I wake up cotton-mouthed and faint with hunger. An atonal whine in the back of my mind won’t go away no matter what I do, and it worsens when I turn my head or move too abruptly. Admittedly, I may have gone a bit overboard with testing out my new Skill; every time my Mana pool refilled, I tried changing another small piece of glass, or latching on to an element of the world around me and transforming it, until my channels felt like skin rubbed raw with sand.

I shiver as the strain sweeps over my body. I stand up to get water from the well, and the sudden shift from sitting to standing sends a spike of pain through my skull. My head pounds with an uncontrollable headache while I stagger out to the well. Still, a small grin twitches on my lips. For a Skill like this? Worth the trouble.

The crunch of jam and toast, along with a handful of dried oat clusters, is abrasive in my ears, but I push through breakfast and drain an entire bucket of water from the well. My stomach gurgles ominously despite the first go at breakfast, and I wolf down a bowl of yogurt and berries before I work up the energy to even think about heading back to the glassworks for the day.

I don’t know the exact energy correlation between food and mana, but I’m willing to bet Ezio has a formula for it already worked out. If I’m correct, investing in a Skill of this magnitude requires more from me than the same amount of mana poured into [Heat Manipulation]. Even running it concurrently with [Lesser Manasight] is a guaranteed way to make my head buzz like a hive of bees that’s been kicked by a stupid child—not that I would know from experience what that’s like.

As the after effects of too much mana strain and the euphoria of a grand Skill slowly wear off, I shrug on my clothes, stuff the handful of transmuted glass into my pocket, and yawn so hard that my jaw cracks. I wipe sleep-spawned tears from my eyes and set out at a light jog to wake myself up.

Outside, I barely make it a dozen strides before the rumble of thunder shakes my chest. The deep, basso growl makes me look up in unease at the sound. The rapidly advancing cloud bank rolling in smudges the horizon like an ink spill, dark and low across the skies.

I skitter back to my cabin, slip inside, and throw a slicker over my clothing to keep out the impending rain. Although the storm hasn’t started in earnest yet, there’s still enough tension in the air that my skin pebbles into gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of my arms and neck stands up in alarm.

I pick up the pace, deciding that I’ll count the run as training time. It's well past dawn, but it seems too dark outside for the time of day. Visibility isn’t great during a storm, granted, but I can barely see where I'm going at all, walking the path more from memory than relying on my sight. Overhead, the flash of and flicker of lightning draws my attention, and I suck in a breath, skidding to a stop in the middle of the meadow path.

There's something off about the color of the lighting strikes. Instead of a vibrant white or a jagged yellow streaking down for the ground like the spear of an avenging god, the lightning shimmers, moving erratically and meandering on its way across the heavens. The bolts oscillate between all the colors of the rainbow—bright and scintillating, yes, but the bands of color are not vibrant or beautiful. Instead of a pastel panoply, or a cheerful rainbow, the multi-hued lights take on a sickly, muted shade that speaks of chaos and corruption.

With a shiver, I realize I've tasted its particular dysfunction before, back in the Rift.

My mouth goes dry again, but this time it's not from the mana strain. My hands start to tremble and my heart thuds in my chest. “Not the time to shut down, Nuri,” I tell myself sternly, fighting off the paralysis of fear.

My booted feet dig into the ground, sending sprays of dirt flying as I sprint down the path as fast as I can, desperate to get back to the studio and make sure everyone's all right. Oh, Tem, what have you done this time, I groan in my mind as I run, certain that this is his doing. If only we hadn't destabilized the labyrinth. If only we’d continued onward, skipping the control room entirely, and found a more equitable solution to the problem of returning home.

By the time I round the final bend in the path and see the glassworks in the distance, my lungs are burning. My throat is raw and ragged from gasping in breath, stringing from the crisp morning air. The rumbling overhead intensifies, and dash toward the studio in terror.

Then, like a soap bubble pricked with a pin, the chaos and riot of color pops. All at once, the gloom disappears, dissolving as warm golden sunlight filters through the frayed edges of the clouds. The sudden light warms my face, and I let out a cry of relief. I slow down, catching my breath, and try to compose myself before I enter the studio. I don't want to give away just how panic-stricken I am by the thought of the Void taking away everything I love.

