“Arz Kurana?” a voice asked.

  “What the fuck?” Arz finally sat up. A Bralincote guard sat on Arz’s bed and held a musket in shaky hands. “When did you get there?”

  “I’ve been assigned here every day.” The guard aimed roughly in Arz’s general direction. “We thought you were dead.”

  “Then why are you stationed in my room?” Arz stood, avoiding his lectern as he dripped water and blood all over the pce. He took off his jacket and let it flop to the ground. A few grunts escaped him as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. The stench hit him immediately. He smelled beyond rancid.

  “Captain thought it was best to keep watch.”

  “Well, lower the fucking weapon and grab me a bandage.” Arz wobbled on his feet. “Quickly, please.”

  The guard lowered the musket and looked around the room.

  “On the shelf,” Arz said, nodding to a shelf by the front door. He needed to move the medical supplies closer to where the portal opened. The guard set the musket on the bed and hurried across the room to the bandages.

  Arz sat on the steps down to the ingredients table with his hand wrapped around the wound on his forearm. Some other cuts were bleeding, but the forearm was the worst. A shard had cut right through his jacket.

  The guard handed the clean roll of bandages to Arz. He wrapped it tightly around his forearm and ripped it off, letting the rest of the roll fall to the ground. “What’s your name?”

  “Arivel, sir.”

  “Okay, Arivel. How long have you been working for Higgrion?”

  “About a year.”

  Arz nodded. “A year too long, am I right?”

  Arivel frowned.

  “Alright, never mind. What have you been doing here?”

  “Just waiting, sir.”

  Arz checked the rest of his wounds. The rest were already clotting on their own. He would need something to stop any infections though. Perhaps he could put something together from his ingredients.

  “That sounds awfully boring. A few days of sitting here?” Arz smiled. He stood slowly.

  “You have been gone for weeks, sir.”

  “Hm?” Arz looked over at Sal’s tank. The eel was swimming through the tube that led to the workstation. At least Sal was still alive.

  “You have been gone for almost a month. Captain assured the Guild that you were dead, but they wanted someone to keep watch. I have orders to bring you straight to the Prime Wizard building if you return.” He cleared his throat. “When you return.”

  “Well, good news for you, then. I did return.” Arz leaned on the edge of the tank. Sal swam over and stuck his head beside the gss. “Did you feed Sal?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you. My feet have been wet for a few days now. I don’t know if you have worn wet socks before, but it is about as unpleasant as anything can be.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Are there any other guards nearby?”

  “A few stationed below, sir.”

  “Oh. Arivel, could you do me a favor and ask one of them to fetch some hot food? A quick meal? I haven’t eaten in days and would love something.”

  The guard looked around, uncertain if he should listen.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Arz stuck out his arms. Blood was already leaking through his bandage and bruises covered his torso. He was sure his face looked just as rough as the rest of his body. “Do I look ready to flee?”

  “No, sir.” Arivel stepped out of the study, giving Arz some brief privacy.

  Arz walked over to the workstation. The eel swam happily in circles. Arz wasn’t really sure how smart eels were, but Sal did always listen when Arz needed a little jolt of electricity. He dropped a piece of dried meat into the water. It probably wasn’t great for Sal, but he didn’t have any other food ready. The eel ate the meat and swam back through the tube to the main tank.

  Arz slowly stripped himself. It was a painful process. Aches he didn’t know existed caused him to wince with specific movements. Some things hurt worse than others, but before long, Arz was wearing new pleated trousers and a maroon button up shirt that wouldn’t look too out of pce if he bled through it.

  When Arivel returned, Arz was attempting to tie a purple necktie. His fingers were stiff, making the intricate process difficult. “Good enough, right?” he asked, leaving the necktie hanging undone around his neck.

  “You look better, sir.”

  “Stop calling me sir, please. Just Arz. I don’t need the respect.”

  Arivel frowned. “That is an odd thing to say, sir. Everybody deserves respect.”

  Arz cpped his hand on Arivel’s shoulder. “You seem like too good of a kid to be working for Higgrion.”

