The ground shudders, compacting beneath my body.

Ripples of energy rebound, rejected by the roots of the trees; the spell is disrupted. The magic meant to force a rock wall to form falls apart, taking a chunk of my remaining power with it as penance. Tremors fill the immediate area, too strong for anything unsecured to stand against.

I feel a vicious grin rip across my face as the little will-o-wisps squeak and tumble over.

Afterall, a spell failure’s recoil can also be an advantageous result in the right context. For example, if you want to cause a localized earthquake in an old-growth forest.

I can feel the vibrations in my bones, but since I was expecting it, I just lay flat in the patchy grass. Right as the rumbling starts to let up, I send a bolt of static electricity to one of the spirits near the center, creating a strong charge around the little shroud-cape it wears. Then physics does the rest as the feather-weight creatures are temporarily magnetized together into a little hangry ball.

When I can walk again, I spare a minor wind spell to clear away some of the fog now that they’re too disoriented to actively sustain the cold. Once separated from their wisp-fires, they rapidly calm down, no longer possessed by the desire to try stealing my magic. Several of the tiny guides pout, dissatisfied with being stuck to one another. Too bad, if I have to suffer then you have to, too.

The gradual return of heat to the grove, or more accurately, the gradual return of slightly-less-cold air burned across my skin as all my nerves began to wake up with a vengeance. My fingers were especially tingly, nearly incapable of feeling anything else for the time being.

I crouch before the pile, resting my bruised arms on my bent knees, and look down into their now less aggressively lit eyes. The soft glow was meant to be comforting, but it certainly held its own in the ominous category against the fae when it wanted to. Except for the handful that had been caught in the electromagnetic field cast on the central spirit, the rest had temporarily fled the grove. A clear sign that while they enjoyed the meal, they weren’t interested in hiring the chef.

“Now then,” I release the static spell and let the will-o-wisps pull apart, reabsorbing as much as I could. “Which of you wants to form a contract with me?” I try my best to smile in a friendly manner, but knowing my luck it probably came off menacing instead.

They share looks amongst themselves, communicating their thoughts in magic fluctuations too subtle for me to interpret. To anyone else, they probably appeared completely unresponsive. By the time their discussion concluded, the grove had returned to its darkened and fog-free state. The only light remaining was that of the greatly reduced wisp-fires, softly swirling once again, tumbling over themselves as if they were more gas than light. As I was contemplating if perhaps it really was a luminous gas instead of fire, one of the guides stepped forward.

It was one of the smaller I’d seen at only a hand or so tall. It would easily fit in my palm if I were to pick it up. However, more curiously, it was not one of the wisps that had joined in the attempted mugging and had actually only been dragged in at the end. I had expected one of my opponents, with their clear affinity for my wavelength, to volunteer. Well, no matter, a volunteer is a volunteer. It held one of its tiny arms out toward me, inviting me to start the contract.

Once again, I offer some magic, but this time it’s only to the one spirit. I hold out my palm, allowing myself to physically connect with the little guide. Instead of consuming the magic, the will-o-wisp extends its own and ties a thread between us, severable only by death or complete dissipation. Just like that, I have a partner. It’s a bit anti-climactic, really, I mean, there’s not even an oath or anything. Just—bam—and done. Makes you wonder why they romanticize it so much.

‘Hello Magis, where is it you wish to go?’  The wisp asks across our bond, because it’s the most obvious reason to seek out a guide. It—she—I feel instinctually, has a deeper voice than you’d expect, made clear by the same pure projection that many fae and fae adjacent beings use to speak to humans.

“Home,” and really, there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.

She nods and knows with the precision of a wisp exactly where I mean to go. She bids farewell to her grove-mates and starts to move deeper into the trees. Unlike me, my guide is a beloved resident of this forest, so the trees feel strangely as if they are parting for her. With her staff resting over her shoulder, she leads me effortlessly towards my house. Because I’m being led by a wisp, this time the trees warp space in my favor to help us leave the forest quicker.

