The sun was high, and the air was warm—the kind of heat that slowed even the coldest souls, if just for a moment.
Vell had found the pool by accident—a crystal-clear basin nestled between smooth rocks and shaded trees, its water untouched and undisturbed. The kind of thing that felt like it had always been there, waiting to be found.
Without a second thought, he disrobed and waded in, sighing at the coolness against his skin. He let himself sink under for a moment, then surfaced, shaking water from his hair.
Sonder sat nearby, untouched by the invitation of the water. She had pulled her knees to her chest, one hand idly turning a smooth, round stone between her fingers. She often did that—finding small things, rolling them over and over in her palm, feeling the texture, the weight.
Vell leaned back, floating lazily. "Are you sure you don't want to join?"
Sonder watched him splashing in the water. "No."
"Suit yourself," he said, splashing some water in her direction.
He drifted for a while, eyes closed. The only sound was the soft ripple of water and the occasional chirp of birds in the canopy above.
Then Vell spoke again. "What number am I thinking of?"
"What?" Sonder asked, looking up from the stone he held.
"Your divination." He straightened, treading water. "Let's play a game. Guess what number I'm thinking of."
She let out a slow breath and extended herself.
Reaching into someone's mind and thoughts was like listening to a conversation in another room—just slightly out of reach and barely audible. She didn't like doing it, even if she was given permission to.
Sonder inadvertently squeezed the stone in her hand as she concentrated, maybe a bit too much.
And then, something came through.
"Seven, seven, seven, seven, seven."
It was clear, as though someone had spoken the number right next to her ear.
"Seven," she then repeated aloud.
Vell tilted his head. "Nope. Try again."
Sonder frowned. That wasn't right. The number had been so clear.
She glanced down at the stone in her palm. "Did you think of it?" she murmured.
If it wasn't Vell, then—
A rustle in the trees.
She turned just as two figures emerged from the brush—a man in armor, sword at his hip, and a boy trailing behind him, wide-eyed. Both looked equally surprised to see them.
The man, with graying hair and a sharp, weary expression, raised a hand in greeting. "Apologies. We didn't mean to intrude." His gaze flickered to Sonder—and his expression twisted in horror.
"By the gods!" he exclaimed. "Are you well, girl?"
Sonder didn't understand his reaction.
The man swiftly turned the boy away. "Look aside, squire! We may be witnessing the last moments of a maiden."
Sonder followed his gaze down, then sighed, having almost forgotten the sword that impaled her.
"Oh, no, no," she reassured him, holding up her hands. "I'm not dying. This… this is just how I look."
She took the handle and rattled the sword around.
The man cleared his throat, looking her over with unease. "Truly? You are as pale as the grave."
The boy, still turned away, spoke hesitantly. "Sire… is this not another sign?"
The man scratched his beard. "Perhaps." Then, looking back at Sonder, he asked, "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but did you just say 'seven'?"
Sonder stiffened slightly. "Yes?"
The boy exchanged a look with the man. "Another sign," he whispered.
Vell arched an eyebrow and swam toward the shore. "A sign for what?"
The armored man hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. "We seek a tower not far from here. A wizard has taken residence within—and worse, he has found something. Something dangerous. We do not yet know what, but the stories speak of dark rituals, of unnatural things rising in the night."
The squire spoke next. "We are knights. We can fight. But we have no magic. If we are truly dealing with a wizard, we need help." He looked between them. "And you two—you are wizards, aren't you?"
Sonder turned to Vell. He was watching her with lazy amusement.
"Well?" he asked. "Are we?"
Sonder looked at the knights, then back at Vell. Her fingers tightened around the stone.
"We are," she said.
The knight knelt. "Our court wizard sent us, believing me the most capable to put an end to whatever evil lurks in that tower. He also consulted the stars for signs."
Vell gave an exaggerated sigh, his expression making his thoughts clear: 'Star magic.
The knight continued, undeterred. "He told us we would be led to a crystal pool in the woods. The signs were as follows: the number seven, the pale maiden, wounded beyond life yet still living, and a trusted ally—" he gestured toward Sonder.
Vell stepped out of the pool, steam rising from his skin as he dried himself with heat magically. He pulled on his robe, adjusting it, and reached for his staff.
"Sire!" The squire suddenly gasped, eyes wide with excitement. "Another sign!"
Vell paused. "Oh? What is it this time?"
The knight nodded solemnly. "The prophecy spoke of a dark mage who would stand beside the pale maiden, offering her his companionship." He gestured toward Vell. "It can be no one else but you."
He sighed again, tucking his staff under his arm. "I usually go by a different title," he muttered, "but sure, let's go with that."