Incursions. Rifts. Unfathomable treasures. Silaraon is abuzz with a kind of electric, contagious energy. Rumors are flying fast, and I’m right in the middle of it all after giving my report to the Silaraon guard. Search teams are sweeping the area of the Rift to try to make contact with Tem, and as much as I want to help him, I’m finally starting to realize that I don’t have what it takes yet. But I will get there.

I’ve languished for a week recuperating at the city infirmary, and while I’m not fully recovered, most of my wounds are patched up. All I want to do is get back to my workbench. Before I can return to work, however, I have to report to my unlikely benefactor at the Silaraon City Academy. Ezio is the smartest man I know, and if I’m going to find answers that might help Tem, then he’s my best chance at uncovering the truth.

And that’s how I find myself back in his office after begging off work for one more day. The all-too-knowing look Ember gave me when I told her why I needed one more day still haunts me; I’ll bet she has a sad story, and I want to know what happened one day.

I pace in front of Ezio’s desk, a thousand questions churning through my mind after my narrow escape from the Rift. His eyes keep flicking down toward my feet, and I realize I’ve been scuffing at the rug, so I stop making tracks and offer an apology. I don’t mind stopping, anyway. My calf is twinging with pain from the cut I took. Despite the healing, it still doesn’t feel right, and I need a break. Besides, Ezio doesn’t deserve the trouble I’ve made for him; I resolve to try to not annoy him as much, and right now that means paying more attention to his carpets.

“Spit it out,” Ezio says. “Your head is liable to explode from all the pressure—something is clearly bothering you, Nuri.”

I hesitate, unsure where to start, but he takes my indecision for stubbornness and sighs at me. His arms cross in front of his immaculate black robes, and he slips into what I’ve come to call lecture mode. “Something’s eating at you, Nuri, as plain as day. If you keep it locked away inside, it’s going to spill out in destructive ways. Don’t harbor your regrets and resentments. I’m no [Confidant], I realize, but I hope you know that you have my ear.”

I can’t help myself. There’s something so earnest, so noble about his pose, that I let out a soft chuckle. Instantly, his brows knit together, and I feel genuinely bad about my response. “Sorry, Ezio. It’s really not a big deal. I’m just curious about magic, although I appreciate your heartfelt offer to listen to my woes. I do worry about Tem.”

“Ah.” Ezio shuffles a few notes on his desk. He straightens his robes, regaining some semblance of his usual, dignified demeanor. “Rifts have a way of preying on the mind, so this sudden fascination with magic may not be an entirely natural development, but you’ve piqued my interest. What are you curious about?”

“I’ve earned two Skills in my life, and while I’m not ungrateful—you know how difficult it was for me, emotionally, to have only a single Skill—I am left a bit confused. What strikes me is that everyone seems to pick up similar Skills, even if we take radically different paths toward earning the abilities. Why are we so limited in our understanding of mana?”

“Not all [Mages] are limited,” Ezio counters. “Progress takes time.”

I grimace at hearing another variation of the “work harder and be more patient” theme that Ezio, Ember, and Tem all seem to share. Maybe it’s because they’re old and don’t want to admit the younger generation will surpass them someday. Or, maybe, just perhaps, they actually all know what they’re talking about. I blush a bit, and remind myself to heed their wisdom. They are the three strongest and most knowledgeable people I know, after all.

I tap my foot in lieu of further pacing on Ezio’s prized carpets, trying to figure out how to formulate my thoughts. “I need to get stronger. I never want to be in a position to leave behind a friend ever again. That means I need to learn everything I can from you about sensing and manipulating mana. What I don’t understand is why I can’t mold mana in more free-form ways. Shouldn’t magic conform to my will? I thought that was the point of mana-control exercises. Yet I’m stuck with the same general abilities as other [Glassworkers]. Why do we all share similar Classes and Skills? Why is our magic so small and unimaginative? I can’t get Tem’s incredible Skills out of my mind. What do I need to do to get there?”

“Ah. An age-old question, Nuri. I see the source of your discontent now.” Ezio strokes his chin, then settles into his easy chair. He pours himself a drink, takes a few deliberate sips, and gestures out the window in the direction of the farming districts. “Tell me, what do sheep have in common with cows or goats?”

“Uh, they all live in barns?” I venture a guess, caught off guard by the abrupt change in topic.

