Hope

Five minutes later Irwyn stood in front of the debris of the fallen roof, staring at it intently. A mage whose name he had already forgotten - or perhaps just never heard - stood next to him mumbling a long incantation Irwyn was not paying much attention to.

A few people were standing around. Almost all of them were associated with the Guild though Irwyn recognized only the Ibis. Besides them, there was only Elizabeth standing further back. Frankly, she was here just for him and Irwyn appreciated the gesture. A surge of mana finally left the chanting mage, seeping into the debris and spreading far and wide. It continued for almost 30 seconds before the casting stopped and the mage cut off his supplying of the spell.

“And?” Old Ibis asked.

“No one living in this section,” the mage shook their head.

“Shame,” Old Ibis sighed deeply and Irwyn mirrored it. Almost everyone presents had a similar reaction. A tinge of sadness, a pang of the heart… But their line of work wasn’t the safest one. It was not the first time for any of them. For many not even the tenth. “Thank you for giving us priority. I will not be in the way of your duties any longer.”

The mage nodded and left. So did most of their gathering. Irwyn stared at the rubble for a little longer before turning around. Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder for comfort. She looked more worried about him than sad, which was honestly to be expected. She had barely known Desir.

Loss… It was a strange thing to him. Desir had been a friend. And it had honestly been a while since he had lost a friend. Irwyn looked back at his early years with the Tears. He vaguely remembered being more outgoing. Getting along with more people. Half remembered names and faces.

Then in his early teens, their Trials happened and a good half of them died. It had been a really bad few years. Another gang had decided to try and wipe the Tears out and the least experienced of them were the easiest targets. Irwyn and Waylan had been lucky, many weren’t.

It also reminded Irwyn of why he had stopped making friends afterwards. He had kept a few. Kalista and Rainer, the lovebirds. Maxim, the surprisingly good at disguise. Aaron, since you had to talk with him as he assigned jobs so you might as well get friendly. Then of course Waylan, Irwyn’s closest partner in crime for years… But not really anyone else. Not for years.

People tended to die. He had actually been lucky that everyone in his smaller group had made it through the years unharmed despite all the close calls along the way.

Their line of work wasn’t safe. Just because undead had nothing to do with it didn’t change that he should have expected this could be a possibility. He hadn’t even known Desir for more than a few months.

But damn, did it sting.

“Are you…?” Elizabeth began, uncertain.

“I am fine,” he shook his head. “There is an ongoing undead incursion. That takes precedence.”

“Speaking of, there is a gathering to attend,” Old Ibis approached them, Elizabeth in particular. “The deadline you set us is running out.”

“Yes, luckily we have an early conception Time mage now,” Elizabeth nodded. “They will make coordination exponentially easier.”

“Are we close to our destination?” Irwyn asked, given he had been lost along the city streets.

“A ten-minute march away once we get around the debris,” Old Ibis nodded. “They had set the trap for us at the very last stretch.”

“This also means that after the attack itself, there should be very few undead left on the rest of the way,” Elizabeth nodded. “The companies which had arrived before us have been culling the undead in their surroundings. The landline had been damaged between the four gathering compounds but this close our conception translocationist can easily pass along messages or a few people even without the Beacon running.”

“So you will be planning the assault,” Irwyn nodded.

“We,” Ibis interjected. “Regardless of your relationship with her Ladyship, I would still expect any Fowl to participate.”

“Will I not be a burden?” Irwyn raised an eyebrow. “I am good for my age but I have no delusion about being in the same bracket as your or our other best mages.”

“You also remain basically immune to soul magic much like her Ladyship,” the Fowl shrugged. “Don’t look at me like that, I obviously noticed even though I can only guess why. But that is not the real reason I want you with us, Mockingbird.”

“Then the actual reason…” just as Irwyn was about to continue his inquiry a man simply appeared next to them. There was no sound, no flux of magic, no hint of anything - well, at least as far as Irwyn could perceive.

“Are you ready?” the man spoke neutrally. They were a middle-aged mage who gave Irwyn the feeling of shifting Time and Space, and of movement between them. They also did not wear a military uniform, but a well-fitting blue suit instead - Teal if Irwyn had to guess. They were vaguely familiar and Irwyn quickly realized he had been one of the two mages who had rescued him from the undead assassins. “Everyone else is gathered.”

“Yes, take all three of us,” Elizabeth nodded. The man glanced at Irwyn with a raised eyebrow but did not question the heiress’ judgment. This time Irwyn felt the slightest hint of something grabbing him, then he was elsewhere.

