Shock writes itself plainly on my friends’ faces. Disbelief is the predominant theme, but there’s another, more insidious element hidden among the emotional strokes of the pen: the fear that they’ll never get to experience a regular, peaceful life again. Watching their fragile sense of normalcy crack and crumble makes my heart skip a beat with guilt.

I dragged them into this.

I shake off the recriminating thought with a snarl. We’re all in this together. Survival is our first priority. Breathe, Nuri. Neutralize the threat first. Assign blame later.

Rakesh’s birds flutter around his head. I didn’t even see them deploy, but he’s already speaking with the Royal Army command team, coordinating emergency communication. Deep frown lines mark his annoyance, but he reacted to the crisis more quickly than I have.

“Back to the Orpheus,” I order.

The team pivots, leaving behind the colorful food district and running in unison toward our temporary home. Rakesh glances over his shoulder once, a longing look on his face. The library will have to wait. Again. I promise silently to make this up to him, but it rings hollow. What if the rebellion is more deeply embedded than I realized? We might spend weeks responding to threats that haven’t even materialized yet.

Rakesh angles closer to me as we run. He leans over and murmurs, “[Lady] Saphora’s loose. Get to Lionel.”

A bolt of terror shoots through me. I take the offered folded paper bird Rakesh produces seemingly out of nowhere, pin it in place near my ear with a flex of my Domain, and run.

Mana surges out of my restored core, pulsing through my now-complete channels with a ferocity that takes me back. The circulation completes many times in the blink of an eye, and when the power hits my legs and arms, I pump them faster than ever, easily doubling up a race horse at full gallop.

I lean forward, reinforce my stomach and back muscles to endure the strain, and sprint even harder. Windows and doors fly by in a blur. People’s faces are shimmering afterimages as I tear through the city, making it to the Menders Campus in only a few minutes. Exhausting as it is to empower myself like this, I draw on my borrowed [Greater Endurance] to sustain the speed and ward off fatigue.

When I leap over the tall, ornate gates blocking the way to the [Headmistress]’s private garden compound, twin mana signatures jump into action to intercept me. I growl in frustration. I don’t have time for this right now.

“Get your mistress to safety! The insurgents are attacking again,” I roar at Talagrand and Fazzalaro as I pass them by in a gust of wind.

The powerful bodyguards hesitate only a moment before running back to their posts. In the space of their hesitation, I sprint past them and reach Lionel’s chambers, blasting through the door with the might of my Domain, only to realize an ugly truth.

Lionel isn’t there.

Panic threatens to suffocate me. Did we lose him again? I never should have left him by himself. My fingers twitch, gathering mana in a helpless surge of rage. My throat closes until I force myself to squeeze my eyes shut and breathe. When the air flows again, my chest heaves and my gasps of desperation quicken. No. Not again!

My [Arcane Domain] billows out, filling the room with power as I search for clues. To my surprise, I don’t sense any lingering evidence of Saphora’s mana signature, even though I’m certain she’s behind this.

“When I find that witch, I’m going to shatter every bone in her body,” I growl, indulging in the satisfying mental image of transmuting her into glass and fracturing her bit by bit.

Memory belatedly catches up with my anger, and I recall that Lionel’s been helping with the healing rotation. That’s why he didn’t accompany us today.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Here I am running off again, reacting to half-baked assumptions. I need to slow down. Make a plan. Act on solid information.

Back out in the hallway, I track down a low-level Mender and ask for directions to where the [Headmistress] has set up her clinic today. As usual, the Mender is outwardly helpful and polite to a fault, smiling and answering my questions. Through my Domain, however, I pick up on his terror. My old reputation still carries too much weight around here.

I smile back, trying to set the poor man at ease, and jog in the direction indicated. It’s an easy trip, just a district over, so I should pick up Lionel’s mana signature in my senses soon. If I really pushed myself, I might be able to detect faint traces from here, but I’m just as likely to trip the alarms the Orpheus installed that scan for dangerous levels of mana use. I’d rather avoid a scene if I can help it, although it comes naturally to me it seems.

“Any news?” I ask Rakesh as I go.

