Alex was painting Elder Blodeuwedd’s symbols along a glass enclosure in the trophy room of Kaz-Mowang’s palace. “If I can drain the mana, we’ll be in business. Watch the doors. All of them. Tell me if anything’s coming.”

“Gotcha, we’ll keep watch,” Ripp said. “Get that case open quick.”

“And try not to be killed by some devilish trap,” Kyembe added as he let go of Alex’s shoulder.

“I’ll do my best.” The young wizard said dryly.

In his hand, the power of the aeld staff thrummed as symbols formed across the glass surface. Mana—undetectable even to Alex’s sharp senses—leaked from the case, flowing free, disappearing into the air.

His plan was simple: he’d drain enough mana from the trap to be able to lift the glass case and take the Traveller’s artefact. He’d summoned an earth elemental earlier, thinking it could break the case, but the glass turned out to be harder than steel and the spikes were triggered, skewering the stone elemental as easily as butter.

Time was ticking along—the only choice he had now was to try and disarm the trap.

Alex frowned, examining the flow of mana with his senses, slowly finding its source.

In the column beneath the glass case, he detected a cleverly disguised magic circuit. Cleverly disguised, intricate in design, and maddeningly powerful. To learn spells, he’d had to break down a lot of magic circuits, but even with his level of skill, he doubted he could craft anything like this.

And that was the problem.

‘I can’t disarm it without opening it, and I don’t think it’s just going to let me start mucking around with it. It’s much more complex than those lightning forks in Ikarrash’s fortress.’ Alex sensed the flow of energy as it poured from the glass. ‘And if it has its own power source, then it’ll take me forever to drain enough mana to shut it off.’

The palace quaked, an explosion rocking it.

Lava lapped at the lower walls of the chamber.

Alex looked around.

‘There must be a faster way to do this,’ he thought, intently examining the platform, column, and case. ‘Think, Alex. C’mon think. You’ve got a trap. You can’t break it. Claygon might be able to punch through the glass, but if he hits it hard enough, he could also smash what’s inside. No, you need to do something different. Drain it faster with more symbols? No…maybe…no, I doubt I can break the columns. Come on, think. Adapt. Think. Adapt. Think—”

His eyes considered the platform carefully, it was supported by flight magic. ‘Flight magic.’

“Alex, you really are a fool sometimes!”

“That’s it! The lava!” He made a mental calculation.

“Okay, got it!”

Pointing his staff at the floating platform, he painted it in mana draining symbols. Mana flowed from it in a wave, spreading through the air and dissipating.

The platform shook and shuddered, its power beginning to fade.

“What’re you doing?” Ripp’s voice called out.

“Opening a door,” Alex said. “Hold on, let me concentrate…”

He watched, sensing the platform’s power ebbing away.

Then, it began to plunge.

And the young wizard flew after it.

Platform, column and glass case plummeted, landing atop the lava.

Glass heated, bobbing on the surface.

It cracked.

Gold melted.

The platform started to sink. Hovering above—protected by cold energy from his summoned elementals—Alex watched.

“Come on…” he muttered, squinting against the heat. “Come on…”

He could still feel mana draining from the glass.

The platform was being consumed, disappearing into the lava.

Molten rock bubbled around the column. Alex’s heart was pounding, roaring in his ears. Anxiety brought with it a storm of questions.

What if the trap never breaks?

What if this one chance to understand the Traveller’s past disappears under burning lava deep within the hells?

“Come on!” he growled, eyes fixed on the pillar. It was cracking. “Fail, you stubborn bastard, fail!”

Then—as though obeying his command—another crack sounded.

Mana flared bright for an instant, nearly overwhelming his senses, then suddenly stopped.

The power leaking from the glass died.

Something shifted.

The column sank faster.

Alex gasped, diving toward the Traveller’s object. Heat struck him like a wall. His elementals cried out.

But he clenched his teeth, raising his staff. “Sorry, friend.”

A wave of surprise and confusion rose from the aeld as he drove the butt of the staff into the glass case, shattering it, sending shards flying into the lava.

The palace shuddered, an explosion sounded in the distance. The column shook. Lava sprayed.

