The Story so Far: The dark power of the Princes of Iron is advancing upon the Red Mountains. Born in a world of magic with the power to innately disrupt magic, the despised outcast Mara Spell-Breaker has always lived on the fringes of society. After seeking an oracle that promised only the destruction of her people, she fled imprisonment in her native city of Sjaligr in the company of Aallotar, a wildling cursed into a feral, bestial shape. Mara's power allows Aallotar to return to a human body, but the curse is not broken yet. Drawn in after a murderous rescue from the executioner's block by the promise of finding her own power and breaking Aallotar's curse, Mara studies under the tutelage of her savior: Sammael the Torturer, Venom of God. An elder fiend of unknown motives, he has taken an interest in her and helped her reveal her true gift: sorcery. Tapping into the power of Void has its costs for a living being, however, and for Mara it is perpetual pain and losing parts of herself. With the rescue of two strangers from the southern invaders, Saxa and Theudhar, things in Sammael's abode have become even more strained with Caliban, Sammael's human servant who envies Mara's power.

***

The blast of cold air that hit Mara as she stepped out was punishing. There had been no sign of Aallotar in the cave, which did nothing to ease her concern. They still didn't know how far the wildling could venture from Sammael's hideout alone before reverting to her beast form.

"Aallotar!"

The woods gave the sorcerer no answer. Mara sighed. She'd barely taken the time to pull on warm clothes, assuming that Aallotar would be close enough and on speaking terms, so she could soothe Caliban's snipe and be done with it. She already felt the chill in her right arm. Not for the first time, she cursed her metal bones and stepped out into the snow. A proper blizzard was here, snow coming down in flurries. Any tracks in the woods filled almost instantly, no matter how large.

"Aallotar!"

A hand caught Mara by her shoulder, turning her. Aallotar's eyes seemed more bestial than human, though they quickly returned to normal now that she was near Mara. The snow had already coated the wildling's fair hair and shoulders. "You are going to freeze to death."

Mara pulled her back inside the mouth of the cave. "I could say the same to you. You're not dressed for the cold, Aallotar."

Gold eyes flashed in the dark for a moment before turning away. "Does it matter?"

"It does to me." Mara reached out, brushing some of the melting snow off the wildling's hair. "Just because I tell you not to let Caliban get to you does not mean I don't care."

Aallotar pulled in a hiss of breath, almost flinching away from the comforting touch. She kept her eyes fixed on the stone beneath their feet. "He drives words like thorns into me."

"I know," Mara said softly. She sighed when Aallotar's gaze didn't move from the floor of the cave. "Look at me." When the wildling did as she asked, Mara offered a smile. "We have each other. Nothing's going to change that."

For all her straightforward nature, Aallotar seemed conflicted as they moved back into the cave proper, further from the chill of the snow. Mara could almost see the words poised on the tip of Aallotar's tongue, but the wildling kept them locked away behind pressed lips. It was a display of guardedness that Mara wasn't used to seeing. It sent a pang of worry through the sorcerer.

"Aallotar, you can talk to me." Mara assumed it was about Caliban.

The wildling nodded slightly in acknowledgement, but said nothing until they made it to the door. "I do not want to go back in. Not to see him sneer at me."

Mara's shivering quickly grew worse, until she felt like she was going to rattle apart. "If we don't go in, we'll freeze to death. We can just go to our spot. He won't bother us there."

Aallotar nodded quickly and then wrapped her arms around Mara as she opened the sorcerous door. The sudden warmth and faint smell of wet fur was immensely comforting for the sorcerer. Aallotar released her once the door was open, but with reluctance in every movement.

Caliban was there when they stepped back in, but this time without much in the way of mockery. Instead, there was that familiar envy in his expression. "The Master wishes that you attend to him, Mara."

Theudhar frowned, still seated beside Saxa, and ran his hand over his dark hair, brushing over twin rows of short horns. "Isn't she hurt badly enough already?" At the tall red man's side, Saxa kept her black eyes ever watchful of Caliban.

Mara appreciated the concern, but she knew she needed Sammael and all the pain he inflicted. "It'll be fine."

"You are to bring the beast with you."

Aallotar bared her teeth at Caliban, but moved past him without a word. Mara followed and almost sighed in relief that there hadn't been more of a confrontation. Eventually things would come to a real head, but in her heart of hearts, Mara was hoping that it would be when she was done with her studies. The sorcerer knew better than to keep Sammael waiting and hurried ahead.

"What do you think he wants?" the wildling asked quietly as they climbed the broad stone stairs that led up from the library.

Mara worried at her lower lip with her teeth for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Normally he gives it more time between sessions. He doesn't usually ask for you, either."

Before she could take another step, arms curled around Mara from behind, halting her progress towards Sammael. "I am afraid." Aallotar's whisper was soft against Mara's ear.

Something about the closeness and the warm breath on her ear sent a shiver down the sorcerer's spine. "You have me. That's something, isn't it?"

"It is everything." Aallotar's whisper sounded almost guilty for a moment and she let her arms fall.

