Casella drops me off in the same place he took me from originally, touching down on the green hillside above the arena far more lightly than his previous landing and making me wonder if he was just messing with me before. I stretch my sore shoulders and wince at the chafing from the harness, but my discomfort is balanced by the rush of relief as I look out across the city. It’s good to be back, even though my team has long since departed the training arena and I’m standing awkwardly on my own.

True to his word, Casella departs without requiring anything further from me, jetting away in a rush of turbid, golden mana. The Silaraon city guard approaches soon after, converging on my position with more urgency than I’ve seen from them in a while.

A grim-faced [Captain of the Guard] takes down my story, his brows raised in incredulity as I describe, with some key redactions, the friendly interrogation I endured. “Concerning all around. Silaraon doesn’t see many [Inquisitors]. The news of your arrest—and return—will send ripples through Silaraon for some time. More work for me, unfortunately. At least your boss will stop pestering me now.”

After extracting a promise that I’ll stay around the city in case they have any further questions, the [Captain] sends me on my way to the glass studio so I can set Ember’s mind at ease. She’s apparently been on their case nonstop, requesting that they file a formal complaint about my arrest. She’s also been trying to whip up support for a search and rescue party on my behalf, according to the talkative [Captain], who enjoyed commiserating about his work.

The thought of my friends searching for me puts a huge grin on my face as I trot down the hill and head across town to the crafters quarters. For all her gruffness, Ember treats me like family. What more could I truly ask for?

As soon as I push open the door and step inside, a mob greets me. Ember rushes over, the team in tow, and I’m dumbstruck with emotion. Were they waiting for me?

“Glad to see that [Captain] Greyson stayed true to his word and let me know you were back. I gathered your friends when we heard the news.” She stops just before they reach me, holding out an arm to slow down my team, however. Ember peers at me, looking into my eyes intently, as though she’s studying my soul now that I’ve returned. “Circulate your mana. Do you feel any foreign influences, or anything out of the ordinary?”

My gut clenches, and my suspicions about the [Inquisitors] comes roaring back to the fore. I swallow, spin up my mana, and activate my [Lesser Manasight]. A tense few moments pass as I catalogue every nook and cranny of my interior, but I finally shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure I’d be able to tell if I were still under the effects of a Skill, however. Casella didn’t exactly seem incompetent.”

“First name basis already?” Lionel teases. “I suppose you make friends a bit faster these days. You’re like a lodestone for trouble, though, aren’t you, Nuri? Well, at least you got your wish; nothing’s boring anymore.”

I chuckle wryly. “If I ever complain about life being boring again, just smack me. I think I've had my fill of adventure for a while.”

“I'm afraid our adventures are only beginning,” says Melina. “There was another chaotic storm while you were gone, just like you described from the other day. I don't think stability or safety are in our near future. Like it or not, we're on the front lines against the void. Battle is coming, and we have a job to do to keep this place safe.”

“That’s the Silaraon City Guard’s job,” Ember cuts in. “I want you to promise to take care of each other, not charge in and do something stupid. I’m not taking the time to teach you to fight so that you can throw away your lives. I want you to survive, not suffer heroic deaths.”

“We can’t fight what’s coming,” I say, gathering my thoughts as I scan the room full of old friends and coworkers. “But we can protect the people who matter to us.” My voice grows husky as my throat closes up, and it takes me a moment to recover. “Not all fights will take place on an established battlefield. We have to be ready to act if the coming violence spills over and affects the common folk like us.”

Avelina puts the back of her hand to my forehead, as though she’s feeling for a fever, and frowns. “Whatever that [Inquisitor] did made Nuri sound responsible. Suspicious!”

“Teasing aside, I don't like it, either” her sister chimes in. “Doesn’t it simply seem a little too convenient that they pick him up and then let him go, just like that? I'd wager my Threshold advancement that he's under some sort of [Compulsion] or [Reporting] Skill, or that we’re still under surveillance.”

“Perhaps,” Ember says slowly. She awkwardly puts a hand on my shoulder. “I'm just glad you're unharmed. I haven't seen an [Inquisitor] like that for twenty years. Maybe more. We're fortunate he didn't have any ill intent, or else none of us would be standing here right now. They are terrors to fight. Believe me on that front.”

“Someday, I want to hear more about your past,” I say, meeting Ember’s look. “I want to know more about your time in the military. And more about my dad.”

“Not much to tell,” she says flatly, her face growing guarded in a way that screams that, yes, there is a lot to tell, but I don’t want to dredge up the past.

