Oh No

26.11.2025

As far as ordinary days go, this day was perfectly ordinary.

In fact, it was so perfectly ordinary that it had long crossed from the ordinary part and beelined for mundane instead.

Kazra, however, reckoned that it might be just him. He wondered if all scions felt this way upon returning to Mezchinhar. After you had spent A While out there, travelling the Universe, chasing down what little hints there were left of the Lords, what was supposed to be home did feel slightly… boring.

And crowded. It always took one by surprise after a long absence that was spent in the company of the same people day-to-day, how many wizards there really were. It was like they had deliberately taken the most crowded marketplaces in the known Universe and chucked them all in here together, then multiplied by a number Kazra feared would put his brain in a standstill for a while if he tried to calculate it all by himself right now. The only saving grace was that Mezchinhar was significantly better organized, allowing for them to stay out of each other’s paths. Otherwise, it was just like a marketplace in a random city on a random planet. You showed up, got what you came for, and you would possibly never see a single one of those people again.

But mostly, it was boring. There was an accustomed rhythm to this place; a routine which you sunk into without realising it, and which, by the time you had figured it out, had already begun feeling safe enough for you to not feel too inclined on breaking it. It was something they knew, even if the wizards here generally had relatively little say over what that routine would eventually end up being, for one reason or another.

He wondered if this, and not the promise of possible complete death and void, was a major reason most chose to have their Parts be out and about, rather than cooped up here in Mezchinhar. If nobody wanted to sit still and be confined to a world of infinite and sterile light and white when there was an entire Multiverse out there calling their name.

Boring and crowded, and sterile, and impersonal. That was how it felt. How it had always felt. How it was. But also intimidating, in a way Kazra could not quite put his finger to it. But, of course, should he mention this to anyone else, that wizard would say he was just imagining things.

At least his Wizard agreed with him, if slightly begrudgingly, since for him this was home.

Overall, he felt like a slightly overwhelmed but nonetheless loyal pup who was being so brave about it as he trailed after his teacher currently deeply immersed in a conversation with somebody Kazra had, if he had to be honest, not really bothered to learn the name of yet. And probably would not have to, either, for wizards, in general, did not normally seem to follow the human custom of “the friend of mine is also an acquaintance of yours”. They conversed, he kept an open ear just in case he were to be addressed, though that was unlikely to happen, while overall he had been left to his own devices.

He wondered if he would be given the chance (and time) to see his Wizard.

Your own Parts were safe to interact with, even though for a lot of wizards that interaction went mostly only as far as getting them up and awake after rebuilding them.

“Probably not,” the Wizard at the back of his mind noted dutifully.

“Ah. Be an optimist.”

“You’re the optimist here. I’m being a realist.”

Kazra scoffed, albeit amused, and continued scanning the crowd at his own leisure, and they kept walking, and Rohkovas and the unnamed wizard kept talking and paying no attention to the scion trailing behind them.

He turned his head to look the other way and caught a movement in the corner of his eye, which… honestly, it was not as important as it could be made out to be, in this kind of circumstances. It would be ridiculous to assume it bore some deep significance, for there was movement everywhere in this part of Mezchinhar.

Still, he chose to look.

Something clicked in his mind. Something so tiny and insignificant, it was hard to place or even understand.

There was a figure in the perfectly orchestrated, orderly crowd, and Kazra had no idea how, but he managed to stand out among them while being… perfectly normal and inconspicuous. Perhaps it was the way he moved, effortless and with the kind of grace Kazra did not remember seeing in other wizards (not that he had paid much attention anyway most of the time), or the way the light bounced off the dark hair which lay in a soft braid over the wizard’s shoulder, or the way he tilted his head and smiled in a soft, kind way, as he answered the one walking next to him. No. Kazra really, truly had no idea what had caused him to pay attention to this particular person, save for the fact that the wizard was there, and obviously a very real, bodily entity, not just a figment of a malfunctioning imagination.

He watched the other walk, himself completely oblivious of the fact he was staring, and his only saving grace was most likely that the other wizard was just as oblivious of this.

Kazra heard a voice, and it took him a moment to register he was the one being addressed. He remembered his Wizard sharing the utter bewilderment, and concluded that he had not been the one to speak.

