Dousing the fire takes longer than I expect; my Skill feels clumsy, like I’m trying to row with an extra-long oar that moves ponderously through the water. Leverage is working against me. Maybe the distance reduces my effectiveness? Dropping the temperature doesn’t affect the chain reaction of fire consuming fuel at first, but I push my [Greater Heat Manipulation] to its fullest potential, and suddenly momentum is on my side.
My control of heat in the area changes abruptly, and the freeze covers the torn books and broken shelves in a thick layer of ice. Cold takes over the library, snuffing out the flames as the ambient energy plunges far below the threshold required to support the fire.
Melina catches me when I stagger and fall, drained of my entire remaining mana pool far more quickly than usual. Casting at such an extreme distance leaves my ears ringing.
“What did you do!” she demands, staring down at me wide-eyed. Her voice screeches like a metal gate on rusted hinges, shrill enough to make me wince.
I cough, looking around in a daze. It takes me a moment to realize she’s looking at me with concern, not judgment. When I do, I manage a weak smile.
“Put me down. I’m all right.”
“You’re bleeding,” Rakesh says, sounding faint and far away. He withdraws a silken cloth from his pocket, unfolds it, and wipes my ears and nose.
The ringing in my ears fades as my mana regeneration kicks in and restores enough for me to circulate energy through my body again. Bottoming out that abruptly is exhausting, but I’m not injured other than leaking a little bit. For some reason, that makes me laugh, which in turn sets me off coughing again.
“Thanks for cleaning me up,” I mumble.
“Thank you for saving the library,” he replies, although he keeps glancing over at the scrying image with concern plain on his face.
All at once it clicks for me. “Oh. Fire’s out, but those fighters are still there.”
“They are,” he confirms.
“What are we gonna do?”
For the first time since we saw the threat to the library, a smile adorns his face. “Take a look. They’re, ah, struggling. I’ll take care of things from here,” Rakesh says. He whispers to his birds, and they follow his lead, slashing at the mob.
I push myself up to standing, steadying myself against the workbench while I wait for the world to stop spinning. Thankfully, as I regain my mana, I feel stronger and more normal. I won’t need to lean on the bench for much longer.
On the central glass pane, the scrying image paints a surprisingly humorous picture. The sudden shift in temperature coated the library facade and stairs in ice, and the would-be vandals are slipping and sliding every time they try to mount a new assault.
After several minutes of slapstick comedy—a much needed reprieve from the scenes of chaos in the rest of the city—the conspirators give up. They scatter as the city watch shows up, which reminds me that not everyone here in Gilead is a revolutionary. Most are normal people who are confused by the outbursts of violence.
I run the fingers of my left hand through my beard while I watch. “I wonder how many people are sympathetic to Saphora’s plans.”
“Not many, thank the heavens,” Rakesh says, snorting in derision. “What kind of people are so misguided that they think torching a library will lead to a better life?”
Melina arches her right eyebrow. “I’ll bet a lot of citizens want to be independent from Densmore. What’s wrong with that?”
I find myself nodding. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind getting out from under Nicanor’s thumb. He always seems to have plans for me. And I’m no fan of the current [King] and his policies. We all know that the [Viceroy] is poisoning him against Rifts and non-sanctioned magic-users.”
“Motive is one thing, methods another,” Rakesh rejoins. “I don’t begrudge anyone the desire for self-governance, but her violent approach to reform is appalling.”
“Politics is too complicated. Three people, four opinions,” Melina says, chuckling.
“Whatever you’re about to say can wait, Rakesh,” I cut in, interrupting our [Researcher] before we get too far off on a tangent. “Mikko and Avelina just reached the docks. We need to keep in touch with them.”
Avelina’s mastery of fire is on full display. She stands at the end of a pier, her glass wand outstretched, a look of fierce concentration on her face. Her magic takes control of the few ships still burning, which the crews seem to have abandoned as lost causes. She pulls towering pillars of flames toward her, trembling with the exertion, and gathers the fire into a white-yellow ball of eye-searing intensity that outshines the daylight.
With a forward slash of the fiery wand, like a [General] signaling a cavalry charge with a flashing saber, Avelina launches the miniature sun across the harbor. An incredible explosion of steam erupts on contact. The water extinguishes the fire, unleashing waves in all directions.
