Halea had always loved the Bluffs. She didn’t understand that her family’s pasture land being out on the edge meant that they were among the poorest farmers, whose holdings might be depleted by a too-fierce rain. She only knew that she walked where rolling hills of yellow grass fell away sharply into the sea of roiling clouds that shrouded the Lower Kingdoms in the great valley to the west. Fearless, she and the old grey bluffhound, Misty, would work a small flock along the precipice through the daylight hours, for the grazing was fair and Halea did not tire of the view.

It was evening, after a long day in the fields, that Halea sat by the window, looking out over the fields and imagining how close the wind and cloud were. She could nearly feel the breeze of the cliffs blowing across her face. She looked up to the roof for a moment, and let the imagined wind flow over her. She felt it toss her tawny brown hair and-

That was when the very real wind that had entered the room blew out the candles on the table, putting all in darkness. And in that darkness, Halea saw all eyes turned to her.

In the morning, Halea’s parents took her into the city, to be tested and registered as a guildmage. It was the law, and it would be a better life for Halea as well as a great boon for her family. Halea knew this, had been told so many times what an honor it was to be taken into the guilds of the great city, to have magic and a trade.

She still felt like an old sheep being taken to market.

The next year was not kind to Halea. She was taken from her parents the day she entered the city and demonstrated her newfound talents, but it would be some time before she found a role. Before the guilds decided which would take her on. She was put in the dormitory with other unplaced talented, and marched from tutor to tutor, appraisal to appraisal, as the guilds in maddening sequence took their pick of those not born into such high life.

When the Hallowed Smiths came, they took a boy who could command heat and flame over the “living bellows”, but at least they had considered her. The representative of the Hall of Warmages had simply called her mediocre, while the Mercant’s Association, who took fresh mages mostly as extra muscle, had not even given a word, just a withering glance as their recruiter walked by. The Cabal of Architects, the Exalted Order of Masons ignored her petition and would not even see her stand in line for their inspection. She did not even offer herself to the Civil Association of Aquitects or the Supreme Fraternity of Blessed Bureaucracy.

Indeed, while most young mages were in the dormitories for a season at most, Halea’s stay had nearly entered its second year before the representative of the House of Senders arrived to choose their own new members from those available. There were no applications, for the House of Senders, controlling messengers, letter carriers, couriers, and so on and so forth, was very low for the moment in the squabbling arrangements of the trade guilds, and had peddled their opportunities for the cream of the crop to other guilds in exchange for various favors.

Thus, Halea was trotted out to them, along with the other ‘hopeless’ sorts that most of the other guilds had seen and passed up. Since it was the law that mages belong to a guild, the guilds as a whole could not refuse one, and so if the Senders did Halea knew she would fall to the Brothers and Sisters of Entertainments, of which the older, city-bred talented were wont to say had little wholesome use for those whose talents did not run in illusion or other showmanship.

Thus, she tried desperately to put up her best show for the representative of the House of Senders. When the others simply demonstrated the lackluster heights to which they had driven their magic, Halea put her all into it. The air whipped around her, scattering paperwork and ruffling hair. In the end, she exhausted herself without making any great action manifest. After all the talents had made their skills known, the Senders’ representative talked to each in turn.

“Halea.” The severe man said when she was ushered into the chamber, “Sit down.” Halea sat and waited, sick at heart

“As you are probably aware, there isn’t much demand for your skill set. Common-born mages, unless their abilities are the cream of the crop, often have a hard time finding their place in life. It’s something more should consider before they come here, law or no, whether or not their vaunted dreams might be naught but footnotes in our ledgers. There are too many guild-born sons and daughters as it is.”

He sighed heavily.

“But, I will say that I often find them lacking. While you are quite inherently unimpressive, you seemed very intent on impressing. It’s a zeal that I am forced to appreciate, seeing as real talent is not currently obliged to the House of Senders.”

At this, Halea sat up straight, for she thought she caught the meaning, and certainly it boded well for her, to be appreciated even if the appreciation was forced.

“And,” he continued, “I was reminded quite strongly that arcane ability is not, usually at least, a matter that weighs on a Sender’s ability to perform basic duties. As such, I have two questions for you, and if you can honestly answer both positively, I will take you into the House of Senders, and probably be thanked for it by whatever guild would be obliged in the last to take you. Can you run far and swiftly, and can you find your way around this city or at least read a map?”

The House of Senders was not the kindest place in the world to Halea, but neither was it the cruelest, and certainly not the cruelest that could be. The masters of the house had her at work for most of her waking hours, running messages and packages to every corner of the city and sometimes beyond, but always she had a good bed to return to, hot meals when she needed them and, if not wealth, than at least a little money for trinkets.

