The day of the expedition came and dawn painted the sky in hues of amber and rose as the expedition teams gathered at the boundary where the border of Kirkvalor Fortress met the trees of Malor Forest. Five groups of five people, a total of twenty-five, stood in formation, their breath forming small clouds in the crisp morning air. Amidst one of these groups stood Maria and Anton, both dressed in the robes of the Mages Guild, though Maria's bore the silver insignia of a senior apprentice while Anton's remained unadorned.
Anton shifted his weight from one foot to another, adjusting the strap of his provision pack as he gazed toward the forest's edge. The trees loomed before them, ancient sentinels with branches that seemed to reach out like beckoning fingers. Even in the growing light of day, shadows pooled beneath their shade, concealing whatever dangers lurked within.
Anton's presence among the expedition members was unexpected, even to himself. Five days ago, he had been practicing basic spells. Then word arrived to the city that a merchant caravan had sent distress signals from somewhere within the forest. Kirkvalor had dispatched fortress guards and senior apprentice mages to provide aid, leaving the Mages Guild understaffed for their scheduled expedition. The solution had been simple, allowing the most promising junior apprentice to fill the ranks.
"There would be no growth without the taste of pressure and danger," Master Blackwood had declared when Anton questioned his assignment, the old mage's face set in stern lines that brooked no argument.
In truth, no expedition group had wanted a greenhorn apprentice who had barely mastered the fundamentals. Each leader had found excuses, cited concerns about group balance, or simply refused outright. It was Maria who knew him finally stepped forward.
Just weeks ago, he had dramatically presented her with a bracelet as a protective charm, making grand statements about keeping her safe. The memory still brought heat to Anton's cheeks. Now, the roles were reversed, she would be protecting him. The irony wasn't lost on him, though his embarrassment was somewhat soothed every time he caught sight of her wrist, where his gift lay nestled.
In the days leading up to the expedition, Anton had trained with single-minded intensity. Following the saying, "I fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times," he had focused solely on perfecting the magic missile spell. Hour after hour, he had conjured the arcane projectile, learning to control its force, adjust its trajectory, and faster cast time.
When not practicing his offensive spell, Anton had dedicated himself to refining his mana manipulation. The progress had been remarkable. A week ago, he had struggled to lift fallen leaves with his projected mana. Now, he could extend his mana outward, turn it into the shape of a hand, and not only lift leaves but grasp tree branches firmly enough to shake loose their dead leaves. Maria had admitted improvement, though her praise came wrapped in her usual admonishments to "stop looking so pleased with yourself."
Despite these advancements, doubt remained within Anton's confidence as he stood at the forest's edge. Around him, the other expedition members moved with the ease of experience, checking equipment and confirming routes with practiced efficiency.
The three remaining members of Maria's group stood nearby—two warriors and an archer, all wearing the insignia of the city guard on their leather armor. Their casual banter and relaxed postures suggested familiarity with such ventures. The taller warrior tested the edge of his spear with his thumb, while the other adjusted the straps on his provision pack.
The archer, who would also be scout for the group, concluded his briefing with Maria. He was a bear of a man with shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway while looking nimble and quick enough to jump from one tree to the next. As Maria nodded as they came to some sort of agreement, she turned and made her way back to Anton, her steps purposeful.
"How are you feeling, Annie?" she asked, using the nickname his mother had given him, which Maria had adopted with affection in recent days.
Anton straightened his posture, not wanting to appear as nervous as he felt. "Not too bad," he replied, forcing a smile that he hoped appeared more confident than it felt. "My nerves are calming a bit. Don't worry about me." He studied her face, noting the focused set of her jaw. "What about you? Ready for your first command?"
"I'm fine," Maria replied, her eyes scanning the forest's edge. The morning light caught in her hair, turning the edges to gold as she spoke. "I've worked with Haldir before—he's pretty dependable, so follow his instructions, alright? I may be the leader of our group, but in the forest, the trackers are our lifeline. They'll help us determine which battles to engage in, which to avoid, and most importantly, guide us safely back to the city from deep within the forest."
Anton placed his hand over his heart and bowed with exaggerated formality. "Yes, Mother," he replied with a sardonic smile that earned him a sharp elbow to his ribs. After recovering from the playful jab, he asked, "Anything I should do before we depart? Besides avoiding your elbows, that is."
Maria's expression brightened as a thought occurred to her. "Oh! Come, I'll introduce you to the rest of the group." She grabbed his hand with unexpected eagerness, pulling him across the trampled grass toward the three figures who would soon become their companions in the dangers that awaited.
Anton felt a bit of nervousness as he approached the seasoned veterans. Their weathered faces and scarred hands told stories of countless encounters with the forest's denizens. Maria released his hand and made a small, commanding clap to capture their attention.
"This is Anton," she announced, gesturing toward him with a mixture of professional courtesy and personal pride. "A junior apprentice mage and my junior who'll be joining us for this expedition."