Moments later, an unsettling thrum passes through my chest, like the low rumble of an earthquake, and I let out a long whistle. “Whoa! That was an enormous blast!”
“That looked even more powerful than the last time she used the glass wand,” Melina says, her tone thoughtful. She jots down a few quick lines in her notebook.
I cycle through scenes on the scrying mirror, looking for where else we might be able to help, but it seems like Nicanor and his crew have things well in hand. I’m about to turn off the connection to all of the golems other than the ones keeping watch over Mikko and Avelina, as well as Lionel and Mender Uttara, when I remember the recommendation Melina made about trying to find my old friends Casella and Mbukhe. Maybe I should use this break in the action to track them down.
Tempting as it is to extend my Domain through my connected golems so that I’ll be able to sense their mana signatures, I still haven’t recovered enough mana to meaningfully contribute to the search. I’m better off moving the fliers and crawlers around to cover more of the city.
While I’m trying to make up my mind, Rakesh speaks up. “Have you checked in on that witch lately? With her revolution in shambles, she’s likely to fly the coop.”
That makes me scowl. “She won’t get away from us. I promise.”
Melina grabs a quick drink of water, stuffs her notebook in a bag, and throws on a cloak. “I’m ready. Let’s go confront her.”
I pause, unsure if it’s wise to leave our impromptu command center, but soon give in with a nod. I down the last mana draught on hand to fill up before whatever comes next. “All right. Let’s hunt her down.”
For that, I’ll need my fastest golem: the falcon bonded to Saphora by blood, able to track her wherever she flees.
=+=
We make it to the aristocratic district in record time, since the streets are cleared out. Everyone seems to be hiding indoors while the chaos swirls around us. No one wants to get caught out. Battles are for strong, high-ranked individuals or squads, not for the everyday citizen or laborer.
As we draw near the noble houses, my connection to the glass falcon I created strengthens and solidifies. Through it, I gain a vague sense of where Sephora is at all times, and it’s instantly clear that she isn’t in her home. Like the coward she is, she fled at the first sign of pushback.
“This way!” I call, breaking into a sprint once I’ve identified her general direction. My friends follow at my heels, although I have to remind myself to slow down occasionally; they’re not as accustomed to the empowering effects of mana. Not even Melina, who boasts some of the most sophisticated mana control I’ve been around, matches the sheer volume of power I can output now.
Falcon lets out a wordless, soundless screech of frustration in my mind. The cry echoes along our mental link, and I almost lose my balance reacting to the desperation. Since when did my golems exhibit that kind of emotional intensity?
“My tracker can’t follow her,” I say, slowing to a trot and turning to talk with my friends. Frowning, I try to interpret the jumble of impressions coming from the glass creature. So much for my confidence that Falcon could follow her anywhere she fled.
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“I think she went underground.”
Rakesh snaps his fingers. “Of course! The cave system below the research facility. She probably seeks to make her way through the Rift and escape somewhere else.”
“Then we’d better hurry. She won’t get away on my watch,” I vow. I owe Lionel that much.
Racing through the gardens of her ancestral home, I review what I know about the Rift underneath Gilead. My mind tracks possible exit points, but I’m too far away to sense the power that pools around the openings to Rift systems.
Abruptly, I draw up short. Two familiar presences enter the edges of my Domain, though it’s hard to get a clear grasp on them. Every time I try to focus on their mana signatures, it feels like trying to pick up a greased cup. They slide away from my senses, although flaring my slowly-recovering mana helps to track them more closely.
I turn and bow just as the faster, more heavily-cloaked presence arrives. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Ah! The boy becomes a man. His senses sharpen,” Mbukhe whispers, shimmering momentarily and then coming fully into view nearby. He smiles, all sharp angles and self-satisfaction, when my friends leap at his sudden appearance.
“See? Going on an adventure was the right call if you wanted to find your friends,” Melina says as she recovers from her shock and waves to Mbukhe.
“Fortuitous, indeed,” Rakesh says, patting a paper bird flying around his head. He’s got an impish half-grin that makes me think that he coordinated this serendipitous little encounter.