I pause at the door to brush stray specs of dirt off my tunic and rake my fingers through my hair and beard. I don’t have a mirror to ensure that I'm well groomed, but buying time lets me steady my breathing. I paste a tight smile on my face and I step through the studio door.

Inside, the bustle of coworkers catches me off guard. Has no one else noticed that The End Is Nigh? I glance around wildly, needing the assurance of visual confirmation that all my friends are fine, and I wave to them one by one, checking off their names in my mind. Maybe I’m overreacting.

Lionel beckons me over, but I give him a slight shake of my head and instead look for Ember. I square my shoulders and approach her with more confidence than I feel. She's eyeing me warily as I approach, and for a moment I wonder if she's more scared of me than I am of her after my petty outburst the last time I was in the shop. She looks tired, a little run down, I realize with a start of guilt that I’ve probably been adding to her stress.

“I owe you an apology,” I say, my voice soft but firm as I meet her eyes. I refuse to hang my head in embarrassment; growing up means taking responsibility for my mistakes and setting things right, even if it makes me uncomfortable.

Her stern mask cracks into a smile. “You’re forgiven already, Nuri. Does this mean you’re ready to work?”

“Soon!” I reply. “But first I have something to show you—to show the entire team.”

Ember’s eyebrow raises as she catches the undertone of excitement in my voice, and she calls for the workers to gather around to hear my announcement. Putting me on the spot makes my stomach flutter, but I know they’re all going to want to see this display.

The [Assistant Glassworkers] and more established [Gaffers] crowd around the central workbench. A [Glasssmith] jostles his way in next to [Flameworker], and by habit I look around for my friends. Lionel is grinning at me, as though he can already sense my news, but it takes me a moment to pick out the Linas.

A tall, slender man I don't recognize stands next to Melina, leaning lightly against her shoulder with practiced ease. His straight, narrow nose and clean-shaven face are framed by dark, close-cropped hair, and his blue eyes lock onto mine with electric intensity. He is perfectly symmetrical, like a statue carved from marble by a Master [Sculptor]. No detail is missing or overlooked; he's dressed in a smart azure jacket that matches his eyes with unerring accuracy, and his tailored grey pants are pressed with such crisp creases that he wouldn't look out of place on military parade grounds.

I glance down at my own slicker, still wet with rain, and the ragged tunic underneath, and suppress a grin at how grubby I seem in comparison. The mystery man reminds me of my time with Tem—he’s always dapper and well put together, even bedraggled from fighting monsters in the middle of a Rift. These two look like they’d get along; their skills at showing off impeccable grooming are equal parts mind-boggling and impressive.

Avelina catches my eye and tilts her head toward the man, her eyes wide with glee and more than a hint of pride. “Nuri! Look what my sister dragged in.”

The man stepped forward smoothly and offered a slight, precise bow. “Padouk, itinerant [Merchant], at your service. Yes, in case you’re wondering, my parents did in fact name me after padouk wood—and I’ve almost forgiven them for it! Pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Melina's is a friend of mine.”

“What he means is that he’ll be happy to sell your wares alongside mine,” Melina says, glancing up at Padouk shyly. “He only takes the finest glass pieces, and he’s already interested in your armor! I’ve told him all about your experiments.”

“Uh, right! That’s what I want to show you. Or show everyone, it looks like. Wow. I didn’t expect so many people to watch my demonstration.” I pause and lick my suddenly-dry lips. “Anyway, I think I’ve cracked the code. I’ll be happy to sell some prototypes once we’ve worked out the kinks.”

“I look forward to a profitable partnership,” Padouk replies, his cheek dimpling just the right amount as he smiles at my awkward segue.

“Give me a moment to set up. I’ll be right back,” I call over my shoulder, dashing over to the display shelves and grabbing an ornate, sea-green amphora in one hand and a plain, clear vase in the other. I run back and place them side by side on the workbench, then step back and spread my arms wide, warming up to the theatrics of showing off.

