The sensation was immediate. As soon as Joel stepped through the portal, he felt something change. The air was more humid, denser, and the scent of earth and sap filled his lungs before he could fully open his eyes. He was in the basement of a humble house, inside what looked like an adapted cellar: mossy stone walls, a low, old-wood ceiling, and only a few magic lamps hovering low, shedding a warm, flickering light.

  The place was silent. Beyond the faint vibration of the portal dissipating behind them, only the rhythmic dripping of some hidden pipe could be heard. There was dust, dampness, and a latent energy that Joel couldn't describe. Something ancient and still. They had reached their destination.

  Myrrial is different from Aeskar, immensely different. It was enough to step outside the house—camouflaged among bushes and roots as thick as trunks—to understand this. The entire environment was covered in perpetual jungle. Trees over a hundred meters tall rose in every direction, their canopies so wide they barely let in fragments of sunlight. The leaves were enormous, many the size of doors, and hung like natural curtains. The surface vegetation was thick, damp, and vibrant.

  The village where they've appeared is nothing more than a dozen wooden houses, most built on low stilts, with walkways connecting the homes above the mud and roots. It's a rural settlement, without walls, paved roads, and seemingly untidy, but it's alive. Joel can see the inhabitants moving silently between the houses, wearing simple clothes, pale faces, and cautious gazes. The lack of sunlight has left a clear mark on them. Their skin is white, even whiter than that of Aeskar's subterranean inhabitants. The human body in Mirrial seems to have adapted to the darkness, developing slightly larger eyes and gentle gestures, as if they don't want to disturb the forest that surrounds them.

  Joel felt a dull, almost ancestral tension in the atmosphere, as if the forest itself were watching them.

  Ten members of the Cult of the Resplendent Dawn had arrived, all well prepared and trained. The group was led by Mirel Vahn, a tall, stern-faced, level-four mage. His light brown hair was tied in a braid down his back, and his eyes, an almost white blue, seemed to see beyond matter. Mirel didn't speak much, but when he did, the group listened.

  They had used one of the organization's fixed portals, one of the many that worked in a single direction, to prevent the empires from being able to trace their origin. Therefore, to return, they must use a different portal, in a highly guarded location that constantly changed location. This leaves everyone in trouble if something bad were to happen, since only the expedition leaders had the ability to know where these places were. A fact that all members know and have accepted prior to the trip.

  Joel was assigned to a three-person team, along with two level-three mages: Kara Nenvan, a young woman with sharp eyes and quick movements, specializing in sensory magic; and Toren Larr, a burly man with a short beard and a perpetual smile, an expert in defensive magic.

  Kara was precise, pragmatic, and somewhat impatient. She wore a leather jacket reinforced with dark metal plates and always carried a small notebook where she recorded everything she observed. Toren, on the other hand, was relaxed, with an almost paternalistic attitude toward the younger members. Beneath his robes, he wore lightweight but very durable armor, and his enormous height gave him an imposing air, although he rarely took anything too seriously.

  Kara was designated the leader of the small group. Joel had watched her closely since he met her. She was young, perhaps barely older than him, but she already displayed a natural command of her position. Her voice was clear, her instructions precise, and she rarely hesitated. She joked frequently, with a dry, quick wit that elicited laughter even in the most tense moments. But Joel, with his gaze honed by years of observing silences, sensed something else. Behind that easy smile, there were layers of something denser, like a shadow that never fully revealed itself. Pain, perhaps, though it could also be loss. It was hard to know for sure, but it was there.

  Toren, on the other hand, was the relaxed pillar of the group. He brought a natural calm, as if no situation truly perturbed him. Joel found it curious: his demeanor contrasted with his role as protector, but it also seemed to spring from experience, as if he'd seen it all before and still chose to smile.

  Joel, despite being only level two, was quickly treated as an equal, and no one dared underestimate him. Stories of his swordplay, his strange magic, and his victories in sparring duels were known throughout the base. Even Mirel had given him an appraising look upon his arrival, like someone observing a sword still sheathed but already tainted with blood.

  All members of the group, except those originally from Myrrial, wore special makeup to match their skin tone with the local inhabitants, achieving a pale hue that made them stand out from the crowd.

  The group's mission was clear: to scour a wide range of villages and towns, searching for individuals with magical potential who could be recruited by the order. At the same time, they were to gather as much information as possible about Imperial activity in the area. Even the smallest rumors were valuable, especially if they revealed weaknesses that could be exploited later.

  Under Kara's command, Joel's team immediately set off for their first objective: a village south of their point of origin. The Cult of the Dawn tends to tour the same villages every few years, so they know how to visit and approach people in case they find promising individuals or gather information. Since this was Joel's first time on a field mission, his role was clear: he would be an observer, only to intervene if something went wrong.

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  The path was long and wet, and the slippery ground made walking difficult, but Kara kept a steady pace. As they advanced along a path of intertwined roots, it was she who broke the silence.

  "First deployment?" she asked, turning his head toward Joel with a crooked smile.

  "Yes," he replied bluntly.

  "Nervous?"

  "Not enough to affect the mission."

  Toren chuckled from behind him. "And as direct as ever," he said. "This kid's a rock. Do they teach you that in the way of the sword, Joel?"