  “Captain Higgrion is well respected, sir.” Arivel hurried over to pick up his musket, which he had irresponsibly left on Arz’s bed. He gave Arz a look out of the corner of his eye. Arz had no intention of ratting on the young man. It wasn’t as if Arz had any interest in picking up the weapon anyway.

  “By some, sure. I don’t respect him at all. I recently met a pile of slime that I respected way more.”

  Arivel slung the musket over his shoulder. “Slime, sir?”

  “It’s complicated.” Arz fiddled with his tie, but quickly gave up again. “You know what? It’s not. Surprisingly straight forward. They called themselves Jumthins.”

  Arivel gave Arz a look of uncertainty. “Of course, sir.”

  “You know, you owe me nothing. You can just assume I’m lying.”

  Arivel stopped at the door. “Are you?”

  “No, but what difference does it make?”

  The guard lingered at the door. “I like to trust people.”

  “You’ll change your mind soon enough.” Arz slumped into a chair. “You know, I saw metal people with muskets that shot beams of light.”

  “Uh, sir. Why are you sitting?” Arivel held the door open and gestured. “We need to be on our way to the Wizards.”

  Arz pressed his feet into the table and leaned back in the chair. “You didn’t think I was going to join you.” He furrowed his brow. “Did you?”

  Arivel calmly closed the door, tugging until it tched. “Then I will have to bring you in cuffs, sir.” He took a step toward Arz. “The Captain told me to be forceful, if necessary.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Arz dropped his feet, letting his chair smack back onto four legs. He grabbed a vial of purple liquid from the table and held it out. “Do you know what this is?”

  Arivel stopped walking. “A potion, sir.”

  “And what do the elderly want to arrest me for?”

  Arivel cocked his head. “Who?”

  Arz rolled his eyes. “The Wizards, Arivel. Keep up.”

  “Breaking the ws of nature, sir.” He shifted his musket from his shoulder, back into his hands. “By traveling to different realms.”

  Arz tossed the vial up and caught it as he stood. “I would hate to send you somewhere dangerous.” He used his thumb to smoothly pop the cork out. “You do seem like a good kid.”

  Arivel eyed the vial without moving a muscle.

  “Creating a potion to return home is quite difficult. Do you know how long I was gone the first time?”

  “Months,” Arivel said quietly.

  “Go ahead and leave.” Arz capped the vial. “Close the door behind you. Report my threat.”

  Arivel looked at his musket.

  “Is it worth seeing who can act faster?” Arz shook the vial. “This just needs to break to activate. It doesn’t need anything special.”

  Arivel backed up to the door and quickly slipped out. As soon as it tched, Arz sprinted forward and turned every lock possible. He grabbed all of his chairs and piled them before the door.

  He let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the mess of chairs. If Arivel had called the bluff, Arz would have had to throw an inert return potion, and that wouldn’t have done much good. Even if it did activate, all he’d be doing was sending Arivel to the other side of the room.

  After another look at the vial, he noticed how wrong the color was. It was almost sparkling and far more blue than the purple it should’ve been. He shook it gently. “Is this even a return potion?” It looked like something may have separated in his absence or it continued to react and became something new.

  Or, more likely, he had messed up the recipe and it was just a weird slurry of materials.

  “Okay, Sal.” Arz fell into a chair beside his ingredients table. Aches and pains still gripped him, croaking in the back of his mind, but it didn’t matter. He could push himself through all kinds of things. “What are we doing here?”

  The eel swam through a series of tubes until he reached the nearby tank. Water spshed over the edge, spilling onto the grime-covered floor.

  Arz frowned at the mess. He obviously had been gone as long as Arivel had said.

  Something thumped on the door.

  Then a series of somethings thumped on the door.

  “Open the door!” The voice was unfamiliar, but he had no doubt it was one of Higgrion’s guards. Who else would it be?

