‘Essence is the lifeblood of creation, the fuel for all life, and the mystic arcana enabling us to generate tangible phenomena.’

The raspy voice came through Tolan’s mind like a distant memory hidden beneath swaths of mundane images.

It had seemed out of reach, unclear and fleeting. But he caught it, and like an echo, it bounced and resonated with other memories buried beneath a muddled fog.

He saw in his mind the study hall inside the illustrious Mage Tower, the central point of their desert city; a circular spire of limestone that met the surrounding buildings of rock and splendour. The Tower and its adjacent academy stood and still stand as part and apart from everything else in the city.

He remembered the designated lecture hall they’d been delivered to and how it grew to be filled with students sitting on narrow rows of wooden seats.

He remembered waiting, far off in the back away from the others. Focusing on the grains of his desk and how they would melt into the larger canvas of wood, becoming indistinguishable from each other.

He also remembered how the twin suns rays lay softly over his right arm and the gentle light penetrating the wall-wide window of glass.

And he recalled the old man that entered their class of young children. In particular, the dull cane that supported his weak posture and how the sound of its flat strike on the wooden surface burst the bubbles of conversation around the lecture hall.

But above all else, Tolan remembers the first sentence voiced by his now-deceased Arcane Arts professor. That essence is the lifeblood of creation, and that they, mages, are the ones gifted with the capacity to manipulate it.

He now rarely thought much about the old man, for it had been nearly a decade since he passed.

Tolan had grown melancholic. For his mind had recently grown anxious with thoughts of anything but magic. He thought much on his place at the Tower Academy, how his friends were beginning to engage in romantic pursuits, and slightly also on why he’d been picked for this surveillance mission.

“Stop daydreaming, Tolan. Focus on the task at hand.” He was pushed slightly to the right as the voice cut through his mind and shattered the images.

Tolan turned to the voice and saw Matheus’ outstretched hand. His eyes paused over him and took in the appearance of this strong-jawed, small nosed, and oval faced green-eyed youth.

“I am focusing,” he replied, immediately turning his gaze towards the back of a man donned in robes of light grey, moving through a cloud of people.

“I hate being here. It’s filled with so many of the mundane.” Matheus redirected, overlooking the obvious lie in Tolan’s comment.

The boys stood shoulder to shoulder, speaking loudly, but not loud enough to catch anyone’s attention, just as they’d been taught. Their shoulders clashed around and against the numerous people that congregated away and towards the entrance to the Bazar.

The wide arch of carved stone remained some distance away from them, and despite that, the wide street filled with many people in a hurry, and they tread carefully to not get caught in the opposite wave of people.

“I like it when it’s like this. It’s kind of nostalgic - In a good way.” Tolan replied, unsure of how else to describe the feeling of seeing the arched entrance and the people around him again.

He was surprised by how much he remembered. He’d only been seven when he left for the Tower.

Tolan continued; “And I’ve told you to stop calling them that. You still act like mages and non-mages are two different species.” He chided.

“I mean we are, no? I would think someone like you would know that first-hand.” He retorted, keeping his eyes on him.

Tolan nearly stopped then, “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said voice tinged in clear hostility.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. But we are different from the mundanes. And that’s a fact.” He raised his arms in peace while smiling.

Tolan opted not to reply immediately. They’d had far too many heated discussions as of late. Instead, he threw him a look. A weary, condemning look.

There wasn’t much he liked about this mission. Except for the fact that it allowed him to walk outside as a Junior Mage.

And it’d been an honour, and an unprecedented one too. For whom else could claim to have received a mission like this directly from the Elder Council - the preeminent body of Magisters managing the city.

Matheus saw Tolan’s look and understood what he wished to say; “I mean come on, how else am I to describe them? We are so different from them, and they from us.”

Tolan shook his head but didn’t open his mouth immediately. He’d grown used to his views, despite how great they grated at him.

Matheus’ involvement in the mission had been another aspect he’d disliked almost immediately.

He finally replied, itching to get the last word in. “We aren’t that different. And you know it. And if I’m not wrong, wouldn’t those nobles have called you a ‘mundane’ and a commoner and the like ten years ago?” A small bit of resentment tinged Tolan’s tongue. But Matheus didn’t seem to notice. For the noise of their environment masked it.

Matheus didn’t look to Tolan to deliver his reply. His gaze lay fixed on their target.

“They sometimes still do. But I suppose it’s out of jealousy. We were the youngest Junior Mages in three decades, no? And anyway, I’ve always thought this about the mundanes and us.” He smiled in response.

