2006, 28th January

Space Station, Apotheosis

Michael prodded at the tiny globe of light sitting on his desk, and his finger passed clean through it as if it was as immaterial as air.

Of course, it technically did not even exist; not in this plane of existence anyway.

Finally having learned enough to be considered a novice of spirit magic, he was able to see past the physical realm into the spirit plane, and observe its inhabitants.

The experience had been enlightening.

Of course, interacting with them was another matter entirely; he had tried manipulating them with mind magic, an attempt to blur boundaries between fields, but the attempt had been unsuccessful, as they had proven too different to a normal psyche.

He leaned back in his seat, content to watch the planets visible to him through the window panes.

Mars was particularly impressive, glowing red in a way it never would in the physical pits, dotted with burning pits, and beautiful and foreboding in equal measure.

And earth…. Earth was the planet that stood unique among them, even in the other plane, a shade of black so deep it gave off the impression of depth, even in the darkness of space, akin to the remaining impression of mass recently removed from a sheet of fabric.

Michael narrowed his eyes in sudden inspiration, and his very soul began to burn, enlightenment opening the path to more power.

He rose and purposefully made his way to the training chambers, determined to not be disturbed as he worked on this spark of inspiration.

Anisha rubbed her index finger and thumb over her eyelids, in a futile effort to rid herself of the exhaustion she had been feeling.

It was mostly a wasted effort.

She had begun to be kept up at night by the tone she had had stuck in her mind since that fateful day, and had resorted to sedative drugs to keep herself asleep.

It was helpful, but not as entirely as she would have liked.

“Why the hell do you keep twitching like that?” Ciara asked her.

“Why the hell do you care?” Anisha snapped right back.

Aaron covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

Ciara had recently ascended in her studies, gripped by some fierce, unknown motivation, and had reached an adept’s understanding of Mind magic, outranking Aaron and Pierre.

It was unusual for a Hollow to address a mage like that, less so one that was capable of inducing seizures by thinking about it.

But Ciara did not react violently as he had expected, her eyes narrowing instead.

“What’s that fucking tune that keeps playing in your head? It’s the one you told us about, right? That tonal weapon Hans used?”

“Don’t fucking look into my head when you feel like it. Don’t we have a job to do?”

Ciara shrugged, and Aaron knew there was really nothing Anisha could truly do to keep Ciara out of her thoughts, her soul not even being potent enough to trigger the Balandin effect, let alone any real defenses a supernatural would have.

Aaron had been worried by Ciara’s tendency to snoop in his thoughts without reproach and had taken to studying the Balandin effect in greater detail, and-

“Oh, stop, you big baby. Your soul isn’t strong enough compared to mine for the Balandin effect to save you anyway.”

Aaron frowned.

“Do you mind? We’re working here. Or can you just not help being an insufferable bitch?”

Ciara flung the folders they were working on contemptuously across the table.

“You think this busywork is important? Ancient history; tracking family trees and ferreting through myths and legends for god knows what purpose. This is Michael keeping us out from under his feet while he winds up to swing.”

“Wow, lots of uncharitable things to say about him when you followed him around like a puppy just days ago. What happened, bad breakup?”

“I feel sorry for you, Aaron. You’re so incapable of reading people. Michael is dangerous, and you don’t even realise how much. Just like all the other magi around here. It’s fine for him to be working on our side now, but we won't survive much longer, just getting by as we have. It’s time you realised that, or Michael, Hans, or any one of them will eat you alive.”

Having said her piece, Ciara rose and left the table.

“What’s gotten into her today?” Aaron muttered.

“She’s right about them,” Anisha said, “You know how dangerous these people can be.”

Aaron looked into her haggard, exhausted face, drawn with tension.

A far cry from the headstrong woman he had seen accompanying Michael the first day he had seen her.

Now she seemed to be quick to lash out, just like Ciara used to.

“I need to go speak to Michael. Do you think you can handle this without me for a bit?”

“Sure. Just leave the busywork to me.”

There was a trace of bitterness in Anisha’s voice.

Aaron shook his head and moved on.

Michael wasn’t in his office, the library or the nearest canteen.

Aaron’s next guess was the training halls.

It turned out to be accurate.

And there was Michael, changed from his usual suit to a vest and track pants, the power of his soul causing the room to crackle with static energy.

“All of you have the most unfortunate habit of disturbing me right here when I’m working.”

“You’re already an adept. You can afford to slow down a bit.”

“We’ll see how long that opinion lasts. What are you here for?”

“All the ladies around me have been acting strange lately.”

Michael betrayed no reaction at all.

“Seriously, nothing? What’s crawled up Ciara’s ass anyway?”

“Ciara has learned that her greatest asset is and will always be herself, and no one else. She has taken initiative.”

After a pause, Michael added. “Some day, you might do the same.”

“And Anisha? What’s the deal with her? One day, she’s all calm and collected with you, then the next, she just starts lashing out like Ciara herself does. Is she going through something?”

“I see you’ve answered your own question.”

“What?”

“Echokinesis. Or think of it as a reflection off the surface of water if you prefer. Mimicking is one of the greatest ways to learn, after all.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“It isn’t immediately relevant. How far along are you in tracing the Draugr bloodlines back?”

“Is that really necessary? If we’re tracing a pureblood specimen, couldn’t we just go after the one we knew you met in Paris?”

“Would you like to do that, then? How do you believe that works out for you?”

“Come on, I know he’s dangerous, but we literally have limitless resources here. We have a planet killer pointed directly at Earth, for god's sake.”

“I’ll let you figure out all the reasons that plan isn’t feasible for yourself.”

“Ok, so we wouldn’t have the clearance to access most of the firepower it would take to bring that thing in-”

“And?”

“And it’s not exactly subtle.”

“The no interference rule exists for a reason. It exists for several reasons, actually. Now, will that be all, or are you getting back to work?”

Aaron turned to leave, when Michael spoke once more.

“Our microbial dependents. What do you think we would be to them? Planets? Gods?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Idle thoughts, never mind them. Leave me for now.”

Aaron shrugged and left.

And Michael was once more left to work on the problem of why their planet seemed so excised from the Horizon realms.

He worked on the insights that simple observations had gotten him, working on tracing the patterns that Earth’s excision had left on the spirit-matter around it.

And like a spark of inspiration, or more precisely a long forgotten memory reawoken, he had the second degree of spirit magic within his grasp, feeling the membranes between the layers of reality buckle and bend, and the starlight citizens of the plane beyond, stir with the slightest application of his will.

Abas was right; this field did come naturally to him after all.