  “I’d rather not,” Arz called. He gnced at the eel, who stared bnkly, as eels did. “I obviously need to get back to Gcirith to get more Storm Tree leaves, but then what?” The piles of materials id out on the table were worth thousands on their own, yet it didn’t matter. Money wasn’t an issue. It hadn’t been since he had started working for the Guild.

  Their pity bribe gave him enough to pay for his little studio forever. Kind of. It really depended on how long he could survive his portal hopping. It wouldn’t be forever.

  Alora dreamed of what y beyond Earth. They had spent so many nights looking at the stars, trying to name each and every one of them. Would she be proud of him now?

  Was exploring enough?

  Arz scratched his face, wincing at the sudden pain of the movement. “What if I take down the Guild?”

  Sal bumped his nose against the gss tank.

  “Burn the witches, as they say.”

  Sal got distracted and swam away.

  “So, don’t burn them?” Arz kept watching as the eel wound his way through tubes until he reached the main tank. “No burning? I have a lot of options for fire, you know.”

  The eel continued about his eel-reted business, paying Arz no more attention, which was probably for the best.

  “Take down the Guild,” Arz said quietly to himself as he leaned over the table. “An attack on the Prime Wizard Building would likely be twisted into some grand terrorist attack, which would only get more negative attention on me, when in reality, I want the negative attention on them.”

  Arz stood, winced, and looked at his lectern. Writing down a scheme would only incriminate him before he even had the opportunity to act. He sat back down and scanned the array of materials. There had to be something he could use to mess with the Guild. He wasn’t going to go murder the elderly. That wasn’t going to help with anything.

  It might help the world be a better pce, but . . . No, no, no. He wasn’t going to do that.

  Maybe there was a part of him that thought killing could be revenge. It was a small part, of course. They were pathetic. Not even worth the time he would spend being guided to the executioner’s block, or whatever they were using now. Were they using something now? It had been a while since he had been informed on the current method of killing unarmed prisoners. Not that he should remain ignorant. After all, he was the most wanted criminal in Bralincote. Probably.

  Jarath and the Guild of Wizards had ruined his life. He could at least ruin theirs. If the city no longer trusted them, they would be forced to abdicate.

  A new generation would be better leading.

  “It’s decided,” he told Sal. “I’ll return to Gcirith, gather more Storm Tree leaves, maybe pay my little horrible friend a visit, and concoct a pn to ruin their lives. All at the same time.”

  Something loud smashed against the door, cracking wood and nearly toppling the pile of chairs he had shoved in front. “We’re coming in, Arz,” Higgrion said.

  “You do that.” Arz had already gathered a vial of crushed space rock, meteorite metal, and red oil. A quick match lit the mixture. It had been months since he had st returned to Gcirith. The first time had nearly been his death.

  But at least in the Storm Lands there were no AZ-32s.

  Higgrion’s battering ram smashed against the door once again. One more hit would easily take the door down.

  “Make sure you feed Sal!”

  Higgrion’s hideous face appeared in the new hole. “Don’t run!”

  “We’ve had this conversation so many times. You have to know how this works by now.” Arz poured the burning mixture onto the floor pte, which he had only decided to build after nearly burning a hole through the floor. “I’ll take it personally if Sal goes hungry.”

  The door flew inward, sending shattered wood through the study. Chairs toppled as Higgrion and his guards fought to sprint inside.

  A quick dash of silverwater tore the hole into Gcirith. Arz yawned and waved before stepping through the maw into hell. Or, more accurately, the Storm Lands.

  His stride brought him perfectly onto a purple hillside. The grass was damp, as it was early morning on Gcirith. The morning’s dew passed onto his boots as he strode over the purple grass. As always, a storm raged overhead. Dark clouds hung ominously like the night sky, only revealed when lightning raced through.

  “Stop!”

  Arz did as he was told. He spun around and looked straight into the barrel of a musket.

  The portal snapped closed behind the guard, who looked back at the sudden silence.

  It was the perfect opening to do something like pushing away the musket or running for safety, or any other number of things. But instead, Arz remained still.

  “You moron.”

  The guard’s eyes were wide as he turned back. “Where am I?”

