We left the outpost at first light.
The mist was thicker than usual, clinging low over the dark water and turning the glowing plants into muted orbs of blue and green. I led the small team along one of the narrower paths that wound north through the Whispering Marshes. Lira walked at my left, spear in hand, her ears angled slightly back. Harlan followed close behind, expression closed off. And at the rear, moving with an uneven gait, was Cael.
The newly created mage looked even paler in the early light. His simple cloak hung loosely on his thin frame, and his eyes held that same distant, feverish intensity I had noticed the day before. He kept a careful distance from the rest of us, as if unsure whether he belonged among the living or something else.
Lira’s distrust was immediate and unhidden. She glanced back at him more than once, her tail flicking in short, sharp motions. When Cael stumbled slightly on a root, she made no move to help. Harlan said almost nothing. His silence felt heavier than usual, the complicated weight of knowing exactly whose hands had shaped the young man walking behind us.
I observed Cael carefully as we moved. Outwardly he seemed fragile, but the system told a more detailed story.
The data still matched what I had seen earlier. His power was real, but it sat poorly inside him. I kept him in my peripheral vision at all times.
The northern marshes were quieter than the areas closer to the outpost. The paths grew narrower, the water darker. Broken reeds and occasional scraps of orcish gear marked recent enemy movement. We traveled in near silence for the first few hours, the only sounds the soft splash of our steps and the distant calls of marsh creatures.
During a brief rest on a patch of relatively solid ground, I approached Cael while Lira kept watch and Harlan checked our rear.
"How are you holding up?" I asked.
Cael looked at me with those feverish eyes. His voice was soft, almost detached. "The power... it moves when I don’t ask it to. Sometimes it feels like it’s trying to get out." He flexed his fingers slowly. "Master Elandor said the instability would settle with time and use. I hope he’s right."
"And if it doesn’t?"
He gave a thin, humorless smile. "Then I suppose we’ll have to wait and find out."
I stared at the man for a second before I nodded once and left him to his thoughts. At least he was still human, though I worried for his safety. Later, when we were moving again, I fell into step beside Harlan.
"You don’t have to protect him," I said quietly, clearly aware of just how concerned Harlan is about Cael. He had been distant since we joined the rebellion, and I just knew there was something he wasn’t telling me.
Harlan forced a small smile. "My uncle wants me to keep an eye on him. He’s worked on this for years, it means a lot to him—"
"He’s unstable, and could be dangerous. If anyone should be worried, it should be us." I interjected calmly.
Harlan didn’t argue, he just focused on the path ahead. "I think it’s best we focus on the mission for now. Let’s not jump to conclusions without any proof."
I didn’t press further. Only I probably knew of Cael’s condition, and it was thanks to the system. To the others, he probably seemed completely fine.
By midday we were deep in contested territory. The signs of Grimgor’s presence grew clearer, fresh tracks, discarded ration wrappers, the occasional broken spear. My enhanced Perception picked up movement ahead before the others did.
"Patrol," I murmured. "Four... no, five. Moving across our path."
We melted into the reeds. The orc scouting party appeared a minute later: five warriors in light armor, moving with the casual confidence of hunters who did not expect serious resistance. I signaled the ambush.
We struck fast. Lira’s spear took the lead orc through the throat. Harlan drove his weapon into the second. I closed on the third and fourth with Brutal Strike, cutting one down and forcing the other back. Cael, however, reacted differently.
The moment combat began, the air around him shimmered. Raw magical energy flared outward in an uncontrolled burst. A wave of force slammed into the remaining orc and hurled him into the water with bone-breaking force. Effective, brutally so, but the release was wild. The energy continued to pour from Cael, scorching the nearby reeds and sending a secondary pulse that nearly knocked Harlan off his feet.
"Cael!" I snapped.
He didn’t seem to hear. His eyes had gone wide and unfocused, power still crackling around his hands. Another surge built. This one was aimed loosely toward the last struggling orc, but Harlan was too close to the line of fire.
I moved without thinking. Phantom Edge flickered as I crossed the distance and slammed into Harlan, driving us both clear just as the blast tore through the space where he had stood. The remaining orc was reduced to a scorched ruin. Cael staggered, then dropped to one knee, gasping. Blood trickled from his nose.
Lira was on him in an instant, spear tip hovering near his throat. "Control it or I’ll fucking kill you."
"I... I’m trying," Cael choked out. The energy around him flickered and finally died. He looked genuinely shaken. "It just... came out."
"Lira stop..." I called out to her while I helped Harlan up. He was unharmed but clearly rattled.
"This is what my uncle calls progress," he muttered.
We finished checking the dead, then forced Cael to his feet. The system updated with a quiet warning.
[Target Condition Update: Magical Core Strain – Elevated]*
[Risk of further instability: High]
We had no choice but to continue. The forward outpost still needed to be observed.
By late afternoon we reached a low ridge of solid ground that overlooked the enemy position. The outpost was larger than the scouts had reported, reinforced wooden walls, multiple watchtowers, and at least sixty orcs visible in the yard, with more structures further back. Supply wagons stood in neat rows. Training drills were underway. This was no simple forward camp. It looked like the beginning of a major staging ground.
"They’re preparing for a push," Harlan said quietly. "Bigger than expected."
I committed the numbers and layout to memory. The information alone made the risk worthwhile. We were preparing to withdraw when Cael suddenly groaned and dropped to one knee again. The strain from earlier had caught up with him. Magical energy flickered weakly around his hands, uncontrolled and leaking.
Before we could react, a horn sounded from the outpost.
We had been spotted. A larger force, easily twenty orcs, with at least two heavier warriors among them, began pouring out of the gates and moving toward our ridge. The mist would not hide us for long.
"Move," I ordered. "Now."
We ran. Cael struggled to keep pace, his condition visibly worsening with every step. The pursuing orcs closed the distance faster than I liked. The first arrows began to fall around us.
The mission had just become a fighting retreat, with an unstable mage whose power was as likely to kill us as save us.
I tightened my grip on my sword and kept Lira and Harlan in my peripheral vision.
Whatever came next, we would have to face it while hoping that our own teammate doesn’t kill us all.