“Nuri! Your hand!” Casella rumbles, jogging around a tree and waving. His wide, friendly face splits into a broad smile. “A fruitful mission. You’ve done well for yourself. A credit to your country. I am happy for your restored fortunes.”
“Delighted to see you again,” I say, forgoing a wave and going straight to a bearhug. That turns out to be a bad idea; the massive [Inquisitor] nearly crushes my ribs under the force of his own hug. Despite my recent improvements, I still can’t match his raw strength. Perhaps at my next Threshold advancement.
“We shouldn’t tarry. Sephora is likely to get away while we stand around gabbing,” Rakesh reminds us. He speaks gruffly, but he turns away too quickly, hiding his smirk.
Unfortunately for him, my Domain doesn’t miss details like that. The incredibly pleased sense of accomplishment rolling off him in waves has me convinced he set up this reunion for me, and I’m grateful for his kindness.
“I can’t believe we’re going to end up in another Rift together,” I joke, falling in next to my friends. “We just need old Nic to show up to complete the delving squad from Silaraon.”
Casella rumbles in laughter. His easy good humor instantly makes me more relaxed. “He will join us once there are no more bugs to be squashed. Let him take some time to cool down before you meet. He will be in an excellent mood, I guarantee you.”
Through my ever-present links to my glass creations, I call Falcon over. He settles on my left arm, and I have to suppress a wince when his talons dig into the fresh, tender skin of my newly-formed wrist by my hand.
“As ever, you are full of surprises,” Mbukhe says, raising his eyebrows at the majestic bird. “We’ll have to catch up once this is all over.”
“Looking forward to it. We deserve some peace and quiet,” I reply, earning a nod in response.
Navigating through the research base, down the long stairs and eerie, silent halls, takes less time than I remember—yet it still seems like an eternity while we’re chasing down the witch who attacked my best friend. I have to remind myself that this isn’t the end. No matter if Sephora gets away or not right now, I have no question that the [Inquisitors] will track her down. She will be a national criminal in addition to my sworn enemy. I can probably lean on [Chief Inquisitor] Xharrote to repay the favors I’ve done him by allowing me to lead a team of hunters to find her.
As usual, plunging through the portal to the Rift feels like stepping through frozen gelatin. It resists our passage, as though reality itself is stretching before reluctantly giving way. It’s still much easier than I expect, however, which makes me wonder if it’s an artificial opening. After all, I’d be surprised if the one and only entrance to the Gilead Rift just happened to be under Shiphrah and Rashad’s research facility.
Artificial entrances. Hmm. Maybe I could replicate them with the right enchantments someday. I’ll bet I could leverage my Domain to tear open a temporary portal once I get stronger.
Lost in thought, I barely notice when Casella quick-steps past us to bind a creature with his chains. He dispatches the beast with a flick of his hands, tearing it apart with effortless strength. No core shows up in my Domain, so it wasn’t a particularly strong beast, but it’s still a reminder of how competent the duo is, which is why they’re entrusted with these kinds of sensitive missions.
Where does that put me on the power scale if I’m their vanguard? I shelve that thought for later as my Falcon launches into the air, flying off through the Rift with unerring accuracy. Excitement pulses along the bond; he’s found his target again.
I motion for the others to follow, and we set off after the bird of prey as quickly as we can. Once we get close enough, [Lady] Saphora pops back up into my Domain, and I signal for the others to prepare a welcoming committee for our errant guest.
“Flushed out like a miserable cockroach,” Rakesh hisses when she comes into view.
Confusion settles over her like a scarf covering her face. She blinks, as though disbelieving her own eyes while she tries to adjust to the light.
She glances back and forth between us with a look of such profound bewilderment that my anger gives way to a bitter laugh. I can almost imagine her internal thoughts: Where is my honor guard, arrayed in adoring lines? Where are my stalwart supporters, ready to escort me to my rightful place on the throne?
Then, like a veil tearing in two and revealing the face behind, I see the exact moment she realizes that she’s lost. Absolute, awful clarity takes hold of her, and her heart rate spikes before she calms herself back down through supreme control of her body.
“Your reign of terror is over,” Melina announces. Her nostrils flare wide and her jaw clenches tight. She’s breathing through her nose, standing rigid with her fists balled up, and only now do I fully realize how terrible it’s been for the gentle-hearted Melina to watch Lionel suffer through unspeakable agony.
