Rez was woken by sounds of his family moving about. The last hours of Lightwatch not over yet, but he was just as eager to get up. Today was the last day of the season, the day of the Climb. Everyone had the day off, including the academy students.

Rez rose from his cot, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. His younger sister, Lerrin, was already dressed, eager to join the city.

"Who are you going to watch?" she asked.

Rez mussed her hair to her chagrin as he answered "Meral for sure, and we will see who else gets over the Fifth."

Together, they joined their grandparents at the table. A simple breakfast awaited them—bread and bowls of gruel. Few words were exchanged; everyone felt the weight of the day, though the teenagers couldn't hide some excitement.

After eating, they joined the stream of people moving toward Sheath's center. The tower, unending, unbroken light, up to the heavens, and down the pits. It stood stoic and indifferent to the swell of humanity that gathered. The closer they got, the more intense the light became—enveloping them in a warmth that felt like hope. Coats were taken off, kids started to run, people momentarily relaxed in the excitement.

The casters stood at the gap's edge. Around them a sea of faces faces—some with youthful awe, others creased with worry from years of watching casters take their last journeys. A silent vigil commenced, broken by occasional shouts of encouragement, sounding desperate in the eerie calm.

Rez edged away from his grandparents', slipping through the crowd, Lerrin trailing behind. They reached a cluster of adolescents, each wearing expressions ranging from excitement to thinly-veiled dread.

A lanky youth sporting a wild tangle of locks swiveled to welcome them. "Figured you'd be tethered to the elders the whole day, Rez."

He shrugged, his lips twitching. "They're too caught up counting how little we have left."

A girl with sharp eyes leaned against a broken ring of the theater, her arms crossed. "This might be the dimmest season yet if we don't get enough casters up there." Rez's gaze flicked to the platform where casters were preparing for their ascent. "They need to change something."

The girl snorted. "And what? You'll go out into the dark and find a working tower?"

"Maybe I will," Rez retorted, more to stir the pot than from conviction. Another boy chuckled, nudging Rez with his elbow. "You? Who can't focus long enough to finish the Greeting?" Light-hearted laughter erupted from the group, fighting the tension in the air.

"Yeah, well," Rez shot back, "next year I'm up there, and I will change things. You will see." The girl pushed off from her perch and stepped closer. "Talk is cheap, Rez. You know as well as I do that once you're up there—" She pointed skyward toward the towering spire, "you follow the training and try to survive, nothing else."

A hush fell over them, and didn't break until a team of casters approached the tower's edge. They stopped just short from the gap—not ascending yet.

Rez continued, "It's not just about getting up there; it's about what you do once you're inside, we are not getting the right quests." latching onto something that Meral had told him.

The mop-haired boy grinned. "Because you became an expert after our last classes were over?"

Rez felt his cheeks warm but didn't back down. "Or what? The Aeons will just pick us off one by one, no matter what rules you follow."

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Another voice chimed in—a boy with a scar tracing down his cheek spoke up for the first time. "He is right though. The current path isn't working. We have been losing for 20 years now. You think today is going to be different?" The girl scoffed but didn't argue further. Rez, encouraged, spoke up "The Aeon coalition already won. What's really left to lose?"

A few nodded solemnly; others looked away. The mop-haired boy slapped Rez on the back with enthusiasm that belied his somber expression. "Just gotta find a way." he countered.

Silence followed his words until Lerrin tugged at Rez's sleeve. "You're not serious, right?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently, as they watched another team get closer to the tower's glowing heart.

At the height of Midwatch, the tower's surface began to shimmer with images as if it were a colossal mirror reflecting not itself but other worlds within its depths. Rez's gaze drifted over the casters, a motley collection of hope and bravado. They stood in clusters, some adorned in flowing robes etched with runes shimmering in the tower light. Others in practical garb that clung to their bodies like a second skin. A pair of casters leaned on each other, foreheads touching in a silent prayer or perhaps a shared memory. Each group was a tapestry of unity and purpose.

One team caught Rez's eye—their hands clasped tightly with each other. A trio whose leader bore a mantle of cobalt feathers that seemed to shimmer with an inner light—A tower relic. Outside garment, armor and weapons couldn't be taken into the tower directly, but if they were specific enough, the tower sometimes gave you similar gear upon entering and potential bonus points. Rare equipment rewards won in the tower sometimes could be taken to Allei and back.

The crowd's murmurs fell to a hush as most teams now approached the gap that marked the boundary between earth and tower. They stood at the edge, peering into the sky above, watching scenes play out on the tower with the rest of the crowd. Meadows, mountains, glimpses of monsters and monstrous fauna and flora.

Then Oman's team, the highest level veterans, stepped forward. A multi-hued glow started spreading from the first team to all of casters. Rez held his breath. For an instant, it seemed those closest to the edge would plummet into the void, never to be seen again. Nobody as much as whispered. They hovered, buoyed by a force that pushed them slowly forward to the center of the pillar of light. The light spread toward the crowd and a few took a hasty step back as it neared the outer ring of the casters. But none of them could enter, all who could were already moving upwards. All that were left.

Hand in hand or with palms pressed against another's neck, skin on skin, the teams ascended. It was a slow dance toward salvation—or damnation—played out against the backdrop of infinite light. Rez could feel Lerrin's grip tighten on his arm as they watched the spellbound.

The casters drew closer to the tower's surface, their bodies ranging from relaxed, given to the light, to fight poses ready to spring into action. The tower then spread out to encompass all of the gap, layers of different worlds and locations moving outwards, reaching for all casters. The casters reached out and touched the layers of the tower closest to them, reality rippled around their fingers like water disturbed by a falling stone.

In a moment all made contact, and the world hung still for a heartbeat. Then the tower seemed to inhale. Each caster was pulled through the point of contact, turning to streaks of light themselves. Onlookers gasped as the challengers were crossing through and emerged as mirrored images on the other side of the tower surface. Now again a single pillar at the heart of Sheath.

Rez squinted against the light to see them—mirrored casters standing as though beneath a lake's surface about to breach its tension. Their forms wavered slightly before also that image was gone.

The reality of Sheath pressed down around them—the knowledge that not all who entered would return and that for some teams today marked an end rather than a beginning. Standing here in an amphitheater build for so many more than what was left of their city, their refuge.

Yet there was beauty here too—passion, resolve. And the light today was as bright as it ever was, showing them what could be, while also making it clear each time just how much they lost.

He glanced down at Lerrin who caught him looking and returned wide eyes full of wonder and unspoken questions about what lay beyond that radiant barrier where casters were reborn into legend.

"Rez…, Rez!?" Lerrin's voice pulled him from his reverie. "Yeah?" he replied looking back to the tower. She steeled, "You think you'll make it back?" The question lingered. Rez considered it, rolling the idea around in his mind like a smooth pebble. "Always," he said quietly. "always." Lerrin nodded solemnly as if she understood all that went unsaid. She was barely a year younger than him, but in that moment she felt both much older and younger to him.