“What are you doing?” Drusilla asked from the doorway of Myanna’s office.

The cuirizu briefly looked up from the grimoire, swallowing the meat in her mouth before answering. “Searching for a spell that I remember seeing in here earlier.”

“I mean the food,” Drusilla clarified, pointing at the half-eaten patty melt on the wax paper next to Myanna. “It’s ghastly.”

Myanna glanced between Drusilla and the food, furrowing her brow. “It’s a patty melt. Minced beef, cheese, onion, and pickle on toast.”

“It sounds better when you explain it, but it looks dreadful,” the blonde argued. “Why are you eating it? I thought you received most of your sustenance from water and sun.”

The cuirizu’s brows remained furrowed, finding the question ludicrous. “Because it tastes good.”

“It looks greasy,” Drusilla remarked, craning her neck toward it as though it might jump off the desk and bite her. “Where did you get it?”

Myanna sat up a little straighter as she dropped the page of the grimoire she’d been holding. “Is there a point to this line of questioning? I’m rather busy. If you’re so curious about the food, I suggest taking a trip to the dining hall.”

Drusilla’s look turned apologetic. “Forgive me. I meant no offense. But you’ve hardly said a word since you arrived.”

“So you sought to engage me with prattle about my food?” Myanna snapped, earning another look of apology from Drusilla. The cuirizu was being too harsh with the woman, and she knew it. Her excitement with the prospect of chasing down Belias had given way to frustration when she had discovered that all able-bodied nightbats had either gone with him or off to battle against the Obsidian Court. She needed another way to get there that didn’t involve an extended trip by land.

Myanna sighed heavily before pushing the wax paper across the desk toward the woman. “Here, try it and tell me what you think.”

Drusilla approached slowly, looking the food over before lifting it delicately between two fingers. The thick toast made it easy to eat without utensils and kept one’s hands relatively clean. She took a bite with her lips pulled back away from her teeth like a child nibbling on broccoli. Myanna watched silently as the woman chewed a few times, her eyes lighting up as the flavor set in.

“You know what this reminds me of?” She asked as she took another, much larger, bite. “That flattened meatball from the Imperium.”

Myanna smiled slightly, recalling the name of the food from her childhood. “Isicia, yes.”

“Less fishy, though,” Drusilla remarked as she set the food back on the wax paper, rubbing her fingers together.

“They don’t make it with garum,” Myanna explained before taking another bite from the patty melt before the blonde returned for more. “It’s harder to get it in Zelmesca.”

Drusilla casually snatched the remains of the frites that had come with the patty melt that littered the paper next to it. “What spell are you looking for?”

Myanna looked between Drusilla and the food before focusing on the grimoire. It had been acquired in Applewood when she’d ordered the estate looted. Had the events with Tobias not unfolded the way they did, the grimoire would have been sold without her knowing it existed. “It’s a spell that allows a caster to travel great distances instantaneously.”

“Teleportation?” Drusilla suggested. Though she was no magic user, she was familiar with certain spells and items due to the volume of commerce she had done in her husband’s service over the years.

“No,” Myanna shook her head, flipping a page and scanning its contents absently. The cult had grown out of an esoteric circle of druids, but the pages had not been transcribed in druidic. Everything was written in an older form of Zelmescan, which presented no trouble to Myanna. “Teleporting can be messy with even the smallest of errors. The spell I’m talking about is---.”

The cuirizu stopped dead on one of the pages, crudely illustrating a robed figure stepping into a tree with their foot emerging from another tree. “I think this is it: Forestwalking.”

“I think dryads can do that naturally, can’t they?” Drusilla mused as she slinked around the desk to read over Myanna’s shoulder. Though it initially put her on edge to have someone standing behind her in such a way, the blonde’s hands settled on her shoulders and rubbed gently to set her at ease.

“They can,” Myanna answered. “As can many cuirizu.”

Myanna could hear a question die on Drusilla’s lips. She wanted to know why she couldn’t. Despite being rude, it was a fair question on its face. Instead, Myanna offered an explanation to save her the trouble. “Some possess the ability naturally while others require additional training in phyllomagic to attain it.”

