Chapter 16: Ominous Signs
Just a few hundred meters from where the group had been ambushed, Gawain found the small wooden cabin reduced to ruins.
It lay collapsed among the trees, its charred remains indicating it had been destroyed by a fire that burned from the inside out. Yet the flames hadn’t spread beyond this spot—perhaps a timely rainfall had saved the surrounding forest. Sir Byron examined the traces around the cabin and estimated the fire had occurred over two weeks ago.
Hetty detected a faint, almost dissipated magical residue at the scene.
“What we saw in the Shadow Realm was probably just a reflection,” Gawain said, gazing at the ruined cabin in the clearing. “This wild mage lived here in seclusion for years. The place lies beyond the borders of the territory, so even hunters never came this way. No one knew a hermit lived here.”
“The question is… how did the accident happen?” Hetty frowned. “There’s only a weak magical focal point here, and the mage’s power was low. Even if one of his experiments went awry and burned down the cabin, it couldn’t have created a long-lasting projection in the Shadow Realm—let alone conjured such a powerful vengeful mist. The magic required for all that is far beyond what a lone wild mage could muster.”
“Maybe this notebook will clear things up,” Gawain said, handing Hetty a worn journal.
It was the same notebook they had obtained from Betty in the Shadow Realm—a diary and research log belonging to the unnamed wild mage.
Following Gawain’s instructions, Hetty flipped to the latter half and began reading carefully.
“Year 729 of Ansu, Fire Moon, XX day. It’s been half a year since moving here. I found a magical focal point on the edge of the Cecil family’s lands. Though its strength can’t compare to the public focal points in the City of a Thousand Towers, it’s enough to sustain my laboratory. The elemental forces here are simple and stable; Annie’s condition should improve.
“Year 729, Harvest Moon, XX day. Annie seems better—she hasn’t had an episode in a long time. I don’t know if it’s the environment or if my rituals and potions are truly working. The focal point’s power is weak, and even with amplification arrays, my rituals’ effects are limited. Maybe I should revisit the formulas I once derived… The Arcanum always mocked my calculations, but since I left them, they can’t interfere here.
“Year 730, Mist Moon, XX day. The formulas and derivations are exactly as expected! No, the facts are unfolding just as I calculated—the new amplification method greatly enhances the focal point’s power! With this extra magical energy, I can begin the next phase of Annie’s treatment. Though she’s barely had any episodes these past months, the treatment must continue—she can’t endure more setbacks.
“Year 731, Frost Moon, XX day. After treatment, Annie can get out of bed and even cooked a meal! Sausages and vegetable soup—I feel like I haven’t tasted anything this good in a hundred years, though the sausages were burnt and the soup lacked salt… This proves my treatment works. As long as the focal point remains stable, Annie’s recovery is within reach…”
After this, the diary mostly records daily life with his daughter. Hetty skimmed through until the last few pages, where the handwriting became hurried and chaotic:
“Year 734, Frost Moon, XX day. Annie relapsed. Damn it!!
“I don’t know what went wrong. All treatments followed the plan; every ritual step was correct, the potions too—years of use without issue! Yet Annie relapsed, worse than ever before. I must find the cause quickly. I’ll record every detail… I will find the reason. Annie will be fine…
“Year 734, Frost Moon, XX day. Annie shows no improvement. New potions have no effect. She’s weakening and… drifting away from this world. This morning, her hands looked like mist—transparent—and her face was covered in blisters. The world is rejecting her, pushing her into the Shadow Realm. What can I do…
“Year 734, Mist Moon, XX day. That damned sun, its dark red patterns mock my helplessness! I finally found the problem but can’t fix it… The elements are accumulating—abnormally so. Magic is surging beyond what this weak focal point can contain. Even removing the amplification arrays didn’t help. The wise choice would be to move Annie away from this elemental buildup, but she’s been here too long. Her body resonates with the elemental environment, which has prolonged her life… but it will also be her death!
“Year 734, Mist Moon, XX day. The entire region’s magic is unstable, churning violently. The border of Cecil’s lands feels like it’s fallen into a legendary sea of magic. I can no longer reverse the changes in Annie. Half her body has already left the material world. This morning, she said the whole house looked black and white. Perhaps… I must try another path…
“Year 735, Fire Moon. After long preparation, Annie’s weakness has reached its limit.
“This is my only chance. No other choice.
“If she can’t live in the material world, then I’ll choose another path.
“The ritual for shadow transformation is recorded in the books, but it requires unimaginable magical power. For me, it might be possible. I used new amplification formulas and array designs, harnessing the surging magic here. The energy stored in the focal point has been suppressed for months, and now it’s barely enough. When the sun reaches its zenith, at peak magic, I will begin the transformation.
“Annie, hold on. Father will save you, and I will accompany you into the Shadow Realm. We will live there together, and you will never suffer again.”
The diary ended there.
Hetty was about to close the notebook when Gawain suddenly pointed to the corner of the last page. “There are a few words here.”
Hetty focused and saw a blotch of black ink. At first, she thought it was a spilled ink stain, but on closer inspection, she realized it was messy handwriting made with ink-stained fingers:
“Magic out of control… The sun is red…”
Puzzled, Hetty repeated the words aloud: “The sun is red… How could the sun be red?”
“Could it be related to the recent sunspot outbreak?” Rebecca suddenly recalled. “That was over two weeks ago—the sun’s surface had far more sunspots than usual. If the mage was confused at the time, he might have thought the sun was red…”
Hetty blinked, seeming to accept Rebecca’s explanation. She then shook the notebook in her hands. “This journal explains a lot. It seems this unknown mage set up a large magical array here to treat his daughter, then conceived the desperate idea to transform both himself and Annie into shadow forms to prolong their lives. But the ritual went awry due to the magical surge, causing the fire two weeks ago, the formation of the vengeful mist, and what the Ancestor saw in the Shadow Realm…”
“None of that is the main point,” Gawain suddenly interrupted. “Whether it’s the vengeful mist or the cabin in the Shadow Realm, the notebook explains those directly. What I want you to focus on are two details mentioned here—one about the dark red patterns on the sun’s surface, and the other about the massive sunspot outbreak.”
Noticing Gawain’s serious expression, Hetty grew tense. “Ancestor, those two events…”
Gawain waved his hand. “Also, the magical surge the mage mentioned—you two, as mages, must have sensed it?”
Hetty and Rebecca exchanged a glance and nodded. “There have been several magical surges in the Cecil lands recently, but surges are normal—after all, all magic comes from the sun, which is constantly changing. The fluctuations in magic here have been frequent but not alarming.”
Gawain looked at them both and spoke slowly: “In the year 1736 of Gondor’s calendar, reports came from across the empire of dark red patterns appearing on the sun’s surface. In 1738, the largest sunspot outbreak in recorded history covered nearly half the sun’s surface with red patches. That same year, twenty-six provinces reported widespread magical surges—not intense, but covering nearly two-thirds of the empire’s territory. In 1739, on the day of the Blood Sun, the entire nation was shrouded in a dark red sky. No disasters occurred then; instead, a remarkable number of magically gifted infants were born. Records show nearly a third of newborns that day had innate elemental affinity. Resonance stones were in such demand that newborn testing centers ran out. Scholars declared that day the ‘Dawn of Magic.’ But also that year, the empire’s largest magical power facility near the capital, the Deep Blue Well, exploded. The cause was chaotic, overwhelming magic flooding the focal point, which the extraction arrays couldn’t handle, leading to a core meltdown…”
Gawain paused, and Hetty’s face paled as she added quietly, “…In 1740, the magical tide erupted, and the greatest human empire was destroyed within months.”
(End of chapter)