Following Rakesh’s revelation about a potential war of secession, the team throws themselves into their work. Busy hands seem like the best antidote to worrying about matters above our heads, so we’re all equally eager to ply our trade and stay out of trouble. I leave tracking down clues to our [Researcher] and instead focus on preparing designs for a glass hand.

Nearly a week passes by uneventfully, which seems like a new record for us. The peace does not last; it never does, these days. Mender Uttara sends word through Lionel to let me know that he has finally arranged a meeting with the metaphysical specialist. By tomorrow tonight, I’ll know whether or not my goal of restoring my inner world to proper order is achievable, or simply a far-off and impossible dream.

When I wake the next day, I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my entire life. I’d rather brave the depths with Tem again than hear I’m doomed to never restore my core.

I take in a deep, shaky breath, chiding myself for my fatalism. Today only marks the introductory meeting with the metaphysical healing expert. I remind myself that even if I get bad news, it’s not all bad. I already have a workaround. My glass pseudo cores are better than ever, and now I’ve got multiple sets I can rotate through if needed. Shielding them to cut down on dangerous resonance is still on my to do list, but I can potentially get around it as I improve my [Glass Animation] Skill. I’ve got a few ideas already for ways to diversify my glass animals and artificially improve my overall capacity by spreading out the cores across the various creatures.

If I can push forward my [Arcane Domain] to the next rank, then I might be able to connect to the glass cores remotely. I’m not sure if it’s possible to use stored mana at a distance like that, although I’ve seized ambient mana before with my Domain. If it works the way that I hope it will, then I’ll be able to ignore the usual interference caused by multiple imbued items in close quarters and simply spread out the cores across my growing menagerie.

As promising as the mana options are, however, I’ll still be limited if I can’t fix my actual core. Based on the research Rakesh has done so far, we don’t think I’ll have a shot at attaining the Second Threshold apart from a working internal core. My channels are part of the issue as well. I can bypass them and pour mana directly into Skills, although there’s significant energy loss and pain, but the problem is the lack of a metaphysical connection to whatever governs the truth of our world. Gaining efficiency would be nice, I have to admit, but I’m more concerned about the heavens not deeming me fit for advancement apart from total restoration.

Thoughts pinging madly about in my mind, despite my efforts to calm myself, I set out marching to my meeting alone. Everyone else is happily working toward more concrete goals: Rakesh with his efforts to find out more about the [Inquisitors], Lionel apprenticing under Mender Uttara, Mikko learning how to better incorporate enchantments into his materials, and the Linas churning out high-quality glass pieces for the Orpheus House auctions. While Avelina’s [Strong as Stone] isn’t the same as an imbuement, it’s still a highly-sought-after enhancement.

Me? Chasing fancy and folly.

Whenever I’m alone, I have a tendency to let my mind wander down the worst possible outcomes. What if the metaphysical healer is like Scalpel, curious about the hidden secrets of the soul? If she’s unafraid of whatever it takes to uncover them, then I could be in trouble. I refuse to get myself into another situation like that. I’ll burn the Menders to the ground before I let them enslave me.

“Steady, Nuri. It’s just a meeting,” I tell myself sternly. There’s no reason to let my mind run wild. My imagination doesn’t rule me, although it seems significantly less stable ever since my encounter with the innovation-infused tea. My thoughts are quicker than ever, which is good, but they slide and skip and slither whenever I try to take them captive. Not so good. Innovation seems to be a double-edged sword. Boon and bane, all in one.

The Menders main campus is enormous, probably four or five times the size of the SCA, but it’s not their only property in Gilead. Today, I’m heading to an off-site research facility. That’s already unsettling enough, but no one at the main desk had heard of it, or knew how to give me directions. I had to interrupt Lionel in the middle of practicing a Sounding so that I could ask his new teacher, Mender Uttara, how to find the place.