And the cushion began to topple.

“No!” Alex screamed.

Drops of liquid rock sprayed, striking the cushion, igniting it. The Traveller’s artefact seemed to be calling out to him, every instinct wanted him to leap forward and grab it.

But, that would have meant instant death as the lava was surging, the heat rising.

…so he cast Wizard’s Hands.

They darted through molten rock, a pair grabbing the prized object then soaring toward Alex as he retreated from the intense heat. He almost screamed for joy when they dropped it in his waiting hand.

But every sound he was about to make failed him.

Something shifted.

Power inside the rectangular artefact stirred, reaching out, touching something deep in his core. His vision blurred; shifting images danced before him as if through a haze.

Dark voids appeared with winking stars burning in the distance. Alien oceans of green. An endless sky dotted with hundreds of islands floating so high, they couldn’t be seen from the lands below.

Cascading rainbow-coloured lights brimming with stars, monsters that dwarfed mountains and much more, appeared to Alex…

Yet, certain images kept repeating: cities much like Generasi, but bigger, filled with towers of steel and glass. Their light filled the air both day and night, and their sounds were endless.

Within one city he saw a small apartment within a giant tower…and he felt a strange nostalgia.

He was drawn to it…pulled toward it…

And then the images were gone and he was visible again.

Hearing the sound of combat.

“There you are!” Ripp shouted, blurring through the stout legs of a powerfully built pazuzite. “Where were you?”

“Wha-What?”Alex murmured, confusion creasing his brow.

Above him, the swiftling raced from door to door, slashing demons streaming into the chamber. Kyembe fought by the front entrance with the fierceness of a demon himself, his hellfire-sheathed sword cutting through, and combusting monsters with each stroke.

Alex blinked repeatedly.

What happened? He’d been facing away from the front doorway.

Now, he was facing it.

Where had he gone?

He shook his head.

He didn’t have time to consider any of that now.

“Let’s get out of here!” he shouted, holding his prize close and flying up to join Ripp and Kyembe. All around the chamber, trophies protected in display cases floated: some were of great value, while others…held little worth beyond sentiment.

But, all were secured in their cases: most likely trapped.

He would have liked to raid the chamber for everything it had to offer, but there was no time for that. Better to leave right now with their prize and lives, than stay and lose everything.

With that thought in mind, he put the artefact in his satchel for safekeeping then raced to support his allies. He conjured air elementals, sending them at Kaz-Mowang’s guards, lighting sparking, wind blowing them off bridges and into the lava below.

Many devils were immune to the fire’s bite…but the demons were not.

Shrieking, they sank into molten rock.

Nodding at each other in satisfaction, Alex and Ripp flew to Kyembe, supporting the Spirit Killer as he burned and slashed his way through the remaining demon guards. When he was done, he spat on the fiends.

“None escaped.” Kyembe wiped sweat from his brow. “The path is clear. But I am puzzled, where did you go, Alex? One minute you were here, the next you were gone.”

“I…I don’t know,” the young wizard admitted. “The instant the trophy touched my hand, I started seeing and hearing all these strange sights and sounds. I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it, then suddenly, I was back here and you and Ripp were fighting those guards. I really don’t know what happened. But, here, let me make us invisible again, and we can get out of here while you tell me what happened with those demons.”

Ripp shook his head. “We had a bit of rotten luck as it turned out: a patrol came by with one of those thousand-eyed bastards and it spotted us. Next thing ya know, they’re all over us, some rushed in to keep us from leaving by the front entrance, others went for the other doors. There were enough of them that I guess they thought they could handle us, so they didn’t go for extra help.”

“The vile, arrogant things were busy chanting about how they would be taking glory for themselves, and of the rewards they would receive from their master. So they were in no hurry to seek help or raise alarms. A bad choice: we had swifter rewards for them.” The Spirit Killer wiped demon blood from his blade.

Alex had to admit, he was warming to the man. A lot.

“Well, I guess it’s time for our rewards,” he said as they vanished. He dismissed the elementals and the trio began flying along the corridor. “We’ll meet up with Thundar and the others, then get the hell out of here.”

