Sorcerer's Shadow

78  Devoid Room

"Did we see windows on the tower from below, Boss?"

"I don't think so."

"Me neither."

I spotted Drevolan's sword, Darkscythe—one of the seventeen Great Weapons. It was unusual for him to be armed at home, and its presence did not ease my nerves.

"Welcome to the Tower, Viktor," he said. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Thank you."

"Few are allowed here."

"Understood. What's with the window?"

"You lack the necessary understanding."

"You're likely right."

"What matters is that I can manipulate the windows to view desired locations. It aids in travel, even to places beyond our world's boundary."

"Quite a useful tool. Know where I can buy one?"

"I can also take anyone with me."

"I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"I'm trying to uncover what Cernan took, and why I didn't notice."

"A fine puzzle to occupy you, Drevolan."

"Look at the window, Viktor."

"Do I have to?"

Despite my reluctance, I looked. The blackness had turned to grey with a reddish tint. Closer inspection revealed orange-red, like a sky. Suddenly, the grey morphed into a mountainous texture, revealing a view of Falcon Mountain in the Healroot chain.

Yet, there was no mountain near Nocturne Castle, and the incongruity sent a chill down my spine.

"What is this place?" I asked.

Drevolan's voice strained with exertion, more than I had ever witnessed, as he replied, "We are gazing upon Falcon Mountain, in the Healroot chain."

Drevolan's left hand was tightly balled into a fist, raised and held rigidly near his chin, while his right arm performed a peculiar dance. The fingers of his right hand wiggled, twitched, and flexed as though they had minds of their own. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, and his breath was loud, escaping through slightly parted lips and producing a faint whistling sound.

Thoughts of Earth, water, fire, and air crossed my mind as I observed his left hand, right hand, eyes, and mouth. However, I doubted it was something as straightforward as that. This was neither magic nor sorcery that I'd seen before, and I was unsure if I wanted to understand what it was.

My gaze drifted back to the window, where the view seemed to shift. It was as if we were moving, not the window itself. My knees trembled, a sensation I did not appreciate.

I looked at Drevolan again, who continued to focus intently on the window, his hands making random movements. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Suddenly, the mountain appeared to lunge at us, and I felt a sensation of falling. I stumbled back, searching for something to steady myself against. Then it halted, and just outside the window lay a dirt path leading to a cave, only forty feet away.

My heart pounded, and I turned to Drevolan, who appeared completely at ease now, though his breath still betrayed the recent exertion.

"What just happened?" I stammered.

"We need to consult someone who might have answers," he said.

"We?" I questioned.

"We, yes. You're here just in case."

"You said it wasn't dangerous!"

"I don't think it is," he replied, stepping through the window onto a rocky path leading to the cave entrance. I eyed the cave warily; caves had never been my preference.

"It's always wise to have an extra sword, though. You never know with them," Drevolan continued.

"Them? Whose them?"

"The Baelis," he answered. "Come on."

"Wonderful," I muttered, following him through the window.

"Keep up, Viktor," he urged.

"I'm just admiring nature," I responded, yet I moved up the path behind him.

As we entered the cave, I instinctively ducked my head, even though the entrance was tall enough for Drevolan to walk through without bending. The light faded quickly, and after a few steps, we were engulfed in darkness.

Drevolan stopped and cast a spell, causing a gentle glow to emanate from his hand. We continued into the narrowing cave, the ceiling getting lower. "Mind your head," he advised.

"Anything strange, Boss?" came the voice of Opal.

"No, Opal. This feels just like every other time I've used a mystical window to step onto a mountaintop and walk into a dark cave to meet a near-mythical magical race. What do you mean?"

"What's that smell?"

"Ah, good point. You've earned a fish head."

The scent was Etherstone, a presence I couldn't explain, but it felt unnatural, especially with its potency.

I looked at Drevolan, his expression unreadable as he continued to lead the way, his hand glowing with the light he had conjured.

About fifty steps from the entrance, we found ourselves facing a wall that seemed natural but couldn't possibly be. Drevolan stood before it, wearing a puzzled expression, and I asked, "What do we do now?"

"I'm not sure of the protocol here," he replied. "Should we wait, or—"

Just then, a noise like pebbles clinking against metal was followed by a low growl, and a section of the wall moved to reveal a narrow stone stairway descending downward.

"I suppose waiting is the answer," I said.

Without a word, he began descending the stairs.

The staircase was short, only twenty steps, and they were not steep. We reached another stone doorway, open and inviting us in, and proceeded down a corridor with flagstones that echoed our footsteps. The passage was tight, and the ceiling was so low that Drevolan had to duck his head. The scent of Etherstone intensified.

"I wonder what's on the menu?" Opal chirped.

The corridor opened abruptly into a nearly circular cavern, about forty feet across. Its walls were rugged, the floor smoothly polished, and the ceiling just high enough for Drevolan to stand upright. The room was devoid of furniture, and at the far end stood a short, thin figure, eyeing us curiously.

The creature was rather unpleasant to look at, dressed in layers of blue and red scarves, and completely bald. It addressed Drevolan in a melodic voice with odd accents but was easy to understand, "Greetings, brother. Who are your friends?"

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