“Nothing useful for us yet,” he replies through his birds. “Her cell was breached from the side. Stone-cutter of some sort at play. No sightings since her escape.”

I grunt and pick up the pace as soon as I’m out of the confines of the Mender campus. If I’m reading things right, she had inside help. That means we might be in for a drawn out, deadly game of hide and seek dealing with more insurgents.

We probably also can’t trust anyone in the Royal army, other than Nicanor. I’m not stupid enough to think all of the [Inquisitors] are above reproach, but I know Casella runs a tight ship. He would warn me if anyone acted suspiciously. No, the chances of a rogue [Inquisitor] is much lower than a double-agent in the army.

Thankfully, the explosions have died down. I no longer hear any thunderous detonations echoing through the city. Either they were targeted attacks, or a diversion to cover the escape. I’m betting on the latter.

My best friend’s mana signature shows up seconds later, to my great relief. I home in on his location and run over to where he’s set up under a canvas tent with a row of cots. It’s not as posh as the Menders campus, but the pop-up clinic is bustling with people waiting for help.

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I wave in greeting, but he only nods in response, his attention almost entirely devoted to his patient.

With a gentle pulse of restorative mana, Lionel heals a broken arm. He holds it in place as it sets and the bone knits back together, speaking in low tones to the man whose face goes from twisting in agony one moment to smiling and relaxed. His gaze is tinged with wonder as he grips Lionel’s hand with each of his own and expresses his profound thanks.

“Glad to see you’re well,” I say, slowing to a walk and heading over to my friend.

“Yep. Almost as well off as this fellow, now that he’s good as new,” Lionel quips, patting the man’s healed shoulder. “What’s going on, Nuri? You seem pained.”

The freshly-healed man dips his head again in a grateful bow to Lionel, then hurries off to embrace a worried-looking woman and a young child nearby—his family, I presume—leaving us to speak in private. My mouth goes dry now that it’s time to share that Saphora escaped.

Lionel peers at me, his countenance turning stony. “Something’s wrong. What happened this time? Blasts went off, and I’ve been healing wounds ever since, but no one seems to know what caused them.”

“Rakesh is looking into things. Don’t worry. I’m fairly certain that I can stop the blasts if I use my Domain. That’s why I’m here. You know, to make sure you’re all right,” I say, rambling as I try to find the right way to break the news.

“Lio’s fine?” Rakesh asks anxiously.

“Yeah. He’s busy saving the city, one person at a time. Doesn’t seem in danger,” I reply. I’m still scanning the area for any suspicious activity, but it seems like the immediate threats are passed. For now.

“I’m sure you and Rakesh will take care of everything,” Lionel says at last. He smiles as he speaks, but the skin around his right eye twitches, and his jaw is tight with unspoken strain. I wonder if he’s figured it out already; he’s not an idiot. “Now, I have to get back to my patients. You’re welcome to stick around, but please don’t alarm them. They’ve been through enough.”

I jerk my chin up and down in a shaky nod, not trusting my voice yet, and he grins wide in a throwback to his usual style. My friend is dealing with some serious trauma, but it’s nice to see a glimmer of his old self now and then. He turns and introduces himself to the next patient, and I stand back a few paces to give them space.

“The sooner we can wrap this up, the better. Lionel is putting on a strong front, but I can tell he’s upset,” I whisper to Rakesh, keeping my speech soft so that I don’t disturb Lionel while he works.

All of his healing talents have surged forward since he gained his new, upgraded Class. He’s begun converting the prodigious amounts of potential siphoned away from me in exchange for his Class and Skills, so he has a new suite of healing-oriented abilities. From what the other Menders tell me, he’s working at all hours of the night to bring relief to the backlog of people suffering from disease and injury. I’m proud of him.

“Caught the sappers placing explosives,” Rakesh informs me. “Three teams, coordinated by a mystery agent. Still tracking down the instigator.”

“Casualties?” I ask, my voice clipped.

“None. At least, not yet,” Rakesh says.

The grim undertone to his words makes me stand straighter and take notice. “Saphora’s nasty surprise again?”

