Nyssa:

Nyssa was bedridden and she wasn’t happy about it. Having sliced up feet was annoying. The compound's doctor had given her twenty stitches and strict instructions not to move out of her bed for three days. Nyssa usually struggled to sit still for three minutes, let alone three days.

She spent her morning on her phone or drawing before she got fed up with the inactivity and threw her sketchbook across the room, hitting her charcoal fox right in the face.

The charcoal drawing glared down at her. She had avoided looking at it all day but refused to let Riordan wash it off the wall. It was important. This drawing felt more immediate than her last one. It was about a specific event, unlike the last drawing. Something that was going to happen. Soon. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the events depicted on her wall was going to push them closer towards the flames and collapsing buildings she predicted earlier.

Even as she stared at the drawing it seemed to come alive. The fox twisted around its master’s legs like a cat, begging for attention or recognition. She could almost make out the man’s face, still cast in shadow. If she looked a bit longer maybe the shadows would be lifted. She could almost make out the glint of his eyes.

The figure seemed to loom taller. His arm stretched higher as if to bring the sword down onto her. She tore her eyes away from the drawing. The charcoal curves of the man’s dark face seemed too real. She wanted to sever this odd connection she felt with the man.

Actually, what she most wanted to get out of this bed. Healing was so inconvenient. A thought occurred to her and she slapped her forehead.

“I’m an idiot,” she said to no one in particular. She swung her legs off the bed, wincing as her feet brushed the floor. She snagged the wheelie chair from behind the desk and somehow managed to lever herself onto it without tumbling to the ground. From there it was easy to propel herself across the room to her desk.

Del had righted to contents of her desk after the little incident the day before. Actually, her drawing supplies and various nick nacks were neater than they had ever been. He’d even lined up her pens in height order. She snickered and shoved all the odds and ends to one side with her forearm.

The grains of wood were aligned in neat little rows, curving gently together. She counted the knots breaking up their uniform current. Three. Not bad, but not great. She could make do with this as a base.

She needed to make straight lines. Two of the knots lined up nicely but the third was out of balance. She rifled through one of drawers until she found a little figurine. It had been her grandmother’s at some point. It was made from a maple tree and Nyssa found it especially good for bringing balance. She lined it up with the third knot. In the back of her mind, she felt a small click as it seemed to melt into place.

Next, she dug out a handful of river stones. She’d fished them out of the ford by Morea’s tree. Fords were particularly powerful when it came to the creation of ley lines. Almost every waterford Nyssa had come across had at least a weak ley line attached to it.

Pressing the stones to her mouth, she thought of Morea and the river by her tree. She thought of the cliffs above their little hideaway and how they lined up perfectly with the low wall Nyssa had built when she was fifteen.

She placed the stones around the table, lining them up with each other along the grooves of the grains. She languidly drew lines connecting the knots, stones and figurine. In the centre of the tabled, these lines overlapped. With each connection, Nyssa felt a small shift in the air before her. It was as if the space above the table was stretching or being pulled apart. She could feel a line being drawn between this place and another. If she wasn’t careful, she would connect her room to another ley line, and not the one she was aiming for. The river stones would help, but most of the connection was depended on Nyssa’s concentration.

Nyssa removed her necklace. It was a jadeite and would help bring all the points of connections together. She lay the stone in the exact centre of the table, right over where all the lines intersected.

She was done. Now all she had to do was see if it worked.

“Morea,” she hissed through the little portal she created. With such tiny lines, it was impossible to make a bigger portal. “Morea, wake up!” Nyssa could sense the little dryad’s dreams.

“My Nyssa?” Morea whispered sleepily.

“Yeah, wake up.” Nyssa threw a pen through the opening that was around the size of her head. She pegged the dryad right in the shoulder.

“Hey!”

Nyssa giggled.

“Morea, I need the charm stone I gave you.” She’d left the charm stone in the clearing for safe keeping. And in case Morea had a relapse. But now she had need of it.

“Are you hurt, my Nyssa?” Morea sounded worried. Her green eyes peeked up at her through the portal.

“I’m fine, Morea. It’s just a scratch.” There was sounds of creaking wood and leaves rustling. Morea liked to keep all her important things in her trunk for safe keeping. It was the perfect place to hide something.

“Here you are, my Nyssa.” A slender, green-tinged arm reached across the void between places and poked out of thin air. Nyssa took the opaic stone from Morea’s grasp and thanked the little dryad.

“I’ll visit soon,” she promised, blowing her a kiss.

“You better, my Nyssa.” Morea’s frown attempted to look threatening but only ended up being cute. Nyssa laughed. She nudged the maple figurine out of alignment and cut off their connection. If she needed to contact Morea again, all she needed to do was put the figurine back in place. She’d needn’t go through the whole process of creating a ley line again.

She popped the charm stone in a bottle of water and shook it vigorously. A fizz of magic bubbled around the stone.

“I'm back in business,” she said and took a deep swig.