“Kazra!” there was annoyance in the raised voice, and he had just enough self-awareness to figure out it was Rohkovas addressing him. Eventually, he gained some more of it; exactly as much as it was necessary, to figure out he had slowed down to an almost too slow of a step as he tried to keep the stranger in sight. It was not as much as to disturb the order of the place but enough for Rohkovas to notice.

The Lordseeker followed his gaze across the crowd and gave a silent and at the same time most pitying sigh Kazra had ever heard addressed at him when he learned the cause of such delay.

“Not going to happen. Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” Kazra protested, trying to sound as inconspicuous as he could. “I wasn’t thinkin’ anything!”

Rohkovas scoffed, “I’ve been around a bit, and I’ve seen that sort of facial expression more than once.”

“But… what…” as there was no more reason to pretend otherwise, the young wizard now tried his best to articulate the question he wanted to ask, but somehow his mind would not comply, and to make matters worse, his Wizard was not doing any better, either, clearly smitten by the same thing. The hell was wrong with him? “Who…”

“He is a Wizard of the Lords, from before the times of the Last Whisper, and one of those who fought for Mezchinhar.” There was something soothing in Rohkovas’ voice right now, and Kazra felt like scoffing at him, though he was not sure if and how that would help anyone, least of all himself. “He is ancient, and he keeps no close company. So, I’d rather tell you now than have you break your heart later. Forget you saw him. There’s plenty of wizards out there, you’d have to be extremely unlucky, to run into him again. Now come,” the Lordseeker placed his hand on Kazra’s shoulder, “we’re already being expected.”

With one last look into the crowd that confirmed, the stranger was now gone, Kazra sighed and yielded, and let himself be guided into the desirable direction.

“And maybe try to close your mouth next time,” Rohkovas added, with considerable amusement.

Kazra kind of wished the ground would swallow him right now.

___

There was apparently no discernible difference between waiting in the primal wizards’ quarters for the door to open as you were about to meet the teacher assigned, and waiting in a good-sized room for your superior (also known as the Grand Master) for the foreseeable future to arrive. Same kind of bothersome excitement that felt like your stomach was full of lead and currently in the process of sinking below your knees, but with boredom mixed in-between, as if somebody had asked for it to be there in the first place. And to add insult to the injury, it was not even the kind of exciting boredom one felt while waiting for important things to happen and that felt like time was stretching out infinitely. It was just – boredom. The kind of a boredom when everything in your close proximity that can been looked at, has been looked at, and every thought that appeared in your brain – thought and rethought multiple times.

(His Wizard was currently involved in a conversation with somebody, and the Warrior had been attempting to follow it from the back of the Wizard’s mind, alas the topic was one of those mundane Mezchinhar things, with meaningless pleasantries woven in-between, as they normally were. A weather talk, if Mezchinhar had had any kind of weather to speak of. Solely engaged in for the sake of engaging in a conversation. And let nobody tell you, wizards never ever did things without a purpose!)

Kazra fought back a yawn, only barely succeeding.

The door opened, and for a moment, the atmosphere in the room grew tense, as they tend to be in the first moments of meeting one’s new superiors, before the Warrior shook himself up and saluted the two wizards before he had even had the chance to perceive them entirely.

“I wouldn’t worry just yet,” a silent, soft voice answered a question that had been asked before the door opened. “They are clearly looking for something, but I do not think they will be a problem. There has been no Chaos Wizard activity in the region, and the Seekers have not reported anything suspicious about their crew and cargo. I advise to keep monitoring their presence, but it looks more like we merely crossed paths by accident. I would not be surprised if they are gone a couple days from now.”

All of a sudden, Kazra’s Engineer felt like he was once again the young scion back in the day, trailing behind Rohkovas through that crowd in Mezchinhar.

Approximately at the same time, his Wizard tripped over his own metaphorical feet in the conversation.

‘You’d have to be extremely unlucky, to run into him again.’

He hoped that this time, he had at least managed to keep his jaw where it was supposed to be.

Well, fuck.

05.12.2025

The magic suppressant was annoying, if anything. Unpleasant, yes, and an utter insult added to an injury. But most of all, it was annoying, in the kind of way that something is annoying when it prevents one from engaging in their intended activity.

Which was, after all, exactly what they were designed for. It was their exact intended purpose. To prevent one from engaging in their intended activity. Provided, of course, that activity was of a magical purpose. It would be utmost weird, if the activity they had to prevent was, say, climbing the stairs. Or walking. Though there probably was something in the arsenal from the Enchanters that would serve some oddly specific purpose, if for no other reason then just to make things that would be a nuisance to somebody.