As Myanna’s mind traveled back to sift through the memories of her training, she tried to recall why this spell had slipped through her fingers. It wasn’t the kind of spell she would have forgotten; it was far too useful. Nor was it the kind of spell she would have found too difficult to learn. Indeed, its difficulty would have made it all the more exciting to finally master. Such was her way. Yet she couldn’t recall studying the spell before. She remembered others using it, and she remembered it being discussed. After all, it was one of the primary means of traveling to the plane of Ivalia in the first place, either by getting to a gateway or using the more powerful version to traverse the planar fabric itself. Still, she only drew a blank. It was as though there was just a gap in her memory.

“Regardless,” Myanna continued. “The instructions here are rather clear, and the casting should be simple enough for me to perform.”

Drusilla frowned ambivalently as she stepped back to circle around the desk again. “Where are you going?”

“Back to Applewood,” Myanna answered as she read the instructions for the spell and the various restrictions and warnings that came with it. “I’m going after Belias.”

The blonde abruptly stopped mid-stride, quickly closing the door so no one lingering outside could hear them. “What!?”

“He’s gone to Applewood, infringing on my claim,” the cuirizu elaborated, her eyes remaining on the book’s text. “First Cleric Highmore has permitted me to seek him out and return him here to answer for it.”

“Is that where you were all night?” Drusilla scoffed. “With the first cleric?”

Myanna’s red eyes rose from the grimoire briefly to glance toward Drusilla. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

The blonde spread her hands defensively. “Of course not, Mistress. I went looking for you when you didn’t return and couldn’t find you. I was becoming concerned by the time you walked in the door.”

“Mm,” Myanna grunted as she decided to take what the woman was saying at face value. “It was not my intent to worry you. Indeed, it wasn’t even my intent to spend as much time with her as I did. But events took a turn for the unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Drusilla repeated, pursing her lips. “What was so unexpected about it?”

Myanna hesitated. She didn’t want to divulge everything Voss had shared with her, fearing it could make Drusilla a target. Once she knew a thing, it could become available to anyone with the means to pry into her mind. Lying, though useful, was something Myanna disliked doing with those who had come to trust or rely on her. It undermined her own authority and provided a shaky foundation on which to build her dominion. Instead, she was forced to skirt the truth a little. “She was much more assertive than I expected.”

Drusilla quirked a suspicious brow. “Assertive how? Assertive like you are with me?”

Myanna remained quiet, keeping her attention on the grimoire pointedly. The blonde stepped forward, bending at the waist and providing the cuirizu with an ample look at her cleavage. “Nine Hells, she did, didn’t she?”

The cuirizu’s eyes drifted back up to Drusilla slowly. “She proved to be quite adept at domination, yes. It’s not something we need to discuss openly, for obvious reasons, but I have offered her my fealty in exchange for boons.”

“Is that what this is?” Drusilla asked, motioning to the mark that peaked an inch above her long leather gloves. “Some kind of boon?”

“This is from the goddess,” Myanna corrected. “Voss was quite interested in it and helped manifest it quicker than it otherwise would have.”

Drusilla leaned a little closer, running her fingers over the markings. Though they resembled tattoos, Myanna recalled how it felt more like branding when it had manifested. “Well, it looks nice, whatever it is. Does it go all the way down?”

Myanna placed her other hand over Drusilla’s, softly grabbing her attention from the markings. “We can talk about it later. I have to try this spell out before I use it to travel to Applewood. In the meantime, I need you to gather some supplies for me in case he decides to put up a fight.”

“Of course,” Drusilla agreed without question. Myanna had not given her any reason to doubt her, so if she said they would talk it over later, she had no reason to think otherwise. She was happy to help in any way she could. “What do you need?”

Pulling a scrap of parchment from the desk drawer, Myanna turned over the list of supplies she needed, all packed into a single satchel. She had to travel light but wanted to be prepared for anything. She might have believed Belias to be an overblown hedge wizard, but she couldn’t take the risk of him turning out to be the real deal. “Quickly, please.”