13 other mages have gathered and were already waiting for them inside a warded room - 17 in total if you counted Irwyn and Elizabeth. Besides the young duo, each of the others gave off that feeling of presence that Irwyn had come to associate with extremely powerful mages. Different concepts radiating off of them. As for affiliation, two were the Fowls, two were civilians and the remaining 11 were all military officers.

And it was quite a gathering. Besides Irwyn and Elizabeth, the youngest people couldn’t have been younger than their late thirties - among them Irwyn noticed the Soul mage who had helped save him from the spectral assassins just earlier. That being said, the two Old Fowls were not the only clear elders. Three of the officers were also visibly ancient.

“I will get straight to the point,” Old Hummingbird spoke as soon as Elizabeth took her place in their circle. Irwyn got some intense looks but no one questioned him standing a step behind her. Good to be sure that not even these military officers would dare outright question House Blackburg. “How many of you have fought in the Lich war from 17 years ago?”

Hands were raised. Most of them except for Irwyn and Elizabeth who had been newborns at the time. Only two of the youngest-looking officers and the civilian Time mage also abstained.

“Good,” the Fowl nodded. “Then how many of you have faced a Draugr in combat?”

Far fewer hands had risen to that. Only four, in fact. The three distinctly oldest-looking officers and Old Hummingbird himself. Not even the Ibis did. Their already stoic expressions seemed to harden.

“Draugr?” the other civilian - The man felt like knowledge; a discerning look seeing the true nature of things - asked. Irwyn was glad for it as he too had no idea.

“Any undead capable of manifesting conception magic can generally be called a Draugr, be they humanoid or a grafted abomination,” Ibis explained. “Given that we have not seen a single one throughout the city - and neither has anyone else as far as I have heard - it is safe to assume we are going to face all of them together inside the Spires.”

“We should have enough conception mages to match,” one of the youngest officers suggested. A javelin of nothingness that refused to stop, no matter what barred its way.

“That is the mistake that has cost our Federation by far the most talents like you,” one of the 3 oldest officers spoke. They were like an undisturbed sea of liquid Flame, waiting. “A Draugr cannot be fought like a regular mage. Their thoughts are too pure.”

“Too pure?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow just out of the loop as Irwyn. It might be their lower accomplishment in magic though given that everyone else was nodding.

“To break a concept, one must overwhelm it with their own,” the same Flame mage nodded. “If those concepts do not counteract each other, it comes down to sheer willpower and certainty. And any necromancer capable of creating Draugr will be able to give them supernatural dedication and acuity.”

“What if we face a Raverer?” another one of the oldest 3 officers interjected. They felt like they themselves were a grain falling into a genuinely bottomless pit - falling and falling and falling. Irwyn interpreted it as the merger of Void and something else. Irwyn shot Elizabeth a questioning look the term but did not want to interject since everyone seemed to know the word.

“Then we are all dead,” Old Hummingbird shrugged. “Perhaps a single creation adjacent Domain might be manageable but I do not understand our firepower enough to make a good guess.”

“Do we have any confirmation about the Lich, or whatever else, is leading this whole incursion?” the old Flame mage asked. “I cannot imagine anything less than a Raverer causing this much chaos.”

“They are being occupied by my guardian,” Elizabeth said, drawing everyone’s eyes.

“How powerful is this guardian?” the old Void+ officer’s head snapped to her. “Perhaps we could assist.”

“Unlikely,” Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before taking a breath. “My guardian is a dedicated combatant who has attained 3 Domains. Anything capable of occupying them will not even notice any of you attempting to interfere.”

“In that case we will have to hope there are no other Raverer,” Old Ibis nodded, bringing something out of their spacial bag. “As for possible necromancers… I may not be a competent combatant, however, I have prepared this to contribute.”

It was… three sheets of paper. Mostly empty but each carried a bit of text:

They said: ‘I shall, under no circumstances become undead today under the penalty of obliteration of my soul.’; ‘I shall perform at the best of my magical ability today under the penalty of performing at the best of my magical ability today.’; ‘I will not die today under the penalty of death.’; as well as plenty of space to sign below on each sheet.

“You are a binder,” the old Flame mage’s gaze immediately sharpened. “Several concepts?”

“Loopholes, binding, societal bonds, contracts, restrictions and empowerment are those which apply,” Old Ibis smiled. “As I said, I am not a good combatant. However, after you each sign these, even a Raverer with a Domain of Necromancy might not necessarily be able to desecrate you fast enough to matter in a battle.”

“Do these actually work?” one of the younger officers - It crawled beneath the skin, bit and scraped; cut and tore until it could finally burst out - stared at the sheets of paper doubtfully. Especially the second one. And Irwyn was mystified as well. It sounded downright ridiculous: How could one write a contract with a beneficial penalty? Or a penalty that was literally the same thing as what the contract asked.