“Watch closely,” I say, flourishing my hands and twitching my fingers mysteriously above the clear glass vessel. Everyone leans in, crowding around the workbench and staring at the two pieces of glass arrayed on the countertop. The glass pieces are roughly the same size, but beyond the differences in coloration, the fancier piece is covered in raised tessellations and intricate, recursive swirls for decoration.

I close my eyes briefly, relying on my new Skill to get a feel for the composition of the materials. They’re both glass, but their salt and chemical content vary slightly between them, and they’ve been constructed with different purposes in mind, so the thickness of the glass walls are distinct between them. My [Lesser Manaight] flares to life while my newest Skill begins its first stage, and I inscribe in my mind each detail of the glass, pushing until I even have a sense for the exact flux added in. After a long moment, I know exactly how much iron-oxides were added to the mix to result in the green coloration, and I’m certain that I can match it with the second activation of [Way of the Artisan: Architect of Unseen Worlds].

I open my eyes, smile at the audience reassuringly, and take a deep breath. I surround the clear vessel with my mental image, and pour my mana into the plain vessel, shaping it with will and intent. Slowly, starting from the top of the bottle and moving downward, the clear glass transmutes, crystallizing into new patterns and new colors that are an exact match for the fancy green vessel.

With a gasp, I break off abruptly, releasing the Skill and swaying on my feet. Despite my best efforts to improve my mana pool, I’ve already running dry and the vessel is only two-thirds of the way transformed. I gesture toward the glass, my heart racing, and bow at the waist to hide the strain on my face. I stand up once the grimace of pain passes. “Tada! Hope you like the new Skill.”

I’m unsteady on my feet, and my headache is back with a vengeance, but the shocked expressions and gaping mouths on the faces of the crowd makes up for the repeated mana use that’s burning away at my channels. Ember’s sharp gaze is particularly gratifying; she knows just how hard she’s pushed me to improve, and now I’ve risen to the challenge. I nod gratefully toward her. I wouldn’t be in this position without her challenging me to grow.

The room slowly stops spinning, but I lean on the edge of the workbench to fight off the effects of dizziness. If I collapse now, I’ll never hear the end of it from Lionel—I spare a glance at my friend, and he’s grinning madly, whooping and clapping hands with the other workers. A constant susurration of excitement ripples through the studio. We’re used to casual displays of incredible abilities, but this? This looks like true magic. I take a moment to bask in the adulation, although I know the fun is almost over. Soon, the real work begins.

“Incredible,” Melina breathes, shuffling forward to stand next to me. She reaches out and tentatively brushes the transformed bottle with her long fingers, her own bevy of Skills activating as she examines the work. “It's not even an illusion—it's a real, true, perfect transmutation. Do you have any idea how magnificent of a Skill this is, Nuri?”

I shrug nonchalantly, but I can't stop grinning. My cheeks are starting to hurt from how happy I am to have a new Skill, and from how excited my friends are on my behalf.

“What’s the big deal?” Lionel interrupts, sauntering over to nudge me in the ribs with his elbow. He makes an exaggerated show of scratching at his chin and squinting at the glass. “He didn’t even finish it. Typical Nuri, losing interest halfway through an order.”

Avelina kicks him in the shins for me, but the way Lionel’s eyes are dancing with mirth, I don’t mind the teasing in the slightest.

“True, true,” I reply. “Why go all out when you can impress people with a halfway job? Although, truthfully, that’s all the mana I have. I’m working on expanding my pool, but Capacity is one of the hardest stats to raise. I’ve been holding mana all day long, soaking my Skills in it passively even when I’m not activating an ability, and it’s working! Believe it or not, a few months ago, I wouldn’t have even been able to use this Skill at all. It’s a hungry little beast.”

“Someone get him an infuser,” Malla, a senior [Gaffer] calls out. “I wanna see that Skill again. If he can copy my finest work that fast, then we can double our profits! I’ll personally pay for an extra set of mana draughts if I get a share of the proceeds.”

