It took Raith several minutes to understand what he was looking at.
Rubble. Burning buildings. Someone screaming in the distance.
He turned in a slow circle, trying to piece it together, until his eyes landed on a familiar storefront. A tea shop. The one he used to visit in the Merchant’s District of Beckhaven. He had taken Camellia there countless times. Sat at one of those outdoor tables, drinking tea and talking about bright plans for the future.
Now, everything around it was gone. Flattened.
Somehow, the café still stood, battered, but upright. One of the outdoor tables remained in perfect order, two neat little chairs sitting side by side amid the ruin, absurdly untouched by the devastation surrounding them.
Raith stumbled forward, dazed, moving down the street and calling out.
“Hello? Is anyone here? Can anyone hear me?”
No answer.
He searched the wreckage for survivors, but even as he did, he knew it wouldn’t matter. Whatever had done this was beyond anything he could possibly help with.
The shattered fa?ade of the Merscales Bank loomed ahead, a jagged skeleton of stone and glass. It looked as though someone had smashed it apart with a hammer the size of an ox cart. The charred husks of bodies lay strewn throughout the rubble. A final stand that the defenders lost.
Something about that image jolted him from his stupor.
It didn’t matter how he had gotten here, or how he had missed the disaster that had struck Beckhaven. He needed to make sure his family was safe.
He broke into a sprint, faster than he’d ever run in his life.
The Huecrafters District was less destroyed than the Merchant’s District, but the scars were everywhere. Collapsed roofs, shattered windows, the sound of wailing echoing from an open window somewhere above. He didn’t stop to look.
He ran straight home.
The door to his house was still standing. He burst through it.
“Mom? Dad? Derry? Is anyone here?”
Sobbing came from the kitchen.
He found his mother there, sitting at the table, covered in dirt and ash. On the table in front of her were two military patches, and a crumpled sheet of paper that had been hastily smoothed back out.
“Mom,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Are you okay? Where are Dad and Derry?”
She didn’t look up, just kept crying into her arm. When she finally did, her eyes flicked to the patches, and she broke down all over again.
Raith reached out to comfort her…and his hand passed straight through her.
He froze.
Heart pounding, Raith looked back down at the patches and finally recognized them. His father and brother’s.
“No,” he whispered. His throat closed up. “No, no, no…”
The denial barely made it past his lips. He didn’t need to be told, he knew. They were gone, killed defending the city from whatever horror had struck.
He stumbled backward out of the kitchen, shaking his head.
Outside, movement caught his eye. A man was leaving the herbalist’s shop down the street with a bag full of goods. Looting. Rage pushed aside some of the grief that clenched his heart.
“Stop! Get back here!” Raith shouted, his voice breaking.
The thief didn’t even look his way. He glanced up and down the road as though making sure no one was watching, but his eyes slid right past Raith.
Another man appeared from the other direction, limping on a crutch, his leg bloodied.
“Mr. Glanton!” Raith called, recognizing his neighbor. “What happened? Please, tell me what’s going on!”
No response. The injured man hobbled right past him, as if Raith didn’t exist.
Panicked, Raith grabbed for his shoulders, and again his hands passed straight through.
He froze, trying to piece it together.
What was the last thing I remember?
He’d been in his [Mnemonic Manor]. He’d created a bed, perfectly comfortable, made from every detail he loved about every bed he’d ever slept in. He’d lain down…and drifted off to sleep.
His eyes widened.
“This must be a dream,” he said aloud. “I’m dreaming. Thank the Weavers, it’s just a dream.”
A soft, familiar voice answered.
“It is not just a dream, my child. It’s a vision of a future.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He turned. “Amaris?”
“Yes.”
“This can’t be the future,” Raith said, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. I don’t have any [Skills] or magics for divination.”
“In the Dreaming, any mortal may find their way to places of foresight on their own,” she said gently. “Those with the proper gifts can reach them intentionally, but others sometimes wander here unbidden.”
“So you’re telling me this is the future?”
“This is a future,” she corrected. “One of many that could come to pass.”
Raith clenched his fists.
“Then how do I stop it? Why are you showing me this?”
“I did not bring you here, child. You came of your own accord. As for how to prevent this…” Her voice softened. “You have seen what will befall your city when the Templars come for the key. The formorians have already begun to seek it. Your destiny is yours to shape, I cannot choose it for you.”
Raith’s lips moved before his mind caught up.
“Please, Amaris, just tell me how to stop this!”
But she was gone.
He shot awake with a start, breath ragged, the echo of her voice fading like smoke.
His heart pounded. He looked around the darkened room of his [Mnemonic Manor], still half-expecting to see fire and devastation outside the window.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, heading towards the door of his old bedroom where he had laid down to rest.
“I need to talk to my team.”
***
Raith stepped through the gate of his manor in the Noble’s District and stopped short.
Gardeners were already busy at work in the front yard, pruning, sweeping, and hauling away debris. Inside, the sound of hammering and hurried voices echoed through the halls. Several workers bustled about, measuring, cleaning, and shouting instructions.
He blinked in disbelief. “What in the five realms…”
If this crew had arrived at dawn, they’d only been working for a few hours, but the amount they’d already accomplished was astounding.