  “A pce I used to call the Storm Lands. I’ve learned its true name is Gcirith. You’re on a different pnet. Can I recommend that in the future that you don’t follow criminals through portals?”

  “Captain said . . . Oh my.” He lowered the musket. “Am I going to die?”

  “No.” Arz narrowed his eyes as thunder rumbled and was followed by a distant roar. “Not if you follow my directions very closely. I can take us back to Bralincote once I finish harvesting everything I need.”

  “You can?”

  Arz raised an eyebrow. “How do you think I keep appearing and disappearing?”

  The guard hesitantly slung his musket over his shoulder. “I thought there was a trap door in your study.”

  “Is that what they’ve been telling you? I’m a criminal to them because of that,” Arz said, gesturing vaguely toward where the portal had been. “Crimes against nature or something like that.”

  Another roar sounded in the distance.

  “You hear that?” Arz asked. He had yet to move. At least the weapon was away, but the guard was jumpy. Without some calming, something could go horribly wrong.

  The guard nodded.

  “I call that the Storm Beast. We are going to have to bother it ter.”

  Another roar.

  “It sounds like something else is irritating it right now.”

  A geyser erupted to their left, spewing fluorescent orange liquid into the air. It hovered for a moment high up, before it crashed back down. Most of it passed back into the geyser, while some of it spshed around the outside. What nded on the surface rolled through the dirt, growing like a snowball. Little bits of electricity sparked off the growing chunks until they stopped in a divot a few feet from the geyser.

  “Perfect timing,” Arz said happily. He hurried over to the geyser and crouched beside the stones. The new ones were still solidifying, and Arz had no interest in burning himself. He fit two sparkstones in his jacket pockets for easy, quick access.

  “What are those?” the guard asked.

  Arz flipped open his backpack. He shoveled the rest of the cool sparkstones inside. A few were still warm, so he left those for his next harvest. “Sparkstones.” He handed a cool one to the man. “A somewhat fragile stone that holds electricity inside. These are necessary for most alchemy outside my study. Even the Jumthins used sparkstones.”

  The guard turned the stone over in his hands. “It’s cold.”

  “That’s an old one. These geysers go off about once a day. A few spark stones are formed each time. Throw it on the ground.”

  “Hm?” The guard gripped the stone a little tighter. “Why?”

  Arz folded his arms and gave the man a look of impatience. At least, that’s what he was going for. Sometimes it was difficult to tell.

  The man threw the sparkstone down and recoiled as a cloud of sparks exploded out and hovered in the air.

  “That cloud will stay there for about a minute. It stings a bit, but it doesn’t actually hurt.” Arz put his own hand into the cloud to demonstrate. The hairs on his hand and arm stood up. “See?”

  The man nodded.

  “What’s your name?” Arz asked as he repositioned a few things in his pockets. His body still felt like it had been recovered from the bottom of a river and he was only recently reintroduced to his half-molded flesh. That was a bad comparison for pain, but it was the best his mind could do, apparently.

  “Isilhorn, sir.” The young guard had shaggy brown hair sticking out from under his hat. Arz noticed a few scabs along his jaw and neck like the young man had only started to shave recently. That, or he was just bad at it.

  “Why did you charge in through the portal, Isilhorn?”

  “My sergeant told me to impress the captain. It was my first time working with Captain Higgrion and . . .” Isilhorn looked around. “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Stay close. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

  Isilhorn crouched and grabbed a sparkstone. “They say you pn to kill the Guild of Wizards. That you’re a madman from the countryside.”

  “Part of that is true.” Arz yawned and did his best to hide a wince.

  Isilhorn looked at him warily. “Which part?”

  Lightning fshed overhead. “The madman part, obviously.”

  Isilhorn looked into the sky, staring at the clouds. It didn’t hurt to give the young man a moment to process. It wasn’t like any sane person could look at the purple Storm Lands and not be a little scared.

  “This is normal,” Arz said. “Actually, this is all there really is. Though sometimes it rains.”

