The Chronicles of a Scalebound Sage: Wandmaker Vol.2

WM [69] Making a Good Team

Muninn stood at the edge of the observation deck, her gaze fixed on the endless horizon of the world below. Once, she might have believed she was among the heavens, the sacred realm where stars sang their eternal hymns alongside the Trues, but she knew better now. This was no divine domain, no celestial sanctuary. She was adrift in a silent void, the whispers called it 'space'. She was in an ancient station orbiting high above the planet, far removed from the divine song of the stars.

Each day, her mind brimmed with the thoughts and memories of the Forest Father. His essence coursed through her, granting her glimpses into the world's very fabric and revealing truths far deeper than magic. These were the laws that governed existence, the immutable underpinnings of the Lower Planes.

The station itself was a relic, a high-orbital fortress once crafted by the Divines of Man. It had been their bastion in the final days, a citadel of steel and silence that became their tomb. It was here that the Forest Father had sought refuge when his life force teetered on the brink of oblivion. She did not know what force had nearly extinguished the ancient being who had shaped her existence, nor what calamity had wiped out the Divines of Man. Such knowledge, the Forest Father had deemed irrelevant for her to know.

With a mere thought, Muninn commanded the station. The air in the room vanished in an instant, the atmosphere sucked away with a mechanical hiss. The thick observation window slid open, revealing the infinite expanse of space. She stepped forward and drifted into the void, her form unbound by gravity.

The knowledge implanted in her mind whispered warnings of what should have been her fate. The searing touch of unfiltered sunlight, capable of boiling flesh in seconds. The icy grip of the vacuum, freezing and burning in tandem, rupturing cells and extinguishing life. She was beyond such vulnerabilities now.

The Forest Father had remade her and stripped away the frailties of the flesh. She no longer aged, hungered, or thirsted. Air was meaningless to her lungs, sleep an impossibility. She had mourned these losses once, the small comforts of mortal life, but that sorrow had been fleeting. She understood now: she was chosen. An extension of her master's will, in body and soul. No druid could hope for a greater purpose.

Muninn extended her arms, a quiet reverence in her gaze as she beheld the world beneath her. If she still possessed the capacity for tears, they would have fallen in rivers of joy. Tendrils of black lightning arced from her body, anchoring her to the station. Slowly, they reeled her back inside. Once within, the observation window sealed shut with a soft hum. The station groaned and hissed as air returned, filling the chamber.

She turned from the observation deck back into the hallway. Her bare feet patterns against the metal walkway causing her to look down. She was nude, as she had been since her body was remade. Her body looked like it was flesh and blood but it was a coating that hid the true mechanics beneath the surface. The thought of being labeled the "crazy naked lady" running through villages amused her, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. No, she would need to blend in.

Her eyes lifted, following a single blue line etched into the floor. It pulsed faintly, guiding her deeper into the heart of the station. Other lines crisscrossed the corridor, each glowing in its own hue—red, green, yellow, and more—each leading to a different wing. The blue line beckoned her toward the fabrication wing, where the ancient systems could weave materials not from mundane cloth but from the very threads of magic that bound the Plane.

A small, knowing smile played across her lips as she quickened her pace. Soon, she would descend to the world below, ready to carry out her purpose.

***

The night air was sharp, biting into Bjorn's thick hide as he stirred. His senses flared to life, his heads rising one after the other, nostrils flaring as they tasted the air. Something was wrong. The scent of the quicksilver river had changed—no longer the static, metallic tang from before. It was mixed now, laced with the unmistakable taste of monster magic. Fuyumi seemed to be aware as well, her gaze locked on to the river. They were some thirty feet away as quicksilver was toxic to everyone but perhaps Tanisha. Bjorn didn't want to risk being exposed to find out his immunity levels.