Today’s the day we visit the library!

That cheerful thought echoes in my mind when I wake up the next morning. I picked up my brother and Avelina, finished off their picnic leftovers, and rowed us back to the docks under a cloudless, cobalt blue sky. The dock hands ribbed us over the see-through glass boat, but it was all in good fun. I negotiated a deal to moor the boat: rides in the glass vessel to watch the colorful fish. Agreeing on a heavily-discounted price, we parted ways, each feeling like we got the better deal in the arrangement.

Sunfire burns rose gold through the open southern-facing window of my chambers at the Orpheus. The others opted to return to the cozy [Sanctuary] I built, but I’ve gotten spoiled by the easy access to the hot shop. I dress in haste, scarf down my breakfast alone, and duck into the studio to practice glass blowing for an hour before I’ll have to head downstairs to meet Rakesh and company in the side courtyard.

This morning, I’m making simple globes. Nothing fancy. No decorations. No basic vases, cups, or bowls; no powerful wands or circlets or totems.

Instead, I’m reacquainting myself with the fundamentals of glass-making now that I have a restored hand. I take my time prepping the batch, adding in flux until my Skill [Compositional Analysis] is satisfied. I cheat by using my mastery of heat to melt down the glass while I hover it over to the crucible with my Domain, but I go back to stirring by hand afterward. Accelerating the process is fine by me. I’m still practicing the right forms and pacing all on my own.

I collect a gather and bring the molten glass over to the workbench, turning the rod in my hands to maintain movement. After an initial moment of surreal surprise at using both hands again, I settle into a rhythm that feels natural. Everything is as it should be.

I’ve missed this.

I coat my left hand in a double layer of thermal energy, the outside protecting me from the heat and the inside to provide a buffer against dropping the temperature too far and ruining the elasticity of the hot glass. I freeze unexpectedly before I grab the globe and start shaping it. Apart from this Skill, I’d use paper or cloth folded over and soaked in water to keep it from lighting on fire. Trying this with my newly-restored hand has me nervous.

Objectively, I know I’m fine. My Skill won’t fail me. Yet there’s a slither of unease in the back of my mind, like a snake just out of sight yet still lurking in the shadows, that makes me wonder if I’ll lose my hand just after regaining it.

“Enough of that foolishness,” I reprimand myself, taking hold of the glass and shaping it into a sphere as I turn the rod. I could use a wooden block, scooped out and perfectly round to create a globe, but doing it by hand feels good after so long without the use of both hands. Plus, I’ve relied on my Skills for a long time now, and I’m worried that I’m getting sloppy. It’s so easy to use magic as a crutch instead of a multiplier. I want to reach the heights by using every tool at my disposal, not by only using mana-based abilities.

Occasionally blowing into the end of the blowpipe allows me to inflate the bubble in the glass until it reaches the rough size of my head. The first sphere complete, I elongate the glass slightly, cool the neck, and pull it off the pipe. It goes into the annealing kiln, rather than cooling it with a combination of [Quick Cool] and [Greater Heat Manipulation].

As I move on to the next globe, theories about the nature of mana flow through my mind like a lazy river, meandering wherever it wills.

I keep thinking about how Melina coaxed the mana in the environment to complete the inscription for her when we made our version of a glass healing rod. Normally, something that complex requires an [Enchanter], but she side-stepped the Class requirements. Are they truly requirements, or is it simply easier for someone to complete an enchantment after resonating with the underlying truths of enchanting?

I think back to the lectures from Ezio: Enchantments are essentially a Skill, or a fragment of a Skill, inscribed on an object that can withstand the mana required to imprint the spell structure. They require mana to activate. Runes are the language of our Skills—some say of the universe itself—though they’re symbols rather than strict language. They unleash raw energy directly, without any need for a spell structure.

“But what does that mean?” I ask myself while rolling a new glass globe. This one is not quite symmetrical, so I reheat the side and swing the blowpipe in a circle to stretch it out again. I feel like I’m waving a banner in front of an army. That ridiculous mental image makes my lips quirk up. I let out a low chuckle. Maybe I should leave the philosophizing to [Sages] and become a baton wielder in the local parade.

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Hm. Runes theoretically have higher potency than enchanting. I think that’s what Melina tapped into when she invited the mana to coalesce not around a concept—like sharpness—but the symbolic language of the world.

Before I know it, I have a row of half a dozen glass globes. They may not be completely round, but they’re close enough. Out of curiosity, I try to etch a different rune onto the surface of each one and initialize them. The required intent fizzles out, but only because I’m caught in the no-man’s land of trying to combine imbuing and ward inscription.