My Domain unfurls at the thought, fueled by hot rage and cold calculation. It drives the haughty Mender to her knees, too overbearing for her to resist. As I make contact, her emotions pour outward, an unceasing onslaught of arrogance, uncertainty, and fear. Worse, I can make out the exact shape of her thoughts, though not all the words are completely clear.
Impressions intensify as I walk closer toward my hated foe. Mana binds us together, much to my surprise, but it makes sense the more I think about it. A link not dissimilar to the one Falcon maintains with me opens up between me and Saphora; I can’t help but wonder if it’s because my glass golem is bound to her by blood. I’ve never been able to connect with anyone else with this kind of lucidity.
I’m not sure I want to connect with anyone like this. It’s uncomfortable—a level of intimacy that’s on the verge of deeply wrong and uncomfortable. Yet now that the link is open, her thoughts crash toward me in a turgid, unstoppable flow:
That pitiful little [Healer]! He had the gall to wake up. I saw him in the scrying mirror, walking through my city, a smirk on his healthy and all-too-vibrant face. How? How! He should be falling apart, disintegrating under the forces of the inverted healing I planted to keep him in line.
And now his smug little [Mage] pet and his crafter friends are here. Come to gloat? I hate them. I hate them all! Each far surpasses him in accomplishments. Yet they deny their talents—loath as I am to admit their worth—and follow him around like he’s worth anything.
Infuriating! It offends the natural order. Backward, cowardly, weak. I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life. How could I get entangled with such awful peasants?
They could have at least sent a Second-Threshold [Assassin] or a [High Mage] after me. Blatant outrage. An insult not to be borne! Cheap tricks pin me to the ground. I can’t even stand tall and gather my tattered dignity about me like armor.
Well. I refuse to act desperate. If they won’t give me the honor of an inspiring death in front of all Gilead—a tragic spark that would surely feed the all-consuming flame of an eternal rebellion and echo through the ages in song and myth—then I’ll make life insufferable for them all.
I cut off our link, reeling from the sheer insanity. And people tell me that I let my hubris blind me. I turn toward Casella. “Let’s bring this sorry chapter to a close.”
Sneering, she flings her arms wide. “Go on, then. Bury me in secret. You thrive in the dark, just like the rats you are.”
I snicker at her. “What, you think we’ll turn you into some sort of noble martyr?”
“It’s inevitable,” she replies icily.
“Nah. No one likes you.”
“No. That’s—no. I’m the beloved daughter of my city,” she declares proudly as she glares up at us from where she’s kneeling in the swirling dust.
Through our hateful bond, a different story plays out: the simple words make her breath catch as she tastes the bitter tang of truth. Heedless of the dust clinging to her dress, she fights not to bow her head in shame. She wants to rail and shout, or appear aloof and dignified, but there’s a dreadful ring of authenticity that cuts her to the quick.
No one answers her ridiculous proclamation that all Gilead loves her.
The ugly truth echoes back with her last words, the pitiful sound bouncing off lonely canyon walls of the Rift, far beneath the city she’d dreamed of dominating, as glittering chains encircle her wrists and ankles, stealing her birthright from her forever.
Shuddering, I sever the link. The mana backlash makes me stagger, but Casella holds me steady. He frowns, regarding me with shrewd eyes, but doesn’t pry. I’m sure he saw the connection. He’s far too perceptive to miss it. But he’s the kind of good friend who knows how to keep quiet at all the right times.
I’ve missed him. It’s good to be back with friends. Speaking of friends, I watch with great pleasure as Melina and Rakesh haul Saphora to her feet, tie a cloth over her mouth to keep her from spewing more hateful words, and escort her out of the Rift.
We return to the sunlight above and march her toward the Royal Army encampment to turn her over for judgment. Justice will prevail. There are brighter days ahead—not only for Gilead, but for each of us personally. Of that, I’m certain.
With a smile on my face and a spring in my step, I reestablish the connection to my scrying golems and quickly locate Lionel working alongside Mender Uttara. We head toward the nearby [Healers] to tell them the good news that [Lady] Saphora can’t hurt anyone ever again.
Lionel deserves closure. We all do.