Surrounded by the golden shield, Nya Valent walked into the flattened grasses that surrounded the nearly invisible Rift. Behind her High Commander Ulresh looked more dangerous than ever with blood on his face and a fierce expression in his red-brown eyes. Before her was only the Rift. Not a soul was with her in its area of influence. She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for the Weave and seeking, among the limitless possibilities of magic, the possibility that she could see the Weave itself.

Her brow furrowed as she started working the Weave. She could still feel the wildness of it, here in the Wild Weaves it acted like an angry animal fighting against the spellweaver for every bit of progress, but that wildness was subdued now. The Weave yielded before her touch and when she opened her eyes she could see the brilliant flow of the Weave as it touched every bit of the world.

She had always thought of the Weave as being golden, so that was how she saw it. A golden fabric of pure essence that wove its way through, between and around all of reality. It was alive with all the possibilities, all at once, a confusing jumble of tangled threads that somehow brought reality and possibility together into being. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw it, dimples flashing to life. She allowed herself a moment of indulgence basking in that golden glow of the Weave, before she began seeking the disturbance that had created the sonic magic.

It took her a moment of manipulating the Weaves, seeking irregularities or evidence of other spellweavers tampering with the Weave, before she realized something that brought her out of her task so firmly that the Weaves vanished. This Rift, in the center of the Wild Weaves, was no longer Wild. It had become like an Oasis of stable Weave surrounding the central, ragged tear in reality.

The shield of golden weave still protected her as she walked closer to the Rift, testing the Weave with each step, feeling for the tear itself. As soon as she felt the ragged, free floating Weave of the Rift, she stopped moving. She reached for possibilities in the Weave and began gathering the sand that had filled the ritual circle closer to her, piling it under the Rift as she slowly circled around it, feeling the Weave’s ragged edges.

It took several minutes of slow walking and gently moving the sand before she had created a perfect circle, thirty meters across that marked the exact edges of the Rift’s torn mana. Stepping further into the circle would risk moving through the Rift and into whatever lay beyond it. She smoothed the sands and hardened the edges to prevent them from spreading. Satisfied with the job she turned back toward where Ulresh waited on the edge of the Rift Oasis.

The commander still looked wounded and angry. He had likely insisted that the healers see to his men first, rather than focusing their efforts on him. It was just another reason why the men liked him so much. Being assigned to High Commander Blackfist’s command was one of the most sought after assignments, even for spellweavers and healers. Nya had served with him for more than a dozen years and at least five full campaigns.

“High Commander,” She began with a bow as she stepped out of the range of the Oasis and felt the stable Weave begin to come undone again. “I was unable to find the source of the attacks, but I believe they may have been a side effect of the Weave around the Rift stabilizing. I suspect it may have something to do with the other side of the Rift.”

“I see.” Ulresh said, his red tinted eyes looking toward the Rift itself, now clearly marked by the sands below. “That is it then? Larger than I expected.”

“I have marked the borders of the tear in sandstone, but the center is just sand. We will be able to measure now if the tear grows larger over time. I recommend that we build stone walls just inside the oasis of stable Weave around the Rift and weave spells into the stone to reflect such sonic attacks to prevent this event from happening again.”

“Noted.” His eyes flicked toward hers. “I will see it done.”

It was a promise and the words soothed Nya’s worry. As long as Ulresh lived, he would keep his promises. May it be long, she thought to herself, almost like a prayer.

“Any other recommendations?” He asked.

“With your permission I would like to study the Rift Oasis more thoroughly.”

“Granted.” He nodded once and finally turned away from the Rift and looked to his men.

“Thank you, High Commander.” Nya said as she turned back to the Oasis.