“The soul obliteration is a standard issue for anyone conception and above during a Lich war,” Hummingbird nodded and most of the officers mirrored him. “As for the other two… Loopholes. It’s not omnipotent but it will work to an extent. Did you have your best materials?”

“Unfortunately, those are at my office,” the Old Ibis shook his head. “I had to use my second-grade emergency supplies. Still, the performance contract should be about as effective as chanting additional two lines of an incantation. As for death… it should make mortal wounds temporarily less mortal. We don’t have a conception healer so it could make a difference before you can apply Stitching consumables. The restriction of 'today' makes up a good third of the final effect."

“That is an excellent efficacy given the circumstances,” the old Void+ officer nodded.

"Then if you would," Old Ibis nodded and everyone approached to sign their names with a heavily enchanted pen the Fowl passed around. Everyone including the Ibis signed all three… Irwyn leaving behind a thumb print that got only mostly distorted to everyone's amazement though it probably worked. Well, there was one exception.

"I am already bound by far stronger measures against being arisen," Elizabeth explained when a few people raised eyebrows at her not signing the first contract. "Anything short of a Named Lich will not be able to corrupt my body nor soul without destroying them in the process."

"What of the Spire's defenses?" one of the younger officers - They felt like dust dragged by the wind, but the fragments were individually furious - spoke up, quickly changing the topic. "The inside has enough magical traps to kill us a hundred times over."

"I will be with you," Elizabeth said. "I am irreversibly keyed into the network. As long as I am alive none of the original defenses will be able to activate. In fact, some may help us in spite of the command instructions.”

“Is there any chance the network has been overwritten?” the old Ibis frowned at the thought.

“The primary network had been designed by the esteemed Maestro Bitterheart. No one could have messed with their work,” Elizabeth shook her head. Irwyn had no clue who that was but several people were nodding with something between awe and reassurance so that was a good sign. “They might have been able to alter some individual traps, however, they are specifically designed to be more difficult to alter without explicit permission from the highest available authority. Which is currently me.”

“Then, although meaning no disrespect, my lack of understanding requires that I question the presence of the young man,” one of the officers carefully broached, looking at Irwyn. The quickly gathering eyes made it obvious he was not the only one thinking that. Not that Irwyn could blame them given his own doubts about how useful he would be.

“That is quite simple,” the Ibis spoke before Elizabeth could. “He is our walking divination ward.”

“I was under the impression they are a wielder of Starfire, not Fate,” the old Flame mage frowned.

“Indeed,” Ibis nodded. “But take it from me as the most senior Fate mage present: He is by far the greatest natural anti-diviner I have ever encountered. Though I cannot speak of how, any undead seers will find their visions involving Young Mockingbird inaccurate at worst or dispersing at best.”

“Mockingbird, as well as me, should also be practically immune to soul magic for the moment,” Elizabeth spoke up. “With his affinity, it should be possible for him to intercept even conception-level Light and Flame spells. He is also naturally highly resistant to the two elements.”

"Would you be willing to put that resilience to a test?" the old Flame mage stared him down then.

"Is that necessary?" Elizabeth frowned.

"It is better to know one's limits before facing down death," the mage immediately countered. And honestly, he had a point.

"I am curious myself," Irwyn admitted, stepping past Elizabeth who still seemed to be having doubts about the idea. Stitching would be immediately available if he was overestimating himself. He extended his index finger. "I haven’t had the chance to test how far it could stretch. Just the one appendage though. I will yell if it gets painful."

"When,” the man corrected, a wisp of flame appearing before him and moving towards Irwyn’s extended finger. It was not scorching… not yet at least. Less than a regular stove fire perhaps. When it touched Irwyn’s finger it felt no hotter than warm water and given that he could not even feel any of the heat on his face or the rest of the arm it was clearly not just a misperception.

Then it began to intensify. First with just magic though when that got not the slightest reaction, intentions started being introduced - familiar ones. It set off with burn. Then incinerate, conflagrate, melt, scorch, boil, combust, cremate and finally, ignite. Between each Irwyn had been given two to three seconds to react, however, Irwyn felt no pain. The heat was quite tangible even away from the finger now, the air itself slightly distorting in a noticeable radius around the flame. Irwyn’s sleeve might have gotten singed if they hadn’t been torn off during his earlier involuntary amputation.

“9 intentions, not the slightest reaction,” the officer commented, seemingly impressed. Everyone around them appeared to be the same, including Elizabeth who had already known about his resistance.

“Feels about as hot as the first one,” Irwyn nodded. “Just that I can also feel it on my face.”

“I wouldn’t have expected it,” the man moved the flame away momentarily, pondering. “But since that is the case I will step out of imbuement.”