Inside the main hall, Tolliver stood speaking with a man who looked to be the foreman.
“Tolliver!” Raith called. “What are you doing? Who are all these people?”
Tolliver turned, slightly sheepish, placing a hand on the foreman’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Master Fallor, that will do nicely,” he said before dismissing the man and turning back to Raith.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Tolliver began, “but I don’t care to live in my father’s house for a moment longer than I have to. It also occurs to me that if I intend to keep that wand, which, I might add, is valued at millions of gold, then it would behoove me to dig into my own funds, as well as the connections and resources of my family, to see the renovations on this property completed as quickly as possible.”
Raith’s eyes widened at that astounding amount of money.
“And here I thought we were rich with the money we found in Thea’s pouch, but that’s insane.”
Tolliver gave him wry grin.
“Many of the noble families, mine included, are wealthy on a scale most people don’t really understand. While I do not personally have access to the resources required to pay for my share outright, I can leverage connections to get this project done much faster."
Raith folded his arms, thinking it over.
“I’ll have to ask Nyhm and Thea what they think. It seems like a good deal, but this is technically my house, and it doesn’t seem fair to have this one all fixed up while the others sit in ruins. We still haven’t discussed the specifics of how to divide everything up and I don’t want anyone feeling cheated.”
Tolliver nodded.
“I agree. We can all work out the details together. But if the plan is truly for all of us to live here, then this seems like the best place to start.”
As they spoke, Thea walked in, pausing to take in the commotion of people sweeping, scrubbing, and moving furniture.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“Tolliver pulled some strings to get people working here right away,” Raith explained. “Part of the wand payment. How does that suit you?”
Thea shrugged. “Sounds fine to me, especially since we’re all going to be living here for a while anyway. To be honest, I don't like the idea of living in a huge house all by myself, so this is better. We’ll get this place finished up, then figure out what to do with the others. I’m not in any hurry.”
Nyhm offered a grunt of agreement.
“Has anybody seen Zinny?”
No one had.
“Well,” Raith said, sighing, “she’ll show up when she shows up. There’s no telling what she’s into.”
He grew serious. “We need to talk about the horn.”
The team gathered as Raith recounted his dream in full. Everything he’d seen, the destruction of Beckhaven, and his conversation with Amaris. By the time he finished, their faces had grown grim.
Thea groaned.
“We only just got home. I have no interest in a sea journey to take that thing into the merdragon empire ourselves. And even if I did, I don’t think we’re equipped to protect it. As far as we’ve come, we still wouldn’t stand a chance against a team like the one we met in Tarn.”
“I concur,” said Tolliver, adjusting his belt. “Perhaps we can find out from MerScales where the specialist escort team is headed and meet them there. That would almost certainly be a shorter journey, especially if we may use a gossamer path to take us most of the way.”
Raith’s eyebrows lifted, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “Now that’s a good idea. Let’s go.”
***
The team arrived at MerScales Bank and approached the same dour attendant that Nyhm and Raith had spoken when opening their accounts.
Raith stepped forward, and the man looked up from beneath his spectacles with an expression of profound irritation.
“We have an item in the vault we’d need to get to the main bank as quickly as possibly. Can you tell us where the security team who does those transports is, and we’ll meet them there?”
The attendant gave them a look of pure, sneering contempt, that outmatched any Raith had ever seen.
“You may be surprised to learn,” he said coldly, “that divulging the exact location of the team escorting our most valuable assets is not the kind of information we provide to the public.”
Raith cursed under his breath. He should have thought of that without having to hear it from this asshole, who clearly didn’t need any more help thinking he was an idiot. The team took a step back from the desk to discuss their options. Thea looked concerned.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea to try to do this by ourselves.”
Tolliver nodded.
“I am inclined to agree.”
“You’re right, but if that’s the only way we can avoid my dream from coming true, what other choice do we have?”
“Can we get a message to Pridian?” Nyhm asked. Thea’s eyes lit up.
“Maybe we could give it to him and let him get it to the escort team.”
They re-approached the banker, who let out a long sigh before carefully setting down his pen, folding his hands and looking up with a frown. Raith refused to be cowed.
“Can you get a message to our friend, Pridian?”
Perhaps it wasn’t exactly true that the whyver was their friend, but Raith felt they left off on good enough terms.
One eyebrow arched on the dour man’s face.
“We can get a message to Pridian,” he said slowly, “although I do not know how someone like you happens to know one of our premier agents.”
“Ok, please send him this.”
Raith jotted down that they urgently required his help, and they needed to meet him as soon as possible. They would come to him, wherever he might be. He held out the letter to the banker, who looked at it without reaching to take it. After a few awkward moments Raith withdrew his arm.
“Umm…don’t I give this to you?”
“You do not.”
“Well then who do I give it to?”
The man waited a long moment before reluctantly pointing towards the counter.
“The young lady on the end there. When you come back to check for a response, return to her and don’t pester me with your questions. I am a busy man. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
He then went back to scribbling in his ledger. Raith wanted to say something obnoxious, but didn’t see the point. They marched over to the counter and were assured it would be sent promptly.
Now all they could do is wait.