“Aye, just keep your ears and eyes sharp,” Ripp said. “When you think you’ve won is often when you’re in the most danger.”

It only took thirty heartbeats for the swiftling’s words to be proven true.

Initially, things looked bright.

They passed tiashivas racing through the halls, on high alert, but none of the many-eyed giants that could see through their illusions.

But—just as they rounded a corner—another troop of tiashivas entered the same hall they were flying through. Alex held his breath at the sight of them: they were accompanied by a creature he’d never seen before; a hulking demon with red rimmed pig-like eyes, a long snout, and scales covering most of its body.

Malice and surliness oozed from its beady eyes as it glowered at a…tia…shiva…

“Oh, no…” Alex whispered, his eyes falling on the familiar tiashiva, who had stopped dead in the hall. “No, no no…there’s no way I’m that unlucky.”

As it turned out: he was that unlucky.

“Wait!” Burn-Saw pointed his weapon in Alex’s direction. “There! Hannar-cim’s power! It flared before, but it’s growing stronger now! Her servant hides near us!”

“What the hells?” Ripp whispered.

“Such things can happen,” Kyembe said. “Do we run or fight?”

Alex’s mind whirled, trying to find the best solution.

The choice was abruptly made for him.

As the giant demon squinted in their direction, its nostrils flaring, Alex watched as a wave of stones arced toward the fiend’s back.

A storm of cracks.

Flashes of light.

And a host of muffled explosions echoed through the hall.

The pig-faced demon squealed as its back blew open, catapulting the massive creature forward, it dropped on surprised tiashivas, turning them to paste.

It struggled to stand.

As smoke drifted along the hall, growls from deep within a dozen beasts vibrated through the air. Ezerak’s painted monsters surged through the smog, leaping on the guards, shredding and tearing at them with abandon.

A trio of Thundars charged through the smoke, a battlecry to his ancestors filling the air. Two swung maces, adding to the confusion, while the third leapt on the pinned demon. With a grunt, the minotaur raised his mace above its skull, then his arms fell, the weapon struck home over and over until…

…a loud crack came.

The monster squealed as Ripp appeared, his knives carving the demon’s thick neck.

A heartbeat later Kyembe shimmered into being, his sword sweeping through demons like wheat.

Alex wasn’t watching them; the battle was well in hand.

His focus was fully on Burn-Saw.

Oreca’s Fall Island played over in his head like it happened yesterday.

The tiashiva stumbled away from his allies, grinding his teeth in rage.

He was not the only one consumed by wrath.

Alex’s cloak of invisibility faded.

“Hey! Do you…have any idea how much trouble you caused me, you slippery bastard?” he was gripping his staff so hard, his knuckles turned white. He could feel the touch of mania on his mind. All the months of summoning, searching futilely. Every frustration. Every disappointment.

It all came back in a tidal wave.

And he raised his staff.

“You’re not getting away, this time. Do you remember trying to kill me and killing a bunch of people on a beach in Generasi? You scarred me, remember that? And you tried to kill people close to me. Then you ran, but you’re not getting another chance to run.”

And so Alex began summoning.

Though his summons weren’t as numerous as Ezerak’s horde, he conjured an army of his own.

Burn-Saw’s three eyes grew wide as a horde of hellhounds, hell-boars and air elementals came for him. The contemptuous tiashiva was snarling as he met them head-on, powerful swings blasting away summoned monsters, sending them back to their home planes.

But, for each one he banished, Alex conjured two more.

The monsters crawled all over him.

His strikes became less powerful and more frantic.

Battlecries changed in pitch from fierce to desperate.

Until at last, he was overwhelmed.

Lightning struck from all sides, paralysing him. A hell-boar slammed into his gut, knocking his breath out and toppling the scarred demon. He was trampled and gored. The tiashiva fought desperately to crawl to his feet…

…but an army of hellhounds surrounded him, jaws dripping.

Then they lunged from all directions. He had no chance to flee. Screaming beneath the weight and jaws of swarms of summoned monsters, Alex’s elusive quarry—at long last—stopped screaming.

It was even more satisfying than he could have hoped it would be.