They were outside, in the middle of a forest clearing. The sky was blue, birdsong could be heard coming from the trees, and every last man in the mercenary group was gazing around in astonishment. Suddenly, Brome noticed Aren sitting on a rock, panting and dripping with sweat. His face was a ghostly white, and the veins in his hands, neck, and temple were clearly visible.

“Don’t mind me,” said the wizard. “I used up too much magic back there, but I’ll be fine in a moment. That woman was strong. I’ve never encountered magic that powerful, apart from my teacher’s.”

“I’m glad you’re alright, but where are we?” asked Brome.

“You’re in the sanctuary.” It was the voice of the sorceress, only less intimidating and more human. “Or more accurately, you’re past the gateway.” The men turned around, only to find a young brown-haired woman in a plain green dress, surrounded by the six soldiers that had ‘died’ when the flame trap went off. “Wait!” she cried, as Brome and his soldiers started to draw their weapons. “I’m not your enemy. See, your men are alive.” Her eyes were violet, and she was leaning on a nearby tree, shaking and pale faced. Apparently her struggle with Aren hadn’t been easy for her either.

“Shut up you wench!” shouted Brome. “You tried to make us kill each other and you still expect us to trust you?! Gareth almost died because of you!”

“I’m sorry for all that, truly I am.” answered the woman. “It’s my first time testing outsiders, and I got a bit carried away. I wasn’t really going to let you kill each other anyway, I just wanted to knock you all out when your magus was distracted.”

“Up yours! Now where are we and how to we get back?” demanded Gareth.

“You’re in the sanctuary, or what passes for it. That building you entered isn’t a temple, it’s a gateway to the world we created for ourselves, as others have discovered before you. And I’m sorry, but even we don’t know how to get back through. Our ancestors created this world as an extension of our kingdom. They meant it to be a safe haven from invasion and cataclysm, only to discover once they went through that the portal only worked one way. We can influence the area around the portal through magic, to a degree, but some force prevents us from passing through ourselves. Our greatest minds have tried for thousands of years to find a way back through, but no one has ever succeeded.”

Aren laughed. “Of course, that’s why no one has ever returned. But why set up so many barriers around the portal? Why all the traps and curses? Wouldn’t you want wizards from the outside to destroy the force keeping you trapped here?”

The young woman shook her head. “We had powerful enemies, and we’d be at their mercy if they found a way through the gateway. Keep in mind that this was created as a safe haven for our people. Besides, we don’t understand how the portals work anymore, and for all we know tampering with them could destroy our world, along with everyone in it. Best not to risk it.”

Aren nodded his head. “I see.”

“But that’s not the only reason, is it?” Gareth interrupted.

“Oh?” The sorceress cocked her head.

“It’s a test,” he said. “Wizards skilled enough to get past your spells would also have a better chance of being able to free you, wouldn’t they?” Brome was once again struck by how perceptive his beloved could be when he wanted.

The woman smiled. “You’re half right. Some of us do want to use outside magi to escape this place. Others want nothing to do with your world, and hope to keep people from tampering with the gateways and potentially annihilating us all. The traps are a compromise between the two factions; they keep most people away while ensuring that those that do come here stand a chance of creating a way out.”

“And which faction are you?” asked Aren.

“I don’t really care either way,” she said. “It’s tradition for the strongest magi of each generation to tend to the gateways for a year.”
  

“Sounds boring,” said Aren.

“The first few weeks were,” the girl admitted, “but if every day is like today, I almost don’t want it to end. No one my age has ever given me that much of a challenge, I truly admire you. What’s your name?”

“It’s Aren, what’s yours?

“I’m Anya, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“All this talking is fine,” said Brome, “but what happens to us?”

“There’s temporary housing nearby for outsiders.” Anya replied. “You’ll live there until we find somewhere permanent for you. Follow me, we’ll get you settled in.”