It took a little over two weeks for the divination blocking wards shrouding the Sanctum of Light to begin failing. During that time, the remainder of Ammun’s army, just over half of what they’d had a month ago, moved back into the tower one group at a time. I’d given serious consideration to destroying the remaining teleportation platforms to prevent them from actually returning, but that would have doomed every single person still in the tower to death when it started collapsing.

Enough of them weren’t going to make it already, and through no fault of their own. If a few thousand managed to evacuate once it became obvious that the tower was no longer stable, I wouldn’t complain about it. If not, then I wouldn’t have dealt with Ammun’s forces either way.

The gestalt helped immensely with keeping track of things, so much so that it eventually became easier to establish a communication line tied directly to them so that they could update me in real time as events unfolded. Nothing had required my direct intervention, but as the tower started groaning and creaking, its inhabitants became more and more nervous. Soon, they’d likely be pushed back out into the plains and forests surrounding the area, and then I’d make my move.

Querit and I continued to refine our mysteel and troll’s blood elixir. The plant was beginning to show traces of something other than organic iron in the thorns it grew, but whatever it was, it wasn’t mysteel. Something about the process still wasn’t working the way I wanted it to, something about how it filtered the metal and changed it.

We were dissecting a second sample I’d fetched, trying to isolate the exact mechanism the monster used to grow metal in hopes of doing a bit of targeted alchemical alterations to our next batch for the research specimen when Querit looked up at me and said, “How’s the progress to stage nine coming along?”

“It’s not,” I said. “Too much to do, not enough time to do it. Not enough mana, either.”

“I don’t understand why you’re not prioritizing this. I must be missing something, because this seems like the single greatest thing you could be doing to prepare for a confrontation with Ammun. This stuff with the mysteel hunting, sure, it’s important, but it’s not time sensitive. We could till do this after you beat Ammun.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. We’d had this discussion a few times already. No matter what explanation I gave, Querit kept poking at me. Every few weeks, he brought it up again. “I know you feel that way, but I don’t agree.”

“Okay, but why not? Where am I wrong in my reasoning?”

“Just drop it,” I said.

Then he surprised me. “No. You keep giving evasions. I’d like to think we’re friends, and I know you well enough to tell that you’re hiding something from me. Tell me. Help me understand the piece I’m missing.”

I released the phantasmal scalpel I was holding and let it flicker into motes of light. It helped me dig out metallic thorns by cutting through the fibrous plant matter without damaging the metal itself, which I wouldn’t have thought was a big deal when I’d first started working on this, but I’d quickly learned that the thorns had a sort of interconnected root system of hair-thin metallic threads.

I was still hesitant to call Querit a friend. For one thing, he wasn’t actually a person. As complex as his core was, it was still possible to change who he was on a fundamental level by altering the rune sequences that governed his mind. Then again, humans were just as mutable, probably more so. They could be coerced into betrayal easily enough.

It was more a problem on my end. I was just too paranoid to fully trust anyone, even my own family. For all that Querit had helped and supported my work, with as vulnerable as I was to sudden treachery, I still hadn’t dropped my guard around him. He knew that, and I’d thought he’d accepted that I wasn’t that kind of person, that some things would never change.

That wasn’t really fair, though. He didn’t really understand what he was asking me. I’d be literally putting my life in his hands. A single mistake could kill me, and if he decided to do it on purpose, there was no way he could fail. There had to be a better way to do take that last step into stage nine, but I hadn’t found it, not yet.

If I explained it, Querit would rightfully think I didn’t trust him. In all fairness, I trusted him quite a bit these days, more so than I ever would have thought possible, but to allow someone I’d known for such a brief period of time the opportunity to end my life…

No.

I didn’t trust him that much.

Did I trust him enough to explain why? Would it solve any problem besides getting him to stop badgering me if I told him the truth? Or would it just cause a rift to grow between us at a time when I could ill-afford it?

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Keiran?” Querit prodded.

“No,” I decided. It wasn’t worth the risk. “Moving to stage nine isn’t an option right now. I don’t have what I need, and likely won’t for more years than it’ll take to resolve all of this business with Ammun.”

Senica was my backup plan if I couldn’t find a way around my current problem. That was a big ‘if,’ however. I’d given this extensive thought prior to my reincarnation and had several theories on how to achieve a perfect stage nine without outside assistance. Unfortunately, they all required resources I was years away from regaining access to. The mana costs alone were staggering, not to mention dozens of generations of iterative improvement on the tools I’d need to manufacture just to get to the point where I could test my theories. And all that was just to explore theories. I still didn’t know.

“But what is it you need? I can help. We’ll find new sources of mana. We can build—”

“Enough,” I barked. “Let. It. Go.”