Kazra pulled at the handcuff with as much disdain as he could manage and, in return, received a discharge of magic that was there as a reminder rather than a threat, not to fumble with it. A miniscule zap, on par with the static discharge that came from touching a metal item with bare hands in winter. He growled a curse under his breath, then some more, for a good measure, as he continued pacing around the room. Now, of course the purpose of his actions was not to get these things off. If he tried (and somehow even succeeded at) that, he reckoned he would be apprehended and disposed of faster than the cuffs would hit the floor, what with the obvious levels of paranoia surrounding the whole mess. Whoever had been the ones planning it would probably catch the hands of the First Circle, or at least their superiors, soon, if they had not already.

(They probably had.)

No, this was purely because there happened to be absolutely nothing else here to direct the upset and anger, and agitation, and fear at.

Now, Kazra was pretty darn sure that in his life, there had been instances of somebody mentioning what this whole “mind evaluation” thing actually meant, rather than just bare-bone guidelines, but somehow, he guessed he must have not been paying attention at that time. Of course, you heard the other wizards speak of it, time and again, but those were merely glimpses of conversations aimed at whoever said wizards happened to be in a conversation with. And of course, he had caught a glimpse or two, of the wizard in question himself – an unnerving, imposing creature indeed. One that commanded both respect and fear at the same time, but in a much different way than your Grandmaster would, for example. Partially due to the fact that, wherever this… Mindcrawler… appeared, other wizards would go out of their way just to be as far from him as it was physically possible.

And then there were the eyes. Always lit with magic, making one’s metaphorical hackles rise up whenever he appeared in proximity. Magic, active magic, meant there was danger.

“You need to calm down,” a voice spoke, and the Warrior flinched and cursed, this time out loud.

“Sure! Calm down! Great idea! I'm seconds from being... I don't know what! And you're telling me to calm down! I set my foot through the damn portal, only to be detained and told, heyyy, we'll need to have you evaluated! You link to your Wizard now, you die, capiche?! An amazing welcome back, must say that!”

“It is the standard procedure after this kind of mission,” the voice answered, and Kazra still chose to avoid directly engaging with the other presence as much as he could, just so he could stew a little bit longer.

“Would have appreciated if that were included in the initial instructions!” He spat out, and cared little of how bitter and sharp it ended up sounding. “Bit late for warnings, don’t you think?”

“I am certain that this was included,” the other wizard answered, pretending he either had not heard or did not mind the tone he was being talked to in. “At the very least, the Grandmaster mentioned it when you arrived. He always does; just in case they failed to instruct the new Warriors before they are deployed. It is very rare, but it has happened before.”

“The hell you know about—” Kazra finally turned and immediately silenced in half sentence, stood straight and saluted. “Fieldgeneral!”

Fieldgeneral Redkevik beheld him for a moment.

“There is no need for that here,” he finally spoke. “Everyone is equal in this place.”

Involuntary, Kazra’s sight travelled down to the other’s hands that Redkevik respectfully and calmly kept at his sides, and he caught a glimpse of the same kind of device they had popped onto him as soon as he had stepped through that damned portal.

“Equally accused, that's for sure,” he snarled at nobody in particular.

“Like I said, it is a standard procedure for missions like this.”

“Ones that go awful sideways?”

The Fieldgeneral tilted his head slightly, before smiling in calm, almost sad way.

“Indeed. Without it, it would be easy for Chaos to slip inside Mezchinhar.”

“They believe somebody betrayed us?! Looked like completely normal incompetence of a wet-nosed higher-up who wouldn’t know a battle if he were right in the middle of one! If I were… infected… I'd rather throw myself into a star!”

“That will not persuade them not to do it.”

Whether that was a serious statement, or a dry joke, Kazra had no mental strength left to decipher, nor did he particularly care about it. He raked his fingers through his hair once, then again, then a third time, for a good measure, then began pacing again, at the same time wishing, deeply so, there had been at least a chair, or some kind of a box here, just for the sole purpose so he could kick it once. Maybe twice.

“You are afraid.”

Now that was a statement. Or rather, an observation. And there was no condescension, or disdain, in the Fieldgeneral’s voice, unlike one could have expected in such cases.

“Nervous,” Kazra was not about to show a weakness, even though Redkevik had guessed correctly. “Not used to just… waiting for strange stuff to happen, ‘s all.”