If he felt unhappy about how his ‘friends’ treated him, Tolan couldn’t see that on him. He was all smiles and laughter. Like always. But some aspect of him had changed. An Important part of him from their childhood.

He was no longer the kind, naïve merchant’s child he’d met and befriended all those years ago. He was now part of the gentry. His father had apparently bought a title some years ago – around the same time they’d stopped talking.

There were very few initiate commoners in the Tower and even fewer Junior Mage commoners on the next level. So, it didn’t go unnoticed when he started to mingle with the gentry and ceased speaking to the few of us who didn’t.

“I see,” Tolan said, redirecting his eyes away from Matheus and onto the frail figure entering Bazar.

All around them they heard the cacophony of shouts mired in disjointed vernaculars and saw and clashed with the steady stream of affluent consumers, swarming around and against them. He knew Matheus would loathe this, and as he turned, saw the disgust plastered on Matheus’ face as he struck against these ‘mundane folk’.

Though Tolan disliked the number of people here, he’d rather continue than return back to what they’d done previously. Anything other than tread long distances behind their target and hide in dark, disgusting alleyways. The same shadowy lanes that had, at times, once been his home.

“I don’t understand how someone can walk around this much without a clear destination. It’s been four days, and we still haven’t seen anything.” Matheus said.

He was right. Though the Tower deemed it unnecessary to tell them why they had to follow the man, they were instructed to report back anything suspicious.

“I hope he does something interesting today. I’d rather not go back and report that nothing happened. Again.” Tolan sighed.

Matheus tensed at this and then shrugged it off.

“I honestly don’t think they’re expecting much from us. We are just Juniors and not Seniors. But if we succeed-” he didn’t finish what he was saying and just smiled.

Tolan nodded, and then continued, “Then we won’t be Juniors for long though.” A smile also crept in on his lips.

They remembered the deal they’d been offered. For a Mage did nought for free. Even to his family or friends.

The Tower offered them an entrance to the Senior course. Expediting their Junior years at the Academy, as they’d already formed their magehearts and reached a satisfactory degree in their essence manipulation.

“Two nineteen-year-olds entering the Senior course. To be a Senior mage before twenty-five, what an achievement that’ll be.” Matheus said.

Tolan could almost make out the shining stars in the youth’s eyes.

They were both looking forward to their bounty. That is, if, and only if, they’d be able to find anything suspicious about the target they were tailing.

And as that fact struck them, the silence grew in their midst and was quickly filled in with the noise that flourished within the Bazar they neared.

They tread past the arched entrance of the Bazar and entered the curved roof coloured in red, yellow, and orange. Great iconography was plastered above them and on the walls of rock surrounding the market.

It was a loud place, and that itself was a piece that Tolan remembered fondly. The shops of different sizes, and wares, where men and women alike entered to barter freely on the rates of their goods.

And it was a place where an oboe melody drifted loosely on the tailwind of a cool breeze. A dissonant sensation arose in Tolan when he remembered the powerful glare of the twin suns behind the arched entrance and above the azure tinted sky.

Despite this, Tolan walked within this place. This veneer of a gently crafted deceit of abundance.

Suddenly, while keeping his eyes and ears awake, he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Matheus, not staring at the frail figure but the shops around him.

The hand felt foreign on his shoulders and though he wished to shrug it off, he didn’t.

“It’s weird, isn’t it.” Matheus smiled.

“What is?” Tolan inquired, looking at him through the corner of his eyes, but still, eyes glued on their target.

“That the disparity and separation have manifested here. Ah, the Tower truly is a sieve of ideas that trickles down.” He slowly uttered out to Tolan alone.

Taking his eyes away from their target, Tolan turned to Matheus in open confusion. “I’m not sure I get what you mean?”

Matheus looked at Tolan in surprise. Hand still on his shoulder.

“And here I thought you were the attentive one,” he laughed. And then quickly added; “Look around you. The shops in this ‘section’ all now cater to a specific subset of the city. I mean, think, when did they start calling this place the ‘upper market’. From what I can recall this place was only a long road filled with stalls, shops, and people on rugs. There wasn’t any separation when I last walked here with my father.”

Though Tolan’s memories are blurry, he does recall the Bazar being filled with nothing but different types of stores, a mix of them all. Not sections.

“You are right,” he said openly in surprise.

Matheus let go of his hand and smiled at Tolan.

“It’s only natural. It was weird the market hadn’t always been like this.” His eyes now return onto the frail man who moved to the food section.

Tolan looked at Matheus with warry in his eyes and decided to ignore the feeling growing within him.

Soon they entered that place and saw the narrow street widen into a large hall. Though not many people walked here, it remained somewhat loud. They would have to adjust their voices to hear each other here.

