45th of Season of Fire, 58th year of the 32nd cycle

Chaplain Longfang observed the field he had arranged. It housed a glorious spell seal, one which helped him recover his confidence after failing to break the privacy spell seal the order's guest had used some moons ago.

Losing to a third realm grandmaster scribe hurt, but it was an important lesson as well. Ingeniously used lower realm tools could thwart even considerably higher realm efforts. He had known that. It was the basic premise of spell seals and the entire art of scribing, but it had been a long time since he was on the receiving end of his beloved art's adage.

The spell seal which lay before him was nominally of a seventh realm, the highest he could set up perfectly. But the nodes of the formation housed mageknights at the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth realms, with a tenth realm exalt at the center.

Chaplain Longfang did a final pass, checking whether everything was in order. Noon was still hours away, and he had enough time to make the final tweaks. None were needed, of course. He made sure of that yesterday evening, and the week before, and the week before that.

You can never be too sure. He smirked, especially satisfied with the runic formation he had made to divert a portion of the sun's flame. Alchemists, smiths, and artificers could find a dozen uses for the stored energy.

Even Chaplain Longfang himself could use such a precious flame as a heart of a defensive spell seal he had in mind.

The scribe looked at the sun, rising towards its peak, then at the gathered mageknights, arrayed to trap the sunflame into vessels rather than just unleash it as mere fire.

The key figure was also there, seated and meditating, ready for whatever the heavens had in store for him.

Chaplain Longfang did not know how to feel about what was about to transpire or whether anything would happen at all, but it was all for the good of the order.

***

Newt was uneasy. His heart quivered with terror ever since the first day of the season of fire, even ignoring his birthday, despite his friends' best attempts at making a party. He knew it in his bones, the sun would smite him again.

Then, one moon before the summer solstice, his master summoned him for a talk, and a great weight fell off his chest. The order had a plan. Just in case, they would handle everything as if sunfire would strike, and if it failed to meet their expectations, no harm done.

Newt knew the flare was imminent, and he was grateful for the support, focusing on sculpting his realm. When the day of the solstice came, everything was ready. He looked at the spell seal. It was too complex for him to follow, but the bits and pieces he understood filled him with confidence.

He entered the heart and sat. He wanted to sculpt, but his focus wandered, and his state of mind was poor for most activities. Someone to talk to would have been nice, but with the gatemaster sitting like a statue next to him, there was no chance of a casual chat.

So, he closed his eyes, focused on his breathing, and cleared his thoughts.

Then the heat came. It was unpleasant for a dozen moments, sweat pouring off him, and then he was in an endless domain of ice-capped mountains and frozen forests.

Before him floated an avian. It was normal-sized, to his eye, but what was left of his mind told him the creature was titanic.

"Let's settle this once and for all, Frozen Nuts."

The terrorwing screeched, which Newt interpreted as a snort. "Where does your confidence come from, Fake Snake?"

In the distance, the terrorwing's minions observed, mana flaring around them. Fools. They believed their flimsy shields could protect them from the fallout, should the two exalts move their battle towards them.

Stolen story; please report.

The scene was strange. Newt could feel something wrong. The terrorwing was his enemy and his friend at the same time, a rival he had known for countless ages.

Newt looked at the majestic manifestation of frost and air before him, his exact opposite.

"I'm confident because—" He smirked, his lips moving to follow the memory. "—you have cold feet."

With another screech, the avian tore towards him, and Newt roared in laughter. Fire clashed with ice, melting and destroying, but dying to do so. Hellish winds impossibly fast and nearly solid struck rock, countless centuries of eolian erosion occurring in a heartbeat. Air devoured the earth, but disappeared in turn as claws and tails and fang clashed.

Terrain changed, mountains disappeared and lakes replaced them, Newt knew he wasn't going all out, but neither was the terrorwing. The blows did, however, grow stronger with time. Blast-waves of heat and cold spread in every direction, heavens wept, then rained snow on the land, but the snow turned to steam only to become sleet full of rock-sized chunks of ice.

Ten days later, the battle reached a crescendo. Blood burned the world, while another pool of it froze everything it touched so solid, turning it to powder. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the battle ended.

Newt glared at the avian. He wanted to tear out its cores, to feast on them, and yet, the dumb terrorwing was a valuable ally. The two of them were not the only masters of the world.

The probing was done, their alliance sealed for another thirty thousand years.

"I look forward to your visit, Frozen Nuts. Without the favorable terrain, I'll devour your cores."

"That's what you said sixty thousand years ago, and sixty thousand years before that!"

The two exchanged shouts and curses, and Newt opened his eyes.

He was in the Chamber of Healing again. The room was pitch black with a gentle, warm breeze coming in from the window. Newt glanced outside. A storm raged, but the water and the cold remained outside his temporary abode.

Finally, he focused on the void silhouette sitting in the room full of mana. He stood, surprised he could, and bowed to the man.

"Greetings, Lord Gatemaster. Thank you for saving my life." Newt had learned about proper customs and behavior, but the gatemaster lacked interest in such trite matters.

With a thought, the air turned solid around Newt and stopped his bow.

"How are you feeling? Did you see something interesting?"

"Answering gatemaster—"

"Cut it out; we can speak normally when there's just the two of us. Now…" The gatemaster left the word hanging, and Newt hurried to answer the questions.

"I am feeling healthy and rested." Newt hesitated, but he already owed the gatemaster his life twice over. "I had another vision. I fought a giant terrowing of ice and air almost the entire length of the vision. We also exchanged words, but our battle ended in a draw."

Newt frowned, but the dream slipped from his grip the harder he tried to grasp it.

"I can't recall what we discussed while fighting."

The gatemaster nodded. "Anything you would care to say about your friend who you brought over here to write and compile a book for you on the spot?"

Newt's mind blanked at the tough question. Dandelion's book was brilliant, something that he could sell to the order to include in their library, and that would remain an often used manual for the Explorer's Gate's scribes for centuries and millennia to come.

"I plan to donate his book to the Chamber of Runes once I reach the fourth realm." Newt tried to hide his thoughts, but he knew he had failed.

"Neither I nor the rest of the order will dig into your secrets. That said, your friend managed to outperform our chief scribe, so I need your word that he isn't a threat or a spy."

"Dandelion is a friend, and he said he would come to my or my order's aid should we face a disaster he can help with." A spurt of inspiration struck Newt. "I also believe he might be willing to help improve our defensive seals or anything else for that matter, as long as we can provide adequate payment."

Newt felt stupid even as the words left his mouth. What could possibly a third realm mageknight offer to a tenth realm exalt? Dandelion was an innovator and a genius in Newt's eyes, but someone as old and experienced as the gatemaster must have seen everything there was to see under the heavens.

The man didn't ridicule him, though.

"May I read it?"

Newt's first instinct was to say no. Someone as experienced as a tenth realm mageknight should see right through Dandelion's ruse, but he had no choice but to agree.

"You are free to refuse." The gatemaster saw through Newt as if his flesh were glass, but the young man shook his head.

"I haven't studied it deeply enough myself. That will take years, but you may naturally read it the next time I enter seclusion." Newt scanned his body again. "Which should be tomorrow, I guess, or even right now if there is an available chamber."

"I'll read it if you don't mind. I dabble in spell seals. In case you're curious, your body is now at the peak of the fourth realm. When you ascend to the fourth, your body's toughness will reach the fifth realm. You are free to do anything you wish, just consider the consequences of your actions."

With that, the gatemaster disappeared, leaving Newt alone in the healing chamber.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.