Leonard strode through the camp with purpose, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him majestically. The sun had yet to appear, but a hum of activity surrounded him—soldiers tended to weapons, commanders pored over maps, and the occasional burst of laughter or song rang out as men tried to stave off the weight of their nerves.

  This time, he didn't stop to speak with anyone, and no one impeded his march to the Divination Division.

  Warded tents stood in a crescent formation, guarded by the Security Forces. Inside, the air buzzed with restrained energy as mages worked tirelessly, updating enemy movements and creating a real-time map of their surroundings. Leonard slipped through the entrance of the main tent, his presence drawing a brief pause in the strangely serene atmosphere before the men resumed their tasks.

  At the center of it all, Oliver knelt beside a low table, talking quietly with the lead diviner. His brow was furrowed with concentration as he nodded along. Considering the message he had received claimed the leylines had been located, he imagined his squire was being filled in.

  It was a good idea to involve him. He’s been looking for a way to regain his honor, and being sent in my stead to debrief the diviners shows everyone I still trust him.

  "Oliver," Leonard interrupted.

  He stood immediately, "Grand Marshal, sir. We have it."

  It was an overly formal way of greeting him, but he didn't begrudge the boy. This was a momentous occasion, and while they would forever have a deep connection, Oliver would achieve his knighthood after this mission. Appearing to disdain the chain of command even before he got elevated to the position of Captain in public would be a bad look.

  Leonard beckoned him closer and gestured for him to follow, trusting that he would know the relevant information and not wanting to waste more time. They stepped out of the tent and into the cool pre-dawn air, walking until the constant buzz of activity retreated. When they were far enough, Leonard stopped and turned to face him.

  "I've settled on a course of action," he began evenly. "You must understand that this mission will require absolute trust. It will also bring no small amount of risk. While I promise to do my best to shield all who decide to come with me, we will be directly under the enemy. It is quite possible we'll face significant resistance, and you must understand that my main priority will be the leyline."

  Oliver straightened. "My people will be more than glad to lay down their lives for the cause."

  Leonard resisted the urge to sigh. His instincts, long buried, insisted that taking a group of teenagers into what could be called a suicide mission by lesser people wasn't the best idea. Still, he did need people he could trust, and he couldn't take the most elite Corps as they would be necessary to contain Hassel's response to his actions—at least until he got back. "I will trust your judgment in this, then. Make the rounds and collect at least a dozen earth mages as well."

  Oliver's brow furrowed. "I thought you meant to carve the path yourself? Or are they there in case you need to leave us behind, and we have to return on our own?"

  "Precisely," Leonard said, not letting his emotions get in the way. The stakes were too high, and if Oliver felt he could handle the risk, he wouldn't coddle the boy—no, the young man. "Having earth mages will also be useful if we need to stabilize the fissure I'll create, in case the diviners don't have the exact location pinned and I'm forced to adjust. We'll feint a probing attack on the wards to draw attention, but our true objective will be to dig deeply to the leyline itself."

  Count Pollus probably expected him to take at least a day or two to probe the wards anyway. It was the thing to do, according to current doctrine. Not that he expected to find weak points, given that Hassel had managed to withstand the Void for months, but it shouldn't raise suspicion to see a small, mobile strike team get close.

  Oliver's mouth opened, then closed, his expression troubled. Eventually, he found his courage, "Sir, there's something I wanted to ask. Both you and Lady Belinda always taught me to stay away from leylines. That the wild magic is too unpredictable and that anyone who tries to tap into it—"

  "Would be consumed," Leonard finished. "Yes. Which is why we won't be harnessing its power. Our goal is simply to disrupt it—damage its flow enough to weaken the wards. Leylines are ancient and resilient. The damage we do will heal within months, but it will buy us the opening we need."

  What he didn't say was that if he did not damage the infinite well of mana that powered Hassel's wards, he'd have to use much more dangerous methods. Leonard wanted to avoid having to kill tens of thousands of people.

  Oliver's expression shifted to one of realization. "So we wouldn't directly touch them then. Or rather, you'd damage them, but only so much that Hassel won't be able to draw power from them anymore. And for a city that has had access to them for centuries, it's very unlikely they'll have enough reserves of mana crystals to keep them powered."

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Leonard nodded, glad that his squire could follow his thought process. "I need someone at my side who can watch my back while I work. Someone I know won't falter, no matter what we face down there."

  The weight of his words settled between them, and for a moment, Oliver didn't move. Then, he dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. "I'll follow you wherever you lead, Sir Leonard. You've given me purpose, and I'll see this through, no matter the cost."

  Leonard reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You've grown so much, Oliver. More than you realize. I do not ask you to do this lightly, but I'm grateful for your faith. Stand—there's much to prepare."

  Oliver rose, his eyes burning with resolve. Together, they began to walk back toward the main camp, their path illuminated by the distant light of the waning moon.

  “Sir, you said they'll heal in time. But what if you miscalculate? What if the disruption causes an explosion? That would vaporize us all and probably a good chunk of Hetnia.” One of the mages Oliver had drafted asked. The squire bristled at the possibility of anyone questioning Leonard's orders, but he didn't take offense.