To Tolan’s right and left sat and stood merchants in either stalls or rugs. They showed their wares and the haul brought from the other two cities or the outside world.

He still pondered how any person could live out in the desert for so long.

Tolan heard stall owners shout out the going rates of their fruits, wheat, and other types of products. It seemed busy as people came and went.

This place Tolan found not as interesting, but the man he tailed somehow did. For he stopped abruptly, and they, Tolan and Matheus, in tandem mirrored him.

Fearing the figure would turn and see them, Tolan grabbed Matheus’ shoulder and quickly turned to face a skinny merchant on the floor and the abundance of loose bronze jewellery haphazardly placed on his red coloured rug.

The merchant seemed at first unaware of Tolan’s feigned interest and Matheus' surprise at his ‘friends’ push, as he tinkered on with what seemed like a necklace of some sort.

Tolan crouched and in insincere curiosity looked over the wares. The merchant seeing this as clear interest began to smile.

Matheus also crouched, though not as much as Tolan, for he kept his eyes on their target.

The old man with missing teeth opened his mouth and began to display some of his wares to Tolan and Matheus who wasn’t looking at him.

Tolan smiled at the man and looked over some of the bronze goods. He looked at the corner of his eyes, and as he did, saw their target looking towards something to his right.

He felt then Matheus’ fingers on his shoulder. He had risen and wasn’t crouched anymore. “Look!” He hissed out at him in a low tone, and Tolan rose while giving an apologetic smile to the merchant.

He looked where their target gazed and saw a crier.

A thick faced man upheaved by a small box who gave a call for attention. Tolan couldn’t hear much, so he opened himself up and took the small chunk of quickly purified essence he received from his mageheart and redirected it to his ears. Soon he hears from the crier some end to a tale about a coming dissolution.

What’s this? He wondered. Why were criers talking about anything but policy news from the Tower and the City Council?

Looking around, Tolan saw the man as being untouched by the narrow gazes of some and the hurried steps taken away by others.

How long has this been happening? I don’t remember seeing this yesterday.

In a crisp voice, the crier pleaded for the growing crowd to see their current crisis as caused by the incompetence of their deceitful overlords. The Tower Magisters.

“And all they do is take and take!” His voice cut through the surrounding noise like a knife through butter.

The harsh intensity of his speech that bellowed outward, and the fiercely expressive gesticulation of his arms amassed him a small crowd.

“How are we supposed to feed our children? Why is it that the lavmella can eat the most lavish of foods and enjoy the finest of splendours and we, they whom they toil to death, should despair over if and how we can bring our families food!” The roar of his voice shook the fatty fold of flesh that hung on his chin. Tolan’s essence infused eyes quickly noticed the clear white robes that the obese crier held close and the ring of gold on his index finger ringer.

Tolan seemed to have caught this, but the crowd did not. They seemed enraptured by his accusation of the Tower and thought then of nothing else. Oh, the wisdom of crowds. A collection of mindless drones controlled by simple agitation.

The crier continued then to curse at the Magisters. The lavmella; slavers in the old desert tongue.

Tolan grimaced at this. So now we're a class of slavers? Yesterday I thought we were nothing more than landlords that stole and supplied nothing back of solid worth.

Matheus turned to him and was about to whisper something into his ears. Tolan quickly removed the essence from them, so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed with the loudness of what he was about to hear.

“I think our Elders will find this interesting, as I don’t recall seeing these guys here yesterday. It’s somewhat obvious also who sent them, though I don’t think they’ve even tried to hide it.” His eyes were tinged slightly with anger, but none came through his voice.

The City Council, huh?

Tolan turned and whispered into his ear, “I knew the situation was bad, but I didn’t know it had come to this. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of the city council, nor the Tower ever using the criers against each other.” He sighed.

“Yes, I’m surprised they even came up with the idea.” Matheus scoffed.

Tolan shrugged off the gloomy sentiments that gnawed at him.

“They could have gone through official channels, why would they publicly rebuke the Tower? Doesn’t this just sow more discord?” Tolan inquired, knowing Matheus to have a better understanding of the city politics.

“I think that’s their intent. And it might honestly have been their only option. The Tower has been growing more secluded, and we haven’t been as involved as we used to. I think relegating some of our powers to the citizens might have been a mistake. And I think the Council is just using the situation in their favour.” He mused.

“This won’t benefit anyone though, it’ll only harm us all.” He said out loud to Matheus, forgetting to keep his voice low.

Someone behind them caught that last sentence, and a peal of laughter broke their attention. Tolan and Mathes glanced back and peered at the old laughing merchant.

