Chapter 44: Warning
William runs through the streets toward the east gate, his heart thumping as he prays he isn't too late.
As he sprints through the heart of Arindale, flashes of his life here rush through his mind—the loud, bustling marketplace, the smell of freshly baked bread, familiar faces in the crowd, and the vibrant street performers he used to watch.
The scenery shifts as he enters the sparsely populated eastern district. Usually home to day laborers and blacksmith's assistants, the streets are now mostly empty of adults, who have already left in search of work for the day. Only young children remain behind, playing in the alleyways. The sound of their carefree laughter slows William's steps for a brief moment, a quiet pang of nostalgia tugging at him—until he remembers the words of the young man and forces himself back into a fast run.
Ahead, the city's east gate comes into view. Considerably smaller than the main entrance, manned by a half-asleep guard leaning against a stone pillar. The man doesn't even bat an eye as William rushes past him and out through the archway.
Outside the city gates, William scans the open road, searching for the messenger—only to be startled when a sharp, annoyed voice calls out from right behind him.
“You’re late.”
William spins around to find the same young man standing there with a look of clear exasperation. William opens his mouth to offer an apology, but the man cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
“I don't want to hear your excuses,” he says coolly. “You can call me Mark or Markus—whichever you prefer.”
Without waiting for a reply, Mark turns on his heel and begins walking toward a secluded, overgrown section along the outer city wall. “Follow me.”
William adjusts his pack and quickly hurries after him.
Upon reaching the secluded corner, William notices a sturdy, well-maintained wooden carriage parked near the wall. There is only one glaring problem.
’There’s no draft animal... Who is going to pull it? Don't tell me he's—’
William turns to look at Mark with a skeptical frown, only to find an eager, glowing grin plastered across the older boy's face.
“Who’s going to pull the carriage?” William asks dubiously.
Mark turns to him, his eyes practically beaming. “A fantastic question!”
Reaching into his side satchel, Mark pulls out a rolled parchment scroll and tosses it onto the ground in front of the carriage traces.
The moment the scroll hits the earth, a flash of blinding blue light erupts from the soil, rapidly weaving itself into an intricate glowing circle. The brilliance forces William to squint and shield his eyes, but beneath the sting of the flash, a surge of raw excitement blooms in his chest.
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‘Is this... magic?’
Through his narrowed eyelids, William watches a massive silhouette materialize within the radiance. As the light dies down, the creature comes into full view. It resembles a heavily built ox, but with two thick tails whip rhythmically behind it. As William shifts his gaze upward to its head, a third eyelid parts in the center of its forehead, revealing an eerie, glowing third eye. As William takes a step back in fear a thought emerges in his mind
’Is this... a magic beast?’
Mark turns to catch William’s stupefied expression and smiles proudly. “This is our draft animal.”
“You’re a mage?!” William exclaims out, his voice practically cracking in exasperation.
Mark lets out a chuckle. “Did you really think the academy would send some low-level clerk across the kingdom to explain magic to people?”
William falls silent, digesting the information as his mind races. A real mage... After a moment, he looks up, curiosity piqued. “Are you a professor?”
A sudden look of embarrassment washes over Mark’s face, instantly replaced by a flash of mild indignation. “Who do you think you are, kid? Professors don't waste their time on menial errands like this. I’m just a student—well, I was a student until I graduated this year. I only took this assignment because the academy pays absurdly well.”
After huffing, Mark walks over to the magic beast and begins stroking its neck, muttering something softly under his breath.
William follows slowly with small, hesitant steps, but suddenly freezes when the ox turns its head straight toward him. Its third eyelid parts, revealing the glowing eye beneath. Cold sweat instantly drenches William’s shirt, but a voice breaks the spell.
“Okay Nell, enough of your antics—don't scare the poor kid,” Mark says, resting a palm over Nell's forehead. The ox snorts and closes its third eye.
Gathering enough courage to move his trembling legs, William asks, “What... is he?”
Mark turns with a beaming grin, still stroking the beast's broad head. “This is Nell, my familiar. I just got him three months ago with the Professor’s help, and he’s going to pull us all the way to Riverstead.”
William stares at Mark, voicing the most obvious concern on his mind. “Isn't he going to frighten everyone on the road?”
“Kid, Nell is a Mirage Ox—he can cast illusions using that third eye. To everyone else, he’ll look like an ordinary draft ox. But because he’s a magical beast, he’s much sturdier and faster than any regular animal. A six-hour trek to Riverstead will take us barely two.”
After harnessing Nell to the carriage, Mark steps up beside William.
Before William can say a word, his vision suddenly blurs and his thoughts scatter. The dizzying sensation passes in an instant, and when the world snaps back into focus, the three-eyed beast is gone. In its place stands an ordinary white ox tied to the harness. William quickly glances toward its rear—sure enough, a single tail swishes lazily against its flank.
William turns to look at Mark, who wears a smug, proud grin. “Come on, climb aboard.”
Mark swings himself up into the driver's seat. William steps into the cabin, which turns out to be surprisingly modest compared to their extraordinary draft beast. Looking around, he finds a clean, sturdy interior with leather-cushioned benches, but nothing about it strikes him as magical.
As the carriage jerks forward and rolls onto the main road, William leans toward the small front window to watch Nell. He stares intently at the ox’s steady stride, searching for any lingering trace of its true form—the third eye or the double tail—but finds nothing. With a quiet sigh, he gives up and settles back into his seat.
“Hey... you were a student at the academy, right?” William asks, leaning closer to the front window with eager curiosity.
Mark lazily glances back over his shoulder. “What of it?”
“Can you tell me what it's like there?” William asks, a hint of hesitation softening his voice.
Mark lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “Let me crush those wishful fantasies right now. If you think spending time at the academy is going to be easy or exciting, you're dead wrong. The path of magic is paved with blood and loneliness. You'll face things straight out of other people's nightmares—the dark tales adults tell children to scare them into sleeping will become your everyday reality.”
Mark pauses, his eyes fixing on the open road ahead, his voice dropping into a cold, serious register. “There's a saying among mages: The path of magic is walked with blood-soaked steps into the unknown, under the gaze of countless hungry eyes watching from the shadows...”