“I know now’s not the time, but I want to hear more,” I insist. “You’ve never talked about your early years much. I always thought you met my dad during his adventuring days. Did you serve together first?”

Ember’s jaw works back and forth. Finally she gives me a curt nod. “We did adventure together for a short time. He wasn't in the military with me, but he had all the signs of an army man. I've never lied to you, Nuri. I just don't like talking about days gone by. Truth be told, we only worked a couple jobs before we ran into a buzzsaw of a monster that nearly took our team apart.”

She grimaces and gestures toward her stomach. “I still have scars underneath my tunic none of you are ever going to see. It’s impossible to forget. We retired and discovered a new life here. Your father got married, had you, and died from that shattered mana poisoning plague. That's about the sum of it. Before he passed, I promised him that I'd keep you safe. I don't think we have that luxury anymore.”

“Did you and Dad ever go into a Rift? I ask, fascinated by the possibilities. “Is that where you ran into the monster that tore apart the team?”

“Are you crazy?” Ember shakes her head, glancing around at the audience in clear discomfort at baring her soul in public. “We stayed as far away from Rifts as we possibly could. We would never have gone in even if we ever discovered one. The most we did was searching through old ruins for scraps. Could we have maybe cleared out a layer? Certainly. But it’s never worth the cost. We weren't suicidal—the fact that you’re still in one piece after entering a Rift boggles my mind. Your father would have been very proud to see how dedicated you've become since then.”

I blush, but the praise is intoxicating. “I think I've always taken for granted working with glass. How exactly did Dad go from an adventurer to working here? Of all the stories you've never told, that’s the one I want to know the most. It's perplexing! I’m trying to do the opposite of what he did.”

Ember snorts. “That's because you have it precisely backward. He didn't go from being an adventurer to a [Glassworker]; he went from being an [Assistant Gaffer] to trying his hand at adventuring. He even made some crappy glass swords in the pursuit of copying those beauties up on the wall that you admire so much.”

“I guess I really am following in his footsteps,” I say softly.

“Yes, whether you knew it or not,” Ember confirms with a nod.

“Is that why you were so adamant about not letting me join the defense against the Jaguars, and so opposed to not training me to fight? You're afraid I'll run off and meet my end somewhere?”

“I suppose so,” Ember replies quietly. “Sometimes blood just sings too strongly to resist.”

=+=

On our lunch break, I sit down in the grass at the top of my favorite little gnoll, surrounded by my friends. Even Ember has joined us for once. We’re overlooking the stream, quietly enjoying each other’s company, and I’m basking in the sunlight and enjoying a moment of peace. I’m still stretching out my sore arms. Hanging from a harness isn’t very pleasant. That experience—I groan under my breath. I’m not keen to repeat it again unless absolutely necessary, and definitely not twice in one week.

“So, what’s next?” Lionel asks, pausing from devouring his roasted sausage and eggs wrapped in a thick flatbread. A bit of hot sauce dribbles down his chin, but he doesn’t seem to notice, so I don’t say anything.

I take a slow, deep breath, still savoring the quiet. “I think we would be best served to continue to hone our Skills. Let's just put all this unpleasant business behind us for now. Until war breaks, there's not much we can do other than better ourselves. Casella says I'm right on the cusp of leveling and gaining my first Threshold. I think it would be irresponsible not to make a push to finally join you in the ranks.”

“How can you be so calm?” Avelina asks. A touch of flame flickers up on her fingertips, and she stares into it with an intensity and anger that makes me shiver. “How do you know the [Inquisitor] is telling you the truth? If his partner Mbukhe was staking out the city while you were gone, then what's to say that he's not still here? It seems like an elaborate ruse, but we’re just the type of people to fall for it—we’re all too trusting.”

“What other choice do we have? Either I take him at his word and get on with life, or we all jump at shadows and peer around every corner with never-ending suspicion. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I'm not interested in adopting a lifestyle of paranoia.”

Ember fiddles with her vambraces, tightening the straps and rolling her shoulders as though she's preparing for a fight, even on her lunch break. “You’re both right, in a sense. Getting back to work is productive. Pushing for the next Threshold is essential—both as a glass maker and another potential fighter in the war. That said, there’s merit to not taking everything at face value. I think you should stay in pairs as much as possible from now on and watch each other’s backs.”

Lionel wipes the hot sauce from his chin with a finger, licking it off before answering. “Ha, so I’m stuck with Nuri, huh? I guess it’s my lot in life. I shall accept my fate with good cheer!”

Ember coughs. “Yes, well, the Linas are already a natural pairing.”

