Page 1

Chapter

One

NORA

Dusky white spotted caps brushed past my biceps, fleshy fungi tall enough to hide even my bulky frame if I ducked behind them. The ripe crop of mushrooms was large enough now to split a person in half...if they were made out of metal instead of soft fungi flesh. The mental image of me hefting one of the mushrooms by the base and using it to bash the farm overseer over the head with it flashed through my mind, graphic and detailed, his head caving in as the mushroom turned weapon caved in his skull, cutting through him to split his body in half like those action horror movies I used to watch in what now seemed like another life.

I grinned at the mental image.

A jolt of electricity zapped me, causing me to gasp with the sudden shock of pain.

I lurched forward, wrenched out of my violent daydream. I didn't glance in the overseer's direction. He was relaxing in the gazebo in the center of the field, where he could see all of our progress and send out little shocks when we slowed, or if he was bored.

I wasn't splitting anyone in half with a giant mushroom.

I sighed as I waded between the rows of gargantuan fungi, eggshell grit crunching under my boots while the caldera’s rim cast a jagged shadow across the field. The mushrooms reached my waist, thick, ruby-brown caps anchored to dense stalks shot with silver veins that pulsed with the eerie glow of magic. I flexed my hands, sore and aching from the work. The harvest shift was the worst. At least the new overseer was better than the one in my first year here. That one had pain magic instead of electricity. She didn't give out little shocks. Any time she decided to 'encourage' me, it would take me to the ground, my muscles seizing as every thought fled my body but the focus of pain.

I brushed the memory from my mind.

There was no point in focusing on the past. It was gone forever.

The only thing I could do was work and wait for the moment I knew was coming.

Soon, he would be here. It had been a year.

“Pulse,” I said.

I felt a tug on my magic as a ribbon of pale air uncoiled from my familiar’s wings. Zeph was no bigger than a kestrel, all translucent feathers and whirling runes that pulsed cobalt when he moved. His downdraft lifted in a tight vortex over the nearest cap. Spores shimmered up like powdered bronze. I traced a small symbol in the air, letting the golden light of my magic fill it as I cast the spell. A small wind swirled around the copper cloud, and with a twist of my wrist, I guided it into the tin shaker at my belt, spores pinging off the rim before settling.

They didn't teach many spells to mundanes like me, just the ones we needed to do our work.

I knelt down, grabbing the mushroom at the base. I tensed, ready to put the force into my muscles that had gotten strong over the years here. I was already strong when I applied to theOrder Academy. That strength and Zeph were the reasons I was assigned to the fields.

I gripped the base a little tighter. One strong twist and the whole thing surrendered with a wet pop. Flesh like firm dough pressed against my palm. This batch would dry into flour; the kitchens would grind the protein-rich caps and fold the powder into their creations. I reached up to grab the head of it, folding it down with another crack, then the whole thing went into the other sack that was on my back.

I’d gotten used to its weight, and my body had changed over the years I worked in these fields. Squatting, kneeling, twisting, lifting - they were everyday motions as I worked through the cyclical harvest, fields of mushrooms that were planted without worry of the season changing. The only focus was to have enough fresh product to make the dishes served to the students and the army.

My daily quota had increased recently.

It meant more weight, more strength, longer hours.

Forward. Three paces. Gather. Kneel. Twist. Lift. Forward.

Sweat rolled down my forehead, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. I could feel the dust smear into mud across my skin and grit, knowing that a hot shower was hours away. With the sudden increase in my quota, I knew I would be out here until after the sun long set in the night air, my sweat cooling to chill me to the bone.

I heard the clanking of armor, but I didn't pause to watch. This morning, more soldiers for the Order army had arrived, marching through the fort, which was the only way in or out of this caldera. It blocked the singular opening in the steep rock walls that surrounded the school grounds. Their gleaming armor clicked in time with Zeph’s wingbeats as they strode from the entrance down the main path parallel to the mushroom fields.

Something big had to be coming to have that many soldiers come to the school.

I'd heard the whispers in the commons.

He was back, the Chaos God had returned.

Not that it meant anything to me. Mundanes like me grew up in what the fae and their ilk called the 'mundane realm.' We didn't grow up with stories of the great battles between Chaos and Order, between deities that walked among us. Supposedly, there was a Goddess trapped under the commons itself.

I shook my head at that thought.

The only thing that mattered was getting out of here.