But Halea wanted to be better than that. In her few years of service, her magic had progressed only a little, and she couldn't help but feel a bit bitter. Surely, if someone would teach her, she could improve, but in order to be worthy of that kind of effort you either had to be born to the elite, or else prove a “promising” subject.

Being neither, Halea began to teach herself. She rose before dawn and bathed, and dried her body with conjured winds. At first she would don her clothes still dripping and feel miserable for it, but bit by bit her control improved, and she could mold the currents of air to her skin. It was a useless trick, but it was one she could practice each morning.

For the days she did her duty as a member of the House of Senders, and rarely paused to soothe her aching legs. Indeed, she noted with pride she broke from her tasks more rarely, for life in the outlands made her no stranger to exertion. Then, in the evening, she would return to the guild hall and take supper, and she had the hours after to do as she pleased. And what Halea pleased was to go out on one lonely balcony or another and practice her magic. In the morning, she worked on control. In the evening, it was the time to test her strength.

She pushed, and pulled, and at times made the evening howl and shutters rattle. It was bitter work, but bit by bit she felt the memories of her past trials fill her, became more at ease with the power, and it flowed from her stronger and steadier by the day.

Indeed, while her magic had been scarcely a footnote at her recruitment, it caught the attention of her superiors in her third year of service. Halea had been set upon by thugs in the course of her duties. Unimpressed with her Sender's medallion, three grown men had set upon a girl not old enough to wed. When the law arrived in response to the great noise of a scuffle, three grown men had been dashed against the close stone walls by mighty gusts and sat senseless or hurting in total submission, while Halea had not even broken a sweat, nor any harm been done to the package she carried.

She received no private tutor for that, but she did earn more valuable assignments, and stipends from those pleased to know what they placed in her hands would be safely conducted. To a guild-born, it would not have been much, but for Halea it was more money than she had use for.

But it was not enough. She could appreciate silken blouses and trousers, and fine new boots of dark leather, but Halea would have traded them all for more recognition. She would not stay forever the bluff girl, the nobody. Success, partial as it was, only forced her to redouble her efforts. She practiced morning and night, and now as she ran errands, the wind ran with her, and whatever opportunity she could find to exercise her arcane talent, she took. No weather vane entered her sight that was not thereafter sent spinning, nor any grime or loose debris lay in her path that was not scattered out of it.

It was a year and a half after Halea's encounter with the Ruffians, and she had not come much farther.

That was when she met her mentor. It was a routine run, though a bit far, to a penthouse where important visitors to the city could stay. Halea did not ask what was in the vaguely warm box she bore, though she understood that it was payment for the woman who would be found at that address. She handed the package to the woman and took a signature for proof, but as she turned to go that lady spoke to her.

“What is your name?” she asked.

Halea turned. “It's Halea, miss.”

The woman hesitated, then spoke again. “I'm surprised they have you running errands.”

At this, Halea's mood soured. “If it took too long, blame the man who sent it. I'm the quickest runner there is.”

The strange woman simply smiled.

“Or could they have missed your potential?” she asked, “You weren't born here, were you? Those fools don't recognize true talent that doesn't flow from their loins.”

Halea stopped, considering the words. She looked up to that woman. There was something strange about her. Halea could not place her age, for though she was smooth of skin her eyes seemed old, and she moved with more care than vigor.

“What do you mean?” Halea asked.

“My dear,” the woman said, “I happen to know quite a bit about magic myself, and beyond even that I know how to recognize a certain spark in someone when I see them, and that always heralds greatness.”

And that was what Halea had been waiting almost five years of service and one of trials to hear.

The woman went to a nearby shelf, speaking as she did. “Tell me,” she said, “What talents have you discovered?”

And Halea briefly recounted how she could shape the wind, to which the woman answered.

“It's a start, but your teacher is holding you back.” she said.

Halea folded her arms. “I don't have a teacher.” she said.

“Well then,” the woman replied, “I'd like to offer to be one, but I'm afraid I won't be staying in this city long, not now that I have what I came for. All the same, I think I can help you.”

From the shelf, she withdrew a book, and a small coffer. She handed the book to Halea, and began to sift through the contents of the coffer. As she did, Halea looked at the tome.

“Principles of the Firmament.” she read, “By Linara? It looks old...”

“Don't worry.” the woman replied, “I'll produce another copy for my travel reference sooner rather than later. This one was getting a bit worn anyway. Go ahead, take a look.”

