уАКJust a BystanderуАЛ


 1. On the Sidelines

    <blockquote>

    A life is a collection of moments, strung into years. Some loom larger in our minds than others, but even the least-remembered moment has its part in shaping our fate. One seemingly inconsequential moment can change a life, and one seemingly inconsequential life can alter the course of history.

    - Excerpt from a model essay, "Fateweavers бк Are Their Powers Real?"

    </blockquote>

    Today was supposed to be a special day.Myspecial day.

    I worked hard to get here. The Aiestan Academy takes in only about a hundred candidates every year and on average the number of applicants is around two thousand. That''s two thousand capable people who have already proven an exceptional aptitude for the Art, out of a population of about eighteen million. Anyone''s grandmother can use a well-calibrated artefact with the barest fart of arcana, and the average person can probably only recognise the basic set of activation glyphs and doesn''t even know how the read the others, let alonemakethem. Anyone who wants to evendreamabout entering the Academy needs to be functionally fluent with glyphs, and also put in theyears of practice and dedication to build up the capacity tobe able to do glyphless work.

    So yeah, it''s a big deal that I got in. My parents were happy, my sister was happy,Iwas happy.

    And then the rumours started. There would be someone in my year who was the subject of a Prophecy.

    These things supposedly roll around once every few generations. Small prophecies get made all the time and they skew the probabilities heavily in favour of the subjects of those prophecies, but they can sometimes just not come true too. But big Prophecies (the capital ''P'' matters - my teachers hammered it into me) almost always come true unless a shitload of effort is put into thwarting them. It''s the kind of stuff legends are made of. I only remember a couple of big Prophecies from history and the only one I remember that didn''t get fulfilled basically failed because another nation poured everything they could into averting it and almost screwed the Empire over. But the Empire somehow managed to survive that mess even with the Chosen One dead, so apparently the Chosen One wasn''t that important after all. It''s a sore point for the pro-Prophecy people.

    Anyway, as fate would have it, my entry into the Aiestan Academy would be overshadowed by the existence of a Chosen One.

    Don''t get me wrong бк itiskind of exciting. Big Prophecies apparently come from the Fateweavers themselves. In the 4000-plus years of history of the Empire they''ve never come forward and proven they existbut somehow their Prophecies get spread about and people believe them, and believe they''re real. If you ask me, it''s just Empire propaganda to keep enemies at bay - people would think twice before they messed with anyone who has a group of arcanists who can twist the threads of fate.

    It''s just... I guess it''s the kind of thing I''ll feel excited about after awhile. But today, on my first day, I really just wanted to enjoy this win for myself.

    "Do you know who it is? Are you gonna be able to tell? Will they have some sort of announcement?" my sister, Triss, asked breathlessly, her nose pressed against the car window as the Academy came into view behind a row of manicured trees.

    "Did we really have to bring her?" I asked my father.

    "What, and not let her see the big fancy Academy her brother''s going to?" he replied, raising an eyebrow at me in the rear-view mirror. "She''ll hate me for a month."

    "Besides," my mother said, turning to look at me from the passenger seat, "weallwant to celebrate and see you off. It''s a big day for you, Caden."

    "It''s not that big a deal," I mumbled, trying to play it cool even though I felt a wave of self-satisfaction wash over me.

    Mum smiled knowingly and joined my sister in excitedly pointing out the sights as we drew closer to the Academy. She expertly turned the topic away from the Chosen One and talked up a storm about the Academy itself. I felt a bit better, but also a little annoyed at myself for being so petty about it all. Maybe I''d make it up to her and send her an autograph from the Chosen One, if I managed to meet the person.

    The Academy campus grounds were hidden behind tall marbled walls so from where we were, we could only see the most distinctive feature of it - the Spire. It wasn''t that big by skyscraper standards but thirty stories still looked pretty impressive when the surrounding buildings went no higher than ten. What was even more impressive was the fact that it had apparently stood there since its construction around the birth of the Empire. The surrounding buildings had been designed to fit in with the aesthetics of the Spire, so looking at the Academy felt like looking back at a bit of the past.

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    "It looks sogrand," Triss said with a dreamy sigh. "Wish I could go too."

    "Well, you''re still only 10, so you''ve got a good eight years to catch up with Caden," Dad said in a far-too-casual tone.

    "Catch up?" Triss'' voice went up a few octaves as she turned away from the window to glare at the back of my father''s head. I could almostfeelhim fighting to keep a straight face. "I''ll get inlongbefore I hit 18!"

    "I''m sure you will, Triss," I said, trying not to sound condescending.

    Her hand came up, wreathed in arcana. She was still too young to be able to channel much but her control was frankly amazing for her age. The small amount she had plucked from the air coalesced into a tight ball, like a ghostly orb of water, and she flung it at me. I laughed and flicked my wrist, sending a small amount of arcana to unravel her ball into harmless strings of light.

    "Triss! Caden!" Mum''s voice had taken on a warning tone. We both settled down, Triss seething at me while I looked down at her with exaggerated haughtiness. I didn''t say it often (because her head was already big enough as it was) but she was really very talented and would likely follow me to the Academy in just a few years and become something of a prodigy.

    When we rolled into the Academy''s grounds and my father had parked the car, we made our way to the registration office. There was already a queue even though it was only eight in the morning. Thankfully, the process was quick and efficient and it wasn''t long before I was handing my papers over.

    "Whole family in tow, eh?" the portly man behind the counter remarked. "Are they here for you or because they hope to catch a glimpse of the Chosen One?" he continued, grinning at me.

    "Both," I said through gritted teeth. Behind me, Triss was scanning the crowd and staring at people''s faces with undisguised excitement.

    "Well, can''t blame them. All the same, welcome to the Academy. Today, your life as an arcanist begins," he said, adding a dash of drama to his voice as he stamped my papers and handed them back to me with a folder. "Everything you need for your orientation is in there. If you need directions, perform a Minor Query using the Academy glyph while you''re on the campus grounds and you''ll be able to find your way around."

    My thanks were drowned out as a wave of excited murmuring spread through the crowd. I turned and saw an entourage just coming in through the glass doors. Reporters were backpedalling as they shouted questions, pointing their various recording devices at someone. Behind, a group of onlookers had gathered to see what the fuss was, adding to the fuss in the process.

    "Let me see, I can''t see, pick me up!" Triss said, tugging my hand. I shot an apologetic look at the man behind the counter and pulled her away, but everyone else in the queue had turned to look at the door anyway. The clerk shrugged and smiled and tried to call in vain for the next person in line to step forward.

    "Somebody pick meup!" Triss demanded as the number of bodies in the room increased. There was a lot of jostling and babbling as people tried to get a good look at the person, and even Dad was standing on tiptoes trying to catch a glimpse of the Chosen One. Mum shook her head disapprovingly at Triss, but she kept tugging at me so I rolled my eyes and hoisted her up onto my shoulders.

    "It''s a boy," Triss reported at once, almost tripping over her words in her excitement. "He''s got black hair, bit taller than you, better-looking, maybe your age? Doesn''t look comfortable, don''t see anyone else with him, do you think he''s an orphan, that would be so cliche, wouldn''t it? Can we go closer? Go closer!"

    "Nope," I said, fighting my way to the edge of the crowd where I could circle around to the exit. Mum followed, pulling my father along.

    "We got here just in time," Mum said, looking in wonder at the number of people now gathering around the registration office. "Any later, and we''d have been stuck in that mess."

    "Looks like a lot of members of the public," Dad mused. "Probably just here so they can say they saw the Chosen One."

    "Well, you''re no better," Mum said a little waspishly.

    "I''m here for my son," Dad replied, pretending to be wounded by the comment. He smiled and pulled me into a hug. "We''re proud of you," he said into my ear.

    Triss tugged painfully at my hair. "You better make friends with him and tell useverything."

    "I''ll throw you off, I swear," I growled, leaning back a little. She shrieked and wrapped her hands tight around my head.

    "Alright, let''s leave Caden to it, you know he likes his peace," Mum said, lifting Triss off my shoulders and depositing her on Dad''s. "We''ll miss you," she said, turning to face me and taking my hands into hers. "You know the spiel. Eat well, get lots of sleep, don''t overwork yourself, andenjoythis. You''re finally here. This is the dream."

    I smiled, fighting back tears. She gave me one last hug, then pulled away to join the rest of my family.

    "Bye, Cade," Triss said, suddenly serious. I could tell she was trying not to cry too.

    "Thanks for seeing me off Mum, Dad, Triss. I''ll keep in touch," I said, waving as nonchalantly as I could as I turned away.

    "Stop trying to act cool!" Triss shouted at my retreating back. I grinned and kept walking.

    The crowd around the registration office had begun to disperse. There was an air of disappointment around them and I overheard some people talking about how the Chosen One had managed to slip away unnoticed. I shook my head. If I were him, I''d want to get away from that kind of attention, too.

    I stood at the head of a branching path leading off to various parts of the campus. The Spire towered above me, straight ahead, but I would have to get to my dormitory first before exploring the rest of the place.

    I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. The Minor Query sequence came to me effortlessly, and I slid the Academy''s glyph into the middle of it. Once the construct was clear in my mind''s eye, I drew a little arcana and fed it in.

    A small pulse of arcana washed out of me and took the shape of a wisp with a soft blue light. "Dormitories?" I asked, a little hesitantly. I hoped it didn''t need the request to be phrased with exacting precision.

    To my relief, it bobbed a little to indicate the query had been accepted and started floating down the path to the right.

    This is it, I thought to myselfas I followed the wisp through the Academy grounds. The clerk''s words came back to me.Today, my life as an arcanist begins.

 2. A Thief of Memory

    The dormitories were clean, spacious, and well-furnished. I was rather relieved to find that the ''ancient building'' aesthetic only applied to the exterior бк the inside was filled with modern furnishings and amenities. I would be sharing a room with one other person, and three rooms would share a set of common areas for dining, studying, and just hanging out. My roommate hadn''t arrived yet, so I spent the entire day walking around the Academy grounds to familiarise myself with the place and just marvel at the wonder of actually being in the Academy.

    The orientation briefing was in the evening, so I returned to the dorm to freshen up and bring my notebook and a pen. It seemed that my roommate had already moved in but wasn''t around. Whoever it was seemed to have packed light бк I only spotted a rucksack on the bed.

    I made my way to the lecture hall and found that it was already packed with people by the time I came through the double-doors at the rear. I assumed that coming just ten minutes earlier would give me the opportunity to pick a good seat, but obviously, I was mistaken. I wasn''t sure if the people here were just really eager to learn, or if this was another side-effect of having the Chosen One in the Academy.

    Curiously, there was actually still room right at the front, so I made my way there. As I passed the rows of new arcanists, I caught bits of excited chatter.

    "бкyeah, I actually saw the Chosen One at registration, andбк"

    "бкthink we''ll be in the same dormбк"

    "бкmaybe he... she? Has bodyguards, but thatбк"

    I took the first seat that was available at the front and sat down just as the door near the podium opened. A severe-looking man dressed in full arcanist regalia бк fine black robes with silver glyphs along every hem, and the Academy''s glyph emblazoned on the back бк swept into the hall. His salt-and-pepper hair was kept short and tidy, and his grey eyes scanned us as he went to stand behind the podium. All the babble petered out. His entrance hadn''t been loud, but the atmosphere in the hall seemed to become more chargedjust by his very presence.

    "Thank you for being early. We can begin now that everyone is here." His voice was surprisingly gentle, given his appearance.

    There was a little shuffling as some of the new arcanists hastily made their way to a seat. The man waited until everyone was settled, regarding everyone impassively, his face almost mask-like in its lack of warmth. A heavy silence hung in the air. I found it fascinating how he wielded such easy power over the assembled crowd.

    "I am Marius Reeves, Prime Sage of the Academy. Traditionally, the Demiurge of the Academy will address new arcanists, but he is currently... not well. You will meet him eventually. In the meantime, it falls to me to welcome you all this evening."

    As he spoke, his eyes continued to sweep across all those assembled. I could tell that people were dying to look around too, because he had said thateveryone was here, but somehow nobody had noticed the Chosen One enter the hall. Unless Reeves was mistaken? Still, nobody moved бк Reeves somehow commanded our absolute attention and focus.

    "This year, we have a rather unique situation on our hands. Most of you have doubtless already heard the rumours about the Chosen One being in this cohort, and some of you have managed to get a good look. But now I must lay down some rules and explain the situation, and all of you must listen very carefully because the Chosen One''s presence in our midst presents an issue of national security."

    The hall somehow managed to get even quieter. I could almost hear the breathing of the people next to me.

    "If you had the stunning fortune to bump into the Chosen One earlier today, you might have realised that you no longer recognise their face. In fact, you no longer recall even the most basic things, like whether the Chosen One is male or female."

    For the first time since Reeves'' entrance, the hall filled with chatter again. This time, the excitement had been replaced with a mixture of other emotions - surprise, shock, alarm, even some anger.

    I tried to think back to what Triss had told me when she had described the Chosen One. I was pretty sure she had given me a good run-down of what the person looked like. But nothing came up. The moment itself came to me with decent clarity бк I remembered the weight of her on my shoulders, and how she had tilted forward excitedly. I remembered the general sense of the words - that she had given me a description of specific features. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, the actual meaningof what she had said refused to solidify in my head. Reeves was right. I didn''t know anything about the Chosen One''s appearance at all.

    "Please allow me to explain," Reeves said, his tone even. Somehow, even though he hadn''t raised his voice, it carried easily over the babble. In a few moments, the hall was silent again.

    "When you eventually get into contact with your friends and family outside the Academy, you will realise that this weaving was done to all who have any knowledge at all of the Chosen One''s identity. Obviously, this incredible expenditure of power and admittedly outrageous invasion of mental privacy would not have been done lightly. Alterations to memory are not a trivial matter and can go terribly wrong, and yet we have reached into the minds of the masses and twisted the threads. I personally oversaw the procedure from beginning to end, and have in fact dedicated most of my professional life over the past several years to making all of this possible."

    Reeves drew in a deep breath and let out a long sigh - his first display of emotion since he stepped into the hall. "History will judge whether we were right to go so far. But that is not our immediate concern. I am here to impress upon you all that the Empire has already proven willing to go to great lengths to defend the Chosen One''s identity from this point forward, and that under no circumstances are any of you to attempt to rediscover the Chosen One''s identity. You are all merely newly-admitted arcanists in the same cohort, and there is nothing special about any of you."

