Barb dropped through the portal, smoke curling up from her body. She dropped to the floor of the cold cave and let out a heaving cough that racked her entire body, expelling soot from her lungs.

“Barb!” Wizen exclaimed, rushing to her side. His fingers flew to his side and pulled a vial full of glistening green liquid free, popping the wax seal off in the same movement. He brought it to her mouth and tipped it in.

Barb drank greedily, wrapping her lips around the lip of the bottle to keep herself from spilling any of it. Magic worked its way through her body and she let out a relieved breath. The burns that covered her body quickly started to turn pink and pull back.

“What in the Damned Plains happened?” Wizen demanded. “It was meant to be a fast in-and-out! How did you get so badly injured?”

“Father figured us out,” Barb said through a cough. She wiped her lips with the back of a hand and grimaced. “His kids were there. Both Vermil and Brayden, though it seemed that Vermil was acting on his own volition.”

“Children gave you this much difficulty?” Wizen asked, trying and failing to contain the shock in his voice. “A Rank 4 and – what was Vermil? A Rank 3 at best?”

“Rank 4,” Barb said grimly. The wounds covering her body continued to heal and she pushed herself upright. A frown crossed her lips and she looked down at her missing right arm. The burn at its stump was fading, but the arm showed no sign of regrowing. “What kind of potion did you give me, Wizen? Am I not worth better than this drivel?”

“Drivel? That potion was over fifty thousand gold,” Wizen said. His eyes followed Barb’s and his brow creased in disbelief and confusion. “What happened to you? Did they have an Enforcer lying in wait? Brayden is competent, but not that competent. You shouldn’t have had any trouble.”

“It wasn’t Brayden. It was Vermil. He was the stronger of the two, and by an enormous margin.”

“Vermil was? Impossible. He barely beat Gentil.”

“He’s a Formation master,” Barb said flatly. The last of her wounds faded away. Her missing arm made no moves to return. It was as if the potion had registered her ‘whole’ state as missing an arm. “And he’s got one of the most wicked Formations I’ve ever seen. His domain put him at mid Rank 4, but he cut straight through my own domain and would have killed me if I hadn’t dodged in time.”

“Impossible,” Wizen said. His mind spun as he searched through all the information he’d gathered. Vermil had been an anomaly. Father’s least favorite child and a lecherous pervert. Something had changed in the man some time ago and he’d started growing in power, but nothing had indicated the rate of growth was this intense.

There was a chance that he’d met with someone strong enough to feed him Runes, but as to who, Wizen didn’t know. His closest allies were an exiled servant from the Torrin Family, his students with an all-too-common vendetta against the nobles, and an over-eager girl with an appetite far too large for her body.

Even if Jalen himself had decided to step in and deliver runes straight to Vermil, this result shouldn’t have been possible. Mastering Formations in mere months, not to mention having such a Formation strong enough to nearly kill someone a whole rank above him… the chances of that happening were astronomically low.

Which means one of two things. Either Vermil has been a plant from the start and has been hiding his power this entire time, or he got his hands on one of the most powerful Master Runes to ever exist. I can’t think of anything else that would let him challenge Barb. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Between the two options, the former was the most likely. Father had always liked sowing his seeds far in advance. This one had just slipped under his nose. Wizen cursed under his breath. He’d been convinced that he’d gotten the upper hand on Father, but the cunning bastard had been a step ahead.

“Damn it all,” Wizen cursed. “I’m sorry, Barb. I was confident–”

“I don’t blame you, hon,” Barb said with a curt laugh that contained all the anger that her words lacked. “Can’t predict everything. It’s a miracle everything has lined up as well as it has this far. An arm is a small price to pay.”

“It is not. Things will be harder now than they ever were,” Wizen said. “You’re one of my strongest warriors. I can’t afford to waste your power like this. We don’t have anything to spare. Arbitage will doubtlessly have moved the key now. I will have to act myself. It’s the only way to keep anyone else from–”

Wizen’s words died on his lips as Barb opened her remaining hand. Nestled within it was a glistening golden key. Thin purple inscriptions ran along its surface and glistened in anticipation. The power within it was so faint that he could barely feel it, but the key’s appearance was undeniable.

“You got it,” Wizen breathed.

“Barely,” Barb said with a chuckle. “Had to torch the entire room and nearly kill myself in the process. I’m not immune to my own fire when it’s hot enough to rip through my domain. I knew we weren’t getting another shot at this. Not an easy one, at least. There was too much on the line to fail.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Wizen asked, taking the key from Barb. His throat tightened, the hand of the past wringing it dry. The key was so light. So small. So powerful.

It had been the only thing he’d thought about for years, to the point where he’d started to wonder if he’d ever actually get his hands on it. The power the artifact represented was immense. It was spatial magic perfected – something that humanity had failed to achieve for years upon years.

His studies had shown him countless ways to turn it into a deadly weapon. It possessed the ability to level entire cities, were it properly connected to a few other choice artifacts and controlled by the proper wielder.

Wizen couldn’t have cared less. There was only one thing he wanted the key for, and it wasn’t any power that could be claimed on this plane of existence.

“Rest, Barb,” Wizen said. He pulled a chain out from his pocket and threaded it through the key. He hung it around his neck and tucked it into his shirt. “You have done well. I will find a way to deal with your arm. The rune that did that somehow completely severed your arm, both body and soul. It is a powerful one, clearly aided by its Formation.”

“Are we going to go after it?”

“Want it for yourself, do you?” Wizen let out a dry laugh. “Perhaps. But not now. We must keep sight of our goal. Father is a deadly opponent, and it seems Vermil is a card that we did not place. We cannot afford any distractions or roadblocks. There is only one thing that matters.”

Barb gave him a sharp nod. “I suppose so. I’ll hold you to that promise about my arm, Wizen. I can’t bake with one arm. Not as well as I could with two, at least.”

“The Damned Plains will possess all which we seek. Even if there is no cure, there will be an acceptable replacement.”

Barb brushed her burnt clothes off and rose to her feet with an unsteady wobble. She adjusted her shirt and let out a sigh. “I’m going to need a new apron as well.”

“It will be arranged for. Go rest.”

“And you?”

“I will do what I always do,” Wizen replied. His hand lifted to the key resting against his chest and his eyes darkened. “I will prepare. This phase of our work is complete. Now that we have the key, I will gather the rest of the five. We must move quickly. Father will doubtlessly set his own plans into motion when he discovers the key is lost. He must not be allowed to interfere.”

“Something tells me that he will anyway.”

“Most likely,” Wizen said. He spun and started for the exit of the cave. “But he always has, and it has not stopped us yet. This time, the reason for that is you. But, from here on out, I will be taking a much more aggressive position. We will not be caught off guard once more. The Damned Plains will open to us, and I will take what is mine.”