  Thunder roared in the sky.

  “A thunderstorm without rain?” Isilhorn asked.

  “If you find that odd, just wait until you see the beasts.” Arz pointed into the distance. The area they appeared in was in a valley between mountain ranges. The dark, distant mountains seemed impossibly high, but Arz had heard of incredibly high mountains on Earth too. He just hadn’t seen them before.

  “We are going into the mountains?”

  Arz walked past the geyser and thrust his arms out. “Look around. There are mountains in every direction. If we go anywhere, we’re going into the mountains.”

  Isilhorn fell into step beside him, constantly looking around. His hand stayed near his musket like he was ready to swing it around and fire at any time. “You have been here before?”

  “It’s the first pce I went. I was here for a few days. Or weeks. The time really blurred, honestly.”

  “How did you survive here?”

  Arz kept a strong pace. Thick bdes of purple grass fttened under his boots. Isilhorn shifted his gaze down at the grass, mesmerized by the odd colored pnt. Arz had been too when he first arrived in Gcirith. Surprisingly, it wasn’t much different than the grass in Bralincote. At least as far as alchemy was concerned.

  “I had made the portal in quite a panic at the time. I had to steal some things from the Guild, which is where some of those rumors first started, I’m sure. It took me a lot of trials to get it right, but I knew I had something going on and kept pushing until I almost opened a portal for the first time. I had used a drop of silverwater, which wasn’t quite enough.” Arz said. “Once I stole some red oil and silverwater, I had everything I needed.”

  Isilhorn kept looking at stuff. At one point, he crouched and touched the grass, then hurried to catch up.

  Arz figured he might as well keep talking. It was probably good for him anyway, as he needed to let his brain start working on pns to colpse the Guild of Wizards.

  “After I calmed down, I ended up over there,” Arz said, pointing to his left. “It’s a prairie at the base of the mountain, with a forest just a little further away. Not all of the trees here are Storm Trees, but obviously a forest had plenty of them, especially compared to the mountains. I wandered the forest for a few days.”

  Isilhorn seemed to forget he was afraid. He was enthralled in the story and walked silently beside Arz.

  “I stumbled upon the remnants of another portal. Wherever they went, it left a scar in the forest over there. I’m sure it’s healed now, but at the time, it left a glowing gray shimmer behind. A Storm Tree was nearby. Apparently those trees are connected to whatever it is that makes portals open. The tree shook violently and shed leaves that drifted to the scar. Right before my eyes, the leaves crumbled and fused with the gray shimmer. It was as if the leaves were keeping the portal open. I collected as many of the leaves as I could and hurried back to where I had first arrived. I started running experiments until a portal exploded to life right before my eyes.”

  “Where did that go?”

  “Right into my study.” Arz paused. “Well, at the time it was actually old Miss Smith’s studio.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember the report. The first time you were arrested. My sergeant had me read your file.”

  Arz smirked. “Probably won’t be the st time I’m arrested.” He cut the conversation off, guiding Isilhorn farther into the mountain. He needed to listen, just in case anything was out of the ordinary.

  Grass faded away, turning to rough gray gravel that slipped under their feet. Isilhorn struggled up the steep slope, so Arz grabbed his arm and yanked the guard up whenever he fell too far behind. It wasn’t an easy hike, but they only had to make it one way.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The biggest Storm Tree in the area is just up the mountain a little ways. We’re almost there.”

  A roar simir to the raging thunder overhead shook the stones around their feet. Isilhorn gripped Arz’s arm tightly. “What was that?”

  “Remember the Storm Beast I mentioned?”

  Arz pulled a sparkstone from his jacket. “Don’t freak out.”

  It was so dark that they could only see a few dozen feet in any direction. That was a little dark, even for Gcirith. A growl continued from the beast, sounding like distant thunder still rumbling.

  “Remember, no freaking out,” Arz said again.

  Isilhorn shifted his musket into his hands. “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “No reason. But you do need to put that away.”

  Isilhorn looked uncertain, but did as he was told.

