Sirens reverberate throughout the city.

Distant as the sounds may be, the fact that they cut through the dampening wards in the hot shop at all tells me that it’s deafening outside the Orpheus House. Nervous energy floods my system. I dash over to the rows of chests on the side of the glass studio, flipping open the lids and rummaging through the roomy storage to pull out new golem designs.

“I’ve made a pair for each of you. Mender Uttara, that includes you,” I say, bowing to the only man in the Menders who’s earned my respect. “I’ve added as many runic arrays as I could to provide some protection, though I’m not a true [Enchanter].”

“Thank you for the gift,” Uttara replies, though he holds the offered glass spiders at arm’s length, eyeing them sideways as though afraid they’ll bite him with their glittering glass fangs.

“Speaking of enchantments! Mel, Rakesh, we gotta talk when everything settles down, because I’m more and more convinced that imbuing and enchanting are two sides of the same coin. Neither is a complete discipline,” I say in a jumbled rush.

Melina’s eyes light up as soon as I bring up an exciting new theory. To my surprise, her scholarly counterpart simply nods and continues withdrawing papers. He barely seems to have registered my statement at all.

Chaos makes each person react differently. The rest of the team grabs their gear, kitting up for our next adventure. There’s simply no time to slow down. We can’t enjoy the one we just concluded until this is over.

Rakesh finishes his mana preparations. He opens his satchel, releasing dozens of new paper birds. They flit away as quick as thought, up the ventilation shafts. I track them all the way out of the building with my Domain, impressed by their speed. He must have ranked up the Skill again, which is no surprise with how much communication he’s been coordinating lately.

With my [Arcane Domain] active, I notice something different immediately. Although my channels have been healed, the flow of mana wasn’t quite right. I’d grown so used to my limits over the last year that it never registered until just now. With my hand restored, the circulation of energy through my body is complete once more. I sense every single person in the Orpheus with pinpoint accuracy. I almost expect to feel disoriented by the increased precision, but instead I let out a sigh of relief. This is how it’s supposed to be.

One of the mana signatures within my Domain blazes far more brightly than the rest, and she’s headed this way faster than I’ve ever seen her move before.

I dart over to the doorway, grasp the door handle in my left hand, and fling open the door to admit Ozana just as she’s reaching for the handle on the other side. She rushes in, outlined in a glimmer of mana that’s so thick it looks like body armor. I do a double take as I realize that is precisely what it is. Somehow she’s managed to physicalize her mana.

I force myself to set aside the distraction of trying to puzzle out how she achieved such a stable manifestation, and instead get straight to business. I’ll have to study this technique when I have the luxury of indulging my curiosity.

“Are you ready to throw your lot in with us? If we fail, there’s no coming back for you,” I remind her solemnly.

She arches her brow. “Good thing the house always wins, Nuri.”

“No doubts you’ve made the wrong choice?” I ask, looking Ozana dead in the eye and trying to nonverbally impress on her the seriousness of what’s to come.

“My dear Nuri,” she says with a charming smile, “you misunderstand me. I don’t gamble and hope I chose the winning side. I crown the winner myself.”

I can’t help but grin at her confident proclamation. “Looking forward to the coronation.”

Her levity fades, replaced by a level of vulnerability and worry I’ve never seen from the charismatic leader of the Orpheus. “Gilead is a city of [Healers] and [Merchants]. While we have a standing army, it’s small and cannot stand up to the might of Densmore. I fear for the people caught in the crossfire.”

“We’ll take care of them,” I promise.

“Congratulations on your healing, Nuri,” Ozana says, looking between my hand and the glass rod still clutched in Lionel’s grasp. I can practically see the gold bars in her eyes as she comes to the conclusion that the Menders’ monopoly on miracles is over.

I clap twice in imitation of Ember’s signature method for getting her workers’ attention, and the team turns toward me. “You heard her! The storm is breaking over Gilead. Let’s ensure that only the guilty are cut down in the carnage.”

Lionel lifts up the healing wand. Mikko’s glass hammer is in hand, and he’s at the ready. He looks like he’s about to charge out the door with the others on his heels.

“First things first,” I say, activating the scrying sensors I built into the glass golems, which I’ve deployed across the city in preparation for this operation. Projecting the images onto the mirror table I created as well as panes of glass I set up along the far wall of the studio elicits a chorus of oohs and ahhs from my friends. Dozens of scenarios spring into existence, all in vivid, moving color.

“Rakesh? We need a plan.”

The [Researcher] rubs his hands together and steps up to the scrying table where an overhead view of Gilead from a few thousand feet above the streets gives us a clear picture of the action. His eyes glow white with a mana-enhanced analysis Skill. “[Fractured Plans, Fallen Enemies],” he invokes.

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My quick peek into his core confirms that it’s completely new. If I’m reading it right, the Skill seems to prey on weak points and sow confusion, which makes sense given all his time working in the shadows and making plans. Notebook in hand, he scribbles out thoughts and takes in the ebb and flow of the small pockets of battle breaking out across the city as he runs his [Overlooked Commonalities] Skill in tandem to the new observational ability.

“Best places are here, here, and here,” he announces, confident in his burgeoning role as the team’s strategist. “We need defense more than anything. The [Inquisitors] can strike far faster than we can. They’re trained for this.”

Mikko squints down at the image on the scrying mirror. “Uh, where is that? I can’t read the street signs.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go anywhere,” Rakesh chuckles. “Ozana, do you mind taking this green district? I know you prefer to stay here, within your stronghold, but I have a hunch that you will be able to do quite well fending off attacks on subordinate [Merchants].”

