Flora’s location-based teleportation spell, which allowed her to travel from the wanderer’s hideout to the Kingdom of Hashi, came with several limitations. Only one person could pass through at a time, the departure sigil was single-use, and the arrival sigil required substantial time and resources to complete. Unlike conventional teleportation spells with lasting functionality, this one required periodic upkeep and a recharged medium.
Yet the spell had its advantages: it didn’t require a medium at departure, nor did it involve any of the hallucinogens typical for other spells of its class.
Flora traced the spell pattern with practiced ease, feeling a swell of pride in how her skills had transformed. Just a few months ago, she had struggled to cast a basic return spell back to the Holy City from a cramped hotel room in Hashi.
She stepped onto the completed sigil and watched as a faint glow radiated from the markings on the floor. When she blinked her eyes open, the scenery had shifted. The constant cacophony of larks that had surrounded her was gone, replaced by a silent expanse of darkness.
“I’m here,” she murmured, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. Hours earlier, she’d stood in this same darkness, waiting until a door creaked open and a warrior had appeared. This time, no one came. Only a sliver of light leaked through the cracks of the door, shut firmly against her arrival.
She heaved the heavy door open, a gust of hot, sandy wind whipping past her. In the distance, the imposing fortress wall loomed over the sun-baked desert. It was the same scene she’d witnessed hours earlier, but now, an eerie silence had settled over the once-bustling landscape.
Normally, the stone gate would be open wide, a constant stream of people coming and going. This time of year, seed harvesters would be particularly busy, preparing for the end of the dry season. As a foreigner, Flora was unfamiliar with these local customs, but it didn’t matter. She was confident she could overcome any challenge.
They said the seeds break on their own, she thought, her gaze fixed on the desert horizon. Though the larks were invisible, she could sense their power stirring beneath the surface. Unlike the larks she’d summoned in the Holy City, these were adapted to the harsh desert environment.
“Rise!” she commanded, her voice filled with authority. The sand began to churn, and one by one, grotesque creatures emerged. Serpents, scorpions, spiders, lizards, centipedes, and other monstrous forms, all adapted to the unforgiving desert. Even the spiders, grotesque and enormous, exuded a terror all their own.
Yet to Flora, even these creatures felt oddly comforting. Watching the larks circle around her, she let out a low laugh, a spark of madness lighting her gaze as she focused on the high tower of the royal castle looming above the fortress wall.
Jin will never look down on me again, Flora thought. Jin would be forced to kneel, to bow in humility and beg for forgiveness for the injustices she’d inflicted. Flora relished the thought, stifling another laugh as she pictured the scene, savoring the possibility.
Honestly… all I want is an apology, she mused, her expression hardening. If it were Jin, she would have inflicted cruelties I can’t even imagine. But what’s the point of becoming just like her?
She looked over the swarm of red-eyed larks, her gaze settling on one with large, attentive ears and a feline appearance. Unlike the scorpions or serpents, this four-legged creature felt… approachable.
“Come here,” she commanded.
The lynx-like lark moved forward, pausing to crouch before her. Flora climbed onto its back, steadying herself. This one would carry her over the fortress wall.
“Let’s go,” she ordered. All around her, larks continued to awaken, the numbers growing quickly as more and more beasts rallied around her.
***
“Countless larks are pouring over the fortress walls,” the warrior reported, his face etched with grim determination. A seasoned veteran, he had spent countless seasons defending the fortress, narrowly escaping death time and again. Yet, the sight before him was unlike anything he had ever witnessed.
“And…” he hesitated, his voice filled with uncertainty. “There was… someone riding on a lark.”
Eugene, Chancellor Verus, and other officials were gathered in the office. The sudden emergency had brought them rushing in, their breaths still ragged.
“Someone riding a lark?” Verus questioned, skepticism evident in his voice. “Are you certain you didn’t mistake it for a soldier?”
The warrior shook his head, unsure. “I may have been mistaken.”
Eugene, however, was deep in thought. “Could it be… Flora? She went to the Holy City, but the guard reported seeing her disappear in a teleportation spell. That sigil in the guest room should have been unusable.”
A realization dawned on Flora. “The desert spell,” she murmured, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and dread. “Of course.”
Flora had been studying sorcery at the wanderer’s hideout. It was entirely possible that she had the knowledge and skill to create her own departure sigil.
The thought that Flora, under the influence of a malevolent spell, might harbor resentment towards the kingdom was a chilling prospect. She holds a grudge against the fake Jin, but to her, that imposter is still me, Eugene realized. If so, her target must be me.
She regretted her decision to preserve the desert sigil. It should have been destroyed immediately.