“Doesn’t matter. The city council people are onto something, lad.” The old merchant said to Toland. The man wasn’t looking up at him, for he had returned to his tinkering.

“I’m sure they are, but I don’t see how this does any good.” He replied, turning away from the person. He’d rather not bring more attention to them.

Matheus though smiled. His eyes turned slightly to his right to assess if he could engage in a conversation without attracting any attention from his target.

And he could, for the man still stood and watched the crier away from the crowd that gathered under him.

“I wonder, could you tell us have you seen many of these criers here, today?” Matheus inquired.

“It’s to be expected, no? If you continue down the Bazar, you’ll just see more of them. Though you won’t find any in the richer ones. Why I honestly don’t know.”

Because the wealthy aren’t that easily riled up Tolan wanted to say and saw Matheus wishing to do the same.

“Whatever did them Mages expect would happen anyways? When they made wheat more expensive and started telling us when to go home and when we could go out. Of course, we grow angry!” He continued in a louder voice.

Tolan's face darkened slightly. He wanted to refute the man’s word, but nothing came to him.

“Setting the people against the Tower won’t do any good. It’ll only end badly.” Matheus replied instead.

“Badly? For whom?” The furrowed brows on his face told Tolan and Matheus everything they needed to know. But Matheus could not relent.

“For us. For everyone living inside a city with an essence powered dome.”

The man chuckled at this. Tolan didn’t see what was so funny.

“We don’t need them Mages for that. They are useless. All they do is take. The man over there is right.” He retorted while pointing to the crier who still shouted out condemnations against the Tower and mages.

“You do know that the Tower makes certain that the dome persists and that the formation on the walls don’t degrade, nor the formations inside the city?” Matheus tried to sound as calm as possible, for he’d rather not give out who they were.

The man spat to his right, and Tolan saw from the smile several missing teeth.

“The dome existed before the mages, and it’ll exist for centuries to come. And even if it collapses, it’s not like our suns will burn us to death, now, is it?” The vitriol that emanated from his tongue as he spoke made certain to them that they would never be able to correct this man’s hatred.

The man was of course wrong. The crops, infrastructure and much of the city would die if the dome did too. And the outside world, filled with nearly nothing but sand, was not a place fit for a good life.

But Tolan knew from the instant this man opened his mouth that this was no battle they could win. And it was not a battle they’d have fought to begin with.

Tolan clapped Matheus on the shoulder and furrowed his brows at him. Matheus knew what he meant without saying anything.

Tolan turned back to the merchant and spoke.

“You’re right. We’ve lived fine without them Mages as desert nomads before, and we’ll be able to do so again if the gods will it.” Came his voice, thick in sarcasm.

The man smiled at this, “Good lad!” He said, not aware of the derision that filled Tolan’s tongue.

While they had conversed, Tolan heard from behind the crier continuing with his speech. He didn’t catch much but knew it was nought but lambasting the Tower for the situation in the three cities.

Tolan’s eyes then turned to his right and noticed their target moving once again.

Silently cursing at themselves for being so lax, Tolan and Matheus began to move.

“Good day to you, lads!” Tolan heard from behind but did not look back.

Once again amidst the people that flocked these retail roads, Tolan and Matheus flowed with the stream but kept on their toes lest this sea of people pushes them astray.

It didn’t take long for them to exit the Bazar and out into the open sky. There lay in front of them nought but sand-coloured houses and a dirt road split into three.

Feeling the sizzling heat of the suns rain down upon him, Tolan put on his headdress of white and red.

With the people moving out from the Bazar, goods in hand, Tolan looked to his right and saw the frail man move towards the lower district.

“Let’s go. We haven’t seen him move towards the lower district yet.” Matheus said as he began to slowly walk.

Tolan kept his eyes on him, and they both let some distance stand between them before moving; for they were pushing towards an area where not many frequented.

“A wonder this place still exists. It’s really old.” Muttered Matheus towards him.

He nodded and then turned with Matheus into a small, darkened corridor interlinked into a wide sprawl of stacked homes and buildings.

“This was the first that the early settlers arrived. The only thing holding this place together is the formations far below.” He said, recalling the myriad of tales spun by the kind sisters of his orphanage. That the first settlers arrived at the ruins of this ancient city and rebuilt it. Believing it was a gift from the gods. But civilisation only came true when the mages arrived.

“It’s a wonder they’d lived without us and our formations.” Matheus chuckled.

The air within this place had been designed to be cool. An architectural method was devised over several generations when the chilling formations of the mages didn’t exist.

Here crept Tolan and Matheus between these lightly darkened corridors following their target.