“My, but you are well informed,” Ozana replies. “I accept. And I expect to have a long conversation with you and Nuri when this blows over. You’re a gold—no, platinum—mine in the making!”

Her mana armor solidifies even further, forming what looks like an impenetrable shield. She breezes out the door, though I don’t miss the set of her jaw.

“Nuri, your favorite spear fighter is here,” Rakesh murmurs, pointing at the screen and drawing my attention away from my colleague in profitable endeavors.

I turn to watch just in time to witness a blur zip across a city block like a streak of black lightning. Violence may no longer dwell in my soul—not yet, at any rate, though I’m curious to see if I can resonate with the axiom again in its purified form—but I instantly recognize the tell-tale signs of a higher-order concept at play. With a mental command, I switch to a view of a closer golem just in time.

I watch in vicious satisfaction as Nicanor enters the fray. His black jacket trails behind him like inky streaks in the air, and he moves so quickly I can barely keep pace. He intercepts a huge bald man with scars all across his muscular upper body, diverting the man’s attack just before he crashes into a team of Densmore foot [Soldiers].

The force of their collision sends shockwaves through the area. People stagger, falling to the ground. Hazy ripples of refined mana clashing obscure the scrying sensor momentarily. By the time it resumes its broadcast, each fighter is bleeding from multiple open wounds.

My mouth opens, and I surprise myself by letting out an involuntary gasp. I haven’t seen Nicanor fail to come out ahead in a physical clash before. He’s likely taken a further step into the Second Threshold, which means his opponent is equally powerful. Good thing we didn’t run into him on our own, or we’d be mincemeat.

The insurgent wields heavy gauntlets that crackle and spark with a dull yellow gleam that makes me think of lightning at first. When he punches Nicanor, a detonation follows in the wake of the strike, driving the [Spear Commander] backward with the overwhelming force of the blow. I've never seen anything quite like the concussive blast that comes off his weapons.

“I really need to learn how to extend my Domain through my golems,” I mutter. If I were closer, then I could properly examine the enemy’s explosive Skills to get a better idea of how they work—and how to steal them.

Nicanor twirls his spear and plants his foot in the empty sky. An opaque pane of mana coalesces underneath the sole of his boot, and he launches back toward the enemy with such force that the mana construct cracks in a spider web pattern. It crumbles away to nothingness a split second later, but it does its job of redirecting him back towards his foe.

I can't tell if it’s a Skill or an advanced form of raw mana manipulation, but either way it’s extraordinarily impressive. I lean closer, gripping the edge of the scrying mirror with both hands as I watch them duel in the sky.

Both hands.

That thought makes me grin. I haven’t used both hands in over a year, but it feels as instinctive and natural as breathing. It’s good to be whole again. Some people are adaptive. It seems like they can effortlessly overcome adversity. Not me. I struggled with resentment and frustration. I’m not as strong as they are.

Fist meets spear, and Nicanor crashes backward, slamming into a stone wall before he can stop himself with a pane of mana. I wince in sympathy at the heavy impact. I may have had my differences with the [Spear Commander], but I’m firmly on his side in this situation.

“Fight’s looking brutal,” Lionel says, his lips twisting in worry. “Uttara? Let’s get out there. We can do a whole lotta good elsewhere.”

“Wounded here,” Rakesh announces, highlighting an area of Gilead with his mana pen. “You know the way?”

“Nope. Uttara will show me.”

“Indeed. Follow me, Lionel; I will lead you to where we can be of most use..”

“Come back safe,” Melina says, stepping forward swiftly to wrap up Lionel in a hug.

“Yeah. Don’t make me revive you again. Last time was expensive!” I tease, waving at my friend as he grins cheekily and ducks out of the room after Mender Uttara.

I turn back to the fight just in time to see a flurry of blows from the spear, too many for me to count, finally get past the enemy pugilist’s guard and slice open a gash in his stomach.

“Got ‘em!” I shout, pumping my left fist in the air. I clap obnoxiously loud, just because I can, which earns me an eye roll from Rakesh.

Seconds later, Nicanor’s spear pins the huge man to the ground, right through the heart. He convulses, reaches out toward the [Spear Commander] with one hand, a confused look on his face, and slumps back. He dies in a pool of his own blood while Nicanor bounds off to find another worthy opponent.

I shiver, reminding myself never to get on Nicanor’s bad side. Maybe he can teach me a few combat forms after this is all over, now that I can hold a staff or spear with two hands again.

Yep. Still not tired of that thought!

The image on the scrying glass flickers as I rotate through the available glass creatures I’ve outfitted with scrying sensors to find a new scene. Beside me, Rakesh gasps. He freezes in place, staring at the new scene displayed on the mirror. His eyes go wide with horror.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning down at the image. The image shows a team of masked and armed men with torches running toward a stately building that doesn’t look like a consulate or marketplace. They trample over citizens in their way, which instantly breaks me out of my self-satisfaction at having a fully-restored arm and hand again. People are in danger. We have to help.

A jolt shoots through me as I recognize the flying buttresses and delicate stained glass from my many discussions with Rakesh. “Why are they targeting the library?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Rakesh says in a strangled voice. His breath comes out fast and ragged, and his fingers tighten into fists. Then his eyes harden, and he shakes himself free of his trance. He snatches up the failed healing wand. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to stop them.”