Dread Mage

It has been a few days since they left Limerence's cottage and made their way forward in their journey.

Also, while they were walking, as they had no other method of transport, Sonder knew that Vell could use his magic to teleport, but she didn't question his decision not to, or rather, she somehow didn't feel like it.

She knew that it would be better if he did, if time really was of the essence, but she couldn't bother herself to ask him why he didn't.

Did he make her think like that? He was her master, after all.

She didn't like those thoughts, so she discarded them.

"Where are we going?" Sonder asked, while keeping herself busy with a few magical practices that Mrs. Limerence had taught her, to keep up and train her proficiency in her control over mana.

"We're going to the Othirian Lodge of Spellslingers," Vell said.

"Why? Why aren't we going directly to the Irathy?" Sonder asked.

"One does not simply walk into Irath. It's only for the Irathy and those invited to it, and seeing as how we are not Irathy ourselves, we have to procure an invitation."

"How do we do that?" Sonder asked him.

"There are ways that usually don't work, but we are in luck. In a week, there is a festive banquet, which is more or less a facade for a show of strength between the factions of mages and countries, supposedly dedicated to you, apprentice mages, and their mentors. If you prove yourself strong or talented enough, you'll most likely gain entry into a few colleges and guilds of all kinds—a sponsorship of sorts.

And a very few are allowed entry into Irath if the Irathy think they are talented enough. They don't care about status, age, or race; they have ways to change those things; they care about the magical prowess behind the person."

Sonder felt as though her stomach was upset. Did that mean it was up to her to provide the sought-after 'talent' and 'magical prowess'?

"We can also gain entry another way, not going the magical route, but I don't think you'll like it very much." Vell said to her and shot her a look, his mouth a frown.

Sonder at least wanted to hear it.

"We could show the magical world that you are a banshee," Vell suggested.

"And how is that going to help us? I would be a monster that people want to kill." Sonder responded.

"That may not be the case if you could control it."

"Control it? How?"

Vell's frown deepened. "We'll force you into it over and over again, until you gain a semblance of control. Having a banshee ally, one that could be studied, would be a great boon to most factions. They would rip off each other's arms so that they would be the only ones to grab a hold of you."

Sonder also began to frown. It all depended on how much she wanted to see her family again.