Ezio’s pained expression, which in an instant flashes into a professional, judgement-free mask, makes me smile at my own stupidity. He’s disappointed, but he tries so hard to play the role of the wise mentor that I find his reactions funny rather than insulting. He doesn’t deserve to have an idiot for a student, but here we are.

I chuckle. “All right, let me try again. They all grow horns, they eat grass, they tend to live in herds or flocks, and they, um, have four legs,” I say, improving on my original answer, but still a little embarrassed at how slowly I’m thinking when put on the spot.

To my surprise, Ezio nods in genuine approval this time. “Just so, Nuri. These animals follow a repeating pattern that we find all throughout the world. Different creatures, but shared characteristics. And like all natural laws, magic is similar. We don’t know quite why, but Classes and Skills take on the same recurring patterns. Deviations from the patterns are usually about as helpful as a goat with two legs—or seven legs, if you want to imagine something terrifying! It can be done, but that doesn’t mean that it should be done.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. Something about his answer doesn’t sit well with me. “So we’re locked in, then? It seems like that will lead to stagnation. Does the system want us to accept the status quo? That seems so depressing! Why go through all the trouble to research artificial affinities in that case?”

Ezio tuts, holding up a finger. “Slow down. I said deviations are usually bad. Not always. And it is in that rare beneficial mutation that my research places its hope. Is it a tiny sliver of possibility? Yes, admittedly. But if we can figure out an unknown optimization? Ah! Then we have something! We are chasing greatness, you and I, in our respective ways. Most of us will never reach our lofty goals. But the odds don’t matter. It’s the inner fire that drives us. And if we succeed?”

A slow smile grows on Ezio’s face, and I copy his expression instinctively. Something inside my soul sings at his words, and I nod in growing conviction. My mouth opens before I think things through. “We’re not meant for small things.”

He slaps his hands down on his desk, his eyes blazing with conviction. “Well said, Nuri! There’s no time to waste. I’ll speak with Ember about buying out your apprenticeship so you can transfer here and assist with my research. We’ll change the world!”

I cough politely into my fist, buying time before replying. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I want to keep working with glass. I’m still years away from taking advantage of more advanced mana techniques. And I have to figure out the nacre-inspired glass for you first, anyway.”

“Fair, fair,” Ezio mutters. He slouches back in his chair. “We’ll discuss this further at a later time. What else is on your mind? The furrow in your brow tells me it’s more than generic questions about magic.”

I nod. “Next question. How does Tem move the way he does—and can you synthesize it? I know it’s not mana, but energy is energy. If I could, say, add an enchantment for his void traveling to my armor once I figure out the glass technique, then I’ll have unmatched mobility.”

“That’s a secret I’m not privy to,” Ezio admits. His face twists into a scowl, and he taps his fingers against the cover of his assembled tomes. “After all these years, I still have yet to earn his trust there.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I boast, my voice ringing with a confidence that I don’t quite have yet. If the smartest man I know doesn’t know the secret, then what makes me think that I’ll get to the bottom of it? “Tem all but promised that he’ll take me delving again the next time a portal opens. I’ll unlock the secrets of the void the next time we’re fighting for our lives in a Rift.”

“How, ah, exciting. But first our dear friend must make it out from the last Rift. And, Nuri? Do try to stay alive if you enter one again. You’ve had a taste now of how dangerous they can be—and I’d hate to do all this work for nothing,” Ezio deadpans.

“I do believe our interests align in that regard,” I assure him wryly.

Ezio offers me a tremulous smile. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing what secrets you uncover once our friend is restored to us.” He trails off, staring out the window for a long moment. “I do hope he’s well.”

“So do I,” I whisper. “But if I’m going to be helpful, then I need to cross the first threshold. I also should keep my first promise to you and finish up that impact-resistant glass project you commissioned before I start dreaming of bigger things.”

“Ah, yes,” Ezio says, nodding in excitement. He seems as eager as I am to shake off the pall of uncertainty hanging over us. Thinking about Tem too much just makes me sad, and Ezio seems to share the sentiment. “About the glass, Nuri—I think I have a lead.”

“Oh? Is this research you conducted, or more information from your rather long winded colleague? I’m not sure I’m prepared to wade into another one of his articles.”