“Go right ahead,” Irwyn nodded eagerly and watched the mage intently. Because, unlike all the other mages around, this one shared the affinity for Flame with Irwyn. He hoped that he could gleam something from it.

The Flame mage was, as Irwyn had observed earlier, like an undisturbed sea of flames. Then, a wave arose. Small in relative scale, yet it made all the difference. That little burning wisp changed fundamentally. It no longer merely burned. It burned. It was difficult to put the difference into words yet it was fundamental. It was not just more magic or intentions. It was… much like the gap between imbuing and not, perhaps larger. Air and magic itself were being set ablaze, only the caster’s will stopping them from turning into an airborne wildfire. It fundamentally suppressed the very idea of something being ‘incombustible’. Irwyn stared at it with half morbid fascination, half anticipation as the old officer made the flame approach the tip of his finger. The heat was actually less tangible as it approached. More closely held lest it went out of control. And as it touched the tip of his finger…

Irwyn did not burn.

It felt no different than a regular bonfire. Intellectually, the heat of each was incomparable. Presently? They might as well be the same in their futile attempts at even scorching Irwny’s skin.

"Are you even human?" the officer seemed genuinely amazed and/or horrified, staring at Irwyn’s finger engulfed in that little flaming wisp.

"As far as I know," Irwyn shrugged. What was he supposed to answer? Instead of pondering, he stared back at his unharmed finger.

“That is indeed beyond any expectations,” Old Hummingbird nodded.

“Do you not see it?” the Flame mage looked around, raising his voice. “Do even you, boy?

“See what?” Irwyn raised an eyebrow.

“I am not controlling the spell anymore,” the man said and Irwyn’s eyes widened. It was still burning… but from his mana now. Even this little wisp that did nothing at all was using up his Vessel’s stockpile at a rate comparable to his most powerful spells. He stared at it in fascination for an additional second and then cut it off, letting the spell die in a split second as it could not sustain itself.

“What… did I do?” Irwyn had to ask.

“I have no idea,” the old mage was frowning, and so were a few others in their gathering while the rest seemed to be mostly shocked. “The spell had been attempting to wrest itself away from me the moment it touched you.”

“I have never done anything like this before for Flame magic, or any other spells for that matter,” Irwyn frowned. Now, generally, he rarely got hit on account of always keeping up a barrier around himself but there had been times in his spars with Elizabeth where Flame magic had definitely touched him given how Elizabeth also used the element when not straight up using Voidflame, if less than Void magic itself.

“The purity of will,” a deep guttural voice sounded, causing heads to turn. It was the third old officer, Irwyn realized. The man had not spoken a word or so much as moved the whole time. The feeling they gave off was simple: Like an erasure. The act of reducing something into nothing. “Conception magic could, in some ways, be considered to have the barest hints of sentience. And when the will of its wielder is inadequate, the magic can choose to instead side with someone it finds more attuned to itself. I have seen the Duke’s succession duel with his eldest brother where Void magic refused to strike them. However…”

"It is a fascinating interlude, however…” the Hummingbird suddenly interjected, changing the topic. “We still need to decide our leadership while the deadline is quickly approaching. Given her lack of experience, I hope her ladyship will be willing to surrender command of our little strike team,” he glanced at Elizabeth who immediately nodded. “In that case, I would nominate myself.”

“On what basis?” Ibis immediately asked, frowning.

“During the last Lich war, I had worked closely with the Deathbane Inquisition, helping them hunt Draugr,” Hummingbird said as he flicked his wrist and revealed he had been holding a badge of some kind this whole time: On it was depicted a pure white cracked skull. “Afterwards I have been honorarily named a Veteran Inquisitor. I believe the knowledge and first-hand experience I have picked up along the way puts me far ahead of anyone else here.”

“May I validate it?” one of the officers stepped forwards. In fact, it was the very same Soul mage who had saved Irwyn earlier from the ghostly assassins. “I am myself a Junior Inquisitor,” they said and took out a similar badge. Not the same though. With two to compare Irwyn immediately noticed a few differences. For one, the Fowl’s badge had a black background while the officer’s was pure white. Moreover, while the Hummingbird had three distinct cracks running across their skull, the younger officer had only a single such scar depicted on their own.

“Of course,” Old Hummingbird raised his badge towards the other man who quickly put their badges next to each other. With a spark of magic, both began to glow.

“I can confirm the validity and a perfect match with their soul,” the officer said after a few seconds of staring at the two. After that no one would object to the Singing man leading them. “It is an honour, if an unexpected one.”

“Then we need to get to planning,” Elizabeth said. “Time is burning away.”