Drusilla acknowledged the request respectfully before excusing herself from the office, closing the door behind her. Left in silence, Myanna went over the spell several more times. Its perceived limitations were also what made it reliable. Whatever type of tree one entered had to be the same type they exited if attempted over great distances. However, the trees didn’t have to be the same in smaller areas. It made it versatile for combat and reliable for travel. Considering how many she had seen when she and Onesa had originally approached the town, she'd already decided to use an apple tree.

The original casting language in the book for the kuchivad was Sylvan, which required translation to Cuirizan before she could use it. Grabbing a text from a nearby shelf, she searched the terminology, context, and usage and quickly converted it to something she could use. The book had provided her with the zemenche of the spell, which required no conversion, but the zemyad was two-handed. It was a complication that often arose with her spellcasting. Most spellcasters had been taught in forms of Solacine tradition or forms derived from it in some way, which saw most magic being used with both hands for balance and control. Conversion to one-handed casting accounted for her desire to practice the spell before use.

Closing the book and tucking it under one arm, Myanna stepped out of her office and left the laboratory for the castle bailey. Most of the trees had been cleared, and those that remained were too small to squeeze through. Whatever tree she used needed sufficient mass to accommodate her size when it became a temporary portal. The largest trees would be outside the curtain wall, but if Myanna were to use the spell regularly, exiting through the gatehouse wouldn’t be practical.

Instead, she decided to augment one of the smaller trees. Placing her hands on the trunk of the thin red maple closest to the alchemy lab, Myanna closed her eyes and focused on the spell that would provide the plant with years of unchecked growth. “Jizenfriada,” she breathed slowly. “Aumeinta.”

The trunk of the tree swelled, thickening quickly as the top shot upward and the branches unfurled in all directions. Holding her focus on the spell for a moment longer to ensure the roots reached deep enough that the tree could find the added nourishment it would need, Myanna slowly opened her eyes. The growth of the tree slowed before coming to a stop. The trunk was now wide enough, measuring the same as a much older growth tree. With the easy part out of the way, she began the process for the next spell.

After double-checking the book under her arm, Myanna placed one hand on the tree trunk and closed her eyes again. It wasn’t enough to form the image of what the spell did; she had to also have the image of where it would take her at the same time. It was one of the reasons any sort of spatial warping magic was so challenging. It required a type of thinking that lesser casters had not yet mastered. She chose a red maple along the road to Willowridge as her target. She had seen it many times, and it was much older than the average lifespan of such trees. This made it an ideal exit point for the spell.

“Floreztandad,” Myanna intoned confidently, moving her hand in a quick motion meant to combine the movements of the traditional two-handed gestures. The magic left her fingers as expected, infusing the tree’s body and converting its trunk into a shortcut across space to the other red maple she had envisioned. Visibly, there was no difference in the tree’s bark once the spell was cast. It looked the same as it had a moment before. The difference came when she pushed her hand forward.

The wood of the tree accepted her readily, existing in a contradictory state of a rough solid and gentle fluid. Stepping forward, the cuirizu entered the tree, her consciousness stretching across the two points briefly, offering her a glimpse of other red maples between them before emerging abruptly from the other side. Myanna managed to catch herself without stumbling but made a mental note to account for the rough entry the next time she used the spell. The book hadn’t mentioned it, but the spell maintained momentum between points. Likely it was a principle that had been covered in the portions of the book she had skipped over.

Gnarled roots combined with the sloping terrain made for hazardous entry, but Myanna had known a little of what to expect. The maple stood right where the forested mountainside began its transition to the swampland the area was known for. A little further down the road would put her among the dense growth of eldritch willows and blighted bogs that made it difficult for any of their enemies to march on Willowridge. She glanced up at the castle, settled atop the mountainside like a sinister beacon keeping a watchful eye over everything for miles around.

Looking back at the tree, she could sense the way had been closed. For someone else to follow her would be difficult. After recasting the spell, she returned to the tree in the castle bailey. With her greensight active, she could see much more of the surrounding maples in all directions. The fleeting instant between points in space offered her a considerable boost in the ability’s range. How she would use that remained to be seen. She had to find a suitable apple tree for her next forestwalk.