“This is my own professional opinion,” Ezio hastens to assure me. “Curiosity got the better of me while you were gone, so I started digging into the structures of the nacre. The main problem is that I can’t see it well enough on my own. I’d love to put in a requisition for a tool to see small things, but my departmental funding is running low. I have made inquiries regardless, but the best they could do is put the device on hold for me, pending the funds. If I do come into some money, then we’ll be able to use the viewing device to see nacre at a close up level that was previously unimaginable. I’m certain we’ll reveal more about its unique structural properties with the proper analysis.”

“[Sense Composition] would be useful. I’d love to get a Skill like that,” I admit.

“You may be surprised how much technology can fill in the gap,” Ezio says. “Remember, don’t just fixate on Skills. There’s more to life than just preset magic, although the tried and true forms are definitely the easiest path to power.”

“I’ve definitely seen that on display over the last several days with Tem,” I say. “I sure hope he made it out.” I grind my teeth together at the thought of the brave [Expert Counterspell Scout] trapped in the labyrinth, fighting off the wraith captain. I can’t help but feel responsible for the mess. Without me slowing him down, he’d be here now.

Ezio sighs at my twisted expression. He leans over to pat my arm, looking less like a distinguished [Researcher], and more like a kindly grandfather. “I know you feel responsible, but trust the experts on this one. They’ll find him if he’s made his way back out. And if not? Well, Tem always was good at surviving. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he turns up in a week or two in some distant city with a pile of gold.”

“You think he’ll find an alternate route out of the labyrinth?” I ask, sudden excitement lacing through my voice.

Ezio nods solemnly. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve learned not to underestimate him, not under any circumstance.”

The terror of the wraith Captain crashes through my memories, and I shiver involuntarily. “But can you really win against an enemy like that? There’s no way he defeated the Captain.”

“It’s not about winning—it’s about surviving. And if there’s one thing Tem excels at, it’s not dying when by all rights he should be long gone. He’s an expert at finding ways to slip into the cracks and crevices of the world. I’ve seen him disappear entirely before.”

“You mean, use his weird void magic,” I say, and Ezio nods. “But can’t wraiths use the same thing? How will that help him?”

“Do you and I share affinities?” Ezio asks. He chuckles when I shake my head. “Sorry, Nuri, I can’t help but fall back into rhetorical questions and lecture mode. But my point is that we use magic differently, even though we’re both human.”

“Yes, but we’re both mana users,” I point out. “Isn’t that the defining factor? I’m not sure that it matters which aspect of mana manipulation we’re good at using. The point is that we share a similar source of energy—one that apparently tastes good to wraiths, but that’s another discussion entirely! If they’re not using mana, then don’t they also share a similarity with void?

“A keen observation” Ezio allows. “You’re thinking along the right lines. I’d suggest that you are making a broad generalization, however, instead of the narrower application. Just as our mana use doesn’t look anything alike, they may both wield the void and still have divergent abilities. The category is the same, but the details matter. It’s almost certain that they don’t share any Skills, or that the wraith Captain will have insight into what Tem does with the void.”

I scratch the back of my head. “You seem quite confident he’ll live.”

“Tem has been around a long long time. He’s been getting out of situations like this since before you were born, Nuri. I’d be quite surprised if a single foe brought him down, provided of course that he’s able to flee. If he has to stand and fight? Well, there won’t be a body left to recover for a funeral. Even Tem’s not as strong as a Captain in direct combat.”

I heave a frustrated sigh. “So, that’s it, then? There’s nothing I can do about it? Time to get back to work, and simply trust he’s fine.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d be relieved,” Ezio says. He hums softly under his breath, as though considering his next works.

“I am relieved. I’m not prepared to fight off an incursion. I don’t have the kind of power it takes to save the world. But I’m not content to leave my friend alone, either, not after he did everything he could to save me.”

Ezio breaks into a crooked grin. “I’ve heard it said that adversity makes a man—that, or breaks him. I’m glad to see that in your case it appears to have had a maturing effect.”

I laugh. “Is that your way of saying that I’ve been in desperate need of maturity? No, no, don’t apologize. You’re not wrong. I guess I’ve been acting like a child for a while. Entitled, self-absorbed, whiny—it’s high time to step into adulthood. It’s tempting to sink back into the same patterns, to revert to the same excuses. For so long, I complained that I’m not getting anywhere in life because I didn’t have Skills, or because I’m not lucky, or because, well, any reason other than me. I know it’s time for me to step up and grasp hold of my own destiny. As long as I have guidance from you and Tem, and the support of my friends along the way, I think I can even manage it.”

