It had begun as a simple apprenticeship in ice magic. Studying with Rehtul, Felicity hoped, would lend her discipline over the untamed magic roiling inside her. One month in, however, she found herself riding a bumpy wagon through a foul wasteland. She looked up from a book she could hardly focus on and sighed.

“Blasted rotten egg smell.” She pinched her nose. “I would rather be in Dheathain right now.” Humidity and everything… at least it smelled nicer there.

Ahead stood their destination, the observatory. The lonesome tower was rigid and practical, as one expected of Alerian architecture. There was nothing for miles, save chill wind and barren black dunes.

Felicity stood up, brushing dust off her long-sleeved shirt. With a yawn, she stretched her stiff muscles. She loathed sitting for so long. Having only a bitter mage and grouchy wagon driver for company did not help. Her swords rattled against her sides, bow hanging on her back. At least she remembered those in their hurry to leave, unlike her gambeson… and the money pound kept in it. She vaulted over the side of the wagon, making it shake and groan. Her boots hit the ground in a puff of ash, tiny black clouds.

“Aye!” the driver shouted. “You can’t jostle m’ wagon like-”

“I can do whatever I damn please!” Felicity glared back, before stomping off ahead with billowing ash in her wake.

Rehtul followed after her, and soon they stood before monstrous brass doors. Before she could knock, the doors swung open. She raised her fists, ready for trouble, but relaxed when she saw who awaited them. Elijah Belov. His brown hair was longer and messier than when she saw him last. Felicity felt pressure from his eyes as they passed from Rehtul to her, narrowing into a glare.

Was he still mad about Salvar?

Elijah sighed. “You’d best come in, then.”

The heavy doors slammed behind them as they entered, echoing off the cold stone. Their host led them to a room surrounded with looming bookstands, around all corners. Felicity sighed. She was really getting sick of libraries. The group approached the stone table in the center.

Elijah sat at the far end with a worn sigh. “I was starting to think no one would answer.”

Felicity took a step forward. “We answered.”

“I didn’t call you here; I called Rehtul. He is a respected scholar and mage, dependable and disciplined. You carry magic around like a thunderstorm in a glass jar. It’s so loud I can barely think straight. You're a disaster waiting to happen.”

Well. Felicity stood there gawking for a moment, mouth hanging open. He was definitely still mad. Bringing her powers into it was a low blow, though. She met the man’s glare, seething as she grit her teeth.

“You sure about that?” She would do everything in her power to prove him wrong.