  "It's a risk," he admitted. "One I've weighed carefully. But the alternative—letting those wards stand and enduring a protracted siege—is far worse. We must take bold action to force Pollus' hand. The only way we have to complete our win conditions is to overthrow the board altogether. This is not something we are unused to." He concluded with the ghost of a smirk.

  The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a pale glow through his tent's flaps, and Leonard decided the planning session had gone on long enough.

  "It is time." He stood, quickly followed by the members of his strike group. A shadow followed along, not revealing itself to any but his gaze. It would serve to keep communication with the surface open.

  His cloak billowed in the morning breeze as two dozen soldiers and mages readied their mounts behind him. Despite the young ages of many, their determination was evident, though he could tell that the risks loomed heavily in their minds.

  A middle-aged mage stepped around them, murmuring an incantation. "The illusion is ready," he said, dropping his arms. "It should be enough to get close, though I suspect they'll be able to pierce it with the ancient artifacts at their disposal."

  Leonard nodded and mounted his black steed, patting its side. "Keep it active until we reach the leyline's marker," he instructed. Then, turning to his assembled group, he decided there was no need for a long speech. "Stay close to me and follow the plan. We will succeed."

  The riders kicked their horses into motion, galloping out of the camp. To an outside observer, the space they occupied appeared as empty as the surrounding fields, such was the skill of their illusionist. If there was one thing Leonard was proud of, it was how quickly his nascent state had been to develop a magical tradition.

  They reached the midpoint between their camp and the city before the first sign of trouble arose. Leonard caught a flicker of magic in the distance. A subtle but unmistakable long-range scouting spell.

  "They have eyes on us," he muttered. It was difficult to say if they had already been spotted or if the guards had simply noticed the effects of their passage, but it wouldn’t be long before the alarm was raised.

  As if on cue, the Hassel’s bells rang, shattering the still morning. Figures began appearing on the walls, armored and armed, but their movements were calm, unhurried.

  "They don't look concerned," a scout from Oliver's group remarked. He seemed surprised. Leonard wasn't. He knew very well what those wards could handle.

  Oliver smirked. "That arrogance will be their undoing."

  The group pressed on, their illusion still intact, though the soldiers on the walls now scanned the plains intently. As they neared the marker the Divination Division had identified, Leonard raised a fist, signaling the group to slow.

  The location identified by the Divination Division was barely half a mile from the walls and appeared nondescript—just more of the region's natural grassland.

  "This is the spot," he said, dismounting and patting his steed. The horse was smart enough to retreat on its own and would come back once he emerged. Such was the value of a well-bred pureblood. He gestured for the others to fan out, and the mages clustered together, preparing to cast while the soldiers formed a protective perimeter.

  Soon enough, the first shots rang out, and bullets whizzed toward them from the city walls. A mage in Leonard's group raised her hands, and a translucent shield sprung into existence, deflecting the projectiles harmlessly.

  "They're not taking us seriously," she muttered. Indeed, the cannons were still silent.

  "Let them," Leonard said. "It's time to begin."

  At his signal, the revolutionaries launched their feigned attack. Spells and gunfire erupted toward the wards, splashing harmlessly against the iridescent dome. The defenders on the walls barely flinched, confident in their protection.

  Leonard knelt, pressing his hands to the ground. His focus narrowed as he began to prepare [Earthly Fissure], a favorite spell of his, so powerful that it had once brought down the entirety of Lamprey Port's walls. Mana surged around him, and the earth trembled in response to his command.

  The soldiers and mages around him kept up the charade, intensifying their attacks as the city's defenders began to urgently sound the alarm, having finally understood that something was wrong. Spellfire and bullets rained down from the walls, though none struck the shielded group.

  Leonard's mana rose, allowing his senses to spread deeply as he searched for the leyline. The ground beneath him pulsed, cracks spreading outward in jagged lines. His eyes glowed with a golden light as the spell reached its crescendo.

  "Break!" he bellowed, slamming his hands into the earth.

  The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat before an ear-shattering roar erupted. The ground split violently, a massive fissure tearing through the grassland and extending toward the city. Trees toppled, their roots exposed by the churning earth, and the wards flickered briefly as the shockwave hit them.

  Inside the city, soldiers cried out in alarm, their previous confidence replaced with panic. The wards held, but the spell's force left the ground trembling, destabilizing fortifications and sending shockwaves through the streets.

  As the dust settled, Leonard rose, unruffled despite the immense energy he had just expended. Before him, a great rift yawned, a dark, gaping maw leading deep into the earth. He stepped to the edge and peered into the abyss. Though it was faint, he could feel the leyline in the distance.

  "Right where they said," Leonard murmured in satisfaction.

  Behind him, the revolutionaries began to regroup, shaken despite their knowledge of what was to come.

  "The path is open. Prepare to descend." He said.

  The mages exchanged nervous glances, but none questioned him. They hurried to follow, reinforcing and smoothing out the path.

  Leonard cast one last glance toward the city. Hassel's wards still stood, but the chaos within was unmistakable. The defenders had underestimated them, and that arrogance would be their undoing.

  Now, he just needed to wound the World.