It’s in the opposite direction of the Orpheus House, in a district I’m unfamiliar with so far. At least I get to see more of the city while I walk. Honestly, that’s about the only bright side I can find in the arrangement. My nerves are frayed from worry. I feel like a glass globe poised to fall on the hard concrete floor of the hot shop and shatter into a thousand pieces.

Glass metaphors aside, my insides feel like a bartender got creative mixing up a fresh cocktail: one part fear, one part anticipation, one part explosive anxiety, all mixed with a dash of ineffable hope that’s almost painful to hold inside. If anything goes wrong, I’m not sure how I’ll react to the death of dreams.

I guess I’ll just get back to work. That intrusive, anticlimactic thought grounds me. I snort at the simple idea and walk faster, a slight spring in my step again. Regardless of the outcome, I’ll find some closure at last. Even if there’s no good news, at least I’ll know. I won’t give up so easily.

Architecture has never been an enduring interest of mine, but it’s hard not to notice the sweeping changes as I transition between districts. Gone are the brownstone apartments and the smattering of boutique shops. No longer do I see the bright colors of vendors on the street corners, coordinated by avenue. Frazzled and harried working-class citizens have thinned out. Even the gentry don’t appear in any significant numbers; this is not a place for pleasure strolls.

Instead, brutalist buildings herald a strange combination of industry and luxury. Blocks of real estate are missing—I’m not sure how else to describe it—replaced by lush and extravagant gardens with high cast iron fences surrounding them. In the far distance, I can just make out a few magnificent palaces if I squint. After a few such anomalies, I realize that the giant factories, if that’s what they are, are connected with the palatial grounds.

I have no context for this kind of pairing. Usually, people rich enough to afford this kind of incredible excess aren’t involved in heavy industry. Context eludes me, but I’m sure there’s got to be a good explanation for the oddity.

That’s a mystery for another time, however; I’ve arrived at my destination. I glance down at my map, read off the address for the third time in the last few minutes, and confirm that I have the right place. It’s another one of the park-like swathes of greenery, although this has an open gate and a rusty-red brick pathway leading over to a warehouse-like building.

Head lifted high, I march down the path. No guards accost me, so I act like I belong here in this strange environment of contradictions. My fingers are trembling with anticipation, so I grip my glass cores to keep my hand from shaking too visibly.

Before long, I pass through the gardens, carefully cultivated to look like the wilds, and reach an unassuming door on the side of the massive concrete warehouse. No one answers my knock, so I let myself in and hope that I haven’t breached some unwritten law.

My boast to Melina comes back to me: I’m a natural lawbreaker. Might as well make that work for me instead of against me. Besides, if they didn’t want me to come inside, then they wouldn’t have given me a map, left the gate open, or presented an unlocked door.

As my eyes adjust to the dim interior, I rely on my Domain to get a sense of the layout of the place. To my surprise, most of the facility is underground, extending seven stories down into the bedrock. No enchantments block my probing, giving me an unobstructed view of the dozens of empty rooms.

Where is everyone?

Threads of bright, mana-rich crystal reach down into the earth like roots, pulling up more dense energy than I’d expect. Is every city built over the scars of old Rifts? I put that thought to the side for future review, although it’s an intriguing idea. Maybe that’s what helped catapult the Capital and Gilead to prominence, alongside Grand Ile, Acondia, and Mellanlange—all major cities in Densmore.

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At last, my reconnaissance pays off. There are two mana signatures on the last floor, at the end of a long hallway with what feels like built-in checkpoints: small mana barriers that buzz against the intrusion of my Domain. They’re not strong enough to worry me, however. My glass pseudo cores are full, and I’m accustomed now to leveraging the concepts of an imbued framework through my Domain. I can rip any basic mana barriers to shreds with sharpness.