“Everything is packed and ready to go, Mistress,” Drusilla announced as Myanna re-entered the alchemy lab. “But I would be remiss if I didn’t voice my concerns about this.”

“What concerns?” Myanna asked, setting the grimoire on the nearest table, exchanging it for the satchel the blonde had prepared for her.

Drusilla approached the subject delicately, not wanting to get on Myanna’s bad side. “If Belias traveled to Applewood with soldiers to protect him, it would mean that you’ll be significantly outnumbered if he refuses to come peacefully.”

“You’re right,” Myanna agreed, much to Drusilla’s relief. As the blonde exhaled and relaxed, the cuirizu crossed her arms over her chest. “Though it pains me to say it, my ability with forestwalking isn’t refined enough to risk taking another person. It will be challenging enough for me to make the jump from here to Applewood without complication.”

The blonde’s frown returned as she took a step toward Myanna. “Then perhaps you should reconsider---.”

Drusilla’s balance wavered mid-stride and her eyes crossed, causing her to stumble. Myanna quickly caught her before she fell to the ground entirely, but the woman’s eyes remained unfocused and distant for a moment as the cuirizu held her in her arms.

“Drusilla,” Myanna said abruptly, checking her vitals and setting her down gently on the laboratory floor. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes searched the room, somehow having difficulty locating Myanna, whose face was only a foot from her own. The cuirizu took her face gently in one hand, turning her head to help her focus. “Teatun!”

The goblin arrived almost instantly, assessing the situation without a word before vanishing behind the tables again. When she returned, she was already uncorking the stopper of a vial of sky-blue liquid. Myanna took it from her and fed it slowly to the woman she held on the floor.

“What the fuck happened here?” Teatun asked, slightly horrified. The goblin didn’t get attached to many people, but she and Drusilla had become unexpectedly friendly with one another. Despite Drusilla’s position and breeding, she hadn’t once treated Teatun the way most people treated goblins. It was unusual enough to merit her special consideration from the cantankerous little creature.

“I don’t know,” Myanna answered, keeping her attention on Drusilla as she fed her the potion. “She had a spell of vertigo before, but it passed quickly.”

“Altitude sickness, perhaps?” Teatun said, removing her outer robes to place over the woman. The look of concern on her face was possibly the first one Myanna had ever seen from the goblin.

“No, I don’t think so,” Myanna replied quietly, guilt washing over her. She had meant to speak with Quintus after her visit with Voss, but the evening had gotten away from her entirely. There were still several hours left of daylight before she would have a chance to speak with him again about Drusilla’s condition, and every hour that passed was another Belias had unchecked in Applewood. It was likely that he and Prosecutor Shriek had already come to blows.

Drusilla weakly pushed the empty vial from her lips as her eyes regained focus. She glanced between Myanna and Teatun before adjusting her glasses. “I’ll be alright. I just got lightheaded.”

Her dismissal of the situation only galvanized Myanna’s desire to take her to Quintus immediately. Lifting her as easily as she would a child in her arms, the cuirizu motioned with her head toward the door for Teatun to open. The goblin obeyed, throwing the door open, and fell in behind them as Myanna made her way briskly toward the keep.

“Where are we going?” Teatun said through labored breath, having to work much harder to keep up with Myanna’s long stride than most humans would.

“Mistress, it’s really not---” Drusilla tried to object, only for Myanna to cut her off with a sharp glare.

“I’m taking her to Quintus,” Myanna announced with a note of finality intended for Drusilla as much as it was for Teatun.

“Will he even see you this time of day?” Teatun asked skeptically. The guards, assessing the situation accurately, opened the doors for them as they approached.

Myanna wasn’t sure that he would. No doubt the vampire had protections in place to keep himself from being exposed to sunlight during the day, but it took a great deal of energy and will for a vampire to be active during the day. Whatever curse suffused their undead existence urged them to slip into a torpid state during daylight hours. Even those who could move about in the day didn’t typically engage in strenuous activity, being quite sluggish.