“I’m excited,” I say, casting Lionel a glance. He knows Ember doesn’t find our teasing as endearing as we do. No sense putting her on edge unnecessarily.

“Nuri, I would recommend you spend as much time as you can with Lionel from now on without raising suspicions,” Ember continues. “If your behaviors change too drastically, then they might catch on, but talking outside of work and maybe training more with Mikko is probably a good idea.”

I nod at Ember’s sensible advice. There's still the niggling questions from Mbukhe about the [Merchant], Padouk, snooping about, but for Melina's sake I'm not willing to voice any of the suspicions just yet. Maybe he was simply on his way over to speak with me about business arrangements? For all I know he caught sight of the [Inquisitor Infiltrator] and spooked. It's not completely outside of the question that a [Merchant] would have some way of evading unwanted attention in case of unhappy buyers, I tell myself, but the excuse rings hollow in my mind.

“Good ideas, Ember,” I say instead, keeping my accusations to myself until I can figure out more solid information. “For now, I want to cling to some elements of normality. It would be nice to think that I can trust people, even if they haven't really given anything indication they're worthy of my trust.”

“Admirable, but don’t get eaten up. It’s a dangerous world out there,” Ember grunts.

Once again silence settles over our squad, but this time it’s less easy than it was a few moments earlier. We finish eating, brush off our crumbs, and follow Ember’s lead. Come what may, it’s time to get to work.

=+=

The next week finds us back in the shop, as usual, but we’ve been given special dispensation to work on another pet project. Now that we have a little breathing room, it’s time for our next goal: Create glass work without using our hands or any physical touch.

The Linas, Lionel, and I are arrayed around a workbench, determined to push our Skills to the next level. “I don’t know if this kind of collaboration will even work, but I'm excited to see what happens,'' I say, drumming my fingers on the table nervously.

“I've only ever held objects in place,” Melina admits. “I’ve never done anything like this.” Her voice comes out thin, the words too fast—a rapid cadence that sounds more like the ratatat of a military drum sounding marching orders than her usual calm, considered composure.

“Only one way to find out,” Lionel says cheerily. He places a handful of frits and glass chips on the table along with a sprinkling of iron oxides and other ingredients, then pulls out a little brass pocket watch with a faint, precise tick. “Let's time ourselves while we work. As I’ve learned from Melina, we have to get a baseline to know if we’ve improved. We'll measure again in a week or two to see if we’ve made progress.”

“Ezio will approve,” I say, nodding along. “He loves establishing baselines. I think that man is more numbers than human—no, that's not quite fair. He likes researching seashells, too, apparently. But if it's esoteric knowledge, or quantifiable results, he is all over it.”

“I'm still cross you haven't introduced us,” Melina interjects, giving me a side eye.

“Look, once I have enough of the prototype armor to make an actual chest piece, then we’ll go deliver the goods and you can come along. I’ll make sure to sing your praises and tell him that you were indispensible to the work, which is true. But right now, I don't think he'll be very impressed. All I can make are little pieces the size of my fingers. I might have to transition to scales instead of full plate, but I’m embarrassed to admit to him just yet that I’ve hit a snag. I want to try to find a work around. The largest piece I've been able to transmute so far maybe covers my entire palm. It's not even see-through, so I can't even put it in a helmet and use it to protect my eyes.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Lionel hums. He taps his chin with a long index finger. “I wonder if we can adjust the composition of the filler? It works pretty well as a compression agent, but it does add to the opacity of the finished product.”

“Why don't you just transform afterward with your Skill?” Avelina suggests. “That way you can ensure that it’s see-through once you've made it with the right structural integrity. Have you tried that yet? Changing its appearance should be easy as long as the actual substance is correct first. Right?”

I chew on the inside of my lip for a moment while I consider her suggestion, then shake my head. “No, I don't think so. Structure contributes to the appearance; changing its outward look probably would require changing its actual function. I don't think you can have one without the other, but I've been wrong before.”

“And will be again,” Lionel says with a chuckle, elbowing me in the ribs as we all share a much-needed laugh to break the growing tension.

I wait for the good natured teasing to die down, and then clap my hands together. “So! Let’s start with something simple, like a cup.” I draw on my mana, feeding it into the Skill that's been with me the longest. A nostalgic smile plays on my lips as the upgraded version of [Heat manipulation] activates and begins the process of melting the glass. The glass chips glow and wobble like jelly on a plate as I lean on the table. Their shapes deform further the higher the temperature goes, and I push on the Skill, compressing the mana to contain the heat to only affect the glass on the table.

