? Now I can’t access the other scrolls.] A note of sour disappointment curled her lips.
[Shug’s language exists to serve, not gather dust on the shelves.]
Finally, the gaze of the culprit settled on a small scrap of paper, hastily torn. Quill in hand, Suri began to draw, and a new pattern sprang to life. Though smaller in size and finer in its lines, it possessed a devastating force, capable of igniting wild, uncontrollable flames. The rune she sketched pulsed with energy, shimmering in the muted sunlight that filtered through the chamber’s lone stained-glass window.
[Trained memory can compensate for a lack of talent,] came a surprised, honeyed voice.
No sooner had Suri lifted the quill than the Magister snatched the drawing, scrutinizing it as though it bore the weight of a deep confession. As his eyes traced the intricately familiar curves, he sensed the primary rune pulsating, as if brimming with an imminent explosion of energy.
“Until this moment, I hadn’t grasped the extent of the blood mages’ abilities,” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with bewilderment. “But how can this be?”
Suri sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Recreating the pattern from memory had demanded considerable effort, but it appeared her endeavors had paid off. The head of the Council didn’t appear concerned about the loss of the original.
“What happened?” The question pulled the Magister from his intense examination of the parchment.
“Indeed…” he responded with a bitter smile. “After this, I find it hard to dismiss blood mages as mere wanderers.”
Pushing aside Suri’s creation, he reclined in his chair.
“These are fragments of memories, gleaned from those who have heard the Heart of Azur speak,” he mused, “but our understanding remains elusive. What you see around are the valiant attempts of our most skilled individuals to interpret the Heart’s language—the runes.”
[Few can truly perceive Shug, let alone hear its true essence. Fleeting memories cannot unveil the genuine form of that language,] a languid voice resonated within her consciousness.
[So, the scroll ignited because the word manifested its true form?]
[Precisely.]
[But… how can that be?] girl’s astonishment was palpable.
[Why find it so perplexing? Shug provided a subtle hint to the meaning; the creature discerned the form on its own.]
Biting her lip, Suri hesitated at the sight of another scroll.
“May I examine the other scrolls? Having seen their fragility, I can preserve and replicate them,” she ventured.
“Velda would never withhold knowledge from her people, even in the face of such destruction,” the Magister retorted with a smirk. “It appears our new blood mage is more intrigued by the treasures within these walls than beyond them. Yet, that trait is common among mentats.”
“Does that mean I can join the hunter squad immediately?”
Laughter, rich and hearty, reverberated throughout the Council chamber. “You jest, young one.”
Suri’s stern expression left no room for levity.
After a robust laugh, the Magister clarified his amusement. “No hunter squad would welcome a wild blood mage. Should you falter during a descent, the consequences would be catastrophic—not just for you, but for the entire team. They place their lives in each other’s hands. Do you even trust yourself?”
A crushing weight seemed to descend upon Suri, anchoring her to the spot. The intensity of the Magister’s dark gaze deepened her apprehension. Visions of Cassia, enduring punishment, flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t shake the fear that a similar fate awaited her.
“Remember this feeling, girl. This is what hunters feel when they touch the surface of that accursed abyss. How far do you think you’ll get?” a distant male voice intoned. “And how long will you be able to breathe?”
Indeed, the pressure weighed heavily on Suri, making her struggle to breathe. As the Magister’s overpowering aura intensified, the Thorn’s resistance grew stronger. Her arm felt ablaze, as though molten iron had scorched her skin. Suri bit her lip, tasting the sharp tang of metal. Anything to distract from the searing pain of the bracelet.
[Do you want to deprive me of my arm?!] a tormented internal cry echoed within her.
“We’ll end it here,” the Magister’s calm voice interrupted, overshadowing Shug’s response.
Suri crumpled to the cold stone floor, completely drained. The raw sting on her knees reignited, and blood seeped anew. As the world around her blurred, a haze of pain clouded her vision.
The Magister remained unmoved, offering no help to the blood mage sprawled before him. His icy gaze seemed to penetrate girl`s very soul, making her feel more exposed than ever. Her strained, uneven breaths filled the room with an unsettling cadence. Each pulse from her arm was a relentless reminder of the ordeal. Yet, Suri suppressed any outward sign of her pain, wary of revealing weakness to the ever-watchful Magister.
“Well, I assumed that having survived the Illumination, you’d easily surmount this challenge as well. My suppression is merely a whisper compared to the auras of the Heart or the Labyrinth,” the Head of the Council remarked, his tone reflecting more surprise than disappointment. He wanted to test the girl further, curious about any hidden depths she might own. He had grown weary of the Judge’s enigmatic nature, and now believed the mage harbored enough weaknesses to remain non-threatening.
“What ‘gift’ did I receive? The next encounter with this cursed branch might end me.” In that moment, the insatiable hunger of the Thorn felt far more menacing than the suppression.