“Good idea, for as long as his mana holds,” Lionel snickers. “Let’s not get too carried away just yet. Nuri’s Skills tend to grow at a pace more akin to a snail than a jackrabbit.”

“Ouch. I deserve that,” I say, joining him in laughter. “But this time I’m putting in the work. You’ll see! But don’t worry about getting left behind; I’ll buy you dinner once I’m rich.”

Lionel claps me on the shoulder, his playful look melting into a more serious expression. “I know you’re putting in the work. I look forward to seeing you flourish, my friend.”

I flash him a full grin. “Me too, brother.”

Ember interrupts our sentimental moment with a loud cough to clear her throat. She leans down to tap the glass, frowns thoughtfully, and stands back up, her arms crossed as she shakes her head in disbelief. “Impressive, Nuri. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Well done. If we provide enough mana, will you be able to use your Skill a few times a day, or does it take too much out of you? How much regen do you require?”

“Let’s find out,” Padouk interjects, stepping forward and offering his hand. “As part of my profession, I deal with a great many unusual Skills, and I’ve developed tools to make use of my clientele and their various talents. Allow me to provide you with my [Mana Link], so that you may borrow from my pool. What an exciting Skill! I simply must see it in action again.”

The thought of taking in foreign mana to fuel my Skill makes my stomach churn with the all-too-vivid memory of the mana control test. Although it’s been a few months since the test, the searing pain is still fresh in my mind. Nonetheless, I don’t want to appear ungrateful, particularly not when Melina’s eyes are shining with affection as she gazes at Padouk. Denying him feels like it would be an insult to her, so I find myself nodding along, unwilling to act mean to a friend, or to disappoint my audience.

“Excellent! Let’s begin,” Padouk says, clasping my hand.

A jolt of raw energy shoots through me, and I flinch back on instinct, but his fingers close around mine like a vice grip, and I can’t pull away. He’s terrifyingly strong, belying his slim build, and as the rush of mana crashes through me, I find myself turning to [Lesser Manasight] instead of [Way of the Artisan: Architect of Unseen Worlds].

Padouk lights up like a bonfire in my sight, fairly shimmering with power. He’s controlling it tightly, but the potency reminds me more of Tem than of someone my own age. I shut off the Skill, unease slithering through my gut, and instead offer a weak smile and reach toward my new, powerful Skill.

A torrent of mana flows through me, inundating my Skill, and then surges outward to remake the world. In a flash, the rest of the clear glass vessel transforms under the influence of my Skill, but I’m still brimming with mana. I glance around frantically, searching for an outlet for the power coursing through me.

“How about limitations?” Melina asks, her notepad in hand. She’s staring with wide-eyed wonder at the process, her pen scritching across the surface of the paper as she documents the Skill and all its idiosyncrasies. “Can you make something completely unique, or do you have to copy an existing product?”

“Copy,” I manage to say between grit teeth. “And I need to do more; your beau gave me way more mana than I can handle.”

With a guilty look, Melina dashes over to the front service desk, where a small bouquet of chrysanthemum adds a touch of life to the rows of gleaming glass. She plucks a flower and a white decorative fern, scoops up a simple cup, and rushes back over. “Does it work on living material? Can it only change like for like? Try to remake the drinking glass into a flower. I’ll bet that doesn’t work! Then try to copy the chrysanthemum over the fern, superimposing a new pattern over the old. Oh! And can you change—”

With a headache-induced growl, I take the two plants and slam my consciousness into them. My Skill races, and the mana soaks through the stems and petals, but I can’t seem to get a grip. They slide sideways in my mind whenever I try to find purchase, as though they’re too slippery for me to grasp. Still, pouring the excess mana into the Skill is better than venting it into the room, and soon the pressure alleviates without killing me or harming anyone around me.

That’s always a win in my book.

Melina’s face falls. “So, it only works on glass?”

Instinctively, I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s limited to glass. I’m simply not familiar enough with botany to rely on the Skill to overcome my limitations. I’ve worked with glass my entire life, so transforming it comes naturally to me. And I got a sense for the mother of pearl because I’ve been studying it practically every waking hour of the day for weeks now. I’ll bet I could do the same with other materials.”