  "No. You learn it by experiencing too much in too little time."

  Kara raised an eyebrow, not fully understanding the sentence, but didn't insist.

  Soon, the team reached the edge of a village, a collection of smaller houses than the previous ones, hidden among the trees. The light was even more dim. The villagers greeted them with reservations, but without hostility. An older woman, with a wrinkled face and ash-white hair, approached them first.

  "Did you come back for the same reason?" she asked, looking at Kara.

  "We came for the same reason," Kara replied softly. "We want to know if there have been any imperial movements around here, and we're also looking for young people with potential."

  The old woman looked at them one by one suspiciously, until her gaze settled on Joel.

  "That one... he has something in his eyes," she murmured. "I don't know if it's hunger or loneliness, but I've seen it before. In those who fight more than they should."

  Joel said nothing, simply staring back at the old woman.

  "Can I speak with the young people of the village?" Kara asked respectfully.

  The woman nodded and slowly led them to a more open area, where several teenagers were working, sorting roots and mushrooms. Kara and Toren began to converse with them, asking questions, gauging reactions, looking for that special glow.

  In the end, the first village yielded nothing. Kara and Toren spoke with all the possible candidates, conducting a couple of tests, but found no notable affinities. The next morning, they set out for the next community. And then another, and another. They spent several days exploring similar settlements, all small, all hidden in the wilderness, and in all of them they found the same answer: nothing. No young people with any signs of latent magic, and no useful clues about the Empire. Only simple, humble lives, and eyes accustomed to the darkness.

  The routine began to become monotonous, Joel noticed. It wasn't a combat mission, nor one of constant tension. It was a methodical, almost bureaucratic task: show up, talk, observe, and leave. But he never let his guard down. Every step in the jungle could hide an enemy. Every glance a villager made could be a trap. Joel knew that true danger rarely announced its arrival.

  But everything changed when they reached a larger village. The houses were better built, some with stone walls and reinforced roofs. There was a small central market, and more commercial activity was evident.

  There, the team could no longer present themselves so directly to the population. They had to pretend to be humble travelers seeking rest and supplies. Kara led the charade naturally, while Joel kept a low profile, hiding his sword and adopting a neutral expression.

  For the first time on the mission, Joel saw the presence of Imperial military personnel. A small garrison guarded the center of town, with at least a dozen armed soldiers on guard. It was clear that this was a strategic point in the region, an important hub where several roads and trade routes converged.

  Once inside the town, Kara guided the team into a clothing store, discreetly located in a corner far from the market. It was a modest establishment, with fabrics hanging on the walls and a dull-colored window. The owner, a middle-aged man with gray hair and tailor's hands, recognized them immediately. With a discreet gesture, he led them to the basement behind a false door, where the real work began.

  "It's taken you longer than usual," the tailor commented, lighting a magic lamp and closing the door behind them.

  "The winds weren't in your favor," Kara said with a vague smile.

  The basement was clean, but dark. A wooden table sat in the center, surrounded by papers and maps. The man offered them water and then sat down, crossing his fingers.

  "There's been movement," he said. "More than I'd like. The Imperial garrison received a visit a day ago, but we didn't find out until last night what it was. A small caravan, only three carriages, guarded by at least two mages, passed by on a side road, not daring to go through the market. Fortunately, one of my contacts works closely with some of the guards, and we learned that the caravan is transporting a few children... magical children."

  Kara narrowed her eyes. Toren let out a small sigh. Joel frowned.

  "Are you sure?" Kara asked.

  "As sure as my trust in this informant, who so far hasn't disappointed me," he replied. "It's not common. You know that awakenings before the age of ten are extremely rare. But when they happen... the empires don't waste time. They're clearly moving those children to the nearest city, so they can use a portal to take them to the capital of the local kingdom."

  Those who awaken their magic before reaching the age of majority (15) are immediately recruited by the empires and are capable of transforming into mages with proper training. But when the magical awakening occurs before they turn 10, children are categorized in a completely different category, as almost without exception, they are capable of becoming high-level mages, sometimes even surpassing the descendants of magical families. Everyone refers to them as "Magical Children."

  Joel is no stranger to the fate of these children, as it is a much-discussed topic within the Cult of the Dawn, as the empires consider them one of the most valuable resources due to their potential to reach high levels. They go directly to magical academies, where they are molded from the beginning under strict imperial doctrine. Some of them end up in the military before reaching the age of majority. And if they manage to survive long enough, they usually become the worst enemies of those who oppose the empires.

  Increasingly, Joel suspects that his official awakening was at age 8, when his strange dreams began, but he has no way of knowing if it's true, though in a way he's relieved he didn't tell anyone, because who knows where he would be right now if the authorities had suspected him of being a Magical Child.

  Kara nodded slowly to the shopkeeper. "Where were they headed?"

  "From the direction they went, Venkaar City. It's three days away if you take the open roads... two if you know the old paths. And yes, I have a map," the shopkeeper added, pulling a rolled-up scroll from a hidden compartment.

  Joel observed everything in silence, with unwavering attention. The appearance of magical children is a very rare phenomenon. And if it was true that there is a caravan with more than one of them, just one day away ... then this was no longer a routine mission, it was an opportunity.