The vision shifted, taking me into a small town under the light of the noonday sun. Two white-robed priests stood among fenced gardens, half-timber houses, and gravel streets, surrounded by a half dozen fourth-level inquisitors.
"Are you certain?" the taller one, a gray-bearded man with sunken eyes, asked. He was at the peak of the sixth level and carried a magic staff with third-level enchantments.
The other nodded, a young woman with buttery hair who was barely third level. "The soldiers were positive, and my magic detected infernal mana."
"So, there really was a gate." The older priest rubbed his chin, frowning deeply. "This complicates things. Father Ascartel said there wasn't to be another on the southern continent. Not till they come from the north, that is."
"I understand, but I swear--"
He held up his hand. "I'm not doubting your integrity."
The girl let out a sigh. "Thank the gods, I feared I would be flogged."