Like most things in life, it’s better to pick one direction or another and commit to it fully. It may not be a perfect solution, but straddling two paths doesn’t usually end up with the best of both worlds; it usually ends up with bleeding energy and emotional stability just to end up with subpar results.

I comb the fingers of my left hand through my beard, pondering that thought. Wards are usually simple runes combined with formalized structure from enchanting. It’s still inscribed by hand in most cases, but maybe Melina is on her way to becoming a ward master by borrowing imbuing techniques. She’s providing the intent, but somehow skipping the astronomical mana costs usually associated with wards.

I pull out my notebook. “Rakesh and Mel would be so proud,” I mutter to myself as I jot down my ideas. Wards: are imbuing and enchanting parallel lines, or converging techniques at the highest levels?

Intrigued by that concept, I draw on innovation and sharpness together, while invoking one of my borrowed Skills, [A Master’s Touch: Thirty Seconds of Greatness]. My thoughts fly at a faster pace than I’ve ever experienced, racing through scenarios with unprecedented ease.

Forget inspiration. This is tantamount to cheating! I think, giddy with the divergent paths that unfurl before me. I reach out with my Domain, gently drawing the attention of all ambient mana in the entire Orpheus. Imbuing techniques have never felt so clear, so simple.

Instead of simply displaying real time imagery using scrying, I imagine each of the glass spheres becoming the new home of the sights and sounds around me. Runic arrays carve into the glass, not etched but instead imprinted on the mana that’s swirling through my creations. In a rush of power, the room around me is perfectly preserved in a permanent record of color and texture, light and shadow.

The half a minute of transcendence passes all too soon, and I let out a sigh as I return to my ponderous thoughts and unfinished theories. Even so, a smile stretches across my face. I’ve unlocked a new method of changing the world around me. I’m not a natural at it like Melina, but I’ve verified that my suspicion about her new technique is correct, which means I can help her fine-tune the process even though she’s more advanced than I am.

A sonorous bell rings out, breaking into my excitement. Guilt jolts through me; I’m late to the meeting with the team. I let myself fall deep into a rabbit warren of possibilities, lost in deep, trance-like focus, and now I’m holding up Rakesh from finally visiting his beloved library.

I dash out the door, zipping through the hallways, and leap down the steps five at a time. I manage not to roll my ankle in my hurry, and burst into the courtyard with a grin on my face.

“Hey slowpokes! Let’s go read some books!” I yell, sprinting for the doorway.

“Nice try covering for your forgetfulness, bro,” Mikko says, grabbing me by the left wrist as I try to blow by them.

I’m held fast in his iron grip. No amount of squirming will break me free. I pout. “I blame Lionel. If he hadn’t fixed my hand, you wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”

Avelina rolls her eyes in an exaggerated display, but Rakesh laughs at my joke. Melina doesn’t dignify my attempt at humor, simply turning on her heel and striding toward the doorway.

“Nuri’s half-right,” Rakesh says, coming to my rescue and pulling me free from Mikko’s grasp. “We’re heading to the library, but we’re going to read all the books, not just some of them. I hope you’re prepared for a long expedition.”

“Better stock up on snacks,” Avelina teases.

“I don’t think backpacks come large enough for the amount of food we’re gonna need,” my brother replies with a groan as we stride out of the Orpheus House and make our way down the streets toward the bastion of scholarly wisdom.

Our friendly banter continues in a similar vein for the next half an hour, carrying us halfway to the library. The warm aroma of baked goods mingles with the sharper scents of spice as we pass through a colorful restaurant zone. Bold saffron paints the stucco walls, accented by golden awnings and vermillion trim on the eatery entryways.

I breathe in deeply, savoring the serenity. The trouble of the last few months falls away, and I let myself revel in the fun of spending time with friends. I can’t wait to tell Melina about the discovery her breakthrough inspired. She’s going to squeal when she sees I even wrote down all the details in my notebook.

We’re in high spirits, happier than I can remember in a long time. I bend down and pick up a loose rock half the size of my fist, transmuting it into glass since it’s the medium I’m most accustomed to working with. I draw on the mana around me, willing it to memorialize the wonder of our day.

Energy swirls in lovely, lazy spirals around me, dancing at my invitation. I can’t imagine a more perfect moment. That makes it so much worse when our fun comes to an abrupt end; the peace shatters like a brick thrown through glass a second later as the explosions begin.