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    At this point, he actually gave a wry smile. "Well, nothing special other than the fact that every one of you here has already proven that you are exceptional. It is no mean feat to be seated here in this hall. It is time for us to move on to the actual orientation. Now that the heavy matter of the Chosen One has been settled I hope you all will, if you''ll forgive the poor turn of phrase, put it out of your minds."

    That actually raised a few chuckles from some of us. My lips twitched, but I wasn''t really paying full attention. My mind was still dwelling on the colossal scaleof what Reeves had done.

    From my studies, I knew memory alterations were possible in theory. But in practice, there were so many things that had to be done exactly right. A memory is not a page in a book - not something you can just flip to and casually change. At the most basic level there is the sensory input that runs through every moment. But at the next level, there are any thoughts or feeling we might have had in that moment, and those bring in horrible complications because our thoughts are not always discrete chunks - they are streams or trains that flow into the past and connect with a myriad of other moments, which in turn connect with yet more moments, all linked in subtle and intricate ways.

    Even simply erasing a memory without causing damage is an endeavour fraught with problems. Destroying a memory can cause a ripple effect that could damage everything else that that memory is linked to. Then, to even think ofchanginga memory, and doing it so seamlessly...

    And that was just the process of changingonememory, which would have taken an enormous amount of arcana; certainly more than what was available in the environment or in any single person. Where did Reeves even find enough arcana to affect that many people? How did he channel it safely? How did he sequence all the glyphs? What glyphs would you even use for a task like that?

    And the scope of it! How did he manage to do it to all of them without physical contact, or being near them, or even line of sight? And if it really worked on many other people in the Empire, did that mean that it somehow reached through every single layer of protection that people would have put over their homes, or on themselves?

    If he could do all that, didn''t that mean that Reeves was effectively capable of controlling the minds of everyone in the Empire?

    Wait, was it only limited to people in the Empire? Didn''t Reeves say that it affectedanyone with any knowledge at all of the Chosen One''s identity? Did that include literallyanyone in the world?

    What else is this man capable of?

    I realised that my hands were gripping the edges of my seat and that my knuckles had grown white from the exertion. Reeves must have noticed it бк I was seated in the front row, after all - because he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly at me while he continued talking.

    With a great effort, I settled my breathing and tried to pull myself back into the present. Reeves was beginning to tell us about what to expect for the first few weeks of our stay in the Academy so I opened my notebook, unfolded the small table affixed to my chair, and started jotting down the details. Focusing on something as mundane as notetaking helped stave off what felt like an impending panic attack at the idea of what Reeves could do.

    The scratching of pens on paper told me that many of my fellow arcanists were doing the same бк testament to the fact that I was in a hall full of people who were either very studious or very gifted. I risked a quick glance at those behind me and saw a multitude of bowed heads. Those along my row were similarly scribbling. Somehow, that sight cheered me and I started smiling.

    The boy next to me shifted uncomfortably and I realised I had been smiling vaguely in his direction. He nervously swept back the fringe of his black hair as he threw a sideways glance at me.

    I hastily snapped my attention back to Reeves, my cheeks burning a little.

    The orientation briefing went on for another hour after which Reeves swept out of the hall with a perfunctory farewell. Immediately, the hall filled with noise as people erupted into lively discussions about what we had all just been told as they packed up and made their way out of the hall. It seemed like many of them already knew each other, which was unsurprising since many of them had probably gone to the same preparatory schools. As someone who had studied arcanophany independently, I didn''t have the opportunity to work closely with other would-be arcanists.

    I decided that this was as good a time as any to get to know someone new. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I turned to the black-haired boy next to me. "Uhm, sorry about... uh, earlier," I half-mumbled. "I was zoning out a little, didn''t mean to freak you out."

    "Yeah, no, it''s fine, I mean..." he trailed off, then cleared his throat and held out a hand. "I''m Ambrose Hawkins."

    "Caden Dundale," I replied, shaking it. "So, what do you think of Reeves?"

    "He''s alright, I guess. A bit intense," Ambrose said distractedly as he stowed his own notebook away.

    There was a brief pause in the conversation, just enough for it to begin to feel a little awkward. I had intended to pick someone else''s brains about what they thought of Reeves'' apparent power but Ambrose didn''t seem interested in the topic, so I wildly cast my mind around for something else to say.

    "Know anyone else here?" I asked. "I''m an independent study, so I didn''t go to a prep school."

    "Oh," Ambrose said, turning to look at me a little more closely. He seemed to shake himself out of some mental preoccupation. "I... I know some. I was an independent study too, but I joined a prep school for one term at the end to iron out some stuff. You must be pretty good."

    ''Probably about the same as you,'' I said, mindful of the need to at least appear modest. Independent studies were rare because it was so difficult to pick up arcanophany by yourself with no official instruction.

    "We should study together sometime, maybe swap notes." He was already on his feet, his body turned to the door. He seemed strangely skittish, but I put it down to social anxiety. I wasn''t exactly finding this conversation easy myself бк it took every ounce of my self-control to keep projecting an air of calm indifference.

    "Yeah, sure," I said, standing up as well. "I''ll see you around, Ambrose. Nice talking to you."

    He nodded politely, and I walked off by myself. I had found that it was always easier to make a clean exit from a conversation instead of awkwardly standing around and waiting for the other person to go first. At least this way, I saved myself and the other person any potential embarrassment.

    Imagine how awkward I felt when I made it back to my room, only to hear the door open a few moments later to see Ambrose standing there again.

    "... Hi," he said, pausing at the door for just a moment before walking in to sit on the other bed.

    "Hi, roomie," I said, forcing a grin as my insides shrivelled a little. "Looks like we''ll be seeing a lot more of each other."

    "Uh... yeah. I''m just gonna... wash up." Ambrose opened his rucksack, took out some toiletries, and left.

    I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. If not for all this social stuff, my first day would have beenperfect.

 3. Precision Matters

    The vibration of my watch woke me at 7AM sharp. Ambrose still seemed to be fast asleep, so I gathered my clothes as quietly as possible and headed for the shower closest to our room. I was surprised to hear someone else already in the other shower in our dormitory since I assumed that no one else would get up this early on their first day.

    In 15 minutes, I was out of the shower. Everyone in the dorm had briefly exchanged names last night before turning in so I recognised Devon, who was already in the common area towelling his hair dry.

    He nodded at me as I joined him at the table. "Hey, early riser too?"

    "Helps to start the day right," I said.

    "Hope no one else gets up this early, otherwise we''d need a roster for the showers."

    We went through the usual pleasantries and I found out that Devon had come from a pretty well-to-do family. He had developed the ability to channel ambient arcana when he was only 7, so his parents threw him into a school that catered specifically to preparing children to enter the arcanist preparatory schools. He was a product of ruthless, rigid training.

    I wondered if he even wanted to be an arcanist but I didn''t think it was polite to question his dedication. Instead, I asked, "Did you enjoy it?"

    "Not at first, no," he sighed. "Hated my parents for awhile. But no one else in my family has managed to enter the Academy. I think the last one was like four generations ago or something. So it''s kind of a big deal for them, and I can understand that. Anyway, I''m pretty good at it now, so it worked out, and it''s hard not to enjoy something you''re good at, you know?"

    "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

    "So, what about you? You''re an independent study. Must''ve been hard?"

    I was acutely aware of how different our situations were so I tried to be as tactful as I could. "Maybe not in the same way as you think. Both my parents are arcanists so I always had plenty of help, but you can''t escape your teachers if they live with you."

    "Shit, both arcanists? How far back does your family go?"

    "Uhm, both my parents are first-generation, so I''m not from some pedigree or anything."

    "Okay, but does this mean you''re really far ahead? I mean, how do you map over onto the average preparatory school standard?" I could see Devon was getting worked up - equal parts curiosity and competitive interest. I shifted uncomfortably.

    "I, uh, had to take the same test to get into the Academy, so I''ve got a score, same as anybody else."

    "What score?" Devon leaned towards me across the table, his eyes boring a hole into me.

    "It''s not a competition, right?" I was desperately hoping this wouldn''t become some sort of cliche rivalry. Not for the first time in my life, I wished I didn''t have two arcanists for parents.

    "What score?" Devon repeated, leaning halfway across the table now. He looked ready to seize me by the collar.

    I leaned out of his reach and took a deep breath. "I''m... I''m the top scorer in our batch."

    Devon threw his hands up in the air with an inarticulate cry. I couldn''t tell if he was horribly angry or extremely excited. Before he could do anything else the door to my room opened and Ambrose popped his head out, looking around blearily.

    "YOU''RE ROOMING WITH THE TOP SCORER," Devon roared, pointing at a nonplussed Ambrose. The other doors were opening now as everyone in the dorm was trying to see what the commotion was about.

    I buried my head in my hands. "This can''t be happening."

    After Devon had apologised for waking everyone else, the six of us in the dorm shared a simple breakfast of sandwiches. The kitchen was small but well-stocked with the basics which would last us for about a week but after that, we''d need to stock up on our own. The talk around the table turned into something of an interrogation. I was asked about everything from my parents'' arcanist vocations to my own abilities. Not wanting to appear haughty, I answered all their questions. In fact, their questions gave me a little insight into their own interests, so it was a win-win situation.

    Jerric, Devon''s roommate, was quite interested in the theoretical aspects of arcanophany and questioned me about how my parents covered those topics. Devon himself was more interested in the application, and his questions focused on my father''s work as an artificer. Lynus and Kevan, fraternal twins, wanted to know more about daily life in my house. Ambrose mostly listened, and the only question he asked was about how my parents trained my ability to channel ambient arcana.

    I was very relieved to find that my dorm mates seemed to be generally nice people. There was some jesting about being ''in the presence of greatness'', but thankfully it didn''t seem to be done in a mean spirit (as far as I could tell). Devon extracted a promise for me to help any of them if they needed, which I quite readily agreed to since I had found that I quite enjoyed coaching my own sister, and I expected that the experience wouldn''t be that much different.

    Becoming a licensed generalist arcanist meant going through a three-year course in the Academy. Most people went on to specialise in order to pick up a vocation, which would take an additional two years. Since all of us were new, we''d be attending the same lectures, though the Academy elected to split cohorts into tutorial groups of 10 for the modules that required more focused instruction. When we compared timetables, we realised we had all been placed in different tutorial groups since our rooms were all different.

    I ran a finger down my schedule for today:

    9AM, Principles of Advanced Arcanophany, M. Reeves, Nivordin Lecture Hall

    11AM, Advanced Glyphs, A. Celwyn, Ka''atus Room

    3PM, Basics of Artificing, E. Dundale, Nivordin Lecture Hall

    "Seems like a light day," I remarked.

    Devon leaned over my shoulder to look. "You know those lectures are two hours long, right?"

    "Yeah, I know. So?"

    "Sorry, Great One, I forgot, two-hour lectures must be a breeze for one of your prodigious intellect." Devon laughed as I swatted him away. The others chuckled.

    "Let''s go a bit earlier, grab some good seats," Ambrose suggested.

    Everyone else at the table nodded except Kevan, who made a face. He shot an annoyed glance at a grinning Lynus. "It''s just Day One, Kev. And we''re already up thanks to Devon. Might as well, right?"

    Kevan groaned. "Alright, fine. How early?"

    I thought back to the orientation briefing. "How early did the rest of you turn up yesterday, anyway? I was ten minutes early but I still ended up being one of the last ones in."

    "It was already like that about half an hour before it was supposed to start," Devon replied. "Didn''t expect everyone else to be so on-the-ball in the Academy. Think we should go now?"

    Kevan rolled his eyes. "Not everyone''s there because they''re eager to study. Everyone was just hoping to get a good look at the Chosen One. But now that Reeves has done his thing, that''s impossible. Don''t think we need to worry about going that early."

    "Oh man, Reeves." Lynus shook his head. "That''s someone I wouldn''t want to cross. I think his aura''s got something to do with how he just quiets the whole hall."

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    Devon looked surprised. "Is that actually possible?"

    "Maybe, in theory," Jerric chimed in. "Not sure exactly how. Besides, his robes were all glyphed up - maybe it''s that instead."

    "But what about his claim?" I asked, eager to pick up this topic. "Do you think he really modified everyone''s memories?"

    "Yeah, why not?" Devon asked. "I mean, he said so, didn''t he?"

    "But how?" I stood up, pacing agitatedly. "Where did all the arcana come from? How did he make it so seamless? How did he do it without line-of-sight or proximity? How did he cut through protections over property and individuals?"

    Jerric frowned. "I was wondering all that, too. This is arcanophany on a scale I''ve never even read or heard of."

    Kevan shrugged. "Well, he''s not the Academy''s Prime Sage for nothing. He''s the one taking us for Principles of Advanced Arcanophany, so maybe just ask? Maybe he''ll be happy to answer the Top Scorer."

    The others grinned and I rolled my eyes. "Right, so how early, then? Ten minutes?"

    There was a general murmur of agreement from everyone. We talked a bit more, then went about getting ready for our first lecture.

    It turned out that Kevan was right. When we arrived ten minutes early only about a quarter of the seats were filled. We went straight to the front and took up most of the row - only two others had decided to plant themselves so close to Reeves.

    Nivordin Lecture Hall was a grander affair than the hall we had been in for the orientation, which was to be expected since it was named after one of the more famous lineages of Emperors and many in the Nivordin line were well-remembered by history. The hall had tiered seats arranged in a semi-circle that afforded everyone a clear view, and the seats were of a much more comfortable material. The foldable desk attached to the seats was made of a highly-polished, pleasant-smelling wood. A large space at bottom tier was reserved for the lecturer. and a massive blackboard (a little old-fashioned, I thought) dominated the wall, reaching almost to the ceiling, with silver glyphs running along the edges. A long, heavy oaken desk, elaborately carved, was placed at the exact middle of the stage. A closer look revealed that there were glyphs cleverly worked into the design.

    Reeves was already seated there, crossed-legged, one elbow on the armest of the black leather chair while his other hand gently tapped out some sort of pattern on his knee. The desk was empty. He had no notes, no sheaves of paper, no writing implements. Instead of his ceremonial robes from last night, he was dressed in a plain long-sleeved navy-blue shirt (although he had opted to roll up the sleeves) and black trousers. As students entered, his eyes slid over their faces and he gave them a polite nod before seeming to retreat into his own thoughts.

    There was little noise in the hall, even as it filled up. I leaned forward a little and saw Jerric frowning at Reeves'' clothes. He caught my eye and shrugged, as if to say, "Not the robes, then."