They had a hard time keeping up, for each turn another two. And so, they listened, with essence powered ears for the small and gentle steps of their target.

They followed the noise, turning and walking down the narrow passageways and steps.

The further they went, the more they began to smell filth penetrating through the sizzling heat and cool air. It was a malodorous and familiar stench.

Tolan realized they were nearing the lower district and as they moved away from the narrow corridors and steps, they felt immediately the cool warmth on their flesh disappear.

They stood now in the lower district truly.

To Tolan’s, his right and left opened long, wide roads for men and animals. Not many walked here, and that was to be expected. Only at night did these streets truly come to light.

“Tolan!” Matheus hissed out at him, and he saw him run towards a corner where their target had turned into.

They quickly walked towards the angle of the alleyway, nestled between two dilapidated houses of sand grey, and peered into the alleyway. They saw nothing. Only a narrow lane and the rubbish within.

Their target had vanished. He was gone.

“What?” They both spoke out loud, voices tinged with confusion, “Where’d he go?” Matheus added.

They couldn’t hear anything.

Feeling slightly panicked, Tolan calmed himself as much as he could and took in a deep breath.

He closed his eyes and felt something tighten in his chest. It was his mageheart. He pushed for it, and like a muscle waiting to be stimulated, it recoiled at his mental presence. It began to pump with life.

He opened himself up and the impassive essence that hung in the air exploded to action. Like a dark whirlpool of energy, Tolan’s body acted like a sieve that sucked in the essence around him.

He felt his mageheart swell and pump. The essence it grasped was purified within it, and it then pumped the refined energy through his veins. There was a dangerous addictive thing about the power coursing through him.

Essence manipulation, especially for a non-Senior mage who couldn’t manipulate it raw, was dangerous.

He shut himself up and quickly redirected the flowing essence to his sensory organs. And even more of it to his ears.

“What are you doing?!” He heard Matheus say out loud. He shook slightly at the harshness and loudness of his voice.

“Boosting my senses. I’m trying to see if I can hear anything.” He retorted.

“And?” Matheus quickly asked, his posture stiff with panic.

“And what?” Tolan pushed out in irritation. He was trying to focus.

“Do you hear anything?” He asked, unaware of his effort.

Tolan didn’t respond. He was trying to control the sensory experience he was feeling. He smelled the malodorous stench of this district attack his noses, and the noise of the neighbourhood nearly drop him to the floor.

But he held.

“Nothing. I hear nothing.” He spat out in exasperation.

“Shit!” Matheus cursed out loud. “Where the hell could he have gone?”

“He has to be here. He couldn’t just have flown away, it’s not possible.” Tolan said.

And so, they began to canvass the area around them. He tried again to listen for anything that might indicate where he was, but he caught nothing. Only the bickering and shouts of men and women.

Tolan began to rummage through the trash placed on either side of opposing walls with Matheus.

As panic suddenly turned to fear, Tolan thought of himself as just having been denied any entrance into the Senior classes.

If he didn’t find where he went, then the Tower might send him outside the city as a guard for a mine as punishment. Matheus could probably avoid that with the help of his father and friends. Tolan couldn’t. He only really had himself.

As Tolan neared the last section of trash, he found a small hole near the far end. It fit a person and was carved between the ground and the wall.

Tolan could barely contain his mirth. He might not only have saved himself but also perhaps discovered a hideout. This was something the Elders would wish to know.

“I found it!” He nearly screamed but held back on the strength of his voice.

Running through the rubble, Matheus came beside Tolan and saw the dark hole.

There was a room inside. And a door.

“He must have gone through that door.” Matheus surmised.

“You don’t say.” Tolan quipped with a smile.

Matheus ignored him and tried to push his way forward and down into the hole.

“Wait!” Tolan hissed out and grabbed him. “What are you doing? We need to take this back to the Elders.”

Matheus shook free of his hold, and Tolan saw a rabid look appear on his face.

“Not yet. Let’s just go down and see what’s in there.” He smiled; his voice held a strange tone.

“I’d rather not. Let’s just go back.”

“No. By the Gods, Tolan, don’t you see this as an opportunity?” He insisted.

“It’s not an opportunity, it’s stupid. We’ve done our job, now let’s go back and tell the Elder Council of this.” He pushed himself off the ground and threw a hard look at Matheus who in turn did the same.

Matheus turned from Tolan towards the dark hole. “I’m sorry, Tolan. But I can’t let this chance slip. This might be my last chance to prove my worth.” He then jumped down and Tolan missed grabbing him.

Matheus landed hard on his back and groaned.

“Damn you!” Tolan hissed out. And then jumped down into the small room beneath with him.