“This is taking too long,'' Avelina complains. With a rush of bright flames, a tongue of fire appears at the end of her fingertip. She melts the ingredients with a wild grin while I shield the team from the raging temperature with my [Heat Manipulation].

Melina squints at the molten glass, tilting her head as she activates her own Skills. She’s likely assessing the composition to ensure it’s ready for the next step. Apparently satisfied, she raises her hands with a look of fierce concentration. The loose pieces on the table rattle, drawn inexorably toward one another like metal shavings to a magnet. Melina abruptly squeezes her fist; the materials crumple, crushed by some arcane pressure and forced to fuse together.

“Nice work!” I shout, louder than intended. I know the Linas are good, but this display of teamwork warms my heart. “You don't even need me for this project.”

“We do. You are the only one with [Manasight]. You have to keep an eye on what happens when something goes wrong. And you know it will. It’s our first try,” Melina says.

“Ready to try your newest Skill?” I ask, nodding toward Lionel. “I'm curious to see if it'll work without touch, or on someone else's composition at all. Probably should have asked about that before we jumped into this project.”

Lionel presses his lips flat, forming a thin line as he stares at the glowing, hovering orb of molten glass. It’s taking on a faint yellow-green tint that will fade into a darker green as it cools. He grits his teeth and pushes mana into the Skill as I follow along with my [Lesser Manasight], studying closely to see if it goes wrong.

Tiny tendrils of mana unfurl from Lionel, delicately touching the surface of the glass and drawing a ghostly diagram in the air. More and more connections spin out from him, like thread unwinding from the spool. I watch in fascination as Lionel infuses the entire structure with excess mana, sweating as he pours power through the connections to try to reshape the ball of glass into [A Perfect Prototype].

“There’s too much leakage,” I murmur. “Stray mana is escaping from the Skill at an alarming, uncontrolled rate. I don't think you’ll be able to complete it without touch—that, or you need to improve your mana control once it leaves your body.”

Lionel ignores my warning, too committed now to stop. His face is all screwed up in concentration, his brows furrowed together. He sticks out his tongue unconsciously as he tries harder, pushing more and more mana through the thread-like connections to the glass. The mana glows brightly in my [Lesser Manasight], but again the same mana-leakage problem arises. The Skill sputters, faltering halfway through the change.

With a growl of frustration, Lionel cuts the Skill, but not before the wash of unrestrained, chaotic mana interferes with Melina’s control. She yelps as the entire thing comes crashing down onto the workbench, splatting wet, goopy glass on the table like a dropped egg.

“More power isn't the answer,” I affirm. “If anything, extra mana only exacerbates the inefficiencies already there. You're hoping to bridge the gap by just flooding the Skill with power, but the reality is that the energy loss only ramps up under these conditions. I don't see a way around it, Lio. I'm sorry.”

Lionel wipes the sweat off his forehead and laughs. “All good! We’re never going to grow unless we practice. Failure’s just part of the process, Nuri.”

“All right, good first try. I appreciate your willingness to experiment, everyone,” I say with a broad smile. I’m nodding at everyone to keep their spirits up, but they seem less frustrated by the mishap than I am. “First we have to address Lionel’s mana leakage before we try that again. Otherwise, I think we're in good shape! We nearly got an actual shape, and on our first try no less! I'm really impressed with everyone's skill and attitude.

“Mana leakage, huh?” Lionel says with one brow raised. “That sounds like a problem I would hope to avoid until my old age. Can I get a diaper for it or something?” His eyes twinkle with mirth, his failure already behind him.

“Actually,” Melina says, drawing out the word as she winks at Lionel, “yes, you can get a

‘diaper’ so to speak. They're pricey, but we might be able to borrow one from Nuri’s scholarly friend. It's a type of glove that works almost like a lens, compressing the user’s mana and focusing everything in the same direction. Much like a magnifying glass can focus sunlight into a fine enough point to start a fire, a focus glove draws the power into a single area, which should, in theory, mitigate against mana loss. It doesn't make you more powerful, necessarily, but if we can borrow one from Ezio, then we might be able to get around Lionel’s leakage by increasing the distance that the spell form travels before it all falls apart.”

I whistle appreciatively. “A focus glove? Now that sounds handy.”

Loud groans meet my bad pun, but I just grin at my shameless joke. If a fellow can't have some fun with his friends, then what's the point?

“Right. I'll talk with the good [Scholar] to see if we have any possibility of requisitioning one. It might be difficult, though, given our current delicate situation. I'm not exactly the most beloved figure in Silaraon at the moment.”