Mara turned, but the wildling studiously avoided her gaze. Sammael expected instant obedience, but he was a patient creature at his core. He could wait another minute or two. "What's gotten into you?" she asked gently. "You don't have to hide from me."

Aallotar shook her head. "The demon awaits."

"But we're going to talk about it afterwards," Mara said stubbornly. Without waiting for the wildling to concede, she turned and placed her hand on the flawless metal door that led to Sammael's chambers. The metal seemed to ripple at her touch, responding to the sorcery inside her, and the door flowed apart as if liquid. All of her questions about the door's strange properties found no purchase in Sammael's attentions, as he considered the workings too obvious to be worth elaborating on.

The only sound on the other side of the door was a faint scratching, the only light a single candle that could barely handle the oppressive gloom. The smell of harsh cleaning fluids and coppery blood oozed out of the lower workshop off to their right, but Mara followed the forward path towards the candle, catching Aallotar's hand with her own to make certain she didn't lose the wildling in the dark.

Sammael hunched over his writing desk, dipping the needle-like claw of his index finger into ink and then scratching away at a sheet of parchment. His metallic, emotionless voice made it impossible to gauge his mood. "I HAVE A TASK FOR YOU."

"So soon?" Mara asked. She was far more comfortable with the demon than Aallotar was, but that was a low bar.

"DO YOU SUGGEST YOU ARE INCAPABLE?"

Mara shook her head immediately, trying to ignore Aallotar's protective posture. Sammael made no note of it, his twisted metallic form still utterly focused on his writing. Not once did his obsidian eyes turn towards them.

"THERE WAS AN EARTHQUAKE SEVERAL DAYS' TRAVEL TO THE NORTH OF HERE, FELT WHILE YOU AND I WERE TESTING YOUR LIMITS. AN EYE OF MINE, AFIELD, REPORTS SOMETHING ONCE THOUGHT LOST WAS UNEARTHED THERE BY THE ACTIVITY OF THE EARTH."

"What is this thing?" Mara asked.

"MY MAKER'S WORKSHOP." Sammael's claw scratched another delicate line of ink. His design reminded Mara instinctively of the etchings she had seen in the oldest part of his laboratory, where the walls were metal instead of stone. "THE EYE SUGGESTS THAT THE DOORS ARE STILL SEALED. I CANNOT OVERSTATE HOW PRECIOUS THE THINGS THAT MIGHT BE HELD WITHIN ARE TO OUR CURRENT ENDEAVOR. MY MAKER WAS THE FIRST TO BLEND SORCERY AND MORTALITY, TO DO WHAT COULD NOT BE DONE." The harsh, inhuman voice of the demon took on an almost purring quality at the mention of his maker. It was as close to love as Mara supposed a demon could come: reverence, awe, fascination.

"I take it you want us to leave soon," Mara said, spotting the dim outline of two packs beside his writing desk.

"AS SOON AS ALL THE OTHERS HAVE GONE TO SLEEP, PARTICULARLY CALIBAN. HE MIGHT SEIZE UPON THIS OPPORTUNITY TO APE THE POWER THAT YOU WIELD. THERE ARE LIKELY TO BE ARTIFACTS THERE EASILY MISUSED FOR SUCH A PURPOSE. SUCH THINGS ARE NOT YOUR CONCERN, HOWEVER."

Aallotar shifted uncomfortably beside Mara when Sammael finished his drawing. He turned and handed the paper to the sorcerer, treating the wildling as if she was some piece of furniture. Mara furrowed her brow, looking down at the drawing. There, in a perfect ink likeness, was a tablet covered in the writings of the ancients. "If we have to lug back some kind of obelisk..."

"IT IS NO GREATER THAN YOUR THUMB IN DIMENSIONS," Sammael said. "LEARN EVERYTHING YOU CAN. TAKE RUBBINGS OF ALL WRITING YOU ENCOUNTER. BRING THIS OBJECT BACK TO ME. DO NOT TARRY OR LINGER LONGER THAN YOU MUST, HOWEVER. THE ENEMY WILL LEARN OF IT AS WELL. THEY HAVE SPREAD THEIR SPIES FAR AND WIDE AMONG THE LOCAL PEOPLE."

"To what end? Are they looking for sorcery too?" Mara asked.

"THEIR PURPOSE IN THE RED MOUNTAINS IS NOT SCHOLASTICISM. HOWEVER, SUCH AN ANCIENT POWER IS NOT SOMETHING THEY CAN AFFORD TO IGNORE." Sammael leaned down, bringing his maw of needle-like teeth close to Mara's face. "WHETHER THEY WOULD DESTROY IT AS THE WORK OF AN APOSTATE OR TAKE IT FOR THEMSELVES, EVEN I COULD NOT SAY. WHAT I CAN SAY WITH ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY IS THAT IF THEY FIND YOU OR LEARN OF YOUR GIFTS, THEY WILL DESTROY YOU DOWN TO THE VERY ATOMS OF YOUR BEING."

Mara swallowed hard. She doubted Sammael was exaggerating, and given what she knew of sorcery, the hunger of Void could certainly do such a thing. "We won't let them catch us."