Ezio seems misty-eyed, so I sketch a hasty bow and try to avoid eye contact. The level of sentimentality is too much for me to handle today. “Thank you for all you’ve done, but I think the time has come for me to get back to my studio and get to work. Let me know if you do get that device you mentioned previously. What’s it called?”

“A microscope,” Ezio says. “Newfangled, but seems promising. Expensive, though.”

“I think I know how to pay for it,” I say, lowering my voice just in case anyone wants to eavesdrop. I suspect we’ll be fine, thanks to the privacy wards Ezio keeps in his office, but I don’t want to take any chances with a reveal of this magnitude.

“Nuri, you’ve piqued my interest once again. Something you discovered in the Rift, perhaps? My imagination is beginning to run wild!”

“Just so,” I say. “Are you familiar with rhodium?”

The look of surprise and sudden anticipation on Ezio’s face tells me everything I need to know. “Then you’ll understand what’s on the line when I tell you that Tem discovered a chunk of ore almost as big as I am—so big, in fact, that he struggled to put it in storage. And I’m sure he won’t mind sharing a little of the proceeds.”

Sure enough, Ezio’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead at the mentions of Tem’s propensity for rule-bending. He must already be familiar with that particular void storage Skill.

Ezio rubs his palms together. “In that case, I will prevail upon my wealthier relatives and seek an advance on a loan. I believe that we will be able to afford the microscope, after all. Nuri, this is only the beginning of a long and profitable partnership. A true pleasure doing business with you!”

=+=

My first day back in the studio doesn’t feel real, somehow, like I’m sleepwalking through an entirely separate existence. After the pulse-pounding threat of the Rift, working with glass is both a relief, and too easy. How do I transition back to mundane tasks after witnessing the heights of magic? Is this how soldiers feel when they’ve been fighting for their lives with a brotherhood of fellow [Warriors], only to come home to fix fences and rake leaves and wash up after dinner? No wonder so many of them seem to struggle.

I snort. There goes my old presumptuous attitude rearing its ugly head again. I know nothing of real trauma. I’ve only had a few days of difficulty, and I’m already acting like I’m some war-torn, scarred-for-life [Veteran]. It’s insulting, really, to those who have truly put their lives on the line for a cause. I sigh. All I did was blow a chunk of my life savings to hire Tem, and that was in the pursuit of money, fame, and adventure. One out of three ain’t too bad.

When I first returned, I was so sure that I wanted someone else to fix things. I’m not cut out to save the world! And that’s still true, to an extent. I still need someone else to do the heavy lifting. But why not me? Isn’t this what I wanted? An escape from the doldrums of my dreary existence. I don’t have a bad life, just a quiet one. What sickness is it that drives me to reach for the stars, to grasp beyond my means, to always desire more and to yearn for something greater when what I have is perfectly fine?

I excuse myself from the floor of the hot shop, hurrying past coworkers to duck into the washroom on the side. My thoughts run wild as I take care of business. It’s not craziness that bothers returning [Soldiers]. For some, it’s the sudden lack of tension after running hot for so long. For others, it’s the desire for something more, the inability to accept that this boring life is the new reality. That’s where I am right now: I feel like a bird locked in a cage, yearning to be free and spread my wings in search of new horizons.

I find my thoughts turning again and again to the adventures of the last few weeks. As terrifying as it was, I’ve also never felt anything as exhilarating as fighting for my life. The opportunities of the Rift are worth reliving the heart-pounding maze of the labyrinth, or fighting more beasts down in the depths.

I wash my hands, then splash cold water on my face, spluttering at the sudden sting. It brings me a moment of needed clarity, a brief bit of sanity in the midst of the madness. Instead of fixating on Big Ideas, I need to just get to work. Go back to the basics. “I’ll make some bowls or something,” I mutter to myself as I stare into the mirror at the bags under my eyes caused by stress and lack of sleep. “Small steps. No grand gestures, just simple, honest work.”

I pat my face dry with a towel and check to make sure I look somewhat composed. Thus determined, I return to my workbench, detouring only to grab a list of common work from the cork board on the wall. I let out a wry chuckle when I see that there are, in fact, orders for bowls. Usually, I scoff at making such simple pieces of glass—that’s work for an [Assistant], not a man of talent like me! The reality is I am still an assistant, however, at least according to the truth that governs us all. I guess it’s time I stop looking down on my Class. An upgrade will come in time; I simply need to keep working.

