Veltyen closed his eyes and let his materials magic run through the sample of unprogrammed mana crystal Devlin had given him. The structure was somewhat complex but somehow elegantly efficient to his magical senses, stacking and repeating to form its crystalline structure, its shape allowing it to trap and hold mana particles in a way that no other material could.

Trying to keep the structure in his mind, he called upon his magic to create. Unlike every other time he had deliberately used his power, he was trying to make something out of pure mana rather than alter an existing material, and it took him several attempts to activate it correctly. Once he did, however, the pattern of the mana crystal seemed to seize momentum, magic seeming to flow out of him without effort on his part.

He opened his eyes to find that he had created a veritable brick of mana crystal, no smaller than the bricks that had been used to construct the ten-story apartment complex he had helped build in Eterna. It was much lighter than the equivalent size in stone, but he was still impressed with the heft of it as he held it up for examination.

Devlin took the crystal and briefly closed his eyes to examine it with his own magic. “It’s the real thing,” he proclaimed. With a wry twist of his mouth, he added, “I have no idea what you’d do with a piece that big except maybe power all the lights in a city for a year.”

“The pattern seemed to grab me,” Veltyen admitted sheepishly. He was still not accurate in gauging how much magic he was using when he was in resonance with Sery but he knew that it had been well over what would have previously knocked him into unconsciousness.

“It’ll do that. Normally, exhaustion would stop you before it got anywhere near this size,” Devlin said with another wry expression, “but you’ll have to learn to control it. The crystal pattern tends to form rectangular prisms of these exact proportions and you’ll need to control its edges well to get any other shape. Keep in mind that mana crystal can’t be reshaped once it’s formed.”

“Got it. I’ll practice,” Veltyen promised. “Um, what do I do with this one?”

Devlin stared at the giant crystal and ran his hand through his hair. “…I guess I’ll teach you how to program it for a basic heat spell and we can put it in Sery’s apartment. Even if you only fill it a third of the way, she probably won’t need anyone to recharge it for the rest of her life.”

“Sounds good.”

“Our other option, of course, is to try to sell it, sowing economic chaos and political infighting across the Seven Kingdoms, as well as an international manhunt for its creator,” Devlin added casually, nothing about his tone or expression indicating he was joking.

“…Let’s go with the first option,” Veltyen said.

“Right. So on to crystal programming….”

***

“Sery, could you come with me, please?”

Sery followed Veltyen into his equipment room. She had been in it before, of course, and was familiar with its visible contents, as Veltyen usually left the door open, but it was not a place she spent much time in.

Bypassing the magical weapons on display, Veltyen took down a case from a shelf on the side. Sery leaned in, curious to see what he kept inside.

The answer was a variety of short blades in plain leather scabbards. To her limited knowledge, they looked well-made but not decorated in any way, their hilts perfectly maintained but with miniscule scratches that indicated they had seen real use.

Veltyen slid one such hilt into her hand and she held it carefully, assuming he needed help carrying it somewhere. She realized the assumption was wrong when he rearranged her fingers to a grip that looked like one of the ways he held a dagger during practice, one finger extended over the crossguard. He squeezed her hand with his much larger one and she followed his lead, exerting enough pressure on the weapon that it felt secure in her grip.

Nodding, Veltyen took the dagger and replaced it with a different one, approximately the same length but with a slightly narrower blade and hilt. Sery did her best to recreate the grip he had just shown her, finding that the smaller diameter made it feel more secure in her hand.

“These are some of the training weapons I used when I was younger,” Veltyen explained. He gave her a longer blade next, one that extended the length of her forearm without including the length of the hilt. He showed her a different way to hold it and she found that her fingers felt strained, a warning that they would start to ache if she held the position for too long.

“Hmm,” Veltyen said consideringly. “Your hands are smaller than mine were when I started training at the Academy. I’ll have to ask Kiera…” his voice trailed off, his expression dimming as it always did when he thought about his formerly close friend. “I’ll ask Foria to ask her.”

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She touched his shoulder with her left hand, wanting to distract him. “Why do you need weapons for smaller hands?” she asked, wondering what kind of new project he might be starting.

“We need to find something that suits you so I can teach you how to fight.”

She blinked at him, taken by surprise.

“Well, defend yourself,” he corrected himself. “By no means are we trying to turn you into a combat mage, just give anyone who might try to harm you a very nasty surprise.”

Despite seeing Veltyen practicing nearly every day, it had never occurred to Sery to ask him to teach her any combat art. She was not tall, or strong, or fast, and she certainly did not have Veltyen’s amazing defensive magic. In a guild full of highly specialized mages who excelled by developing their unique talents, she saw her path as developing her Source magic as much as she could and helping Veltyen and the other members accomplish tasks that required more magic than they normally had access to.