Quintus’s sanctum was located on the other side of the keep in a separate tower dedicated to the Arcane. The laboratories for all manner of strange and unusual experiments were found in the chambers below the tower, with a few small rooms with beds set aside for mages on the ground floor. Higher up the tower, safer experiments were conducted that required access to arcane libraries. At the top was the observatory where any work requiring access to the sky was performed. It was just below the observatory where Quintus’s sanctum was situated.

Arriving at the heavy, reinforced door, Myanna kicked an improvised knock into it while Teatun fidgeted and squirmed. Receiving no answer, the cuirizu kicked again, much harder and several more times. This seemed to get the vampire’s attention as she heard him approach from inside.

Myanna felt a slight buzz down the back of her neck as wards set into the door were disabled before being pulled open.

“Who dares disturb me at this hour?” Quintus demanded icily. Even in his anger, the vampire did not raise his voice. He stood in an evening robe with an ornate goblet in hand, filled halfway with a red liquid that Myanna had to assume was blood. “Myanna? What is the meaning of this?”

“There’s something wrong with her,” the cuirizu answered, pushing her way past the vampire into his sanctum, knowing that the wards had already been disabled. Quintus’s room was much larger than Myanna would have guessed. In fact, it seemed larger than should have made sense considering the tower’s dimensions. It was decorated smartly with the trappings of arcane academia, distinctly flavored by his many years as a vampire. The space was precisely kept in all things, with the only item seemingly out of place being the book on a small end table beside a high-backed chair near the fireplace. It had been set open and face-down in his haste to get the door.

“I am not a physician,” Quintus said cooly, closing the door behind Teatun as she scuttled close behind the cuirizu. Despite his objection, he craned his neck curiously in the woman’s direction. “Is this the Wickes woman?”

“Drusilla,” Myanna corrected, though she understood that his question had not meant to be disrespectful. “How much do you know about the situation with her husband.”

“I read the report Onesa gave when you returned,” Quintus responded, motioning to an old lounger across from the chair he’d been sitting in. Myanna glanced toward the large bed as if to ask if there was something wrong with putting her in the bed, only to see a pair of eyes staring back at her from the dark. Allowing her vision a moment to adjust, Myanna could only make out the shape of a woman watching them silently. The fact her darksight offered her no additional detail told her the darkness was magical rather than a natural result of the lighting.

“He had her in some form of suspended aging,” Myanna explained, despite the fact it had likely been one of the facts in the report. “I don’t know by what means.”

“Likely a variety of thrall,” Quintus speculated as he leaned over to examine Drusilla. The blonde turned her head away, uneasy in the vampire’s presence. “Perhaps some form of withdrawal from her master, though I would have to check the lore on vetala to be certain.”

“Withdrawal?” Teatun asked, her curiosity overcoming her fear of the undead mage.

Quintus looked down at her as if he’d stepped on a rat. “Mm, yes. Thralls are typically created by binding them to a master through blood. Without a regular intake of the master’s blood, the thrall loses the longevity and abilities granted to it for protection.”

“So the fainting and vertigo are from the withdrawals?” Drusilla asked hesitantly, still unable to meet Quintus’s gaze. Generally, it was a good idea not to meet a vampire’s gaze, but her aversion was rooted elsewhere. “Am I to just ride it out until it has passed?”

Quintus looked between them for a moment, suddenly becoming aware of the limits of their knowledge on the subject. “In different circumstances, yes. But when a thrall has served for an extended period, and the bond is severed, the body ages rapidly until reaching its natural state. But in Ms. Wickes’ situation, she’s aged well beyond the normal lifespan of any human.”

Drusilla’s gaze finally shot up to look at Quintus in wide-eyed horror, all the color draining from her face. Myanna looked away, anxiously rubbing her chin with one hand.

“What?” Teatun asked impatiently, looking between them. “What does that mean? What happens to them then?”

Quintus spread his hands in placid resignation. “I’m afraid they die.”