“In the meantime, can't you just get closer?” Avelina asks. She purses her lips, humming to herself for a moment while she puzzles over the predicament. “Nuri, when you're using your [Lesser Manasight], can you tell how far the spell form goes before it unravels? Or will you need to rank up the Skill for that kind of precision? I know we want to test casting at a distance, but it seems like it’s worth our while to get a proof of concept first. We can always work on tweaking parameters after the fact.”

“A surprisingly cogent thought,” Melina says, giggling at her sister's sudden indignation.

“What!” Avelina says, throwing her hands up. “How do you think she got so smart? She just takes after me. That's why I'm usually left with the bad ideas, because my little sister steals my best ideas.”

“Truly, her dastardly nature knows no bounds,” Lionel teases. “Where would she be if she never met Padouk? A hopeless case, I'm telling you.”

“Hey!” Avelina snaps, glowering at Lionel. “I'm the only one who can tease my sister. She's a great catch, and you know it.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to be part of the fun. Didn't mean to overstep,” Lionel says, crossing his arms and looking appropriately rebuked.

“Let's just try again, with Lionel much closer,”' Melina suggests. “As long as we're fresh and our mana is still relatively topped off, we should keep going. Nuri, was Lionel at least getting halfway across the gap before the spell form fell apart?”

I squeeze one eye shut, staring up at the ceiling and chewing on my lip while I try to remember this exact sequence of events. “Yeah, that sounds pretty accurate to me. As long as he's about a hand's breadth away, I think our strategy is viable. We'll figure out a way to reduce the energy loss, either through using the focus glove like Melina suggested, or just good old-fashioned practice.”

Avelina swipes the old glass out of the way, dropping it into the waste bin where it'll be recycled and reused in other projects. Sometimes we take the broken pieces and scatter them across the board, gluing them in place and covering them with epoxy to make everything glisten. For some reason, the artwork style is popular with certain folks who prefer to find abstract meaning in things rather than looking at recognizable details or pastoral tableaus.

One of the [Assistants] rushes over with a fresh batch of unheated glass, and we begin again, this time with more confidence as everyone knows his or her part. I regulate temperature while Avelina melts the glass. Melina lifts it up and compresses it, turning it until she announces that it’s ready. Lionel takes a deep breath, moving closer and relying on my [Heat Manipulation] to shield him from burns.

Sure enough, now that Lionel is much closer, he's able to apply his Skill without physical touch. I observe through my [Lesser Manasight], keeping careful watch on the structure of the complex Skill. At the first sign of deformation or wavering, I instruct him to inch a little bit closer, but at about half a foot away, he's able to successfully imprint the glass with the archetype of a previous work that he's completed. Excess mana still pours off the Skill, but enough of it holds together for the spell form to work. Soon, a simple elegant cup floats in the air, held aloft by our various linked Skills.

“Yes!” Avelina shouts, pumping her fists in the air like an athlete who just won a huge race. “We are awesome!”

A buzzing suddenly builds in the back of my mind. I snatch the cup before it can fall to the ground and shatter, wincing as I sense an uncomfortable resonance between so many Skills activating at once. It's like a faint itch behind my eyeballs, or a growing rattle as my teeth clatter together in unexpected ways. Although I can't precisely visualize the bleedthrough of so many mana Skills, and theoretically my [Lesser Manasight] only affects my eyes, I've noticed that I seem more attuned to mana in general thanks to the Manasight. I’m not about to complain about extra dimensions to one of my few precious Skills.

“Distance is still an obstacle,” Melina observes, scribbling in her ever-present notebook.

“Still, it's an encouraging first step,” I say, acknowledging Avelina’s excitement. “But let's not get carried away. We still have a lot of work to do before we can work successfully outside of the studio. I don't reckon this method will be viable for a while. We won’t be able to execute out in the field quite some time, and not at any great distances. We might be looking at months or years of practice before we can affect things on a reasonable scale.”

“I still think this calls for a celebration,” Lionel says, grinning despite being the weak link in the formation. He doesn't seem to let this sort of thing bother him, and I admire that about him. The knowledge that I’m the worst at something always eats at me until I get it fixed, but he's happy enough to make a mistake, try again, and find a way to get around the problem. His attitude amazes me; honestly, it’s something I could probably learn from if I put in the time.

“I agree,” Avelina chimes in. “We deserve to treat ourselves after that success. It’s the first step in our climb to the top.”

“Hmm, but what could we possibly do to celebrate? What are you thinking?” I ask innocently, already knowing what their response will be. “Pub?”

“Pub!” the others instantly chorus with grins and rowdy cheers all around.