At first, the rumblings deep in the ground did not quite reach the mage tower in Yaal. In fact, it wasn’t until the earth was shaking violently that the mages realized something was happening. Even so, the elder mages brushed the quaking off with a wave of their collective hands, instructing the acolytes to go about their work and not to worry.

After several more minutes, though, even the most seasoned of the bunch were beginning to exchange worried glances. It was true that the earth sometimes shook, and they believed it was simply the old girl stretching her joints after a long rest. But never was it this prolonged, and rarely had it been this violent.

“Alazax!”An acolyte rushed into the room, looking around with wild eyes before spotting the head mage and rushing over, breathless. “Alazax. You must come.”

“Calm yourself, boy. What is it?” He wondered if perhaps someone had fallen and injured themselves. Some of the mages could hardly keep themselves upright on a calm day.

But the boy shook his head and stumbled over words before managing to say only one word. “L-l-look!”

Alazax followed the boy’s pointed finger out the nearest window and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. He clutched his robes in alarm and whirled back to face the boy.

“Get everyone to the top of the tower. Grab the artifacts. Go, now!”

The boy nodded his shaggy head and sprinted away. Alazax turned his attention to the handful of mages standing nearby.

“All of you, upstairs. No, Elrich, there’s no time to put up your supplies neatly. Leave everything exactly as it is and get up there. Grab anyone you see along the way, check every room. Just get to the top of the tower.”

As a man of several hundred years of age, and a veteran of several world conflicts, there wasn’t much that could cause Alazax to panic. And even when he was panicking, he had the good sense to remain levelheaded and give orders with confidence. But as soon as he was alone, he turned back to the window and leaned out, sweeping his gaze across the horizon and sucking in a sharp breath. The time had come.

He went to his personal room and grabbed a few items that had been passed down to him when he became head mage, an unassuming wooden staff and a chain with a large ruby charm set in the center. For two centuries, the relics had been used only ceremonially, but he knew that they had once wielded great power before the seven citadels fell. If anything happened to him, the other mages were going to need these.

With one last look at his room, he departed, telling himself that he would return when all of this was settled, however long it took. Then he climbed the stairs toward the uppermost room of the tower, wondering what he was going to say to the gathered mages.

Their last gathering had been just days before, and they’d had little time to send out search parties. It seemed now that search parties were irrelevant. If what he saw was not an illusion, everything was about to change.

He topped the last stair and stood in the doorway, all eyes on him. Leaning heavily on the staff he paused for a long moment, summoning all of his strength. Then he took two steps inside, locked the door behind himself and said the words he hoped he’d never have to say.

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“The magic has breeched the firmament.”

There was a resounding gasp in the cramped room before all of the mages started chattering at once. Their voices rose in a crescendo, throwing questions at him faster than he could make sense of them. Wearily he raised a hand, waiting for silence.

“There will be time for questions in the days and weeks to come. I’m afraid I do not have the answers you seek. When the first council of mages called forth the firmament to contain the magic all those years ago, they changed the course of history. All these years, the magic has been flowing right beneath our feet like a river, and it has finally washed away the thin barrier that directed its flow. Now, we must prepare ourselves for whatever comes next.”

“Can’t we just repair it?” one of the younger mages shouted.

“Look around you!” Alazax answered angrily, waving his arm.

With a word, the walls of the tower seemed to melt away, replaced with a shimmery transparent substance. But it was not his spell that drew a sharp gasp from the crowd. It was the revelation of what they were up against.

Beyond the city walls of Yaal, the land of Andrysfal appeared to have been pierced dozens of times by bolts of light. In every direction, beams of white glowed from earth to sky, stretching out into the distance as far as the eye could see. Overhead, the beams bent toward one another, meeting in one swirling mass that writhed and tumbled through the sky in a whirlwind.

“Do you see now? The firmament has been weakened beyond the point of repair. There are too many breeches. We cannot simply stop one leak and contain the problem. We must prepare ourselves.”

Once again, they were not listening to his words. Alazax saw the dazed look on their faces. Some of them turned in a slow circle, taking in the enormity of the danger, their mouths hanging open in awe. He felt much the same way.

It had been so long since he had seen magic flowing freely in Andrysfal, and even then, it had been channeled through proper conduits and wells. It hadn’t been loose and wild like this. He was even beginning to wonder whether the firmament had ever been a good idea. After all, the people of Andrysfal had destroyed the wells when the magic was sealed inside the firmament, which meant it had no natural place to gather itself. Now, as the wild cloud grew overhead, Alazax did not know how it might ever be contained again.

He walked to one wall, placing a hand on the transparent surface to steady himself. Heights had always made him a bit nauseous, and the situation wasn’t helping any. On the streets below, the people were just beginning to emerge from their homes despite the fact that the ground still swelled and bucked erratically from time to time. They turned their heads up and stared, filling the streets more and more with each passing minute.

Alazax turned his attention to the beam of light nearest them, wondering if his aged body was up for the short journey to find it. It didn’t look too far, within a day’s walk, although it was in the wooded hills. He was still pondering this when the light burned brighter and then blinked out.

He frowned, puzzled. For a while, he watched the other beams, wondering if they would also burn out. Perhaps the magic could only sustain itself for so long? But the others persisted, burning through the sky and feeding the cloud.

“Alazax?” A nervous voice broke through his consternation.

Slowly, he turned around to face the gathered mages. But it was not them that needed his attention most. Rather, the chest containing the ancient artifacts sat in the middle of the room, glowing white just like the beams outside. It was a wonder the chest didn’t melt as he imagined the light giving off quite a bit of heat. However, when he strode forward and reached a hand out toward the chest, he found that it wasn’t the least bit warm to the touch.

Against his better judgement, he moved his hand to the latch and it sprang open. Instantly, a column of white light rose up from the chest and burst through the roof of the tower, arcing up and across to the place where all light converged.

Leaping back, Alazax waved his arm and shouted a word, dispelling his previous magic. The walls of the tower snapped back into place, blocking the view of outside. He looked around the room in terror.

“What do we do now?” the young mage asked.

“I do not know.”