The Everburn Mage

13. Trance

They mobilized in the dead of night.

Perched on the edge of a roof, the cold sticking to his fair skin, Rune silently waited for his signal. A vigilant gargoyle whose predatory gaze magnetized to the realm beneath him. All was quiet on Star Bell's streets. 

The street lamps flickered with life, keeping at bay the night's darkness. Follies of singing wind kidnapped lone scraps of discarded garbage off the pavement. And strolling calmly down the lonely sidewalk was the shadow mage herself. 

Ebony, with her crimson eyes gazing acutely ahead of her, slowly advanced; hands tied behind her back and an emotionless expression veiling her pale face. As the mechanic of their plan, she was obviously confident in its success. Of course, it also helped that she was a practitioner of one of the rarest and most powerful forms of magic there was. 

The girl could quite clearly handle her own if the situation took a turn for the worst. Nevertheless, Rune held his doubts firmly. Maybe it was because he was partially on edge, courtesy of the golem attack. Or perhaps, he just didn't want anything bad to happen to the silent and anti-social caster. Whatever the case, his nerves continuously and rapidly amplified. He was the complete opposite of his so-called partner.

"Man, when are these nutjobs going to show?" Striker inquired, growing increasingly annoyed with every minute passing them by.

"Depends on whether or not they're actually in the city?"

"Yeah, I suppose. And I trust you're regulating your essence output, right?"

"Just as we planned." 

Every magic-user possessed a limited supply of essence within them. Naturally, this essence radiated a signature other mages could detect. Combat mages, on the other hand, were trained to regulate their essence quantity levels, the most skilled being capable of increasing or decreasing their output. 

Should a mage diminish their essence's output they in turn make themselves harder for enemy mages to detect. This was what Rune had been tasked with doing. As for Ebony, she concentrated on solely increasing the archaic spark burning at her core. Essentially, she'd become a beacon for any and all who viewed her as a target. 

"I don't like this," Rune muttered, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it, I hate reconnaissance missions. There's hardly ever any action!"

His presence in and of itself was another catalyst for Rune's anxiety. Though not a mage himself he was a veteran soldier; a highly skilled one at that. But as talented as he was with a firearm, he'd a tendency to "Lose his wits" as First Lieutenant Zenobio described it. 

Splinters of his unpredictable nature would occasionally materialize. May it be the deranged scowl he openly welcomed or the bizarre and methodical manner in which he caressed the trigger of the rifle he delicately cradled in his arms. 

Striker's unhinged demeanor was enough to make Rune ensure there was a sizable amount of distance between them. The more his patience deteriorated, the greater the gap separating the soldiers grew.

"Actually, I'm referring to Ebony. I'm worried for her safety."

"Really? Why? Oh, is it because you've got a thing for her?"

"Wh...What!" the mage stammered, his face turning red. "Why would you even suggest..."

"Ssh! Quiet, kid," Striker whispered. "You tryna compromise our position?"

"It's your fault for asking such a ridiculous question!"

"Relax, would ya? I was tryna to add some levity. Forgive me if I'm a little peeved after hours and hours of doing absolutely nothing."