Still, making my way down the stairways is unsettling. The dim lighting doesn’t help any. Most of the lights are off; for some reason, only every fourth mana lamp is illuminated. Maybe it’s some sort of cost- or energy-saving endeavor, but I don’t love the darkness. Worse, the air itself leaves me so uncomfortable. There’s a hot, stagnant oppressiveness to the area. No smell hits my nose, but my mana senses are uncomfortable. There’s something slightly off about it all, in a way that reminds me a bit too much of the violence twisting the environment in the Old Keep.

This doesn’t feel as virulent, but it’s still not quite right. It’s not even that it feels like I’m in danger. There’s nothing wrong, not the way the twisted enchantments in the Rift below the Old Keep felt, but it has me on edge. Whatever I’m about to encounter downstairs is unusual. I need to keep my guard up in case things go sideways.

As expected, none of the doors at the base of the stairs are barred to me. I walk the hall with equal parts trepidation and expectation, not even wincing when I pass through the barriers. I note with some distaste that they seem keyed to keep people in, rather than out. I’m still confident in my ability to punch through them, should it come down to a confrontation, but the detail sticks out to me. It’s worth remembering that this is not typical Menders business.

Or maybe it is. That dark, intrusive thought gives me pause. Rakesh is investigating the shady practices of the once-honorable institution. Maybe luring strange people into their basement lairs and collecting them like specimens is part of their business now.

When I’m a few strides away from the final doorway, I sense two mana signatures inside moving toward me. They’re sedate, and I don’t sense any malicious intent, so I try to tamp down the instinct to strike preemptively in case they harbor any untoward purposes.

The door opens. A middle-aged man and woman with matching nut-brown hair and dark eyes greet me, smiling with more friendliness than I expected in a dreary place like this.

“You must be Nuri! Uttara told us that you’d be coming to visit, but we didn’t expect you so early,” the woman says. She glides forward, reaching out her arms and shocking me with a brief hug. “Apologies, I would have met you at the gate. It’s such a foreboding facility if you’re not used to things! You must be quite brave.”

“Or quite desperate,” the man at her side murmurs, squinting at me as though he can lay bare all my secrets.

I sense a familiar brush of another’s presence against my own as he tries to View me—a technique I’ve never seen in anyone outside of an [Inquisitor] before. I take far more joy than I should in flexing my Domain and swatting aside his clumsy attempts.

“Rude,” I say to him.

“Remarkable!” he says, not put out in the least. “How did you do that without a working core? Your insides are in tatters. Come in, come in! This is a mystery worth investigating.”

The woman by his side clucks her tongue. “Where are my manners? This is my brother Rashad. I’m [Metaphysical Mender] Shiphrah, and I’ll be your least favorite Mender right up until I’m your favorite of all time.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Ominous.”

“Accurate,” Rashad puts in, still looking at me like I’m a puzzle to solve. He pulls out a plush chair with navy blue upholstery and gestures for me to take a seat. “Shiphrah is a genius. She loves fixing things, which is good for you. You’re lucky that she’s taken an interest in your case. You’re doubly lucky that I’m with her. I’ll make sure you live through whatever she tries in her pursuit of fixing your metaphysical connections.”

The sheer cheerfulness of Rashad’s menacing pronouncement makes me laugh despite myself. “I’ve probably seen worse,” I say, putting on an air of bravado. I have no idea what to make of the siblings, but something about their forthrightness puts me at ease.

“Oh, but you are a treat!” Shiphrah says, clapping in childlike delight. “I’ll have to send a gift basket to Mender Uttara. I knew returning home was a good idea. Didn’t I tell you, Rashad?”

“You did, sister. You did!”

She taps the side of her nose. “So I did! Rarely wrong, rarely wrong. Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with. Rashad, initial report?”

Rashad takes a seat across from me. He folds his hands over his belly, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied hum. “His Skills are more robust than they should be, but I couldn’t get a good look. His core is almost utterly destroyed from what I could glimpse before he shut me out. Impressive, that.”

“Without a working core?” Shiphrah’s voice takes on its first sharp edge of the day. She’s been warm, almost grandmotherly, the entire time up until now. “Dear me, dear me. Complicated project, if I do say so myself. That makes things difficult.”