A weight lifts off my shoulders as I claim the work order, registering it with the [Foreman]. I gather a batch of brightly colored rods in cherry reds, sky blues, minty greens, daffodil yellows, and sunrise orange. I nod in satisfaction at the array of colors, avoiding only the deeper purples and darker blues. I want to make festive glassware, not something heavy or profound. I’m going to start with a basic technique to keep my mind focused: drawing cane.

The process is so simple that usually we have a true [Assistant] take care of it while the established [Glass Sculptures] and [Flameworkers] devote their attention to more complex work. I mean the young assistants, not people like me who merely have Assistant as a prefix in the name of a Class. It’s relaxing, in a way. All you have to do is pull. With steady pressure, you can draw a molten ball of glass into a long, slender rod of whichever colored glass you desire. The result is perfect for adding stripes of color to decorate plain objects.

I set up my impromptu cane-pulling station in the corner of the studio, focusing on the sheer pleasure of the craft. I draw out a rope of glass across the hot shop floor. Each bit of colored cane is roughly the width of my pinky, and three or four paces long when finished. Draw it out too thin, or move too erratically, and the glass will snap. When I was younger, I found it stressful, but now it’s a fun competition to see how quickly I can complete the task.

Besides, breaking it doesn’t mean a complete failure. The glass cane may still be usable if I don’t need the full length. For this project, I’ll need to cut off sections as long as my forearm, and then bend them around the curve of the bowl. I’ll cluster various canes together to make a colorful pattern. Once I’m done, the outside of the bowl will have a rainbow-like vertical effect in bright, playful colors. I’m not interested in following the exact gradation of a real rainbow, however. I want to change things up, subvert people’s expectations of the color paradigms.

I whistle to myself as I work. It’s a large batch for a local children’s school, and the work order calls for matching cups and bowls, so I’ll likely be busy all day with the project. When I’m done pulling this cane for the bowls, I’ll repeat the process again, but next time I’ll keep the cane thinner and more delicate. The cups will require a finer touch and more slender cane so that I have sufficient room to decorate the fluted wine goblets for the teachers, and the shorter, more utilitarian water cups for the students.

Some people consider this work tedious, and there is an element of repetitiveness that creeps in, but today I find that it steadies me. I reach the end of a cane, and beckon over one of the [Apprentices] to set it aside at my workbench. I need something to ground me back to the reality that I’ve known all my life. Usually, I have to fight off the boredom, but right now I crave the reliable nature of doing the same thing over and over again, knowing that I’ll get predictable, useful results. In a way, it’s a relief to know that I can always return to the shop if delving in the deeps doesn’t work out.

“Need a hand?” Lionel calls out , sauntering by and giving me a raised eyebrow when he sees me pulling cane.

Reflexively, I tell him no, and he shrugs and sets off for his own bench. I sigh, wondering why I’m so quick to turn down time with my friend. If he has a lull in his own projects, then why not have him join me for a bit?

“Actually, yes!” I say, making Lionel turn around. “Come on over, Lio. We’ll work together, just like old times.”

Lionel bounds back to slap me on the shoulder, a grin on his face. “Ember easing you back into the swing of things?”

“We’re a little overqualified for the job,” I admit, chuckling. “But don’t you think there’s a sort of egalitarianism in a hot shop? Everyone needs to put in effort’ everyone needs to carry the load. Looking at some tasks as beneath me is probably why I still haven’t grown in my Skill or my Class.”

“You sure you didn’t get replaced by a doppelganger down in that Rift?” Lionel teases.

“You’ll never know,” I laugh, waggling my eyebrows at him.

“Thoughtfulness is a good look on you, buddy. You’ll have to tell me what happened down there. Must have been crazy!”

I nod. “Grab the yellow batch next. We’ll pull together.”

Lionel picks up the color I indicated, grasping it with his pincers. “Race ya?”

“You’re on!” I say, grinning.

We both set out pulling at a steady, even pace, and for the first half a minute, I’m in the lead. I hear him mutter [A Master’s Touch: Twenty Seconds of Greatness] under his breath, invoking one of his Skills to break the deadlock in the race. It gives him a huge boost of ability for a short window of time, and he surges ahead, keeping his glass malleable and moving in a straight line no matter how quickly it spools out into the colorful cane.

“Do you ever wonder if that’s a crutch?” I ask, marveling at the speed. He finishes before I’m halfway, running backward without a problem, even though the glass would otherwise crack under the rapid strain.