As Maria finished her introduction, Anton stepped forward and offered a respectful bow to the assembled warriors. "Hi everyone," he began, conscious of keeping his voice steady despite his nerves. "My name is Anton. I'm an apprentice mage and I'll be filling the role of support mage for our group. I'll handle the distraction of beasts for our attackers and provide offensive capability when necessary." He swallowed, then added with humility, "This is my first expedition, so if I make any mistakes, please feel free to correct me. I'm looking forward to learning from all of you."
The younger of the two spearmen—a man with a face remarkably unlined for someone of his obvious experience—stepped forward with an easy smile. "I'm Ruk," he said, his voice carrying the slight accent of the southerners. He gestured toward the older man beside him, whose magnificent salt-and-pepper beard. "And this here is Zog."
Ruk rested his hand casually on the shaft of his spear, the gesture of a man who considered his weapon an extension of himself. "We'll be the frontliners of this group. We're veterans of the city guard, so expeditions like this aren't unusual for us. You can count on us to take a beating and guard against whatever beasts we encounter." His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Anton. "We'll be counting on you to take them out before they can hurt us too badly, though. Nothing personal, but I'd rather not return with more scars than necessary," he said that while chuckling at the end.
The older man, Zog, seemed to prefer action to words. He simply nodded his agreement with a grunt that somehow conveyed acknowledgment. His eyes, however, carried a shrewd assessment that made Anton feel thoroughly examined.
The archer stepped forward next, adjusting the quiver at his back as he did so. His hair was cropped close to her scalp, practical for forest travel, and his eyes were keen and sharp like a predator.
"I'm Haldir," he said, his voice carrying a quality that complimented his hardened appearance. "Tracker and scout. Expeditions like this are my livelihood, so I'm a regular on these ventures." He offered a reassuring smile that softened her features. "Don't worry too much about the expedition. With me here, we'll only engage beasts we can defeat. As for magical creatures..." He inclined his head toward Maria. "Just ask the young lady here. She and I teamed up once before, and she knows I won't bring us into fights we can't win."
The confidence in Haldir's voice was absolute, born of experience rather than bravado. Anton found himself relaxing slightly, knowing that such veterans would be guiding their journey.
The five of them formed a tight circle as they discussed formations and assigned duties. Maria outlined a standard formation with Haldir at the front acting as scout, after that Ruk and Zog, and Maria and Anton in the protected behind them, from which they could cast their spells.
"If we encounter anything with magical resistance," Maria explained, tracing diagrams in the dirt with a stick, "Anton and I will coordinate to weaken and distract the beast. Ruk and Zog will restrict movement and Haldir, you finish them. I'll signal with colored mana pulses."
Anton nodded, committing the signals to memory. "And if we're separated?"
"We won't be," Zog spoke for the first time, his voice a rumbling bass that brooked no argument. "Stay in formation, boy, and you'll live to see your parents again."
Their planning was interrupted by movement near the main gathering area. A procession of priestesses descended from the direction of the city, their slow, measured steps creating a sense of ceremony. Their pristine robes stood out against the earthy tones of the expedition members like stars in a night sky.
"The Temple of Marala," Maria murmured, her voice taking on a reverent quality. "They always bless the expedition before departure."
The leaders of all five groups moved forward to greet the approaching priestesses. Anton squinted, then felt a jolt of recognition. "That's Priestess Aurelia leading them," he whispered to himself.
The expedition teams watched as the priestesses arranged themselves in a perfect circle at the very border where civilization met wilderness. The Hymn for the Departed rose from their lips like mist from a morning lake, each note clear and pure as crystal. Every member of the expedition, including Anton, sank to their knees in unison and started their prayers.
Anton recognized the ancient melody immediately—it was sung during the Month of Decay, but never with such power and purpose as when performed by the priestesses right in front of Malor Forest. They sang, their voices weaving together in harmony so perfect it seemed a single voice multiplied.
Anton closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over him. The hymn spoke of acceptance, of the natural transition from life to death, assuring those whose time had come that the Goddess Marala would guide their souls to rebirth. It was both a blessing for the expedition members, a mercy for the creatures they would encounter and the trees releasing their dead leaves.
As Anton continued praying, a troubling thought surfaced in his mind, what if his power to defy death wasn't a gift but a transgression? Perhaps every time he reset, he was committing blasphemy against the Goddess Marala who carefully governed the sacred circle of life and death. Anton pushed those thoughts aside for now.
As the priestesses sang, Anton felt a curious sensation, a warmth spreading through his chest, as though the music itself had physical presence. Opening his eyes, he saw thin tendrils of emerald light emanating from the circle of priestesses, reaching out to touch each member of the expedition. When the light reached him, he was filled with a sense of peace that belied the dangers ahead.
The final note of the hymn hung in the air like suspended time. In the perfect silence that followed, not even the wind dared to stir. Then, as if responding to an unheard command, hundreds of birds erupted from the trees along the border, their wings creating a rushing sound like distant applause as they flew deeper into Malor Forest.
"That's the sign," Haldir whispered, rising to his feet. "The forest accepts our entry."
The group leaders exchanged glances, then called out in near-perfect unison: "Move out!"
What had been five orderly groups pushed forward in a purposeful movement as the expedition began in earnest. Each team headed in a different direction according to their assigned routes, spreading out like the spokes of a wheel into the forest's depths. The expedition had begun.