“Why is that?” I ask. My intrigue conquers my mild annoyance that they’re talking over me as though I’m not present.

“The Menders could not fix your hand. Correct?”

I nod in response to her question.

“They are far from infallible. But in this case, there’s not much to be done apart from the relic. Only the headmistress has access to that. Know why? I mean, the lack of recourse, not the access to the rod! Silly me, silly me.”

Once I’m certain that Shiphrah is done rambling, I meet her gaze and give the expected answer. “Inertia. The body has attained a new equilibrium. Coaxing it to remember what used to be is too difficult, apart from the Azure Rod.”

“Oh, such a clever young man!” Shiphrah says, clapping again. She acts more like a big child than a full-grown woman, which makes me wonder how she became a foremost expert in metaphysical healing. “Correct, Nuri. Very good. I’m afraid that the same holds true; as outside, so inside. You see?”

“My channels are shredded. I’ve learned to circumvent them. So, I’ve painted myself into a corner by finding a solution?”

My voice is surprisingly calm. I already suspected something like this might be the case. Still, my heart is beating rapidly, and I can’t shake the sense of sorrow that’s spreading through me like poison.

“Not at all!” Shiphrah says, beaming. “You’ve simply made things tricky. And that’s good for you, because I like tricky. Mender Uttara would have helped you, otherwise. Or at least, he would have tried. He’d likely have failed, but that’s life. I wouldn’t have agreed to see you if he didn’t think you were interesting.

“Too busy with your research?” I ask.

“Precisely! You’re smart, Nuri. I like you. Oh, oh! That makes me sad. I am going to hurt you before I fix you. Do try not to take it personally,” Shiphrah says. Her face falls, and she looks at me with a kind of strange tenderness that I’ve only seen before when parents know they have to dismantle a child’s favorite toy in order to fix something inside.

I put on my best smile, trying to appear confident. “Very well. I’m not afraid of pain. What do we need to do first?”

“Why, eat lunch! You don’t expect me to work on an empty stomach, do you?” Shiphrah’s face takes on a horrified cast. “Rashad, be a dear and call for my niece. She’s late again. We’ll have to remind Saphora to be more punctual. I can’t abide waiting for food. You know how delicate my stomach is!”

I twitch at the name Saphora, then clamp down on my emotions and try not to react to it any further. What are the odds that she works for Mender Shiphrah? Surely it’s someone else with the same name. Surely.

Yet I know in my bones that it’s her—the woman who kidnapped my best friend and left him with secret hurts. He occasionally falls into a sullen silence and refuses to tell anyone what happened while he was imprisoned. The thought of sharing a meal with the woman responsible makes me angry.

I can’t repay the siblings’ kindness by seeking vengeance on their assistant and niece, but I’m also not willing to remain silent. Yet fixing my metaphysical core and channels is my priority right now. Lionel would tell me not to be stupid if he knew that I’d even considered walking out.

It’s fine to bide my time, I tell myself. I can get justice afterward. Lionel will be avenged, not to mention the citizens of Mahkaiaraon.

Still, I can’t hide the intensity of my gaze when Saphora shows up with food. She shoots a venomous glare my way, her entire body going stiff with anger. An instant later, she masters herself and melts into smiling at Shiphrah with sickening sweetness, cooing over the older Mender and presenting her with all the choice delicacies on the platter.

Rashad gets the second go at the food, taking the best of what’s left. By the time he has his fill, the remaining cold slices of meat and crusts of bread aren’t particularly appetizing.

Still, I didn’t expect to eat here, so I’ll take what I can get. Might as well fortify myself for whatever’s to come. Eating will give me direction for my energy.

I meet Saphora’s eyes when she offers me the platter, taking spiteful glee in the way she flinches at the sight of me. I hold her gaze while I take a piece of bread. “Thank you for the food. I owe you! And I always settle my debts.”