    "We''re all here. Thank you for being punctual," Reeves said suddenly as he got to his feet. I felt a strong need to stand myself, and to even stand at attention. Judging by the sudden shifting in the hall, I wasn''t the only one. Devon, who was on my right, actually did stand up before he could stop himself.

    "Huh?" He looked down at himself, then at the rest of us in confusion.

    I turned around and saw that about a third of the people in the hall had also risen to their feet, all looking confused. Others who had stayed in their seats were now half-rising, looking around uncertainly.

    Reeves smiled. "There is no need to stand and greet me. We''re a little less formal here in the Academy, despite the titles."

    "But I..." Devon sat back down, his brows furrowed. His confusion was mirrored in the faces of everyone else who had, it seems, involuntarily risen.

    "And with that, welcome to our first lecture on the Principles of Advanced Arcanophany. Can anyone tell me what just happened?" Reeves continued, ignoring the widespread consternation, his smile widening.

    "Mind-control," someone from the back rows called out. An invisible hand quickly wrote her response on the blackboard behind Reeves, large enough for everyone to see. A few people gasped.

    Reeves didn''t say anything and simply gestured for more responses.

    The hall filled with murmuring as people turned to those around them to discuss what was going on. After a few moments, some people started calling out responses.

    "You used some sort of glyph sequence under specific seats to suggest that people stand."

    "Some sort of hypnotic suggestion using glyphs?"

    "Glyph under the seats to shock people into standing."

    "You planted people to stand at a specific signal and act confused."

    Reeves chuckled a little at the last one. "While I can respect a cynical nature and I admire the evidence of lateral thinking, I am looking for a response related to arcanophany."

    I stared at the responses that had written themselves out on the blackboard, word-for-word. They were all a different handwriting. Could it be...?

    I cleared my throat. "You used your aura to manipulate ours."

    And sure enough, my response wrote itself out on the board... in my own handwriting. How was that happening? Was it the blackboard or Reeves?

    "Yes, I did," Reeves said, nodding at me and turning to gesture at the blackboard. All the other responses were crossed out.

    The girl who had responded first called out, "Isn''t that what mind control means?"

    "No," Reeves'' reply was firm, but not curt. "And Emilia''s question brings us to the importance of terminology. In arcanophany, precision is important. Therefore, the language we use is important."

    I wondered if he had already learned all our names and faces, but there was no time to think about that.

    Behind him, the words ''mind control'' were uncrossed and a circle appeared around ''mind''. Several strokes branched out from it, linking it to the words ''thoughts'', ''emotions'', ''memories'', ''subconscious'', ''conscious''... and the branches continued, linking more and more words related to the mind, faster than anything anyone could hope to copy. The words got smaller and smaller as the number of branches increased until they became too small to read even if someone were to stand with their nose pressed up to the blackboard.

    "How can one person hope to control all this?" Reeves asked simply, gesturing at the word which was now nestled in a web, each strand made up of tiny words.

    I tried to simplify what was happening on the board into simple point-form notes.

    ''Aura control not mind control.''

    ''Arcanophany - precision impt. language impt.

    ''Mind is v. complex.''

    On my left, Ambrose was similarly engaged in furious scribbling. On my right, Devon''s hand was flying over his page and he seemed to be writing a detailed description of things. Beyond him, I saw Kevan simply staring with his mouth slightly open.

    "If we use the misnomer ''mind control'' and then attempt to do what I have just done to all of you, we will be attempting to wrestle with the chaos that is our minds. Progress may still be possible but as arcanists we do not have the luxury of infinite arcana and as human beings we do not have the luxury of infinite time. An arcanist must be efficient in their use of both."

    Reeves gestured again and this time my response grew larger while the rest shrank and moved off to the side of the blackboard.

    "So here we have it - I used my aura to manipulate yours. That is the broad description, but it is still not precise. Would anyone like to add some clarity to this?"

    Jerric raised a hand and Reeves nodded. "You... somehow linked your aura with some people, then... formed an impulse to stand?" Jerric''s answer scrawled itself across the blackboard, and this time somehow just looking at it conveyed his own hesitance and uncertainty even though it was just words.

    "And how did I link my aura with some people?" Reeves pressed.

    "Glyphs working sympathetically, planted under our seats?" This was added beneath his first reply.

    "Well, check under your seats and you''ll know, won''t you?"

    I didn''t bother checking. Reeves seemed to be pushing at something else. Those who did check came up with nothing, which led to more whispered speculations.

    "Caden," Reeves said, looking directly at me. "You''re thinking hard. Care to refine your original response?"

    I started thinking aloud, and the blackboard recorded my words. "You didn''t plant any glyphs... it can be done, but that''d take time. More time than you want to spend. It''s not efficient for you to do that just to make this point. You didn''t use your own auric arcana to connect directly with ours, because affecting a hundred of us takes too much of it. So you... connected your auric arcana to the ambient arcana, and used it as a channel to influence our own auric arcana?"

    "Very good. Thank you for using the precise terms for auric and ambient arcana. Precision is important." Reeves turned to look at my response on the board and he cleaned it up, completely erasing most parts, re-ordering some things, and adding others. In just two seconds, all that remained was a few simple lines.

    ''Planting glyphs is not always an efficient use of time.''

    ''Auric arcana alone is insufficient for most significant tasks.''

    ''Ambient arcana is both medium and power source.''

    He turned to address the entire hall. "Glyphs are important and have their place but we are studying the fundamentals in this class, and so we must go to the source - arcana itself. What we call ''aura'' is our common shorthand for ''auric arcana'', and we should remember that term because it reminds us that there is a commonality in the arcana inside us and the arcana outside us, even though we often think of them as separate, and that commonality can be utilised in specific ways. That brings us to the final point - ambient arcana can be used as a channel for your auric arcana as long as you exercise enough mental discipline and precision."

    Reeves walked around his massive desk to stand in front of it. "In my lectures, you''ll learn about the principles of arcanophany from the ground up. We''ll delve into the leading theories about what arcana itself is, where it comes from, how it works. In our practicals, my colleagues and I will run you through a battery of exercises to help you with your fine control over both auric and ambient arcana. There are many things that can go wrong, so I expect everyone to maintain the highest standards of discipline and safety - you should all be familiar enough with the procedures since you''ve all made it through our enrollment tests."

    "And finally," he leaned forward and the air seemed to grow heavier. His level of control over the ambient arcana was unbelievable. "By the end of the semester, if any of you are still forced to stand against your will in my lectures, you will be expelled from the Academy."

 4. Advanced Glyphs

    By the time Reeves'' lecture had ended, my brain was a throbbing mess. He was an excellent teacher бк something I really appreciated since I''ve heard horror stories about how bad some teachers could be бк but the sheer depth of the material he had unveiled in the first lecture alone was quite staggering. And this was just the overview. It didn''t help that he often made liberal use of his auric arcana to emphasise points. It was like sitting through an emotional rollercoaster while trying to study. Was it subconscious, or was he actually doing it to make things harder for us?

    I was glad to see the rest of my dorm mates weren''t faring much better. Misery loves company, after all.

    Devon, in particular, looked quite wrung out. He was slowly running his hands through his hair. "If every lecture is like that, I don''t think I''ll make it."

    "I don''t think it''ll always be like that. Not every lecture." Kevan''s tone was light, but it sounded a little strained. "I mean, maybe it''s just every lecture by Reeves?"

    "Guess we''ll find out." Devon let out a huge sigh and struck off on his own, a heavy air of gloom hanging over him. The rest of us traded sombre looks and went in different directions - only the twins were in the same group for our next class.

    The Ka''atus Room, named after a famous Demiurge from ancient times, was part of a smaller building next to the one that housed the Nivordin Lecture Hall. According to the orientation package, that building was one of several others that were built with special safety measures that could effectively seal them shut so that any stray arcana could be isolated from the rest of the Academy. It was in these little lab-buildings that the really dangerous stuff was done.

    Again, the interior was put together with more modern sensibilities. There were other senior students here making their way to their own classes, but I spotted some familiar faces from the earlier lecture. I was relieved to find that the Ka''atus Room was close to the building entrance since I was already running a little late. I didn''t know how they expected us to immediately get from one class to the next.

    The room was quite large - a rectangular space that could comfortably seat over fifty people in a typical lecture setting. However, only 11 chairs had been set in a loose circle in the centre of the room. The floor was a black, polished marble and the only source of illumination was a simple orb bobbing near the ceiling above the circle of seats, casting a warm glow over the scene.

    Half the seats were already occupied so I hurried over and took the closest chair.

    "You''re Caden." A curt voice next to me gave me a little start. I recognised it - Emilia, the one who had spoken first in Reeves'' lecture. She had sharp features, and her brown hair was pulled back into a braid.

    "Hi. Emilia?" I returned with a half-smile, trying to cover my nerves.

    "Top Scorer." Emilia''s words were clipped but her face betrayed no animosity. If she hadn''t addressed me, I would have assumed she was just lost in thought and happened to be looking in my direction.

    I cleared my throat uncomfortably. No one else was engaged in their own conversations, so everyone was either pretending not to be listening to what was going on or unabashedly following the exchange. "Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you."

    She held out a hand and I shifted awkwardly in my seat to shake it. I took in a breath to ask a question but she abruptly turned away from me and started taking out her writing materials. Some of the others in the circle snickered.

    Thankfully, I was saved any further embarrassment when more students hurriedly came in and took their seats. All 11 chairs were now filled. I frowned, looking at the others, and saw my confusion mirrored their faces. Even Emilia had a slight crease between her eyebrows.

    Where was our lecturer?

    "Is this the right room?" A boy with blonde hair in a ponytail asked, looking around. His question was met with a few affirmatives but he got up and went to check the sign outside the room and confirmed it before coming back.

    "A test," Emilia muttered. The rest of us traded sceptical looks and she actually frowned this time with an impatient click of her tongue. "It''s Advanced Glyphs."

    The blonde boy shrugged. "So? How does that make this a test?"

    "It''s Advanced Glyphs," she repeated, turning to glare at me, as though she expected me to back her up.

    I shrugged helplessly at everyone, but something about her emphasis got me thinking. "Reeves showed off his mastery over auric arcana at the start, before he drilled us on the fundamentals of arcanophany. Maybe this Celwyn person is showing off some sort of glyph sequence right now?"

    I privately thought that our instructors were being a tad too dramatic, but I decided not to voice my opinion since it was highly likely that Celwyn was actually already here, somehow disguised as one of us.

    Instantly, the warm glow of the orb floating above us shifted into a soft green that I supposed indicated that I was correct. In a few moments, it had returned to its original hue. Emilia nodded at me, then got up and started looking around the room. A few of the others got up too, but they stood or shuffled around awkwardly, not entirely sure what they were looking for.

    "Glyphs draw in ambient arcana and shape them in specific ways. If we can find where the sequence of glyphs is, we can figure out what''s being done," I said, getting to my feet and looking around.

    A red-haired boy shook his head. "But what if Celwyn''s just using glyphs mentally instead of inscribing them somewhere?"

    "Could be... but if this is a glyph literacy test of some sort, I''m assuming the glyphs have to be visibly inscribed in this room." I shrugged helplessly again before continuing my search. "If someone''s got a better idea, I''m all ears."

    All of us fanned out to comb the room, but there wasn''t much to look through. It was completely empty except for our seats and the orb. I saw Emilia carefully studying the corners but she returned to the circle looking visibly irritated after not finding anything.

    With nothing left to check, we started turning our chairs over and scrutinizing every inch, looking for any tiny glyphs that may have been scratched in somewhere. In less than 10 minutes, we were all seated again, stumped.

    "Only thing we haven''t checked is the orb," the blonde boy said. Eleven pairs of eyes looked up at the glowing ball floating above us.

    As far as I could tell it was just a standard, intangible light composed of shaped arcana. I tentatively stretched out a hand towards it, forming the universal control glyphs in my head that would allow anyone to access such household implements. As I threaded my auric arcana through them and extended it towards the orb, it responded and floated down to rest in the centre of the circle.

    We took turns with the orb, passing the controls over as each one examined it. None of us had managed to find anything by the time it had come back to me. "Maybe I should dispel it? I could always just reform it later."

    Nobody said anything, so I went ahead and snuffed it out.

    Instead of being shrouded in darkness, the whole room was suddenly bathed in the light of a dozen other orbs hanging at regular intervals along the walls. One of the other students in the circle suddenly looked twenty years older and her ordinary clothes had been replaced with black robes trimmed with glyphs, though less ceremonial in appearance than Reeves'' outfit last night. She shook her head at us reprovingly. A few people yelped in surprise.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    "Well, that was terrible. You''re not being modest, are you? Nobody spotted anything wrong with the original light?"

    There was a general murmur of embarrassment. A few people shot a glance at me and smirked. My insides shrank a little. This ''Top Scorer'' business was getting a bit out of hand. Damn that Emilia for bringing it up.

    The woman sighed. "Well, I am Alina Celwyn, and I''ll be taking you for Advanced Glyphs. I''m an artificer by vocation, but for the past few years I''ve been working under the Prime Sage. He''s probably already given you all the talk about the Chosen One, so it might interest you to know that a large part of that work involved me and the rest of my colleagues taking the other groups."

    "Well, let''s do a quick round of introductions so we all know each other," she said brightly.

    The atmosphere felt a lot lighter than Reeves'' class. Maybe it was because we were in a smaller group and it felt more intimate, or maybe it was because Celwyn smiled a lot more and didn''t make her auric arcana cast a pall of doom and power over us. Once we had learned each others names, Celwyn brought us back to the topic of glyphs.

    "So, let''s talk about what just happened when you all first came in."

    She leaned forward and gestured at the empty space in our circle, except it was no longer empty. Jaws dropped as our attention was drawn to the intricate set of glyphs that covered every inch of the floor, walls, and the ceiling. They were drawn in some sort of silvery substance and were razor-thin, so fine that they were almost invisible even against the black marble of the floor, and almost impossible to see on the lighter-coloured walls.

    "Where did... how...?" The blonde boy, Reyes, spluttered.

    "Yes, how?" Celwyn repeated, arching an eyebrow. She gestured again and a sequence of glyphs in the floor behind her glowed, and ghostly images of them floated and fixed themselves in front of all of us, rotating slowly. "Read this and figure out as much as you can. I''ll give you all two minutes."

    I used the ambient arcana to make a copy of the glyphs and brought it in front of me so I didn''t have to look at the rotating version. A moment later, a few others did the same and I was surprised to see that not everyone could do it. Those who couldn''t had to settle for transcribing it using pen and paper.