“Precisely. We’ll need Lionel to purge the rot as soon as he’s done at his clinic. I’m trying to get in touch with Melina so she can keep them in stasis. It doesn’t seem as bad as what Lio went through, though. We have time.”

I glance over at my friend, who’s patching up a young girl caught in one of the blasts that [Lady] Saphora arranged as a distraction for her escape. The entire right side of her face is torn to shreds. Blood no longer leaks; the flesh underneath the missing skin has fused together from the heat of the blast.

Spellbound, I watch in awe as Lionel’s [Runic Restoration] reverses the devastation. Bit by bit, the bone and muscles take shape. Pain disappears from the aura of distress she’s pulsed out since she arrived. Her epidermis knits itself together layer by layer, covering her face like a veil. It solidifies, takes on a darker, more vibrant hue, and settles into unblemished skin.

I step closer, watching the entire process through my [Arcane Domain] and marveling at the delicate interplay of mana and unknown runes. I really need to decipher this Skill as soon as I can. It could change the world if I can reliably reproduce its effects in a healing wand.

Lionel spins around, his hands raised in a defensive posture and his eyes wide in alarm as he senses me right behind him. He huffs when he sees me so close. “Nuri! You about gave me a heart attack.”

I shuffle back, embarrassed that I got so distracted by the magic and intruded on Lionel’s personal space. As I try to think up an excuse, he frowns at me, and my defenses finally crumble.

“Saphora escaped,” I blurt out.

When his face goes ashen, I hiss at myself and wish I could take back my delivery of the news. Now I’ve terrified him for no good reason. What kind of awful friend am I? I can’t snatch words out of the air, either with magic or with my two hands, which means I need to watch what I say. Stupid, Nuri!

“What happened?” he asks, squaring up his shoulders and gathering his courage. Some of his old fire shines through, which encourages me that he’s on his way toward recovery.

“No one knows yet,” I admit.

“Rakesh in touch with Nicanor?”

I jerk my chin down in a nod. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll see what’s going on. You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

He sinks into a woven rattan chair near the row of cots in the makeshift clinic. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“I promise,” I insist.

“Shoulda killed her when you had the chance,” he mumbles, so low I barely pick it out. Without my [Arcane Domain] sharpening my senses, I doubt I would have noticed.

I wince. Does that mean he blames me? I’ll have to deal with that heavy revelation later. I cover my guilt by holding up the paper bird between the two of us so that Lionel can listen in to the conversation. “Status report, Rakesh?”

“Nicanor chased down two conspirators,” Rakesh says. He hesitates, faint amusement in tone. “Admittedly, he may not have been the best choice to send on this merry chase. Difficult to interrogate corpses speared full of holes.”

I snort despite the gravity of the situation. “We’re dealing with sustained attacks across the city?”

“Not precisely. Phantom enemy, if anything. The [Spear Commander] has been chasing down ghosts. I think it was all a distraction to draw them away from the Army camp so that witch could worm her way free.”

“Did someone help her?” Lionel asks suddenly. He’s leaning forward with a frown, intent on the paper bird hovering in the air in front of him.

I step closer so that we can both hear and speak more clearly, but there’s no reply for an uncomfortably long moment. “Rakesh? Did you hear Lio’s question?”

“I heard,” he replies quietly. “Inside job, without question. Please, let the [Inquisitors] find out more. Don’t be hasty—either of you.”

We exchange scandalized looks, our lifelong camaraderie rising in an instant. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” I exclaim.

“Nuri,” Rakesh says sternly, warning in his voice, “you won’t earn any friends if you go on a rampage. We’re still clearing your name from when you threatened the Menders.”

I cross my arms and let out a displeased harrumph. “And now she’s free. I should have done more than threaten her after what she did.”

Lionel smiles grimly when I say that. He knows I said that for his benefit; I only hope he forgives me for not finishing the job the first time.

“Hang on, priority transmission,” Rakesh interjects. He goes silent for a few minutes as he switches over to another set of paired birds. Urgency makes his voice shrill when he finally speaks up again.

“Lionel! We need you. Saphora hit the Capitol building then fled town. Bring the healing wand. Gilead’s [Premier] is rotting from the inside out.”