Halea opened the book, and saw that while it might not be a teacher, it at least had knowledge for her. Even to Halea's eyes, unused to notation and formal learning of magic, there were secrets that stood out plainly legible, of the currents of magic and the currents of air.

This, Halea thought, she could use. She paused at an illustrated plate that showed a woman rising above the earth, cradled in the arms of the air to fly without the need of wings, and then looked at the edge of the tome, and saw that she had not crossed so much as the first chapter.

“This is amazing...” Halea replied, nearly breathless.

“It's yours.” the woman said, “And this as well.” she held out a small brooch. “Some day, it will help you find me.”

Halea reached out for the brooch, but hesitated.

“What's the cost?” she asked.

“Cost?” the woman replied, “It's a gift.”

“Why?”

At this, the woman looked away.

“I've had many students.” she said, “But I've never had an apprentice. It's so hard to find someone with the right spark, you understand? I've tried to take on one without, but... well, she broke beneath the strain. And I've known those with it, but all too proud.”

“And you think I'd be a good apprentice?”

The woman smiled. “A sharp mind and a powerful need are the start.”

Halea hesitated. “I'm pledged to the House of Senders.”

“Well,” the woman replied, “That could change. If it does, and you keep that trinket, you'll find me, and these little gifts will be more than worth the investment.”

Halea took the offered brooch. “I'll remember that.” she said, “But... you haven't even told me your name?”

“I haven't?” the woman asked, “How terribly rude. My name is Ellia.”

Halea smiled. “Well, Ellia... I hope we meet again.”

It only took a month for Halea to learn how to fly. In the end, it was trivial, nearly so easy as to make Halea curse herself for not thinking of it before. In the end, this finally brought her the acclaim of the Senders. This, at last, gave her a name, and respect.

Flight was a rare talent, and the House of Senders was, as the guilds went, poor, and so Halea was their only member capable. For her, this meant the best treatment, and the most prestigious assignments. She would no longer be set to carry packages across town, but rather bore missives important to nobility. No one else could move them faster. No one else was better for the most important Sendings.

When tension with the some of the lowlands provinces came to war, Halea was first in line for taking the king's orders to his generals in the field.

To Halea, it was not a perfect arrangement. She still craved more knowledge, but found what other pearls of wisdom she pulled from the book brought her little more prestige, for she already has as much as she could earn from the House of Senders. And Halea was not one who cared for war. For all that she loved her tasks, she found herself wishing that they didn't have to be.

But she did her job all the same.

It was a bright day when Halea was called to bring a new missive to battle. She focused on the lands below, and thus did not see the griffin diving from the sun until it struck

The first hit stunned Halea, and she began to fall to earth, The griffin dove after her, and soon grasped her in its talons.

She tuurned, buffeting the creature and wrenching herself away from its unsure grasp, and then she saw it had a rider.

And then she saw there were five more.

And then she saw nothing at all.

A moment of darkness, and the griffins diving for her were gone. She stood, clutching her injured arm, on a stone terrace. As she looked, a city unfolded before her, full of hazy fog in the sunlight, and at its gates it seemed as though the earth turned to cloud. Cold, crisp air filled Halea's lungs, and she began to feel fear. Where was this? WHAT was this?

There was a voice behind her.

“I was wondering when you'd find out.”

Halea turned. “Ellia?”

Ellia looked... different. Her eyes were a different hue, and her hair, gold when they first met, now a ruddy auburn not so different from Halea's own. But she had the same poise, the same face beneath her pale skin.

“You remember me.” she said, “That's good. Are you still hurt, or did your ignition take care of matters?”

Halea reached to her wounds. Her fingertips came back bloody, but she could feel the skin beneath was unbroken, the stain only on her clothes.

“Ellia, what happened? Where are we?”

Ellia paced up beside her.

“We're in a place called Altrium.” she said, “the city of Liron Sosta, to be specific.”

“I've never-”

“Heard of either because the world below us is not the world of your birth.”

Ellia smiled.

“We're planeswalkers, you and I. We alone can travel between here and there. It is our gift, and with it comes power. Life. Glory.”

“I've never heard of that, either.” Halea said, though the wonder of her situation made her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

“I did say that having the right spark was very rare.”

“I remember.” Halea replied. “So... what happens now?”

“Now,” Ellia said, “You have a choice. You can go home, though you'll never be the same... or you can stay with me, and learn what I have to teach.

Halea thought. She remembered the bluffs, and the towers of the city, and the honors she had earned as a guildmage in the House of Senders. But she also remembered how those honors had come with Ellia's gifts, and looked at the marble terraces and silver spires of Liron Sosta before her.

“All right,” she said, “I'm ready to learn.”