"GOOD." Sammael's cold, black eyes seemed to sharpen somehow, their obsidian depths giving the impression of an even more intense look. "I WOULD NOT RISK MY APPRENTICE IF IT WERE SOME MUNDANE MATTER, BUT THIS IS AN OPPORTUNITY THAT MAY NEVER COME AGAIN."

"I understand," the sorcerer said.

The demon rose from his workbench, running delicate claws along her cheekbone. "GOOD. THE BLIZZARD WILL COVER YOUR TRACKS. DO ENDEAVOR NOT TO PERISH. THAT IS ALL."

Mara bowed to her master and caught Aallotar's hand, pulling her back. Once they were out of the darkness and back on the library overlook, the metallic door to the study closed behind them.

"He risks your life. The cold is not good for you," Aallotar growled, still in that almost rigid protective posture.

"I think it's worth a risk, if it means we get the chance to learn something to break your curse," Mara said softly, staying close to Aallotar's ear so no one would overhear. As much as she liked Theudhar and Saxa, she didn't know how much she could trust them with, and Sammael had directly warned her about Caliban knowing.

Aallotar turned, lips pulled into a tight frown. "We do not know there is any such knowledge in this ruin."

"Who would know better than someone who understands Creation and Void enough to blend them?" When the wildling looked unconvinced, Mara trudged forward in her logic. "This is from the time before Godfall, likely before the origin of your curse. Trust me, Aallotar. I think this is our best chance."

Golden eyes studied her with something approaching ferocity. "Fine," Aallotar said shortly. "Just do not expect me to like it." She turned and stalked down the stairs, leaving Mara at the top.

Mara felt a pang in her chest. It was probably just an extension of Aallotar's mood from before, but the sorcerer hated quarreling with her friend. More than any familial spat, it left her feeling insecure and gave the voices in her head that muttered about what she was actually worth that much more breath to rant with. Her logical mind knew that Aallotar was angry with the situation and not with her, but her bloodied heart still couldn't distinguish between such things. Too many times, it had been beaten down.

She sighed and tried not to show that it bothered her as she followed Aallotar towards their living area. They would leave in the dead of night, with little in the way of preparation besides warm clothes.

Caliban was out of view of the library, busy needling at Saxa and Theudhar. He was less interested in annoying them and more in seeking information, from what Mara could tell. That meant he was well distracted. Mara put together a bundle of furs to wear over her clothing, special boots and gloves that could handle the snow. Aallotar took provisions from the kitchen as quietly as she could, then returned to the packs.

"Armor will hold the cold," Mara said. "You might have to leave it."

"Pack," Aallotar said shortly, twisting the knot in the pit of Mara's stomach.

The sorcerer didn't flinch. Her tone, however, was far more muted than before. She knew to avoid conflict after a lifetime's worth of beatings from her uncle and others. It only ended badly. "Whatever you want."

Aallotar looked up, golden eyes flashing with recognition. Her expression softened as she looked at Mara. "You are worried."

"I'm fine." Mara gave the wildling a smile she didn't really feel, but she was a fine actress after Sjaligr. "Just thinking about what's ahead, and what might come of it."

The next thing she knew, Aallotar's arms were around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. "I have you." Mara felt her anxiety calm as she heard those words whispered against her hair. It was strange, though. Even as the knot in her stomach eased, her heart started to beat faster. She wasn't certain what she was afraid of. Fear was the only thing that had ever sped her heart like this.

Aallotar hummed, deep in her chest, and Mara felt her heart skip a beat. "You feel like a little bird," the wildling said as she let go, clearly concerned. "Are you alright?"

The sorcerer nodded. "Fine. Better." At least she was less worried about the wildling's moodiness.

"It is the demon who angers me," Aallotar promised. "Not you."

"Am I so easy to read?" Mara asked as she started putting together a bedroll, avoiding her friend's gaze. She doubted Aallotar appreciated her guardedness, but as much as she wanted to be open, it was reflex to close.

"I cannot read."

"You know what I mean, Aallotar."

The wildling finished her packing quietly, then tucked the pack itself away in their corner, hidden behind the dresser made of scrap wood. "No, you are not easy to read," Aallotar said softly, looking over at Mara through her eyelashes. It was a strange look, conflicted and soft at the same time. "I wish you were."

Mara didn't respond, not certain where that conversation would go or if she was ready to ask Aallotar more. Besides, the pain in her arm was slowly returning. She hated the constant burns. At least now they would have a chance to heal, so long as she kept her use of sorcery to a minimum. "We should at least pretend to sleep. If we wait up, Caliban might realize something is going on."

Aallotar nodded, stripping off her outer layers of shirt in one fluid movement. She hadn't bothered with boots, so it was easy for her to crawl into their little sleeping spot, the stuffed mattress already dented from their usual positions.

Even if she didn't know why, Mara knew there was no chance of her falling asleep while they waited. Not with Aallotar's bare arms linked around her waist, the wildling burying her face in the sorcerer's dark hair.

It felt almost too close, but she wouldn't have had it any other way.