Gathering Rivals

Meilyr's group darted across the rocky plains after an hour of respite, their figures swift enough to blur. 

Thanks to Lady Tsuji's magecraft, they managed to reach the northern forest's edges by noon the following morning. 

The vegetation warped around its outermost wall of trees, rising in greenish dust across a glass-like, translucent dome that encircled the entirety of the selection's site. Ominous pulses traveled through the air from the condensed layer of Mana, alarming their mystical senses. 

"A Theurgic Field," Tsuji mused aloud. "At least we're sure it's the right place." 

"Are we supposed to go in?" Ando didn't seem thrilled by that prospect.

Meilyr cautiously approached the barrier, his silvery eyes peering beyond its glimmering surface.