  Lightning fshed overhead, revealing the Storm Beast for only a second. That second was enough for Isilhorn to go limp, nearly passing out right on the mountainside. Arz pulled him back to his feet.

  “I specifically warned you not to freak out!”

  “Look at that thing,” Isilhorn cried, though the darkness had set in again, hiding the Storm Beast.

  “They’re territorial. We’re just passing through. If it attacks, we can scare it away with a sparkstone. Just keep moving. Standing still is threatening it.” Arz yanked on the guard’s arm. Isilhorn stumbled and whimpered as he followed Arz up the steep gravel path.

  Lightning fshed again, showing the Storm Beast a dozen feet closer. Its four bck eyes were wide, watching them even in the dark. The mandibles that made up its mouth hung open, dripping globs of saliva. From what Arz understood, that was probably meant to be a threat. Though, it only made the beast look extra hungry.

  “It’s closer!” Isilhorn cried.

  “Let me handle it.” Arz pushed the guard ahead. “Keep going up.”

  When lightning fshed again, the Storm Beast was less than two dozen feet away. Six tails spread out like a peacock’s feathers behind it. Its low, thunder-like growl grew louder as it stalked forward. Each of its four legs ended in paws with talons made only for ripping flesh. The brief, bright light hardly illuminated the beast. Its dark purple, almost bck skin ate light.

  “Begone,” Arz shouted as he threw a sparkstone at it. The stone struck the beast right on the nose, showering it in light and a small cloud of sparks. A little yelp was all Arz heard as darkness surrounded him again.

  He jogged forward until he found Isilhorn. The guard was holding his musket again, despite the previous directions.

  “Did you defeat it?”

  “Oh, no,” Arz said. “Those things are terrifyingly strong.”

  Isilhorn’s eyes widened. He looked back down the slope.

  “I scared it off. I don’t consider that the same as defeating it.” Arz took a step ahead, trying to entice the young man to follow.

  With the next fsh of lightning, Arz checked behind him, just to make sure the beast wasn’t still stalking them. There was no sign of it. For now.

  The hike up only got more difficult as they both grew tired. Arz did much better than he had initially expected, though he guessed that was because of all the time he had spent running from dangerous things over the st month. Frogs were good for cardio, apparently.

  Overhead, the storm never ceased, but it did let up. A small bit of light made it through the thinner clouds and let Arz see the ancient tree on the mountainside. Isilhorn gave a dramatic sigh of relief when Arz pointed it out.

  As soon as they arrived, Arz rushed over to the tree and jumped as high as he could. He managed to snag a leaf, which tore in half. Isilhorn found a spot on the purple grass, sat, and watched curiously.

  “Storm Tree leaf,” Arz said, holding it out.

  Isilhorn took the leaf and studied it. Arz knew a break would be good for them both.

  Since Isilhorn was already stuck with him in Gcirith, he might as well take the opportunity to teach.

  The leaves were bizarre fuzzy things. While most leaves had veins, or something simir, the Storm Tree leaves had veins that moved. If pressure was put on one spot, the veins would move away. A leaf could be damaged and torn apart without the leaf truly dying.

  “This behaves . . . uniquely,” Arz said. “I haven’t been able to harvest the wood or bark at all.” Arz walked back over and knocked on the tree. “It’s like a big sb of stone. I have to assume the wood is just as odd as the leaves, but I can’t verify that yet. Perhaps someday I’ll come back with a crew or something. Someone has to know how to break the wood apart.”

  Isilhorn handed the leaf back. “We can go back to Bralincote now, right?”

  “Not quite. At least now you can say you’re one of two humans who have left Earth.” Arz pced his hands on his hips and looked up at the tree. The rest were too high to reach. He must have picked all the lower ones the st time he was on Gcirith. He would’ve assumed they would have grown back.

  “How are you going to get those?”

  “Climb the tree,” Arz said. He shrugged. “Can’t be that difficult.” He jumped to grab the lowest branch. His fingertips only brushed against the solid wood, and Arz soon found himself facing up at the tree as he nded right on a root. It knocked the wind out of him and added to the countless other bruises he was still healing from.

