Chapter 93: They Are Making Rifts?
The next morning came cold and gray.
Clouds hung low over Elandra like a blanket of ash, casting a somber hue over the city’s stone towers and copper domes. A thin fog curled along the battlements, and the banners of the Adventurer’s Guild snapped softly in the breeze.
Inigo stood by the MRAP in the courtyard of the inner citadel, arms crossed, staring at a newly delivered crate beside the vehicle. It had arrived from the Arcane Registry just minutes ago—delivered by two mages wearing deep green robes marked with the sigil of the Royal Seers. One of them had carried a sealed scroll; the other, the crate itself.
Inside the crate was a single item: a black compass-like disc etched with fine golden lines. It pulsed faintly with mana, spinning lazily even though no magnetic field should have affected it.
Arienne examined it now, holding the disc between her palms like a sacred relic. "It’s called a Tracefinder. It uses residual mana signatures embedded in artifacts to detect the general direction of their creator. It’s not exact, but if we follow its pull, we’ll get close to where that warbinder was created."
"How close?" Lyra asked, checking the fletching on a new batch of arrows.
"Close enough to smell the blood magic," Arienne said grimly.
Korrik thumped his chest with a mailed fist. "Good. I’m ready to knock on their door."
"Then let’s not waste time," Inigo said, climbing into the MRAP’s driver seat. "Mount up. The faster we move, the less time they have to hide."
They rolled out an hour later, past the western gate of Elandra. Guards saluted as the reinforced vehicle passed through the final checkpoint, their expressions grim but respectful.
This time, they had company.