    There were the glyphs for the original orb of light. Ordinary folks with no training would have the sequence inscribed somewhere and they could just focus on channelling their auric arcana through it, and the glyph sequence would then draw in enough auric or ambient arcana to conjure the orb. However, it was simple enough that most arcanists could form the orb without even having the glyphs written down - you just needed a good memory and a reasonable level of clarity in your visualisation. If you knew enough about the glyphs, you could even substitute some of them to create your own variation. As far as I could tell, this was a standard sequence with no modifications.

    But the sequence Celwyn had put in front of us had more than just the orb of light. There were glyphs that connected the orb to other sequences - links that somehow worked as conjunctions to even bigger and more complex sequences that were not included in this excerpt. I couldn''t even tell what some of the glyphs did since I had never encountered them anywhere, but the bits I could read were being used in ways I didn''t even know were possible.

    "That''s two minutes," Celwyn said, clapping her hands together. "Anyone?"

    "The orb''s light... hides everything. I think some of the glyphs are keyed to detecting the arcana of the original light orb, and there''s something about hiding stuff if it picks up the orb''s light. So wait, no, that means, to be more accurate, everything else hides itself in the light of the orb," I said, a little faint with wonder. I didn''t even know you could turn things invisible, let alone selectively invisible.

    A few were nodding along, having reached the same conclusions. Someone gave a low whistle.

    "How long did it take?" Emilia''s voice carried no awe and she didn''t look impressed at all.

    "The theory took years of development. The time it actually took to physically inscribe the sequences was about two days." Celwyn smiled at Emilia. "You''ve pointed out the drawback of working with physical glyphs. My colleagues and I built these rooms long ago to better conduct our Advanced Glyphs classes. The rooms have many functions that we will study over the course of this year, and you will learn to decode parts of it and understand the underlying principles. Your seniors sometimes use these rooms to safely carry out experiments, and when you''ve managed to master the use of some of these glyphs, you will be able to do the same."

    She gestured again and the glyph sequence vanished, to be replaced by the basic set of glyphs.

    "These are basic glyphs that are pretty well-established by now, and even people beyond the Empire use these. You''ve probably memorised their form and function, but for Advanced Glyphs we''re going to introduce even more sets."

    With another gesture from Celwyn, the basic glyphs shrank and floated upwards. Hundreds of new glyphs appeared, arranged into sets of their own.

    "Lots of memory work ahead of you. I expect everyone to be functionally fluent within three months, and you should have perfect recall after half a year. If you can''t memorise all of them you won''t progress very far, not just in my class but in the rest of the Academy. So this is the on-going homework that runs alongside whatever else I dish out in class."

    "But this is Advanced Glyphs, so we''re not just going to memorise. You need to understand the theory behind glyphs in the first place, which is where we''ll start today."

    I was already furiously scribbling in my notebook. There was no convenient desk attached to our chairs, so I had to balance my notebook on my knee. Those who were likewise taking things down were all in similarly awkward positions.

    A surge of ambient arcana surprised all of us and suddenly there were little flat planes of wood floating in front of each of us.

    "Here''s a surface for note-taking. The room has glyphs that will shape ambient arcana into any classroom implement we''ll need and stabilise the form long enough for our use. You can manipulate the constructs using the usual universal control glyphs, and once you learn more, you can exert finer control. I''ll give you all a list of what we can do in this room at the end of the day."

    We spent a minute or so playing around with the floating planes of wood. I realised that it could even bear weight while in mid-air if I locked its position.

    "So, what are glyphs?" Celwyn looked around, smiling indulgently as some of us fidgeted with the desks.

    "They''re the alphabet, the language of arcana," a red-haired girl named Triss volunteered. (I couldn''t wait to tell my sister that her name wasn''t that special after all.)

    "Right, so who came up with it?"

    "No one?" Reyes looked confused by the question. "It''s just the language of arcana itself. That''s what we''re taught."

    "That''s what laypeople are taught," Celwyn amended. "Now, as arcanists, you need to go beyond the surface answer. We call it the language of arcana when we teach at the lower levels, but a language is a construct, isn''t it? Why does dog mean that four-legged animal? Other languages have different words for it, but they all refer to the same thing. Our culture decides that we will use this series of sounds to refer to that animal and that these marks on the paper represent that series of sounds. And other languages use different sounds, different marks on a paper."

    I had never actually thought about it that way. So if glyphs are a language, then...

    "So are there other... glyph languages?" I asked.

    "No," Celwyn turned to me and nodded approvingly. "But that''s a question in the right direction. There are no other glyph languages other than the one we use, but we call it a language anyway. We''re not lying when we teach that at the layperson level. It''s still correct. So why do we call it a language?"

    "It''s made up," Emilia said softly.

    Her answer was met with confused looks, but Celwyn nodded and gestured for Emilia to continue. The girl looked back blankly for a moment, but took in a deep breath. "The glyphs mean what we want them to mean. We make up the meaning."

    There was even more confusion at this pronouncement, but I could see where this was leading, or at least I thought I did.

    "But there are rules?" Reyes demanded. "We can''t just draw something and say this is a new glyph, can we?"

    "Languages have rules, yes, because it needs to make sense somehow. But we decide what that sense is," Celwyn answered. "So actually... you can just draw something and say it is a new glyph. And if it''s a glyph that nobody has drawn before, you get to decide what meaning it has."

    Silence. Absolute, pin-drop silence.

    Reyes shook his head. "I don''t get it. So I can imagine a glyph that means ultimate power and then inscribe it on myself and I become some kind of god?"

    A few people laughed but quickly quietened when they realised that some of us had serious looks on our faces. Celwyn herself was not laughing.

    "Since I appear to have given you the keys to ultimate power, Reyes, I hope you will be appropriately thankful and that you won''t erase me when you remake the world according to your wishes," she said without a trace of humour.

    More silence. I quickly revised my estimation of Celwyn and decided that she was just as terrifying as Reeves and that this class was probably scarier than his.

    "As far as we know, Reyes'' suggestion, even though he meant it to sound ridiculous, is not outside the realm of possibility. Rest assured, many people are looking into exactly how to do that. But we''d be venturing far into theoretical glyph-work which is more the realm of those who intend to take up the Sage vocation. I''ll be teaching you the principles behind glyphs that could lead you there one day, but our classes will be of a more practical bent that you will find immediately useful in other courses like your Basic of Artificing, or your Offensive and Defensive Thaumaturgy."

    I took a deep breath and sighed. This was just the second lesson, and I could already feel my understanding of the world unravelling around me.

 5. Challenging Fate

    It was finally lunchtime. The Academy had a massive cafeteria that was capable of feeding the entire student population, but there were also two restaurants if someone fancied a quieter place, and the library also had a cafe. That was where we had decided to hunker down and trade notes about what had happened in our respective Advanced Glyph classes.

    "And then she told us that you actually can invent a glyph of ultimate power and effectively become a god, and that was just at the start of the lesson. I lost count of how many epic world-changing facts she dropped on us after that. I don''t even know what else I don''t know anymore." I ran a hand through my hair in frustration.

    "Hey, relax," Kevan stopped shovelling food into his mouth long enough to look up at me. "You''re making me nervous."

    "But don''t you get what this means?" My food was largely untouched. My hands refused to grip the utensils бк they were too busy gesturing to signal my agitation. "Some evil or crazy person can invent a glyph of ultimate power andбк"

    "Well, nobody''s done it yet, right?'' Jerric cut in. ''Think about it бк if it were so easy, why hasn''t someone like Reeves already gone ahead and made himself a god?"

    "Who''s to say he hasn''t already done it?" Devon muttered darkly.

    "I think if someone already invented this theoretical glyph of ultimate power, we wouldn''t be sitting here eating lunch on a fine afternoon in the Academy," Jerric insisted. "I mean, really, if some guy had the secret to ultimate, god-like power, wouldn''t he have literally taken over the world long before now?"

    "If it were a guy, maybe. But what if it were a girl? A guy wouldn''t be able to resist showing off, but a girl would be able to keep the secret," Lynus said, grinning.

    Kevan snorted at his brother. "Please, a girl with ultimate power? She''d have all the men shackled and made into slaves."

    I shook my head and half-heartedly spooned some food into my mouth. "None of you are taking this seriously."

    "I get it," Ambrose said. We all looked at him with a little surprise бк so far he hadn''t spoken up much, and this was probably his third or fourth time talking in front of everyone. He flushed a little with the sudden attention.

    "It''s serious," he continued softly. He looked like he was going to say more, but then he shook his head and bent over his plate to continue eating.

    "Thus saith the Top Scorer''s roommate," Kevan deadpanned. Nobody laughed.

    After that awkward pause, we all lapsed into silence as we ate. Now that I was paying more attention, Ambrose did look quite bothered by something. Jerric seemed to catch the mood too бк I saw him looking curiously at the quiet, black-haired boy. His eyes flicked over to me and he raised an eyebrow as if to ask me if I knew what was up with Ambrose, but all I could offer was a bemused shrug in response. Maybe I''d talk to Ambrose about it when we were alone бк he seemed to be a little intimidated by the group setting.

    Jerric cleared his throat and leaned in. "So, anyway, I was thinking about what Reeves said on the first night. You know, about the Chosen One," he murmured.

    I sat a little straighter, eager to hear someone else''s thoughts on the matter. The others looked equally interested. Kevan''s eyes swept over the place to make sure no one was listening in on us.

    "Something doesn''t add up. The Prophecy was made about two months back, right? And there was a positive identification of the Chosen One only last week. But Reeves said that he and his team have been working on that memory weaving for years."

    "I wondered about that too," I said in a low voice. "Either he''s lying about how long it took, or the Prophecy and the Chosen One were made and identified long ago."

    "I don''t see why the Chosen One''s identity would be made public knowledge, only to be wiped from everyone''s memories. I mean, what''s the point?" Jerric asked.

    "To protect the Chosen One?" Devon offered.

    Jerric shook his head. "Secrecy is the best protection, isn''t it? Why reveal the identity at all?"

    "Should we be talking about this?" Ambrose cut in, sounding a little panicked. For the second time that afternoon, we all looked at him in surprise.

    "I-I... we shouldn''t," he stammered. "Reeves warned us."

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    Kevan laughed a little unkindly. "And there''s the one who''s afraid to break rules! Our group is complete! Figures he''d be rooming with the Top Scorer."

    "Alright, let''s take it down a notch," Jerric said placatingly, one hand raised to forestall me. My retort died in my throat and I settled for shooting a glare.

    I turned to Ambrose instead. "Reeves said we shouldn''t speculate about the identity of the Chosen One, but not about the whole situation. I mean, frankly, I couldn''t care less about the Prophecy or who the Chosen One is. I want to talk about how he did it! That''s arcanophany on a truly legendary level!"

    "You don''t care about the prophecy?" Devon asked incredulously.

    "Why would he? It''s only the future of the Empire," Kevan snarked.

    Lynus put a restraining hand on his brother''s shoulder, and Kevan eased off a little. "Really, Caden?"

    "Look, all I''m saying isбк"

    "Fates, Caden, you''re not telling me you''re one of those people who still don''t believe in Prophecies?" Jerric''s tone was cautious like he was leery about getting into a conversation with a mad person.

    This was getting annoying. It wasn''t what I wanted to talk about, but I thought I might as well get it out there since the topic had been broached. "I know minor prophecies exist, and I know it''s a branch of arcanophany, and I know there are well-documented studies about how they do skew the probabilities of things... but the big ''P'' Prophecies? Seriously?"

    "No, are you serious?" Devon actually stopped eating to address me this time.

    "So you''re telling me you believe the Fateweavers are really real, and not just some Empire propaganda to scare enemies and insurgents?" I shot back at him, but my eyes darted between everyone else.

    Jerric sighed. "Ok, maybe we shouldn''t talk about this."

    "No, I want this out there now." I got to my feet, feeling the heat rising in my face. "I don''t believe the Fateweavers exist. I don''t believe that our fates are in the hands of some mysterious group of arcanists who can determine what happens. I believe that you, me, all of us, have a choice about what happens to us, whether we''re talking about mundane prophecies or the fabled Big Ps."

    "Obviously not what Reeves thinks," Kevan drawled.

    That brought me up short. I had expected the arcanists in the Academy to shed a more technical light on the matter. My own parents didn''t subscribe to the belief that Fateweavers were real, and I had attributed that to their education. Discovering that every single one of my dorm mates actually believed it was disappointing. But now Kevan had pointed out that evidently even someone with as much knowledge and power as Reeves was taking the idea of a Prophecy seriously - enough to have spent (according to him) years of his life to develop a way to wipe memories about the Chosen One it referred to.

    "Let''s... agree to disagree for now," Jerric said, looking from me to the others. "I can''t pretend to know all the answers, and honestly, after what we''ve learnt in just one morning, I think it''s safe to say that full-fledged arcanists probably have a different view of Fateweavers than laypeople. So maybe we should all put our own preconceived notions aside, and see what comes up in our studies."

    I nodded mutely, feeling rather irritated that I had lost my cool so easily. I wasn''t really sure why I was taking it all so personally.

    We were all mostly done with lunch by then. I suddenly didn''t feel like sitting with them until it was time for our next lecture, so I made my excuses and went off.

    A minute later, I heard footsteps hurrying up from behind and turned to see Ambrose jogging up to me. "Hi," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

    I took a deep breath. "What is it?"

    "Nothing, just... what you said, about choice. I get it."

    "Look, you don''t have toбк"

    "No, I mean it," Ambrose cut in, suddenly more assertive. "I get it, and I... thanks for saying that. Maybe I don''t believe you, but I think... I hope... that maybe you''re right."

    I frowned, not quite sure where all this was coming from. He didn''t seem to need a reply, so I nodded and continued walking slowly. Ambrose fell into step beside me.

    I decided to open up a little. "My parents received a prophecy from an anonymous source when my sister was born. It had the usual markers, so they knew it wasn''t a hoax. It was a real prophecy. Not one of the Big Ps, but still..."

    Ambrose''s eyes widened a little, but he chose not to comment and indicated that I should continue.

    "It was pretty straightforward. Just six words. ''This daughter shall be your ruin.'' And my grandparents on both sides got involved. They''re hard-line prophecy supporters who try to ballot for slots to get readings, so obviously they wanted to get rid of my sister."

    "Get rid...?"

    "Father''s side wanted to put her up for adoption. They thought there was a high chance that abandoning her on the streets would make it more likely for the prophecy to be fulfilled. My mother''s side... well, they wanted my parents to kill her, though they never said it in so many words."