“I would say, we do that constantly.”

“That’s different! When you’re out there,” Kazra gestured into the general direction of the “outside” he was referring to, “you know you’re about to run into Chaos Wizards, or whatever it is this time! You know what to expect! You know what you are expected to do! But this? This is uncharted territory! Can’t blame me for being a bit worried!”

“I am not,” Redkevik answered, in the same low, soft voice as always.

“I know,” Kazra stopped and slouched against the wall, before heaving a sigh. “I am sorry. Just… guess I should let some steam off before I’m shoved into this room the next time. Just so it doesn’t chew my insides up for good. Just bad timing. Sorry. I… I’m not at my best right now. Terrible excuse, I know, but…”

“It is understandable. You are still very new to this.”

At another time, in a different situation, maybe Kazra would argue about that. Perhaps get flustered about such observation. Or at least tell the other wizard to mind his own damn business. Right here, right now, he did not feel like it, however. It felt simply like an observation rather than a personal slight, and he found it difficult to hold even a symbolic grudge against Redkevik.

Kazra continued pacing, only now, instead of the entire room being his roaming grounds, he intentionally confined himself to only a half of it, putting more than enough space between him and Redkevik, just so he would not walk right into the Fieldgeneral by pure accident – which he knew would mean that the Mindcrawer could make early retirement today.

For a while, there was calm. The kind of calm that rules places where people – wizards or otherwise – are gathered as they expect their imminent doom. The kind of calm that comes as the next step of being stressed. Eventually, though, Kazra interrupted it, his personal reasoning being that anything was better than just stupidly waiting for a door to open:

“Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” Redkevik seemed to be caught off-guard, the way he blinked as though prior to the question he had been simply letting his mind wander while the other warrior was busy trying to put a dent into the floor. He looked calm, but not stressed-calm. Just regular calm, and collected, like he always was.

“They say, the whole thing… evaluation… whatever. They say, it hurts. Physically. And that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Redkevik tilted his head.

“You just went through what most would call, a hell,” the Fieldgeneral sounded amused, “but it's the Mindcrawler, you are afraid of?”

“Been in several things I'd call hell, personally,” Kazra shrugged. “Hell's pretty familiar by now. This ain't it. Wasn't in the brochure, you know.”

Redkevik kept silent for a moment and studied his face carefully. Kazra had noticed, he did that often and with everyone.

“Yes, it does,” Redkevik finally answered the original question. “Unlike anything you've ever felt, and with no way of avoiding it.”

“Damn.”

“Do not fight it.”

Kazra found himself incapable of forcing back an incredulous chuckle.

“Forgive my speaking my thoughts freely, Fieldgeneral,” he tried to tone the sarcasm down to a minimum, “but that's a bit of rubbish advice to give somebody right after you told them, the thing they're being forced into will be very much agony.”

“The more you struggle and fight Yettadeimos, the worse it will be,” if Redkevik had noticed the sarcasm, he did not show any sign of it when he answered. “Go with the flow, let him do his job. It will be over sooner that way. And it won’t do half as much damage.”

“Let him do his job,” Kazra wanted so, so much, to mock these words, but he yet remembered whom he was talking to. “Easier said than done!”

“That is true. However, the more you struggle against him, the worse it’ll be, for yourself. And if you try to obscure anything, he will take it from you by force.”

“So,” Kazra folded his arms, “you mean, it’s everything, not just things concerning that sh- I mean mission?”

“Yes,” Redkevik answered, completely unphased by that fact, and Kazra caught himself wondering how often he had already had this happen to him, “that is also true, and it is necessary. But you are still young, so it will be over soon. Provided you do not fight him.”

“Well,” the Warrior dragged out, not knowing whether he was to feel amused or concerned, “guess that serves me right for not paying attention in crucial moments. The amount of new information you can learn in five minutes. Astounding. Almost as—“

He was interrupted by the door in the opposite wall sliding open.

Fieldgeneral Redkevik nodded towards it, and Kazra could have sworn he saw a tiny encouraging smile on his lips. Regardless of whether or not it had actually been there, or it was merely a shadow play, he chose to believe in the former, for that gave him a fuzzy, warm feeling inside. Weird and unaccustomed, and completely out of place in this situation, but not unpleasant, either.

He took a deep breath and stepped towards the darkness beyond the door.