“What, relying on my Skills to do my work? Nah,” Lionel counters as he scrunches up his face. “Why wouldn’t I use the tools at my disposal? This isn’t some weird envy thing again, is it? I thought you were past that, Nuri.”

I shake my head gently, careful to keep my movement from inadvertently shaking the glass and breaking the cane. I don’t answer as I pull, shuffling backward and drawing out the length of shimmering glass. It’s so pretty when it’s still soft and bright, like liquid fire moving in my hands, and a part of me always feels sad to see the inner flames die out. I know the final result will be worth it, and cold glass is stunning in its own right, but there’s something mystical about the movement of molten glass.

I finish, handing off the cane to an assistant, and set down my tongs. “No, nothing like that. I don’t begrudge you or anything. I just wonder sometimes if we rely on our Skills so much that we forget it’s possible to complete our craft without them, you know? I wonder if in a weird way, I’ve accidentally set myself up for greater success down the road by not relying on Skills to bridge the gap.”

“Uh, right. Let me get this straight. You think that by not training your Skill and not putting in the effort to gain more Skills, you’re actually a genius?” Lionel teases. We share a chuckle.

“Well, yes, to an extent. I have to keep up with the rest of you without any useful Skills to fall back on, other than my [Heat Manipulation]. Granted, that alone makes the job much easier, but I’ve had to find little tricks along the way to optimize my workflow to try to match everyone else’s speed. I’m good at what I do—we all are—but you’re faster than I’ll ever be, as you just proved.”

“You’re welcome,” Lionel says grandly, sweeping a bow.”

“Ha. Thanks for that. Guess I deserve some teasing,” I admit. “But now that I know how to properly apply myself and train, I’m sure I’ll gain a third Skill. I do wonder if in the future, when I cross the first Threshold and upgrade my Class, if I’ll go further than I would have otherwise, because I have a strong foundation.”

Lionel pauses, a new set of colored glass in his hand. He sets it back down and gives me an odd look. “Huh. Never thought of it like that. Maybe it’s like when you were wearing your weights everywhere while running. Once you took them off, you got way faster.”

“Yes!” I say, nodding in excitement. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not saying that my laziness was necessarily a good thing, but rather that I’m trying to look on the bright side. That’s right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I admit it. You were right, and I was wrong. I was lazy and entitled.”

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” Lionel says. “Maybe you’re onto something. Everything will equalize in the future, but you’ve set yourself up for success. A strong foundation, just like you said, will take you to greater heights someday.”

“Thanks, Lio. Your encouragement means a lot,” I whisper, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. We lapse into silence, lost in our own thoughts. We each pull another length of cane, handing it off to the [Assistants], who rush over to handle the glass before it breaks.

Lionel and I jog back to the bench with the waiting rods of glass, constantly kept up to temperature by a judicious application of [Heat Manipulation]. I toss him a red piece of glass and I pick up a rod that’s topped in pure white glass. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s twist these together for the next cane. It’ll look festive.”

Lionel shrugs easily. “Whatever you say, boss. Just don’t forget about your friends down in the depths once you do reach those heights you’re talking about.”

“You think I can actually do it? I ask in surprise as we begin to twist and twine the two colors together. They form a long, tightly braided cane. For some reason, the intertwined white and red makes me think of peppermint and warm days by the fire.

“Of course I think you can do it! In fact, I’m counting on it,” Lionel says. “You’re not meant for little things. All the craziness going on lately is just the beginning—fighting off those big jags, delving the Rift, hobnobbing with [Scholars] and famous [Scouts]. You’re moving up in the world, Nuri. I’m proud of you.”

We finish drawing the colorful cane, and I nod at him. “I never knew you were such a gifted liar, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“It’s true,” he insists, his tone more serious than I can remember.

Lionel twirls his tongs around his fingers, making them dance like an [Assassin] playing with a dagger. “Your success isn’t a surprise, Nuri. You’ve always had something different about you, even if you didn’t know how to express it. Now that your talents are coming to the fore? I’m serious. I want to be part of it. I know you’ll do right by your friends, but take us with you if you can. There's more to life than Silaraon, and you’re going to prove it.”

“Thanks, Lio. That means a lot,” I say. I’m grinning like an idiot, my cheeks hurting from the strain, but it’s worth it. Maybe my mundane life is pretty great after all.