    We walked in silence for awhile. Ambrose seemed to be processing it, whereas I was trying to get ahold of my emotions.

    "She''s still alive, she''s still with us, so... it''s kind of a happy ending. My parents discussed it with me, too, but I was really young at the time so I didn''t really get how big a thing it was until I got older. But they chose to keep her and raise her. And they haven''t done it yet... but one day they''re going to tell her about the prophecy and show it to her."

    "But why? Aren''t they afraid?"

    "Yes, and no." This time, I stopped and looked at Ambrose full-on. "They raised her with all the love they could shower on her, and I have grown up with a girl who is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. She irritates the hell out of me sometimes, but I know she would never hurt us. Do you think someone like that is doomed to bring ruin to her family just because of six words that came on a glyphed-up paper?"

    "Is that why you''re here, in the Academy?"

    I blinked away some tears. "You know the essay we had to write in our entrance exam? I did mine on the topic of whether or not the Fateweavers are real. And it got me in. I''m here to study everything I can about arcanophany and either I prove they aren''t real, or I learn how to unwrite whatever fate itself has to say. Because I will not let six words decide what happens to my sister, or my family."

    Ambrose nodded solemnly and put a hand on my shoulder. "I''ll help you."

 6. Familial Ties

    When it was time for Basics of Artificing back in the Nivordin Lecture Hall, I found myself seated at the front row again with the rest of my dorm mates. There was a little tension between us, but Jerric offered a handshake and tried to smooth things over and we all exchanged apologetic looks before taking our places.

    I was actually quite nervous about this lecture. After the last two classes, I wouldn''t have been surprised if I had some new revelatory look at arcanophany that would challenge my view of the world, but that wasn''t what made me feel even more on edge. It was the lecturer.

    He quietly entered the room exactly at the clock struck two. The conversation in the hall died down, but not as a result of some heavy auric arcana. Silence swept through the hall as everyone''s eyes took in the lecturer''s appearance. He was dressed ordinarily enough - black pants, business shoes, a brown vest over a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. What was remarkable was that he had five polished silver spheres drifting vaguely around him. They did not stay in any formation, but there was something clearly organic about the way they moved бк the immediate impression was that they were extensions of his body, like how someone''s arms might naturally sway as they walk.

    On my left, Ambrose leaned forward with a frown. I saw him take in the lecturer''s face бк his dark brown hair flecked with streaks of grey, the fierce, thick eyebrows, the hawkish nose and high cheekbones. Then he turned to look at me, mapping the resemblance, his eyebrows raised in dawning comprehension.

    "Caden Dundale," he whispered.

    Devon was on my right, so he heard. He stiffened and looked from the lecturer to me, then back to the lecturer again. It was almost comical. I grit my teeth and nodded.

    "You said your father is an artificier. You didn''t say he teaches artificing," he hissed.

    "Welcome, everyone, to my lecture on the Basics of Artificing," my father said. "I am Everett Dundale, and I''ll be taking you for this semester." His eyes flicked to the empty desk in front of him. "It looks like everyone''s here, so let''s get straight to it."

    I knew my father didn''t possess a flawless memory, so it seemed unlikely that he had memorised everyone''s names and faces. Neither was it possible that he had been able to count us all off in just one glance. It seemed that the desk itself was somehow helping the lecturers to track our attendance. Reeves hadn''t done any roll call either and just seemed to know whether there was anyone missing. It was reasonable to assume that the desk also helped the lecturer identify the students, perhaps by displaying our names in their field of vision. If that was true, then it was a bit of a relief to know that there was a mundane explanation. Reeves was scary enough with his level of control over auric arcana without adding a flawless memory to the mix.

    But my father definitely had a different air about him. I was actually surprised at how striking a figure he cut, standing there with those mysterious orbs floating around him. I had never seen this side of him before.

    "Artificing is a field that exists at the intersection between the study of glyphs and the study of arcana, both auric and ambient. I will not be covering old ground, so please keep up with the work my colleagues are giving you. In our lectures, we will look at the principles of designing artefacts, drawing on the glyphic vocabulary you have as well as your understanding of the underpinning principles of arcana itself. It will be mostly theory and observation as we will need to make sure that you have a thorough understanding of the basics before we allow you to begin making your own artefacts. But rest assured, there will be plenty to do with your hands even if you''re not building anything just yet."

    "So!" He clapped his hands together eagerly. The orbs around him bobbed in the air, moving seamlessly with his body. "Let''s start with definitions. What is an artefact?"

    "The blackboard behind you," Kevan called out.

    I smirked because I had a pretty good idea how this was going to pan out. True enough, my father shook a finger reprovingly. "Learn to listen to the question. I asked what is an artefact, which means I am asking for its definition, not for examples of artefacts. This is not a kindergarten where I ask you to identify things. Yes, Emilia?"

    The strange girl had raised a hand. "An artefact is any construct that makes use of glyphs to channel arcana."

    Dundale nodded. "Halfway there. As Prime Sage Reeves would have said in his lecture, precision is important."

    I heard an irritated tsk from Emilia as she was shot down for the second time today on a technicality. I understood her frustration. I grew up being taught like this.

    "An artefact is anything that uses glyphs to channel auric or ambient arcana, or a combination of both?" Jerric offered.

    "Yes, there''s the distinction we need to make," Dundale said approvingly. "You''ll understand why when you all get further in your Principles of Advanced Arcanophany lecture. For now, let''s cover how you can identify exactly what an artefact is doing. Earlier today you would have been introduced to an expanded vocabulary of glyphs beyond the Basic Set, and you should be familiar enough with the first group of glyphs in the Signifier Set."

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    As he spoke, the blackboard behind him filled itself out with the entire Signifier Set, and a border appeared around the first six glyphs.

    "Caden," he called suddenly. "Tell us what these are."

    Acutely aware that all eyes in the hall were on me, I stood and took a deep, calming breath. "These are the glyphs representing frames of reference for arcana. In order from the left; general auric arcana, core auric arcana, surface auric arcana, general ambient arcana, surface ambient arcana, and proximate ambient arcana."

    "Good," he said, and he gave me a half-smile as he waved me back down. "The first rule of artificing is that you should never, ever, activate an unknown artefact until you have read the glyph sequence to determine three things."

    He turned to the blackboard and pointed at the list that had just appeared:

    1) What is/are the source(s) of arcana?

    2) What is the artefact''s arcanic draw?

    3) What is the artefact''s field of effect?

    "In the Empire, we have built a civilisation around the use of artefacts. But because of that, many new arcanists are complacent. Artefacts are inherently dangerous. The only reason our Empire has come this far is because of arcanophanic standards that have been established and upheld by the Academy when it comes to the design and use of common artefacts, and the high level of glyph literacy in our general population thanks to the Basic Set being taught in schools."

    "The first obvious problem with artefacts is that they are not intelligent. They execute the glyph sequence and do exactly what is written. If you activate an artefact that is designed to take in a specific amount of your auric arcana, it will do exactly that without checking to see if you have enough in the first place, which will leave you exhausted, unconscious, or dead depending on the level of overdraw. Common artefacts have a safety clause written in, but as arcanists you must learn to check for these things. You will also eventually work with artefacts that are not designed with laypeople in mind, and such safety clauses may be absent as they take up space that could be better used for something else. So when you''re using an artefact that was not designed for safe commercial use, always check the source and the draw."

    "With simple artefacts, those are the only two things you need to worry about. However, from here on out, we''ll be working with more complex creations. When it comes to artefacts that use complex glyph sequences, the field of effect is important. An artefact that draws a small and safe level of arcana from your auric core may not seem dangerous, but with advanced glyphs it is possible to set up cascading effects that can spiral out of control. And so today, I want to draw your attention to the glyph of proximate ambient arcana. If you see this glyph on an artefact and you''re not careful with it, or if you slap it on something without understanding how it works, you might just end up blowing yourself up, along with everyone else around you."

    <hr>

    "I''m ready to die now," Kevan groaned as he sank into a chair and threw his head back.

    There was a chorus of agreement as the rest of us staggered back into our dorm. My father''s lecture didn''t dump as much information onto us as the other two, but it demanded a high level of application of what we had already learnt. It was like being forced to speak fluently after only just learning the alphabet. The key message that he kept coming back to was how inherently dangerous it was to work with artefacts, and he even discussed how some ordinary artefacts in circulation could potentially misfire and end up doing serious harm to either the user or those nearby. By the end of it, I was beginning to feel a little paranoid. When I realised that my watch was actually attuned to my auric arcana I took it off, determined to read and understand its glyphs thoroughly before I put it on again.

    Devon pointed an accusing finger at me. "You held out on us. You didn''t say your father would be one of our lecturers!"

    "Wait, what?" Kevan''s head snapped up.

    "Everett Dundale, Caden Dundale," Devon said, emphasizing our last names.

    "I thought that was just a coincidence!" Lynus said, mirroring his brother''s shocked expression.

    Jerric laughed. "It was kind of obvious, wasn''t it? That was the first thing I thought of when he told us his last name, and that his father is an artificer. Plus, they look alike, so that confirmed it for me."

    Devon pretended to be scandalised. "And you didn''t say anything! Some roommate!"

    Lynus shook his head at me. "No wonder you turned out so smart. You weren''t just home-schooled by some run-of-the-mill arcanist, you were taught by an Academy lecturer."

    "Yeah, that helps," I admitted. "Not that he ever made it easy for me. Super high standards."

    "So what are those orbs things?" Jerric asked. "He didn''t say, and I kind of got the feeling that he didn''t want anyone to ask."

    "I honestly don''t know. I''ve never seen them before. He''s brought home some of his work before to show me and my sister, but that''s totally new."

    The orbs became the subject of wild speculation as the rest started to animatedly discuss what they were and what they could do since all of us had just seen our first slice of how truly powerful artefacts could be after being exposed to the special rooms in the Advanced Glyphs classes. I couldn''t help but laugh and join in even though some of the suggestions were completely ridiculous. Even Ambrose, who had been very quiet and withdrawn so far, opened up a little. The tension in our group from lunch seemed to have completely evaporated.

    I realised that this was probably one of the biggest things I had missed out on from being an independent study. I had few friends my age бк just a handful of cousins that my family and I would visit from time to time. That meant that I didn''t have very many opportunities to just sit around with a group of people who were my age and talk and joke with them.

    Eventually, the topic got around to dinner. Devon rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Ok, how many of you here can cook?"

    The rest of us stared back at him blankly. He snorted in disgust. "Ok, we can''t eat at the restaurant or the cafe all the time because it''s too pricey, and I don''t think anyone wants to eat from the cafeteria all the time because the food is probably just average, so if you want affordable and good, it''s gonna have to be stuff we cook here. Now, I can cook, but I''m not going to do it all the time, so the rest of you," he leaned forward ominously, "are going to learn from me."

    "Don''t we already have enough classes?" Kevan complained.

    "If you don''t learn to cook, then you don''t get to eat when the rest of us cook," Devon said haughtily. The rest of us laughed at Kevan''s exaggerated cry of dismay.

    Devon crossed over to the kitchen cupboards and opened them up. "Right, let''s see what we have to work with!"

 7. Dinner and Duel

    Thanks to Devon''s enthusiasm, putting dinner together was less of a hassle than we expected even though the rest of us were strangers to the art of cooking. Devon took stock of what was already in the fridge and set us to work with small tasks, giving clear instructions and demonstrating what needed to be done. He actually made a pretty good teacher.

    In just a little over half an hour, there was a decent spread on our table - omelettes, stir-fried vegetables mixed with mushrooms, braised chicken, and rice. I thought it was actually quite good but Devon only pronounced it as passable, insisting that if we had more time and better ingredients, we would be able to do much better than this. I wondered how well he ate at home.

    "When did you learn to cook, Devon?" I asked.

    "Pretty early on. The cook''s been with us since before I was born, and I just got interested and started hanging around the kitchens a lot."

    Kevan stared. "You''ve got a personal cook?"

    Devon did tell me that his family was quite wealthy earlier this morning, but he had managed to skirt around any details and I didn''t feel the need to pry. His face flushed a little now and he hastily shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth in lieu of a response.

    Jerric grinned and elbowed him. "Tell them how loaded you are."

    "Not loaded," Devon mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Parents, not me."

    "How do you know?" I asked Jerric. "He only told me a little this morning. Did you know each other from before?"

    "Oh, no, I''m his roommate, remember? I''ve seen things," Jerric said, wagging his eyebrows at us.

    Kevan sprang to his feet and rushed to Devon''s door, which was ajar. It slammed shut before he could reach it, and the lock clicked audibly.

    We all turned to look at Devon, who hadn''t even looked up from his food. He had given a casual flick of his fingers and gone right back to eating. An awed silence fell over the table.

    "The doors aren''t keyed to do that, are they?" Ambrose asked uncertainly. "I thought we only had ordinary locks and keys."

    Jerric shook his head, his grin widening. "Like I said, I''ve seen things."

    "You guys have an arcane ward over your room?" Kevan demanded, sinking back into his seat.

    "A commercial one, yes. He installed it on the first night and keyed us both."

    "Over-the-top security. Great way to show you trust your dorm mates," Kevan said sarcastically.

    Lynus smacked his brother over the head. "You just proved why it''s necessary. Sorry, Devon."

    "Is it from Panoply?" I asked. It was one of the big names in security artefacts, and I knew my father had done some consultant work for them in the past.

    Devon nodded grudgingly. Lynus gave a low whistle. "And you''re using it on a dorm door. Damn, Devon."

    "An arcane ward covers windows too. Actually, it covers the six sides of the room and even reinforces the walls," I pointed out. Lynus whistled again.

    "I didn''t want it," he grumbled, growing slightly red. "My mum demanded I use it, and she has a trace so she knows when it''s active. We actually fight quite a bit over stuff like that. She even tried to get approval for a telepresence globe in the dorm, but Academy security put a stop to that."

    He was chewing his words as much as he chewed his food. I sensed a lot of angst there.

    "Alright, let''s ease off on him," Jerric said airily. "Otherwise our next meal will be bread and water."

    The rest of the dinner conversation was steered into safer territory. Jerric really was quite the diplomat. By the end of the meal any tension was dispelled and Devon was his usual cheery self again.

    "Wonder if there''s anything to do around here besides study our brains out," Kevan mused as he washed the dishes with Lynus.

    "There are actually shielded courts to practice duelling," Ambrose piped up.