“Good theory,” Melina says, nodding along in approval. Her hand blurs again as she scratches down more notes. “Flowers may be an exception, however. The shell is organic, but it’s no longer alive. I’m not sure if living objects work. Perhaps after the flower wilts, we can dry and press it, and test again.”

“Let’s plan on more tests,” Ember says. “In the meantime, Nuri, you need a break. Let go of the mana and sit down. You look unwell.”

I simply grunt, too tired to reply, but the link doesn’t drop. I clamp down on my channels to prevent more mana from pouring in, but Padouk’s Skill resists, like we’re on either sides of a door, fighting over whether it stays open or shut. I look inward, and sense his Skill sizing up the structure of my Skill, cataloging every crack and crevice, as though Padouk is measuring and memorizing the magic.

Frantically, I slam my mental energy against it as the invasive mana pokes and prods at my Skill, and with a final push, slam the door shut. I glare at Padouk accusingly, but he’s already lifting his hands up with a chagrined expression on his face.

“I’m terribly sorry, Nuri! I got carried away in excitement. My [Merchant] Class has a Skill that constantly assesses value, and it just went haywire while you were working. I tried to cut the connection, but it was raging out of my control. Your Skill is extraordinary, my friend. We definitely need to enter a contract for your wares. As an apology for my lack of decorum, please accept a gift of mana draughts. I’ll provide you with an entire case.”

Mollified by his generosity, I smile and nod, but alarm bells are still going off in my mind. There’s more to his story than meets the eye, and I resolve to keep an eye on the [Merchant]. What exactly has Melina gotten herself into? She’s far too smart to fall for tricks—isn’t she?

“Good show,” Ember says, shouldering past Padouk. Her tight, carefully-neutral look as she regards him is a relief. She’s a good judge of character, and if Padouk has any unsavory designs, she’ll take care of us.

“Thanks, but I owe it all to you. I wouldn’t be here without your help,” I say as heartfelt gratitude wells up within me.

“You did the work,” she deflects. “All I did was give you a push.”

“Sorry I complained so much about it at the time. You knew what I needed.”

She chuckles, but doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she claps her hands and directs everyone to get back to work. With a few good-natured grumbles, the [Gaffers] and [Glasswork Assistants] shuffle back to their posts, offering me congratulations as they go.

I smile at Ember. She’s not much for speeches, but she’s an effective taskmaster. At that moment, I wouldn’t want to work for anyone else. She keeps the pressure on, but only because she cares.

Ember turns back around now that we’re alone, and her narrowed eyes drill into mine. Her expression suddenly hardens. “You could be an incredible artisan. Perhaps a master of the craft someday. Do you still want to learn to fight, Nuri?”

“I have to,” I reply softly. “I owe it to Tem to search him out. And what if more Rifts open? We all have a part to play. I’m not in it for glory anymore, Ember. I just want to keep my friends safe.”

“Chaos is building,” Ember breathes, too quietly for the crowds of coworkers to overhear now that they’re back in the swing of glass production. “You’ve seen the signs.”

I shudder, remembering this morning’s storm all too well. “The void is coming. I want to be ready for it when it arrives.”

Ember places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Well said. I promised your father that I’d keep you safe, but you’re growing up. There comes a time in every man’s life where he has to make his own decisions. I can’t protect you forever, so maybe it’s time to properly equip you to protect yourself.”

I cast a glance behind her, looking with longing at the glass swords on the wall. “I want to learn to fight like you do. Will you teach me? I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

She turns and follows my gaze toward the enchanted swords on the wall. “Use your new Skill to make expensive glass for me once a day, Nuri, and I’ll train you to fight with twin swords. Direct instruction. How does that sound?”

“I’ll do it twice a day if you include the Linas, Lionel, and Mikko,” I counter-offer. “They’re going to need to defend themselves if the Rifts grow more volatile. I want to defend Silaraon and defend my friends, but I don’t want to do it alone. Will you help us?”

