Page 2 of Shadows in Bloom

Alandris’ fingers stretched for the door, retreated toward his palm, back toward the door, inward once more, until he eventually summoned the courage to turn the knob. The aromatic scent of wormwood, and another herb he couldn’t entirely pinpoint, assaulted him the moment he stepped through the doorway. He could hear glasses clinking, a pestle rubbing into a mortar, and an absentminded hum, but he couldn’t see Lyandril through the smoke filling the room.

“Whatever could you be doing that smells so awful?” Alandris coughed into the sleeve of his robe, pointlessly waving his hand through the air, hoping it would help scatter the scent.

“Ah, Alandris. Only you would dare burst into my workshop without an appointment, nor a modicum of respect.” A snap sounded, and the air cleared so quickly it was jarring. Lyandril stood in front of him with a humored grin, his long, silvery blond hair tucked meticulously behind his pointed ears. “I’ve spoiled you, so it seems.”

Lyandril, though decades older than Alandris, felt like family to him. From the moment he’d arrived at the Consortium, stumbling around like a bumbling fool, Lyandril had taken him under his wing. He’d consistently told him it was because he’d sensed potential in him, but Alandris believed it was because he was the sole Mage who would treat him as a friend, rather than a title. The fact that he’d cursed at him multiple times and survived spoke volumes. Nonetheless, Alandris was nervous to ask the male for official leave. He would be asking the Grand Arch Magus, not the mentor.

“What is it, Alandris? You look like you’ve seen a ghoul.” Lyandril crossed his arms in front of himself.

Alandris frowned. “I must leave Nil’Faerith for a while. A few months, perhaps.”

Lyandril cocked his head to the side. “Should I ask?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“The selections will happen at the beginning of the new year. Now is the time to show off the extent of your skill.” Pacingleisurely around the room now, he brought a finger to his jaw. “My opinion carries minimal weight in the grand scheme of things. You have to impress more than just myself to be considered for the title of Arch Magus. Are you not concerned with the effects your absence will have on the other Arch Magis’ opinions?”

“I’ve never been much concerned with the opinions of others.” Alandris smirked.

“You’re deflecting.” Lyandril narrowed his eyes at the male. “Are you running from responsibility again?”

Again. Like running from his family to come to Nil’Faerith and train as a Mage. Lyandril knew his history—he had trusted him with it—the fact that he came from a noble family with strong ties to Elven royalty. Unlike most who learned of his past, Lyandril had understood his need to escape. He claimed to know the feeling of drowning in undesired expectations. The experience of longing for a simpler life.

“I wish it were that straightforward,” Alandris groaned.

“Well enough. Then you have made your choice and I will not stop you. I presume you will write to me to keep me informed.” Lyandril waved him away. “Now go on, before I change my mind about granting you this leniency.”

“Ah, one last thing—”

“Yes?”

“It will be difficult to communicate with you where I’m going. I don’t imagine there will be somewhere I can send a letter from. At least, not frequently.”

Lyandril let out a lengthy sigh. “You are so very needy, Alandris.” He sifted through the shelves against the back wall, pulling out a peculiar-looking journal. It was bound in black leather, decorated with silver stitching that depicted a tree, its roots sprawling across the entire cover. “Take this.”

“Expect me to write a journal for you to read when I return, do you?”

Lyandril shot him a glare. “It is part of an enchanted set. If you need to reach me, write in the journal like normal and the words will appear in my copy.” He pulled forth another book from the shelf, this one almost identical, save for the stitching, which was done in gold. “Likewise, if I wish to leave you a message, it will appear in your book.”

“I will write to you every day, then.” Alandris snickered, running his fingers along the stitching.

Lyandril groaned. “It was an expensive item. I’d rather you didn’t.”

Alandris headed for the door, turning back to Lyandril for a final smart remark. “Don’t miss me too much. You’re getting up there in age. I’d hate to come back and hear you’d died of loneliness.”

“Go, you insolent brat.” Lyandril’s tone was crisp, but Alandris caught the faintest curve of his lips as he hurried away.

With his leave granted, he only had to pack for the journey and set sail for the main continent. There, outside of the Elven capital of Val’Naeris, he would meet with his first recruit—his oldest friend, Zorinna. Though she was unaware of his upcomingvisit, he was certain she would agree to join him. Much like himself, she was eager for escape. She just hadn’t taken the dive. Yet. Alandris considered himself to be highly convincing.

The rest of his recruits he would find in Fernfallow, as Amorphael had suggested. Then, he just had to make the trek toward the Azog Bog, where, according to his recently charmed map, he would find the supposed cave where the flower was located. Once there, he’d pluck the flower from the ground. Return to Nil’Faerith. Be free of his debts. Simple.

Chapter 1

It had been nearly three years, but I remembered the ceremony like it was yesterday. The lightweight, milky white, near transparent fabric uselessly draped over my body in the dead of winter. Atop my head, a heavy diadem, adorned with silver and jewels. The murmurs of awe. The way my people looked at me with absolute reverence, brought into this world for the sole purpose of sparing them from their imminent damnation. At least, they believed it to be true. I had my doubts. For someone who was a Saintess, I’d never heard the voice of God, nor did I know what it was he wanted from me.

Countless times, they had explained it to me, but I hadn’t understood it then, and I still didn’t understand it as things stood now. My purpose. What I needed to do to save them. Save us.

As I’d approached the dais that night, I’d turned my attention to my friend, my Keeper, Kallistra. The warmth I’d hoped to find there in her face was completely absent, replaced with nothing other than unfettered resolve. A firm, faraway gaze. The ceremony had cemented it—her will to fulfill her duty and bring honor to her family at any cost. The same way her ancestors had done before her. That night marked a turning point in our relationship. Responsibility took precedence over friendship.

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