    That got everyone''s attention, but I was a little confused. I had read up on the facilities and there definitely hadn''t been any mention of that. "I don''t remember reading that in the orientation package."

    "It''s... not widely known," he said, not meeting anyone''s eyes.

    Kevan was obviously eager to go. He vaulted over the kitchen countertop and rejoined the table, leaving his brother with the remaining dishes and ignoring his cry of protest. "So anyone can use them? Even freshies like us?"

    Ambrose nodded. "If they''re not booked for a class, it''s first-come-first-served."

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    A ripple of excitement passed over everyone at the table, and slow grins were spreading. Lynus came over, the dishes done, and looked worriedly from one face to the next. "My brother usually has that look on his face before he does something stupid. I don''t like how I''m seeing that same look on everyone else here."

    Jerric waved a hand in breezy dismissal. "We''re going to have a thaumaturgy class tomorrow. Might as well warm up a little!"

    "Yes, exactly!" Kevan got to his feet. "Let''s go, lead the way, Ambrose!"

    I expected this from Kevan, but Jerric''s quick acceptance came as a bit of a surprise, given what I had learned about his personality so far. He seemed to sense my suspicion because he gave me a conspirational wink, covered by the flurry of movement as the rest got up. I could only raise a questioning eyebrow in return. He was definitely up to something.

    Ambrose seemed to know his way around the Academy grounds quite well. My brief tour had only given me a passing familiarity with the place. He was leading us to a cluster of short buildings deep in the grounds. When we got closer, I realised that it was almost like a small compound of its own. A small office served as the entrance into what looked like a complex of interconnected structures, all topped off with polished marble domes.

    Ambrose went straight through the door and walked up to an attendant at the counter. "Hi, are there any chambers free?"

    The attendant, a middle-aged man dressed in staff robes, gave us a cursory glance and nodded to Ambrose. "Quite a few. Just sign in here," he said, pushing a book over.

    I leaned over Ambrose''s shoulder as he filled in the fields indicating the time of entry along with our names. With a start, I noticed that he had been here before. There hadn''t been many visitors since this was just the first day, but the entries indicated that he had been using the chambers for over a week.

    "Ambrose, how longбк"I began.

    He hastily returned the book as soon as he was done. "Let''s go, it''s this way!"

    I frowned at his retreating back, resolving to ask him about it when we were back in our dorm.

    Ambrose led us deeper into the complex, passing several duelling chambers that were empty. I noticed that there were other facilities here, too бк showers, a few study areas (currently almost empty, except for a few industrious souls), and even a small cafeteria that was currently closed for the day.

    "Hey, where are you taking us?" Kevan said as we passed yet another unused duelling chamber.

    "Biggest one''s at the back, and it''s available," Ambrose explained.

    We finally arrived at a set of double doors. Ambrose pushed them open and led the way in. It was pitch black, and the light spilling in from the corridor was quickly swallowed up by the space. Gesturing with practised ease, Ambrose called up a Minor Control Sphere to turn on the lights.

    The dome itself was suffused with a soft, warm glow, allowing us to see the true scope of the chamber. My jaw dropped.

    It was even bigger than the Nivordin Lecture Hall. Polished black marble spanned the entire floor, inlaid with silver glyphs that were so small I mistook them for decorative filigree at first. As it reached the walls, it formed three tiers that served as seats for an audience. There was enough space there to seat the entire student population and still have room to spare.

    Kevan whooped as he ran into the centre. "Are you guys seeing this?" he yelled, gesturing at the vast space. His voice echoed off the walls.

    The six of us started behaving like little kids. We threw harmless bolts of shaped arcana at the walls, watching them ricochet around before exploding into a variety of patterns and sparks. Keven, of course, was the first to throw a ball of arcana at someone else, and soon we were all flinging orbs of condensed energy at each other. Without using any glyphs, whether mental or inscribed, it was like getting hit with balloons, albeit ones that left a tingling sensation on contact.

    It was actually quite a good way for me to gauge how much arcanic control the rest of them had. Jerric had more finesse (I had to grudgingly admit that he was a shade better than me) and was able to form complex shapes that moved in unexpected ways instead of predictable arcs, but Devon had the best density out of all of us бк some of his orbs felt as hefty as pillows when they struck.

    "Alright, how about we take this up a notch?" Kevan asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "A proper duel. Standard set up, first hit."

    Immediately, Jerric stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "Let''s do it."

    I could tell he was dying to show off a little. The rest of us retreated a fair distance as the two of them took up positions facing each other, standing about twenty metres apart.

    By my estimation, Jerric was the most technically adept in our little group. Although Kevan was a little rough around the edges, it was clear that he wasn''t new to duelling бк our earlier messing around revealed a mind that was quite tactical and shrewd.

    Wordlessly, the two of them went through a series of glyph sequences that brought up six transparent, blue, glowing bits of armour - one for each limb, one around the torso, and one around the head. These were designed to clearly show where they had been struck, and would turn red upon receiving a ''fatal'' amount of damage. The glyph sequences used in mock combat wouldn''t shape arcana into lethal forms бк the most they would be able to do was give good bruises бк and were instead tuned to inflict damage on the specially-designed shields.

    "Ready?" I called, having volunteered as a referee.

    They both nodded.

    "Three, two, one, BEGIN!"

    Jerric''s weavings were fast. In just a few seconds he managed to send three bolts flying at Kevan бк two arcing in from each side, and one zipping straight ahead. They were all intercepted by a faint spherical shield that cracked under the weight of the energy but managed to hold. Kevan replied with a similar salvo, but his lack of control meant he couldn''t attack from multiple directions like Jerric. His bolts were easily dealt with using a much smaller circular barrier that Jerric raised, and it absorbed the damage without even a crack.

    "Wow, he''s good," Lynus remarked. "Nice control."

    "I don''t think Kevan can win," Devon said, awed.

    Lynus chuckled. "Don''t count my brother out yet."

    I didn''t think there was much of a contest. Lynus'' faith in his brother seemed misplaced. Jerric and Kevan continued to exchange bolts, and every time Jerric managed to attack from multiple directions, Kevan was forced to shore up his defences on multiple sides. Jerric wasted less energy with shielding and was obviously controlling the flow of the battle much more easily since he didn''t have to be worried about the direction of attack.

    After the fifth salvo, it was clear that Kevan was on the back foot. His shield looked like one more bolt would cause it to crumble, whereas Jerric''s was only slightly cracked. Looking quite confident, Jerric sent another trio of missiles, this time managing to send one arcing right over Kevan to strike him from behind at the last moment.

    Kevan''s shield shattered, and I squinted through the haze of arcana to see where he had been hit.

    Suddenly, Jerric collapsed, every piece of his armour registering a fatal hit. We all looked, bewildered, as an unharmed Kevan stepped out of the haze, grinning triumphantly. Jerric sat up, looking confused.

    "What the hell just happened?"

 8. Power Ladder

    There was a definite change in the way the rest of us viewed Kevan now. My initial impression of him had been a laid-back, happy-go-lucky individual who wasn''t serious about his studies. I had wondered how someone like him even managed to get into the Academy in the first place. I made the classic mistake of judging a book by its cover.

    He refused to explain how he had beaten Jerric. "Watch me duel with Lynus and see if you can figure it out," he smirked.

    "Do I have to?" Lynus'' grumbling was obviously in jest. He was already rolling up his sleeves and stepping forward, looking determined.

    "You were on the receiving end," I said to Jerric as he came over to where the rest of us had been observing the duel at a safe distance. "What did you see?"

    The frown on Jerric''s face was equal parts disappointment and frustration. "I didn''t see anything. I think maybe he shifted the bolts out of the visible spectrum."

    As far as I knew, in student duelling circles there were no widespread glyph sequences that featured something like invisible bolts. That meant Kevan had either picked it up somewhere or it was homebrewed. If it was the latter, that would be seriously impressive.

    The duel between the brothers had a completely different energy to it. After they conjured up the body shields and I counted down for them, they simply waited. Neither of them had prepared any defences or started any offensive weaving. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

    "I don''t believe it," Jerric whispered after a few seconds.

    "What?" I looked from him to the two brothers who were still facing each other, unblinking.

    "Look closely. The air between them," Jerric pointed.

    Ambrose nodded, looking very impressed. "It''s almost perfect."

    Devon and I squinted, and it took me a few more seconds before I finally saw a faint flicker, like a wisp of a heatwave, but even subtler. Once I spotted that, it was a little easier to pick out more of such disturbances in the air. Even though I knew what to look for, it was hard to follow.

    "What is that?" Devon asked in an awed whisper.

    "I think they''re the standard bolts," Ambrose explained. "It''s just that they''ve been made invisible like Jerric said."

    "How are they doing that?"

    "Our vision depends on light in the visible spectrum," Ambrose continued, his eyes still fixed on the battle. "So one way you can make something invisible to someone is to shift the wavelength. I''m guessing they isolated the glyphs that manage the colour of the standard bolts, then modified those. But whatever they''re doing, it''s not perfect, which is why we can still see something."

    This was the chattiest I had ever seen him over the last two days, and he clearly knew his stuff. If what I had seen in the logbook earlier was anything to go by, it seemed that Ambrose had a particular interest in duelling.

    Jerric snapped his fingers. "So that means they''re doing that for their shields, too. The one I brought down in my fight was just for show. And Kevan''s obviously capable of bending the bolts like me, too. Damn, I really underestimated him."

    "I think we all did," I muttered.

    Devon shook his head. "This is crazy. How are they even defending against bolts they can''t see?"

    "You can still see them, you just need to pay really close attention," Ambrose said.

    "Figured it out yet?" Kevan called out nonchalantly. He took his eyes off Lynus for a moment to glance at us and in that instant the air around him rippled violently. His attention immediately snapped back to his brother.

    Lynus laughed. "Don''t show off too much, Kev, you''re not that good."

    "Better than this lot. Let''s switch to standard bolts and show off a bit."

    Lynus snorted, but a moment later the air between them was filled with dozens of flying projectiles as the two brothers switched out their arsenal. My jaw dropped.

    The duel between Kevan and Jerric had been slow and methodical, taking place in obvious ''rounds'' as they took turns to attack and defend. That was the way most student duels ran. What was happening now between the brothers was on a whole different level, and it made the earlier duel look as simple as two children gently tossing a ball to each other.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Both brothers hadn''t thrown up an all-encompassing shield, and they weren''t maintaining any smaller stable barriers either. Planes of force were being brought into existence in mid-air for just a split second бк long enough to deflect an incoming projectile - before being permitted to shatter or dissipate.

    And even though they were using standard bolts, I could see that they were being directed with a ridiculous level of control. Arcing a bolt required adjustments to the glyphs that managed the amount of arcana, the density, the spread, the speed, and a myriad of other factors that could affect its trajectory. Getting it to arc in a specific way required some actual math, which was why Jerric''s bolts followed a perfect parabolic path.

    The brothers were somehow making their bolts fly almost like they had minds of their own, even making hairpin turns. As much as I knew I had underestimated Kevan, I didn''t believe anyone could make calculations and modifications that quickly. There had to be a trick to it.

    I turned to look at the others. Jerric and Devon were as flabbergasted as I was. But the expression on Ambrose''s face took my mind away from the spectacle.

    He didn''t look surprised or awed. His eyes were tracing the movements of the bolts with practised ease, and he seemed to be cooly assessing the fight in the same way a teacher might be evaluating a student. In fact, as absurd as it seemed, I thought it looked like he was even a little disappointed now.

    Just how far off-base were my initial impressions? Kevan and Lynus turned out to be duellers of a totally different class, and Ambrose appeared to be in some even more nebulous upper league if his demeanour was anything to go by.

    Kevan finally pointed an open palm at Lynus бк the first physical gesture of the battle so far бк and a single beam blossomed from his hand. Lynus seemed to know what to expect because instead of just briefly flashing a shield into existence, he created several layers of shimmering discs that rotated around him. Just before the beam reached him, it fragmented into smaller shards that cascaded over the shields, trying to worm their way in. Lynus'' shield storm, for lack of a better term, caught all of them. Then, inexplicably, all his armour flashed red with fatal hits. He sighed and raised his arms, conceding defeat.

    The brothers came to join the rest of us at the edge of the chamber. Jerric and I applauded while Devon cheered and hollered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ambrose join the clapping a moment later.

    "That was ridiculous!" Devon yelled, his face a little flushed. "Never seen anything like that, what the hell guys!"

    "It''s amazing work," Jerric shook his head in disbelief. "I don''t even think I understand all of it. What happened at the end?"

    Lynus huffed. "Yeah, I''d like to know that too. I thought I finally found a way to beat that beam."

    "Trade secret," Kevan grinned. "But it was a pretty good shield solution."

    "Where did the two of you learn stuff like that?" I asked.

    "Our prep school has a heavy emphasis on thaumaturgy." Kevan seemed to be really enjoying the awestruck looks. "Ly and I got a pretty good grounding there, and the rest of it we figure out in our spare time. Duelling is sort of our hobby."

    Lynus snorted. "It''s a hobby for me. For him, obsession is a better word."

    "Mind if we go a round?" Ambrose said suddenly, looking at Kevan.

    The rest looked at him in surprise. I was a little taken aback at the sudden challenge, but I had a feeling that he would be able to hold his own.

    "Sure," Kevan shrugged as he moved back into the centre. Ambrose trailed behind almost absentmindedly.

    The usual body shields materialised around them as they faced off. Kevan looked relaxed. It was clear that he didn''t think much of Ambrose. Honestly, if I hadn''t picked up on his strange behaviour, I wouldn''t have counted on Ambrose ever being able to beat Kevan either. Kevan looked the part - an athletic build, good posture, confident stance. Ambrose was a less impressive figure. He was a little on the reedy side, and he was slouching a little, wearing an expression that looked like he was trying and failing to remember something important.

    I gave the countdown. "Three, two, one, start!"

    Now that I knew what to look for, I could see the air rippling almost immediately. Lynus made a noise of approval. "Quick learner. And good eye. Took Kevan and me ages to read the air well enough to spot incoming bolts."

    Kevan looked a little less relaxed now since he hadn''t expected Ambrose to be at least as good as his brother. A handful of seconds passed and it looked like they were evenly matched.

    Then, Ambrose took two steps to the left.

    Immediately, the rippling in the air around him diminished substantially. I saw Kevan''s eyes widen in surprise, and he shifted two steps to the left to stay in line with Ambrose.

    "Hang on," Lynus said, leaning forward and staring at Ambrose. "He doesn''t need...?"