Ember swallows hard, and I almost swear I see a tear in the corner of her eye before she blinks and it disappears in a puff of steam as heat radiates off her body. Unconsciously, I’ve already activated [Heat Manipulation] to rebuff the buildup of temperature, and I remain cool and comfortable until my mana wears low. I still haven’t regenerated much; I only cast my new Skill again thanks to the borrowed mana from Padouk.

“Now that’s a motivation I can get behind, Nuri. For your friends, I will teach you. Let’s whip you into fighting shape.”

=+=

Rain is falling in a gentle, soothing patter when I drag myself into the Silaraon City Academy training arena three weeks later. The sound doesn’t come close to drowning out the constant complaining from the Linas, Lionel, and Mikko. Their dulcet tones of despair ring constantly to my ears, and I sympathize with their groaning.

I grin at them with a knowing look. “It gets better, friends. I’ve been in your shoes. Not too long ago, I was the one hating my life and cursing my lack of athleticism, but I didn’t give up. You’ll get there, too.”

“Is this the part where you brag about your martial prowess?” Mikko teases. “I can still handle a higher level with the Iron Lunk than you can. We all know Tem dragged your sorry self through death-defying adventures.”

I toss an arm around my brother’s shoulder and chuckle. “That he did, much to your dismay. You’re still stuck with me, Ko.”

“Like a bunion on my foot I can never get rid of,” Mikko shoots back with a laugh.

We’re all gathered for our second combat training session with Ember, who has relented after the growing threat of incursions—and the cash flow I’m bringing in by duplicating the most expensive glasswork in the shop with [Way of the Artisan: Architect of Unseen Worlds]—and I am the only one not nursing a bruise or sprain. I don’t know if I just got lucky last time, or if it’s thanks to my dedication to training myself in Tem’s absence. I’d like to think it’s the latter.

We trudge across the hard-packed dirt of the arena floor, which is slowly turning to mud under the constant drizzle, and I strike up a cheerful tune, whistling to try to keep up everyone’s spirits. This seems to only make them even more annoyed, so I drop the song and offer some more encouraging words, instead. I’m sore from pushing myself, but there’s no way that I’ll let it show. This is my moment to shine. I can inspire them to greatness.

Just like Tem did for me, I think with a lump in my throat. I hope you’re all right out there.

“Nuri!” Ember roars, swaggering over with a pair of dulled swords over her shoulders. She tosses one to me before I’m ready, and I fumble the catch, dripping the practice blade into the mud. “Shatter me,” I swear under my breath. I could have sworn she did that on purpose to knock me down a peg or two.

“Ah, the great hero of the Rift!” Lionel hoots. “Don’t leave the defense of the realm in his hands; he might drop it.”

“Always knew you were a butterfingers,” Avelina says with a wink.

“Exemplary swordsmanship,” Mikko comments dryly.

“All right, all right, get your jollies in,” I grumble, but as I watch my friends fall all over themselves in uninhibited cackling, I can’t help but smile. The last session was excruciatingly difficult, and they probably needed the outlet. Seeing their frustration dissolve into good-natured ribbing makes me feel better about the day already.

“Clever move," Ember whispers, too softly for my friends to hear, as she picks up my sword and hands it to me again. “Unite them against you in order to refocus them on the day’s training. Good work.”

I nod as though it were all part of my plan instead of just dumb luck. My irritation fades, and I wonder if that was part of Ember’s plan. She is proving a master not only at managing the glass studio and fighting, but also at teaching and inspiring.

If making myself the butt of jokes is what it takes to improve the mood, then so be it. I nod to myself in satisfaction as the tension and grumpiness of the morning breaks like a dam, giving way to a rush of camaraderie.

Melina pats me on the shoulder. “Go on, Nuri! Show Ember how it’s done.”

A little more humbled, but encouraged knowing that my friends are on my side despite their teasing, I grip my weapon and fall into a familiar stance. I’ve picked up a few new favorite defensive tricks while training with the Iron Lunk, based on my memories of how Tem handled himself in the Rift. Ember is refining my technique, too, and I’m improving under the tutelage of the harsh beatdowns, but it’s gratifying to know that my time with the training dummy wasn’t a total waste.