Querit regarded me steadily for a long moment, then he sat down the glassware he’d been holding while he mixed reagents into the solution and turned toward the door. Without a word, he walked out of the lab, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

“Damn it,” I muttered, unsure whether I was angry at him or myself.

* * *

I didn’t see Querit the next day. I knew precisely the moment he left the valley, about an hour after moonrise on a flight spell that took him west. I could have tracked his progress with a few simple divinations, but I didn’t.

We both needed some time to ourselves.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I didn’t get it. In the early morning, just before sunrise, the droning voice of the gestalt entered my mind. ‘We have spotted the archmage Bakir Odrinac and two more humans,’ they informed me without preamble. ‘They are in the basin of the island, some hundred or so miles west of the human town known as New Alkerist.’

That sent a jolt through me. I’d never informed the gestalt of my association with the town, but I couldn’t assume they didn’t know. Short of using massive amounts of memory-altering mind magic, there was no way to hide the fact that my family lived there. Even if the gestalt didn’t realize the significance of Bakir’s location, that didn’t make it a coincidence.

What was he after, though? Was it an attempt to strike out at my family? Or just a way to probe me for a weakness? Did he want to see if he’d get a reaction from me?

There existed the possibility that it truly was just a coincidence, but a hundred miles was practically nothing for an archmage to cover. Even the slowest flight spell could get him there in an hour if he pushed it. If his two companions were also members of the same cabal, they would no doubt have access to even better spells.

‘Thank you for letting me know. Please keep an eye on them and inform me if they make a move toward any human-occupied villages or towns,’ I sent back.

‘As you wish.’

I pulled myself through my genius loci to my teleportation platform and empowered it immediately. A moment later, I was inside my room in my parents’ house, where I could hear my father in the kitchen preparing for a new day.

I walked into the common area to find him standing at the sink, a knife in hand and a pile of vegetables being chopped up. His hands blurred as he worked, a faint trace of mana infused in his body to speed him up. I smiled softly to myself at the waste. Ten years ago, he never would have considered using mana for something as mundane as food prep.

“You’re up early,” Father said. “Got a big date tod—Oh! Gravin. Sorry, I thought you were your sister.”

“Hello,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I can’t stay.”

Something in my voice must have alerted him, because the tension was instant and palpable. “Something wrong?” he asked in a tight, strained voice.

“Probably not, but I’m going to check the town’s countermeasures to make sure we have time to react if it comes down to it.”

“Ammun’s mage hunters are back?”

“No, no. It’s completely unrelated to them. An archmage—well, he called himself one, at least—showed up a few weeks ago at the valley. We had a chat and he went on his way. Supposedly, he’s from another continent on the other side of the world and is just here to investigate what Ammun’s been up to.

“A few minutes ago, he appeared on the island with two unknown people. They’re about a hundred miles west of us at the moment, and I’d be remiss in dismissing the location as a coincidence when I have prominent ties to New Alkerist.”

“Do you think they’re going to attack?” Father asked.

I shook my head and said, “No, probably not. They’re probably setting up to do some scrying and see what they can learn. Most likely, they’re hoping to find out anything and everything they can about me before they approach me with whatever it is they want. Just in case they’re planning something stupid like taking hostages, though, I’m going to be here for the next few hours.”

“And after that?”

“If they haven’t done anything, I’ll probably go to them.”

My calm confidence must have been enough to calm Father down, because he let out a grumpy sigh and went back to work preparing breakfast. “Do you need me to do anything?” he asked over the sound of the knife smacking into the cutting board repeatedly.

“No. I’ve got access to everything I need to check.”

He snorted. “You’re not supposed to.”

“Hard to stop me. I’m the one who installed it all.”

“You do have a way with village councils, son. You know that?”

“I’ve been told my social skills could use some practice.”

“Ah, well, we love you anyway.”

“I—” I paused. Then I sighed and said, “I love you all, too. Actually, do you mind if I get a bit of advice from you?”

“Of course,” Father said. He set the knife down and turned to face me. “Not sure how I can help, but I’ll do my best.”

“It’s complicated. No, that’s not true. It’s simple. I can’t bring myself to trust people. How do you do it? How do you live knowing that they could betray you?”

Father looked startled for just a moment, then he started laughing. “Ancestors forbid, Gravin. I thought this was going to be something big. How is it that you handle world-shaking problems on a regular basis, but struggle so hard with people? No, no, I’m sorry. I understand. Truly. Here, come help me get this food finished and we can discuss the finer points of not having so much personal power that you have absolute control over everything around you. I’m sure it’ll be an enlightening conversation.”