    Ambrose was moving again, slowly side-stepping back and forth. Whenever he moved, Kevan tried his best to mirror him. Every time Ambrose''s position shifted, the barrage on his shields faltered. They only picked up again when Kevan made adjustments to bring himself into the same relative position as before. In contrast, the attack on Kevan never faltered.

    It dawned on me. "Your glyph sequences for the bolts are fixed."

    "Well of course they are, how can you make such complex adjustments on the fly?" Lynus said. "We prepare the sequences beforehand and choose which ones to use depending on the situation."

    "He seems to be managing it fine," I said, pointing at Ambrose, who was now slowly walking towards Kevan, who was backpedalling furiously to maintain the original distance.

    "I know... it''s incredible." Lynus'' eyes were alight with wonder.

    Kevan''s defences were swiftly deteriorating. Ambrose had backed him into a wall and Kevan was trying to skirt around the edges to keep the distance, but the movement was costing him precious concentration and he wasn''t keeping up with the adjustments he had to make to keep Ambrose at bay.

    The end, when it came, was swift. There was a huge disturbance in the air around Kevan as he tried to stave off a serious barrage, and then his shields collapsed all at once and his armour turned red.

    "Holy shit," Kevan gasped as he was driven to his knees. He looked up at Ambrose, who was holding a hand to help him up. "Where the hell did you learn all that?" he asked as he took it and got to his feet.

    "Trade secret," Ambrose grinned.

 9. Bolts and Bonds

    After the duel between Ambrose and Kevan, the night took a turn for the worse. Kevan did not take kindly to being beaten and Ambrose''s refusal to explain how he had managed to win made the situation worse. The black-haired youth, usually meek, was uncharacteristically firm. He wasn''t rude, but it was clear that he wasn''t about to freely discuss his duelling technique. Jerric tried to point out that Kevan had pulled the same thing on everyone else but in the end, Lynus had to physically drag his brother away. He shot us an apologetic look as he ushered Kevan out of the duelling chamber.

    It was just Ambrose, Devon, Jerric, and myself now. We sat on the lowest tier and watched as the brothers disappeared through the doors.

    I sighed. "Hope he''s less of an ass tomorrow."

    "Don''t count on it," Devon snorted. "His behaviour so far doesn''t exactly advertise sweetness and sunshine. If he were a product, I''d put him back on the shelf."

    "Sorry." Ambrose looked very downcast. "I kinda provoked him."

    "No," I said firmly. "He''s the one who provokes people. He''s just sore that you beat him. He obviously thinks he''s the best, and you put him in his place."

    "Understatement of the year. You wiped the floor with him!" Devon crowed.

    "I don''t suppose you''d give us even a tiny hint about what you''re doing?" Jerric asked hopefully.

    Ambrose bit his lip. "I... it''s best if I don''t. But I''m not... special or anything."

    I wrestled down the urge to snort and roll my eyes. Ambrose probably sensed the scepticism and disbelief radiating off me because he looked at me and gave a huff. "Really, it''s nothing special. Okay, look..."

    He stood up and turned to face us. "I''m not going to tell you exactly what I''m doing... but I can point you in the right direction."

    I crossed my legs and sat up straight. Devon and Jerric were likewise listening with rapt attention. Ambrose was a little taken aback at the suddenness of it, but he rallied.

    "Uh... okay, so here''s a standard bolt sequence." He pulled a little arcana together and a cluster of glyphs appeared in the air. "Which parts cover direction?"

    "It''s just that one." Jerric threw a red ring around one of the glyphs. "It makes it go forward."

    "No, that''s..." Ambrose frowned at Jerric. "How do you curve yours?"

    I blinked at Ambrose in confusion. "What do you mean? Don''t you know?"

    He returned my look of confusion. An awkward silence descended over the four of us.

    "Why don''t I explain how I arc my bolts," Jerric said tentatively, "and then we go from there?"

    Ambrose nodded and sat next to us. Jerric didn''t stand up and instead opted to narrate from where he sat, using loops of arcana to highlight the relevant glyphs as he spoke.

    "So, normally, these bolts have no mass, so gravity doesn''t pull on them like actual projectiles. These glyphs control the density of arcana, and we need to introduce a clause here to give it a mass value."

    His modifications went up. "Then, you add some additional glyphs to the ''forward'' one to indicate an angle. That way, it tosses the bolt at an angle, and the bolt then follows a natural arc subject to gravity. We can tweak the mass values and the angles to affect the trajectory. So that settles the top-down arcs. There are other adjustments you can make to the density of the arcana, the launch speed, even the shape, which will all affect the bolt''s flight path and trajectory."

    Ambrose nodded. "I see. I... didn''t learn it that way."

    The three of us exchanged surprised looks. It was a pretty standard modification in the student duelling circles. The trouble was learning how much to adjust the values.

    "But that''s just two angles of attack," Ambrose pointed out. "Straight ahead, and from the top. And besides that, your modifications wouldn''t make it hone in on a target point directly in front of you. It''d just make the bolts fly in an arc in the direction you toss them."

    Jerric nodded. "And that''s where the more advanced version comes in. If you add in another clause here," he threw up more modifications. The sequence was looking very convoluted now, "then you change the direction of gravity that the bolt experiences. Now your bolt arcs along any plane you want, even from the bottom up."

    Ambrose read the glyphs carefully and nodded to show his understanding. He held out a palm and experimentally shot a few bolts that formed ever-larger arcs across the duelling chamber. Then he shot a few bolts sideways, forming little dancing rings within the duelling space. When he was satisfied that he had gotten it down, he dissolved the bolts. I couldn''t help but stare at him a little. He had picked it up very quickly.

    "What I want to know is how you do that arc that looped back at the end of your fight with Kevan," I said, turning back to Jerric.

    "That one''s actually a homebrew version I came up with," Jerric grinned proudly, tacking on yet more glyphs. "Instead of putting a single value for the mass, I put in a short equation that adjusts the value over time. You tweak the variables in the equation to change when the loop happens. I found that when the value of the mass becomes negative, it actually moves opposite to the ''forward'' glyph, so it doubles back."

    I stared at his modifications. There was some very involved math here. "You do this in battle?"

    Jerric nodded, his grin widening. I shook my head. "No wonder you were so eager to fight. You thought your ridiculous calculation speeds would beat everyone."

    "Couldn''t beat Kevan," he said, deflating a little.

    I laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You heard Lynus. They''re not making adjustments on the fly. They''ve got memorised sets, a whole arsenal of variations. And they''ve probably fought each other so many times that it''s muscle memory at this point. But the moment they meet deviations in the pattern, they fall apart. I mean, look at Kevan against Ambrose."

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "Yes, it''s not..." Ambrose cast around for a word, "not combat-worthy. Your way is more flexible and adaptable, which makes it better in a real fight. But it''s hard to pick up, too. There''s so much calculation. I don''t think the average person can do it."

    Devon gaped at Ambrose. "Combat-worthy? You sound like you''ve got training in, like, thaumaturgy thaumaturgy?"

    "What does thaumaturgy thaumaturgy mean?" Ambrose mimicked his intonation, looking puzzled. He looked at me and Jerric, but we shrugged to indicate our own confusion.

    Devon clicked his tongue in impatience. "I mean, thaumaturgy is arcanophany applied in combat, but the stuff we learn in schools is just duelling and defence, you know? Not like, actual combat. So... like... you''ve done thaumaturgy thaumaturgy?"

    "Stop saying it like that, it sounds silly," I chuckled.

    "Double Thau, the Real T, the True T," Devon rattled off. He brought a hovering finger right in front of Ambrose''s nose. "Whatever we wanna call it! Have you done it before?"

    "I''ve had some, uh, prior exposure," Ambrose mumbled, waving away Devon''s finger.

    "Man, now we have to know the details," he said, getting right up in Ambrose''s face.

    "Get off!" Ambrose pushed him away and stood in front of us again. "Anyway, it looks like we have totally different methods. As I said, I... shouldn''t tell you exactly what I''m doing. Not yet. I''m just pointing out some things, and you''ll have to figure it out from there."

    "Yes, sir. Please teach us Double Thau," I grinned.

    "Yes, we''re so calling it that from now on," Devon said, raising his hand for a high-five. I indulged him. Jerric shook his head.

    "Right..." Ambrose looked at us helplessly, then coughed and tried to ignore our grins. "So, you guys modify direction by giving the bolt some properties so that it acts as a physical projectile. That''s one way to do it."

    He gestured at the glyph sequence and erased all of Jerric''s modifications. "So, earlier, I asked which parts control direction. Jerric pointed out the rune for ''forward''. That''s just one part. But what''s the point of origin for that direction?"

    We sat in silence for a few seconds, and then a jolt of realisation hit me as I saw some of the new glyphs we had learned. I sent out a wisp of arcana to ring a set of glyphs that indicated the source of arcana for the bolt. "Here. There''s a clause that indicates that the bolt will fuse surface auric arcana with surface ambient arcana. Then this other clause marks where the fusion happens as the point of origin for all directions."

    Ambrose nodded. "So now you''ve found the point of origin. That''s all you need."

    "You... shift the point of origin? Doesn''t that make it even more complicated?" I tried to think of how you would even make a bolt curve by shifting the point of origin, but every idea seemed even more mathematically convoluted. I looked at Jerric, who was shaking his head in confusion.

    Ambrose thought hard, clearly fighting the impulse to simply blurt the answer. After a moment, he asked, "How do you know where the bolt comes from, even with those glyphs?"

    "It... comes from us. What do you mean?" Devon scratched his head.

    "Devon, throw a basic bolt," Ambrose instructed. Devon complied, raising a hand to launch it.

    "And you, Caden." Mystified, I did the same.

    "Now Jerric." He stood and went through the same motions as Devon and me.

    "Okay, think back to the fights with me, Kevan, and Lynus," Ambrose said, looking intently at us. "Did we do the same thing?"

    "I don''t know what we''re looking for here," Devon complained.

    "You never used your hands," Jerric and I said at the same time, having both had the same realisation.

    "Yeah, and you can do it, too, right? You just need to focus. The bolt comes out from where you want it to. But it''s a habit to point where you aim. A bad habit, because it telegraphs your moves." Ambrose raised a hand and pointed it straight ahead but this time, a bolt shot out of his armpit and hit the floor. It was such a comical and unexpected sight that the rest of us burst into laughter.

    Now that he had pointed it out, we started experimenting with that. It didn''t even require any adjustments to the glyphs бк just a little bit of intentionality. We were soon shooting bolts from anywhere. We spent a few moments shooting bolts out of every conceivable orifice in childish amusement.

    Jerric was the first to sober up. "So what does this have to do with how the point of origin can change the direction and movement patterns of the bolt?"

    "Everything. That''s all I can say."

    "What?!" The three of us cried out.

    "It''s everything," Ambrose repeated firmly. "Think about it, experiment a little. Trust me, it''s very important that you figure it out on your own. If someone just tells you, it''ll be harder to pick up."

    This was already way more than what I had expected, given his earlier reluctance, so I decided not to press the issue. Besides, he had already given me a lot to think about.

    "Thanks, Ambrose," I said. The others echoed the sentiment.

    He ran a hand through his hair, looking a little shy. "It''s nothing, really."

    "No, really, thank you for opening up, and sharing more with us." I placed a hand on his shoulder. "You didn''t really have to tell us anything. It''s obvious you put in a lot of work and learned this stuff on your own. The fact that you just gave some of it away to us is really something."

    "Well, you''re my dorm mates, so... it''s only natural I''d help, right?" Ambrose smiled.

    Devon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, tell that to Kevan. He said something earlier today about you being a goody-goody, and how that completes our group right? Well, he''s obviously taken the role of the ass."

    I choked down a laugh. "To be fair, he probably knows that. It''s getting late, we should head back."

    "A couple more Double Thau sessions with Ambrose here and we''re gonna wipe the floor with Kevan too!" Devan enthused.

    "Don''t start anything with Kevan," Jerric said warningly. "You may have a Panoply arcane ward over our room, but I''d prefer not having to watch my back."

    Devon continued to fantasize and joke about different ways to provoke Kevan all the way back to the dorm, much to Jerric''s increasing exasperation. Ambrose and I laughed at their exchanges. I was glad to see that Ambrose had opened up a lot more since last night.

    Lynus was seated at the table in the common area and reading a book when we came in. Kevan was nowhere to be seen.

    "Hey... everything okay, Lynus?" I took the seat facing him. He looked quite tired out.

    "Yeah." He put aside the book and motioned for all of us to gather around. "Listen, I know my brother''s not the easiest person to be around. But he''s not a bad guy."

    Jerric nodded his understanding. Devon looked like he was about to give a snarky reply, but Jerric shot him a quelling look and he nodded along as well.

    "Where is he now?" I asked.

    "Showered and in bed already. So..." Lynus awkwardly ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Ambrose. "Sorry about earlier. Just give him a chance. I''ll try to keep him in line."

    "It''s nothing," Ambrose mumbled. "I mean, it''s not that I''m trying to hold back secret knowledge. It''s... not safe."

    "I get that. And Kevan probably gets it too, but he''s really competitive, so the duel got him really down. He''s been top dog for a long time. But he''ll come around."

    "Alright. Well... I already showed Jerric, Devon and Caden some stuff. I can go over it with you and Kevan tomorrow. I''ll teach you all what I can, but there are some things that you gotta figure out."

    Lynus look surprised. "Uh, you don''t have to, I mean, don''t let Kevan make you feel like you have toбк"

    "No, it''s fine, really. I do want to share stuff. I just need time to figure out what can be safely imparted."

    "Well... thanks." Lynus stood and gave Ambrose a handshake. "I mean, really. Thank you."

    Ambrose nodded but looked unsure about what else had to be said. He covered the awkward moment with a cough. "Well, uh, I''ll... I''m going to sleep. See you guys in the morning."

    "I''m showering first!" Devon became a coloured blur as he dashed to his room, grabbed his things, then disappeared into one of the two bathrooms. The rest of us rolled our eyes.

    Later, as I climbed into bed after cleaning up and packing my bag for tomorrow, I found myself grinning. Even though Kevan was a little bit of an ass (not something I''d ever say to his face), I was quite happy with our little group, and with life in the Academy so far. It had been a good first day of lessons, all things considered.

    It looked like being in the same cohort as the Chosen One wouldn''t be such a chore after all. After all, we didn''t even know who it was, so it didn''t affect our lives in any way beyond that initial memory wipe, and I had found people who would probably, hopefully, turn out to be great friends.