Ember stalks into striking distance, her own practice sword at the ready. She’s taking a simple plow stance, both hands down near her waist, with the tip of the sword facing upward. The deadly point never wavers from threatening my face, held at roughly eye level. At a nod from me to confirm that I’m ready, she glides forward on light but steady feet, and her arms snap into full extension an eyeblink before she thrusts at my chest.

I’m ready for the opening attack, and I match her step forward while shifting my hilt a few inches—just enough to deflect the thrust with the strong of my sword. Tem’s quick battlefield teachings echo in my mind, and I make sure to keep my sword point in line as I lift my arms and answer her opening move with a thrust of my own, our blades clacking and scraping against each other as I maintain the pressure of the contact.

Quick as a snake and twice as slippery, Ember disengages from the momentary bind and half-steps to the side, crossing her body with her back foot. My blade goes wide, and she instantly twists both of her hands, forming a pivot point with the hand closest to the crossguard. The double-handed maneuver accelerates the blade behind her in a false-edge cut straight at my head before I can react.

The wooden practice weapon smacks me in the back of the skull, driving me down into the mud. Stars explode across my vision as my face hits the wet ground with a squelch, and I eat a mouthful of goopy dirt.

“Nuri!” Lionel rushes over to pick me up. He brushes off my coat, torn between staring at me and glaring daggers at Ember. “Are you all right? You’re blinking weirdly—don’t move. Here, my aunt taught me how to check for brain damage. Look at my finger. Try to follow it with your eyes as I go.”

He holds up a hand and slowly waves it back and forth, peering at my eyes the entire time as though he’s going to divine the state of my health just by looking at me.

I concentrate and roll my eyes in opposite directions, which makes him suck in a breath in worry. I laugh and stand up. “Relax, Lio, I’m doing it on purpose. I’ve been hit harder by my training dummy. Still, your concern is touching.”

Lionel smacks me on the arm. “Not funny! I don’t have any healing potions on me, and my Skills aren’t suited for brain trauma. You could have died from that kind of impact!”

“Huh. Remind me when you picked up [Healer] as your second Class? I thought you swore up and down that you’d never go anywhere near blood. Aren’t you too squeamish?”

Lionel blushes. “I’m still squeamish. But my aunt took me on a tour of the hospital a few months ago, while you were busy studying with the weird guy at the academy. I couldn’t believe how many people were suffering, and how easy it is for my aunt to patch them up. As long as she has mana, she can fix their problems. I’d be crazy not to learn how to do that, too.”

“Huh. I never knew,” I say quietly. “Sorry I never asked you more about what’s going on in your life. I’ve been caught in tunnel-vision lately, only caring about my own goals.”

Lionel shrugs. “You’ve had a lot going on. But, yes, I’m taking [Healer] as a second Class as soon as I’ve gained enough potential to actuate it. With all the talk of Incursions, I figure it will be even more valuable soon.”

“Excellent!” Ember beams, clapping Lionel on the shoulder. “Our little team needs a healer to look after Nuri when I’m not around. He’s talented at getting into trouble, but it will put my mind at ease to know that you kids are going to band together for your next Rift.”

“Our next what?” Mikko yells.

“What’s the worry, Mikko?” Ember says smoothly. “You’re as durable as an anvil. Just let the others do the thinking, and you’ll be fine.”

“Historically, allowing Nuri to do the thinking doesn’t turn out well,” Mikko points out.

“Hey!” I shout. “Who brought us all together for this training event, and convinced our respective bosses to give us time off to train for a delve so we can find Tem?”

“Ember did,” Mikko says without hesitation, a huge grin splitting his face when I grumble at not getting my just dues.

“You’re quite welcome,” Ember replies. “Now, since Nuri seems to have fully recovered his fighting spirit, let’s ratchet things up a notch.”

“You mean down, right? We’re not going up in intensity, are we?” I squeak, glancing around at similarly-shocked faces.

“Nuri versus the team,” Ember announces to a cheer. “And, go!”