Looking at her blank surprise, Veltyen’s expression turned rueful. “I should have asked you if you wanted to learn first, shouldn’t I? Sorry, I got ahead of myself. If you really don’t want to, I’ll keep working on other security measures.”

“Do you think I can?” she asked softly.

His expression turned warm, somewhere between humour and affection. “I think you managed to give some people a very nasty surprise without any training whatsoever. Hopefully, this just gives you more options, one that doesn’t involve you getting hurt.” His thumb brushed over her injured cheek.

It was yet another gift he was giving her, his belief in her abilities leading her to accomplish things she never would have dreamed possible in her previous life.

She put down the weapon she was holding so she could hug him with both arms.

“I take it that’s a yes?” he murmured, his arms coming around her with familiar warmth. “It’s so odd not being able to read how you’re feeling.”

One of the consequences of being in resonance with her was that Veltyen could no longer read the flows of ambient magic that came out of her. She tried to add some humour to the situation so she would not cry and make him think he had upset her. “Do I have to start getting up at dawn again?”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Yes.”

***

Veltyen walked the steps up to Kiera’s second floor apartment in Eterna. The previously familiar route between their homes had changed, storefronts updated and one building having added a third floor. It made him realize that it had been nearly a year since he had made the trip.

He knocked, trying to keep the uncertainty he felt out of his body language. When Foria had told him that Kiera wanted to see him in person, he had not quite believed his ears.

It was another shock when the door opened and he saw her apartment nearly bare, most of the furniture missing and the artwork gone. The only remnant of her personality left was the light green paint on the walls, something he had helped her with when they had both first moved to Eterna.

“Come in,” she said, leaving the door open and returning to her kitchen, where she appeared to be packing some glassware into a crate.

“Kiera, what…?”

“My old training daggers are on the counter,” she said, pointing her head in the right direction without looking away from her task. “Take whatever looks useful.”

He absently placed a hand over the pile of daggers but did not examine them. “Kiera… Are you leaving?”

“Yes.” She still had not made eye contact with him.

“But… Why?”

Her mouth twisted and her hands stilled. “I betrayed you and I betrayed Eterna.”

Confusion and disbelief swamped him. “What are you talking about? You’d never…”

“I was talking to that moneybag. Not with the most recent thing, I never imagined he’d go so far, but back when he was trying to lure your princess to his guild with money and promises.”

He muddled through her unclear words. “Tristane?” he asked, a thread of anger weaving through the disbelief. “How could you?”

“Why not?” she cried out, defensive anger rising to the surface. “She could be a little princess just as well in one of those snooty noble-only guilds as here!”

He just stared at her, feeling empty and cold. This was not his friend, just some stranger filled with selfishness and jealousy. “I’ve heard enough.”

“I had nothing to do with her kidnapping!”

“I assume that’s why you haven’t been sanctioned or arrested,” Veltyen said quietly, leaving the pile of weapons as he made his way to the door. He did not want Sery touching anything that Kiera owned.

“Veltyen…” she said, a pleading tone in her voice calling to their long years of friendship.

He paused at the door and looked at her, cold anger warring with pity at her lonely figure until he simply felt nothing for her. “I’m glad you realized you did something wrong,” he said quietly. “Have a good life.”

He left, feeling empty, his understanding of who he was fundamentally altered by the loss of a close friend in a way he never could have imagined.

He found himself wandering without a destination, not wanting to go home or the guild, anywhere he might have to pretend to be okay. Instinctively avoiding crowds, he found himself on a random residential street, just walking.

Eterna was growing, but it was ultimately a small town. Faced with the decision between going on to a noisier road or turning around and loitering suspiciously in the neighbourhood, he simply stopped.

The other half of his enna began to move towards him. Hampered by buildings and fences, it made a few false turns and had to backtrack, but eventually, Sery’s distinctive silver hair was visible down the street.

“Sorry,” he said when she was within talking distance. Belatedly, he wondered if he was apologizing for not protecting her from his own friend or for making her wander around town looking for him.

She did not reply but grasped his hand, treating him carefully, as if he were fragile. When he did not pull away, she enfolded him in a gentle hug.

He wrapped his arms around her and held on, knowing he was squeezing her too tightly. “Sorry,” he said again, his face pressed against her sweet-smelling hair.

She did not protest the confining embrace, her hand stroking the back of his neck in a comforting gesture.

They garnered more than one odd look from passers-by as they stood there for long minutes but Sery did not seem to notice or care, her focus on him in the moment. She did not ask him what had happened or if he was okay.

When he felt like he had rearranged himself into the semblance of a whole person again, he forced himself to loosen his grip, though he did not let go of Sery, still feeling shaky within himself.

“Sorry,” he found himself saying yet again. “Thank you.”

At the second phrase, she smiled.