  “Oof,” Isilhorn said, still sitting comfortably nearby.

  “Thanks,” Arz croaked. He stood and rolled his shoulders. “Did it look cool?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I never do,” Arz muttered. He pressed a foot against the tree trunk and jumped from there, barely snagging the branch. It creaked under his weight, but held long enough for him to swing his legs up. After about a minute, Arz was sitting atop one of the branches.

  “I’m impressed,” Isilhorn said.

  “I would hope my ability to make portals that take us to other pnets is more impressive than me climbing up a tree like any child on Earth.”

  “Oh.” Isilhorn scratched his cheek. “That is impressive too. I don’t know much about it.”

  “Most of the things I’ve created are rather simple. I believe most adults could replicate the recipe and create these potions. I’m just the one who figured out how they work.”

  Arz stuffed leaf after leaf into his pockets. He would be able to transfer them to his backpack ter. “I did create an invisibility potion, but that was a moment of desperation, and I can’t say it was entirely intentional. Creating the acid was the most difficult part. And that wasn’t all that difficult once I had the right ingredients.”

  Isilhorn watched quietly. If he was confused about Arz’s ramblings, he wasn’t showing it.

  After a long, silent moment, the guard finally perked up. “Why do you hate the—”

  “Don’t say it. They’re not magic.”

  Isilhorn scratched his face. “Why do you hate . . . them?”

  Arz continued plucking leaves. Each one took a small amount of focus, ensuring he got the entirety of the leaf. Any piece missing could change the potency. As far as he had seen, there weren’t seasons like autumn where the leaves would fall. If that was a thing on Gicirth, he wondered what the world would look like as the pnts died and dried for the winter.

  “Sir?”

  “How much do you know?” Arz asked as he leaned dangerously far forward to grab a particurly rge leaf.

  “All of us working on this are required to read your file. There wasn’t a lot before something in the East Acre Fire.” Isilhorn picked at the purple grass near his feet. “Somebody had bcked out the section.”

  “Of course they did.”

  Arz finished harvesting the leaves and carefully climbed back down. His pockets were overflowing.

  “How many will that make?” Isilhorn asked.

  “A few dozen portals, at least.” Arz transferred most of the leaves to his backpack, but kept some in his jacket pockets. “Did it mention I worked for them?”

  Isilhorn nodded. “A traveling alchemist.”

  “Everything I made was experimental as far as the Guild was concerned. There were some better alchemists in Juptra, but they had the advantage of being near a natural source of Celestial Essence, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s cheating. I worked with Trallos, who, really, is the only one in the Guild with any sense of reality. He’s a tired old man that is practically melting with how far his skin sags.” Arz made a face. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

  “I know what you mean,” Isilhorn said.

  “Oh, good. Anyway, I did a lot of missions for them. Always collecting ingredients and running about. They paid me as long as I figured things out. Most of it was medicine.” Arz crouched, opened his backpack, and started organizing. If he kept his mind busy while rambling, maybe he wouldn’t let his mind wander too far. “Lots of money in medicine.”

  Isilhorn simply nodded. “How do you go from their employee to . . .” He just gestured toward Arz broadly.

  “The most wanted man in Bralincote?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was sent to the Rainbow Sea. At the time, Jarath was using a lot of rainbow salt.” Arz gripped the lip of his backpack. “My family lived in East Acre.”

  Isilhorn’s eyes widened a little. “Did they—”

  “The Guild of Wizards let my family burn.” Arz took a deep breath. “And I will never forgive them.”

  “The fire killed hundreds.” Isilhorn made eye contact for the briefest moment before flipping his gaze away. “I’m sorry.”

  “In the mornings, my wife used to nearly give me a concussion just shaking me awake. She’d have to do the same to my darling Alora. Two hibernating peas in a pod, she’d say.” Arz tched his backpack and put it back over his shoulder. “There’s nothing I’d rather have than being shaken like that for just a second. One more breakfast with Ziyra and Alora. For a while, I thought of dying too. I used to travel to Mount Parikus for the Guild. The st time I was there, I thought of just falling inside. Or maybe the Emperor could have used me for a snack.”