=+=

We’re laughing and teasing each other as we eat lunch, sprawled out on a grassy hill next to the training arena now that the rain has stopped, when I spot an anomaly in my [Lesser Manasight]. I’ve taken to running my Skills as often as possible while I try to deepen my mana pool. I need to grow if I ever want to use [Way of the Artisan: Architect of Unseen Worlds] more frequently.

“Something’s coming toward the city, and it’s moving at a pace that I’ve never seen before,” I announce, sitting up abruptly.

A moment later, Ember bounds up the hill, a frown creasing her face. She’s dropped the practice swords, and instead I see Hellfire and Brimstone strapped to her belt. She seems to take in my tense posture with approval, and juts her chin out in the direction of the anomaly I noticed. “Get ready, boy. I haven’t felt a signature like that since my army days.”

“Since your what?” I echo, momentarily distracted from the approaching mystery by her revelation. I always knew that Ember fought way better than the average adventurer for hire, but picturing her in the royal army is an entirely different story.

Before I can process her words further, the mana signature I’ve been tracking bursts into view, and a giant, gleaming construct soars over the treeline on metallic wings each as wide as a house. An officer with glass goggles on perches between the wings, wreathed in a golden glow of mana that’s visible even to the naked eye.

We all scramble to our feet, exclaiming in excitement, as the flier whooses over us, loops back around, and settles to the ground in a veritable explosion of displaced air. With a whir, the wings retract, folding around the army officer until he’s clad in a bulky suit of armor. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed that he could fly so effortlessly.

“Nuri Shahi?” the officer says, addressing me with a full name that I haven’t heard in over a decade.

I nod slowly, suppressing the urge to correct him. I’ve adopted Reijo and Kirsi’s last name, but something warns me that implicating them isn’t the best idea right now. “That’s me. How can I help you, sir?”

“We’ll find out,” the officer says with a grunt. He takes in our muddy clothing at a glance, weighing us on the scale and clearly finding us wanting. “You are the last known associate of the [Expert Counterspell Scout] Tem Cytekin.”

His tone makes it clear that this is a statement, not a question, but I nod anyway. “That’s correct, Sir. He saved my life in a Rift last month.”

The officer’s face twitches slightly, but he withdraws a scroll from his satchel bearing the royal seal and gives it to me. My hands shake as I accept it, and I fumble with the seal, a sense of foreboding building as I stare at the officer. He seems to take pity on me, and unsheathes his knife, flipping it around to hand it to me hilt-first.

I steady my grip, cut the seal, and unroll the scroll. As my eyes scan the page, dread creeps up my spine. I pass the scroll to Ember, who’s gone ashen under her tanned, weathered skin, and mumble an explanation. “As of two days ago, by royal decree, Tem has been declared a traitor and an enemy of the state. They’re blaming him for the Rift and the rising instability and threat of incursions.”

She shifts to interpose herself between me and the officer, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. I square my shoulders and look him in the eye. “That means I’m likely considered an accomplice, is that right?”

The officer nods curtly. “You understand what’s at stake. Good.”

“He’s done nothing wrong!” Ember insists, her hand shifting to the hilts of Hellfire and Brimstone. “You can’t have him.”

“Nothing has been decided, formally. He’s not under arrest yet,” the officer replies with tightly-controlled patience. “Nonetheless, he’s coming with me for questioning.”

“It will be all right,” I interrupt, although my shaking voice betrays my worry. “I’ll go with him, Ember. Just take care of my friends while I’m gone.”

The officer’s gaze sharpens slightly, as though he’s reassessing me, and he offers a slight smile. “Good lad. You’ll get a fair hearing from me. I must insist on privacy, however. If you will?”

His wings unfurl with a shimmer of power, and he extends a hand, now gauntleted and ready for flight—or a fight—to present a pair of goggles. I take them and set them firmly over my eyes, although my body has gone cold and I’m trembling with adrenaline. I offer a brave smile toward my friends, who are simply staring at us, dumbfounded.

The officer inclines his head toward Ember, loops a harness around my chest, and blasts off into the sky with me firmly in tow. As we roar through the air, hurtling back toward the capital at breakneck speeds I never thought possible, something tells me that nothing will ever be the same again.