And just like that, I would never be lost again. Truly an underrated contract partner choice. Phoenixes? Who needs healing flames. Dragons? Too temperamental. Fairies? Always bickering. And don’t even get me started on the Magis that contract other Magis. No, no, will-o-wisps are definitely where its at. The only navigators that always know where they are, even when other forces are acting intentionally to prevent that. Yep, definitely worth almost dying for. Plus, they’re pretty cool if you know what I mean.

Before I could think of anymore puns, the water-fox made its reappearance.

It scampered along, intent on escorting us out of the woods. It was certainly a diligent little sprite. Occasionally it would gurgle at me, as if it was telling me about various things we passed along the way. Unfortunately, it wasn’t old enough to use speech projection and I didn’t have enough magic left for a spell as energy intensive as the one that could translate fae languages. I nodded along anyway, although I was mostly observing the seamless steps of my wisp friend that made the movement of her flame appear ethereal.

No matter how many dry leaves she tread upon, not one was crunched or shifted. Relatively speaking, even the fox left a clear trail of minor disturbances behind; and compared to both I was practically a rampaging bull just by walking normally. The leaves audibly scuffed together and broke under a human’s weight.

My eyes were drooping heavily by the time we reached the forest edge. We had traveled through the night simply because my new partner preferred it; after all, her wisp-fire was so much more aesthetic in the dark, regardless of that fact having no impact on her navigational skills. As a scribe, I can respect that, so suffering for art it is.

Once free of the canopy, the dusky sky eking into dawn spilled out overhead like water smearing charcoal. Distant stars faded away at the heralding of the sun, forewarning its mastery of the sky. We could also see the path that human activity had worn into the forest, although our own route was off trail as we were traveling a more direct path. Technically, I could guide myself home from here, and had I been a lost traveler this is about where my wisp friend would disappear. But, seeing as we were going to the same place anyway, there was no harm in letting her stay in the lead.

One more turn in the road brought my home and workshop into view: a modest cottage of wood and stone, with fading red shingles on the roof. Really, the special part is on the inside were my personal library and workspaces are located. Alas, this would only be a temporary return since miss fairy queen would dissipate if I didn’t get her stone back to her.

And that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? To find one specific stone, in a world of stones. Of course, a fairy-stone isn’t just some pet rock; there are ways to pick them out. No matter that they might look like any other rock or mineral, they feel completely different, if only for the way that magic flows throw them so readily. Unfortunately, that’s exactly why people steal them; there’s no better leyline conduit.

It seems like we’ll be going to a market. Maybe. I mean, black markets don’t tend to be places. However, brokers being physical people means that they must be somewhere.

I pause to drop my recovered project on my desk, I would have to set a spell to finish and deliver it later. In the meantime, all I wanted was to change my clothes and collapse in bed.

The Golden Port of Arkos is a bustling place midday. Although it doesn’t boarder any major waterways, being situated on a major leyline gives it a similar degree of shipping mobility. The sheer quantity of transport gates meant that some caravans didn’t even stay a day before they were off again. In such a crowd, naturally it was child's play to smuggle various contraband items, materials, and even creatures. So long as you didn’t trigger any of the alarm barriers by bringing in something actively dangerous, you could easily move unethically acquired goods.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that the so-called Dark Army would sell the stone they had gone out of their way to steal, but the chances are never zero. Regardless, someone here would know if anyone was selling anything as precious as what I was looking for. Fae curio collectors are notoriously ravenous for such things.

I arrived through a side gate meant for Magis and individual travelers and thus was spared much inspection beyond flashing my citizens’ medallion to the intake guard. My wisp partner had since been placed on my shoulder, receiving barely any notice; I couldn’t say if that was more attributable to the traffic volume, or if the Golden Port simply got more unusual visitors on a regular basis. Either way, most folks here minded their own business.

Beyond the main square is where I would find the actual residents and merchants that served the city. And somewhere amongst those people, hopefully I would find a lead.