  Arz stood, stretched, and walked back to the Storm Tree. He ran his fingers over the rough bark. Lightning fshed overhead.

  “Alora had written me a letter that was delivered when I got to Bralincote. I couldn’t open it. I couldn’t experience that pain again. I had rented a hotel, and I sat day after day staring at the sealed letter. I realized there was no pain to experience again. I never stopped experiencing it. Whatever was inside the letter was the st thing I would ever see from my family.”

  Arz reached into his jacket and pulled out a copy of the letter. He opened it and let his eyes digest each word. “‘When we used to watch the stars, I wondered what was out there. Do you think someday you will get to leave Earth? Mom said I have to stay in school, so I can’t go see the Rainbow Sea with you. Can you take me anyway? She doesn’t have to know. Just kidding, I know she’ll get angry when she sees this. I love you mom. Since I’m stuck in school, I want you to explore everything for me. When you get home, you can tell me all the stories. Look at all the stars and everything outside this pce.’” Arz looked over the letter once more before carefully folding it and slipping it back into his jacket.

  Isilhorn stared at him. A hint of tears hung on his eyelids. “You’re just doing what your daughter asked?”

  Arz nodded.

  “And they want to kill you for it?”

  “They sure do.” Arz ran his fingers over his right hand, feeling the scabs and scars. He already had quite a few reminders of the adventures he had gone on. “They won’t stop me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Arz grabbed the young man’s hand and hauled him up. “I haven’t quite figured that out. Want to brainstorm with me?” Thunder rumbled through the grove. “Brainstorm, not regur storm.”

  “I don’t know how I could help.”

  “Well, first, I need a few stones. Any stone will do. Let’s discuss while we go rock hunting. I’m thinking how I can demean the Guild without causing physical harm. I can’t go around fighting old people, even if I wanted to.”

  Isilhorn grabbed a few stones and stuck them in his own pockets. There were fewer than Arz expected, so they expanded their search range until they finally ended up back to the gravel-covered slope and shoveled a few handfuls into Arz’s backpack.

  “Even after everything they did to you, you don’t want to hurt them?”

  “No. Not physically. What would Ziyra want me to do? What would Alora do if she was in my position? Bully the bullies.”

  Isilhorn grabbed a particurly purple stone. “What do the rocks do?”

  “Uh, you know. Alchemy things.”

  A familiar roar caused Arz to jump as he swung the backpack over his shoulder. The Storm Beast continued growling like the raging thunderstorm overhead. Isilhorn shifted the gun back to his hands as the beast approached. It was advancing quickly, feeling threatened.

  “Wow, he sure popped out of nowhere. Hey, friend!”

  The Storm Beast roared.

  Isilhorn aimed, but was shaking.

  “You know, instead of scaring him off, let’s maybe go home.” Arz pulled out his return potion and a sparkstone. “Ready?”

  “Faster, please.”

  The Storm Beast stalked closer. Saliva dripped from its mandibles. The six tails wriggled back and forth as they hung in the air, spread out like a fan. Its growl grew louder, more threatening.

  Arz chucked the sparkstone right at his feet. It tingled his legs as the sparks spread over him. He popped the cork off the top of the return potion and caught it with his other hand.

  “Good luck,” he said to the Storm Beast. The purple liquid poured out and released its own roar as the portal formed right before Arz. He stepped through and reached a hand back.

  Isilhorn stumbled into the study and caught Arz’s hand. He would have fallen right on his face otherwise.

  The portal closed a moment ter, but Isilhorn still scurried away with the musket aimed where the portal had been.

  “How do we know the creature won’t follow us through?”

  “Territorial, remember? It wasn’t hunting us.”

  “What do they eat?”

  Arz shrugged. “Not us. Not today, at least.”

  The butt of a musket smashed against Arz’s cheek.