    The future looked bright.

 10. Thaumaturgy Trial

    "Caden?"

    "Mm?" I cracked my eyelids open. It was wonderfully warm under the covers and I didn''t want to move.

    Sunlight was streaming in through the open window. That didn''t seem right.

    "Caden?" Ambrose called again. I raised my head and saw him at the door, fully dressed.

    "Oh shit." I sprang out of bed and automatically tried to check the time, but my wrist was empty. I forgot that I had removed my watch yesterday after my father''s lecture and I had gotten paranoid about wearing an artefact I didn''t fully understand. That meant no 7AM alarm.

    "What time is it?" I scrambled for my things.

    "It''s 8:30. You''ve got about half an hour before class, don''t worry."

    "Thanks," I said as I rushed past him towards the shower. Jerric, Devon, Lynus, and Kevan were seated around the table, almost done with breakfast.

    "Didn''t think anyone would wake even later than my brother," Lynus called out. "Especially not the Top Scorer!"

    Kevan aimed a blow at Lynus, who dodged aside with a laugh. I bit down a retort and rushed through my morning routine, feeling very annoyed that I had overslept.

    "Here." Devon slid over a sandwich on a plate as I sat down, furiously towelling my hair dry. I thanked him and ate with my free hand.

    "So like we were saying," Jerric continued, clearly picking up from where they had stopped in their conversation before I interrupted, "let''s meet up after Thaumaturgy class and swap notes? We can get more Double Thau practice in since we''ve only got one class today."

    "Let''s see how the actual Thaumaturgy classes go? I mean, we may not be in any shape for extra stuff afterwards," Ambrose said tentatively.

    "Because we''re not that good at thaumaturgy?" Kevan shot irritably.

    "He didn''t say that." Lynus said, not bothering to hide it as he kicked his brother under the table. Kevan scowled and Lynus scowled right back.

    There was a slight pause.

    "After yesterday''s classes, I wouldn''t be surprised if we get our minds blown again at our first Thaumaturgy class," I said to fill the silence. "I don''t mind a Double Thau, but only if my brain is still working."

    Jerric clapped his hands together in satisfaction. "Alright, then, we''ll gather for an early lunch and see if we''re still sane, then decide from there?" He looked at Ambrose, who conceded with a nod.

    Kevan huffed but didn''t press the issue. He got up and picked up his bag to get ready to head out. The rest followed suit as I cleaned up. We left together, but there was a weight that hung over our group as we split off to the different venues. It looked like the tensions from last night weren''t completely patched over yet. I was actually glad that the Thaumaturgy classes would be in the smaller tutorial groups.

    It turned out that our Thaumaturgy classes weren''t going to be held in the compound that Ambrose had brought us to. My tutorial group was supposed to meet in the Ka''atus Room again, but the rest had to go hunt for their venues in other parts of the Academy that we hadn''t yet used.

    I walked in with several others who happened to be arriving at the same time. We found the room completely bare, without any furniture. Those who had arrived earlier were standing awkwardly in the empty space, huddling together in a cluster away from the only adult in the room.

    I couldn''t help but stare.

    Our lecturers and instructors so far had been dressed formally and carried an air of respectability. This man was wearing a simple T-shirt that was so thoroughly marked with stains that it was hard to tell what the original colour was. Instead of trousers, he had track pants, but even then they appeared to be years past their prime. Patches were crudely sewn in, obviously to preserve function rather than as a statement of style. And instead of regarding us all with lofty wisdom, he was slumped so far down the wall that only his head and upper back were in contact with it. The rest of his lanky body stretched lazily across the floor. His face was hidden behind a book. Ah,a part of me sighed in relief,an academic after all, but that brief flare of hope died when I realised from the title and the cover that it was definitely not polite material.

    "What is he reading?" Reyes whispered.

    "A bodice-ripper," Triss whispered back, giggling a little.

    "A what?" I blurted. The others shushed me.

    "Bodice-ripper," Triss repeated. "Kind of a book that''s really just about... you know. Ripping bodices." She giggled again.

    I raised an eyebrow at her and she raised her chin in response. "I''m sorry, but textbooks don''t do it for me, Top Scorer."

    Before I could roll my eyes, the man sprang to his feet with surprising speed and dexterity, slapping his book shut with a snap that got everyone''s attention.

    "Everyone''s here," he said briskly, in a surprisingly crisp and chipper tone. I half-expected some sort of lazy drawl. "Come closer, form a line in front of me."

    There was some jostling as no one seemed to want to be the one to stand right in front of the strange man. I found myself being shoved to the front by a grinning Reyes. Much to my relief, Emilia strode forward, seemingly oblivious to the current atmosphere, and claimed the front without comment. I gladly relinquished the spot.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    When we had settled, the man cracked his neck. "I''m Marcus Kant, and I''ll be taking you for Thaumaturgy. I''ll say it up front бк some people in the Academy will think you''ve drawn the short straw with me. In my own not-so-humble opinion, with the new direction the Academy is taking this year, you''ll eventually be grateful."

    Up close, I realised that his unkempt clothes didn''t tell the whole story. His black shoulder-length hair had been tied back neatly, and he was perfectly clean-shaven.

    "Sorry, sir, what new direction?" Reyes asked.

    "Sir?" Kant chuckled. "You all can call me Marcus, if you''re comfortable enough. To answer your question, the new direction is that the Academy wants all cohorts to be trained for real combat from this year onwards."

    There were a few surprised exclamations at this. For as far back as most people could remember, the Academy had restricted its thaumaturgy syllabus to mostly theory, with very narrow ranges of application. Only hand-chosen arcanists would go on to study full-fleged thaumaturgy and take it up as a vocation. It was widely understood that controlling the number of thaumaturgists was an issue of the Empire''s security - we needed enough to field a credible threat in war, but we also didn''t want to alarm the rest of the world by training the entire population of local arcanists in the art of war.

    I could guess why. After all, we haven''t had a big Prophecy with a Chosen One in several generations. Something was brewing, and ordinary folks were being caught up in the ripples.

    "Does this have something to do with the Chosen One being here?" Triss gave voice to the theory in my head.

    "Obviously," Kant replied coolly. "But you don''t need to know the details. Suffice to say, as the newest cohort, you get to enjoy at least three full years of combat training, if you don''t wash out of the Academy. And I''ll be taking you all the way."

    He forestalled any further questions with a raised hand. "Class time is precious. Let''s get right to it. One by one, throw me a standard duelling bolt and try to break my shield."

    Under his directions, we backed up a little until we were halfway across the room. Then, maddeningly, he took out his book and started reading again, and gestured for Emilia to begin.

    Emilia stepped forward, fire in her eyes, and aimed a palm at Kant. The familiar projectile streaked towards him, but was deflected off a small shield that materialised a few inches in front of him.

    "Next," he called out, pausing to scribble on a piece of paper. He didn''t even look up.

    Emilia stomped off to the side as I took her place. I was tempted to make use of some of the things I had picked up last night, but decided that being labelled ''Top Scorer'' was already enough trouble. I ran through the standard glyph sequence and raised a palm to fire off the bolt, though I did practice a little more by making the bolt coalesce from my fingertips instead of bursting out of the middle of my palm.

    Predictably, Kant deflected it.

    After every attempt, he''d pause to scribble something on the paper. We were obviously being evaluated and found wanting. When all ten of us had shot off a bolt, he glanced up at us and said, "Again. One by one. This time, try what you like," then went right back to reading his bodice-ripper.

    Emilia''s hands were balled into fists. Instead of letting the bolt fly out of her palm, she practically threw it at him. From behind her, I could feel that a lot more arcana had been packed into it. There was an audible lowwoosh that made my teeth rattle, and the bolt raced across the distance much more quickly. When it hit Kant''s shield, instead of dissipating it erupted into a shower of loose energy that hung in the air for a moment before vanishing.

    Kant hadn''t even looked up, and he nonchalantly turned a page and continued reading without even bothering to stop and scribble on his paper.

    I decided to try a curved bolt. This time, I didn''t gesture. The otherwise ordinary bolt twisted out of my right shoulder, then arced off towards Kant.

    Once again, Kant conjured a shield without looking even though I hadn''t attacked from the same angle. My bolt spluttered and died. This time, he did briefly pause to scribble something. Somehow, that felt like a bit of a victory.

    The others used arc and density variations with no success, but I got a chance to see the level my other cohort mates were at. No one else, it seemed, came close to Kevan and Lynus'' crazy aptitude or were at least choosing not to reveal it just yet. I briefly wondered how the others were doing and what their own lecturers were like.

    "Again," Kant called. "And try a little harder. One at a time."

    Emilia''s next bolt had an even greater density of arcana than the last two. When she conjured it into being, there was actually a palpable sense of power in the air, and my skin prickled a little. There were a few audible gasps from behind me.

    But it didn''t help. Kant deflected it with the same tiny shield and didn''t bat an eye, though this time he did scribble. Seeing this, Emilia actually let out a frustrated cry of rage, then stormed off to the side.

    I understood her frustration. His silent note-taking might''ve been tolerable, but reading a book at the same time was just insulting. It made all of us feel small.

    Try a little harder, he said. Well, how about this?

    I took a moment to compose myself and form the sequences in my head. It would be hard, but it was time to show people why I held the Top Scorer spot. It wasn''t just for theory.

    One standard bolt with double the arcana, fired straight ahead бк I knew which glyph Emelia had tweaked to produce her variation. Then, three invisible bolts using the variation I picked up last night - two arcing from the sides, and one from the top. I took the time to fit them all in my own homebrew glyph formation that could chain sequences or fire several of them together. It took a couple more seconds and probably wasn''t what Ambrose would call ''combat-worthy'', but this wasn''t real combat.

    Four bolts blossomed from the air around me. The others only saw one bolt, but we all felt the wash of arcana from the others. My clothes actually rippled a little in the backdraft as the bolts lanced towards Kant''s irritatingly impassive face. Behind me, Reyes let out a satisfyingly loud gasp of surprise, and there were other exclamations of awe. Emelia had a look of grudging respect.

    My attempt was very anti-climactic. Each of my bolts was intercepted by copies of the same small shield that Kant had been using all along. The energy my bolts had filled the air with vanished with such suddenness that their absence was almost tangibly felt.

    And Marcus Kant still hadn''t looked up.

    I took comfort in the fact that he scribbled for what was perhaps two seconds longer than anyone so far, but then he simply called out "Next!" into the shocked silence. My face burned as I stepped aside and joined Emilia.

    The rest had more variations, but nothing worked. Reyes tried a diffuse attack that split the bolt on impact, but Kant''s shield simply blossomed and enveloped the shards before they could bounce off. Triss channelled a beam that was almost painful to look at and that she managed to maintain for over ten seconds, but Kant''s tiny shield took the whole duration without wavering.

    When we had all finished this third attempt, Kant waved a hand vaguely to indicate that we should come closer, while his nose was still buried in the book.

    "Okay," he said, turning a page. The standard duelling body shield suddenly sprang into existence around him and all of us. "Now all of you at once. If I tag all your body parts, you''re out. If anyone tags me once anywhere, you get a prize. If you don''t last more than half a minute, you get extra work."

    There was a long pause. I could almost hear Emilia grinding her teeth beside me. The rest of us wore similar expressions of irritation mixed with surprise and incredulity.

    Then the air sang with arcana as we sprang into action.

 11. Kant Touch This

    The fact that all of us had read the same textbooks was evident. Nobody bothered shielding. After a quick glance to see that we were on the same page, all ten of us fired off the best glyph sequences we had in our arsenal.

    Rule One: Focus fire.

    If an arcanist had no access to artefacts and they had to rely on mental glyphs, then the best way to take them down was to overpower them fast by sheer weight of numbers. After all, a person could only split their attention so many ways, and no matter how good your arcanic control was, you could only channel so much arcana at once. If they had to throw up an all-encompassing shield, they were spreading their arcana thin. And a thin shield can be smashed with raw power.

    Triss'' attack was the first to manifest. Her sequencing speed was really impressive. Somehow, she modified her formula and managed to produce two beams this time - one from each palm - that seemed even more potent than her single beam from before. They filled the air with a keening noise as they lay siege to Kant''s defences.

    It looked like he was still holding her at bay using a directional shield but this time instead of a flat plane of energy, it seemed to be made up of several overlapping layers that rotated around a central point.

    Since my improvised quadruple-bolt sequence was still fresh in my mind, I took a quick moment to tweak the density formulas and packed more arcana into each one, and adjusted the angles to hit at a slightly different spot than before, then fired it off again.

    The rest of our modified bolts didn''t take such a different form like Triss'', but the distinctions were still clear. Bolts of all shapes and sizes were flying from every direction towards Kant, who was still reading. No other shields had appeared, and he was only maintaining the one directly in front of him that kept Triss'' twin beams at bay.

    At the last possible moment, the rotating layers from his frontal shield swarmed out and then re-formed in front of him. In that single instant, they had moved quickly enough to deflect the rest of our bolts. They flew off in wild trajectories, smashing against the walls, floor, and ceiling, where they glowed briefly before dissipating as the room''s glyph sequences safely absorbed them. Triss'' beam managed to push against the last layer and press it back by maybe a centimetre, but by then the other layers had reformed and bolstered it again. Her beam sputtered out after ten seconds.

    Kant looked up from his book and grimaced. His body shields were completely untouched.

    "Good attempt, I suppose."

    We all knew what was coming next, and again we defaulted to the conventional wisdom. Since all of us were already standing close together, we instinctively arranged ourselves in a standard spearhead formation. I found myself just behind Emilia, who was at the tip, with Reyes next to me.

    Rule Two: Gestalt where possible.

    Kant''s attack was obviously meant to show off. I think if I had been at the tip of the spear, I would have completely dropped the ball because his work was so distractingly incredible. Where our combined assault had been a chaotic hodge-podge of arcana, he had somehow seamlessly joined them together into an efficient array.

    He copied Triss'' twin beams and directed them at us out of his opened palms. But at the same time, just as the beams shot out, a copy of each of our sequences also blossomed out from each palm, and as far as I could tell he had somehow managed to reconstruct exactly what each of us had been doing. I recognised Emilia''s denser bolts because of their telltale change in shape, and Reyes'' bolt that was designed to split and swarm on impact was actually several bolts held together by a membrane. And I could see the tell-tale wavering in the air that meant my own invisible variations were arcing out towards us at an angle.

    But what was even crazier was that he was double-casting them. Where each of us had launched one set of sequences, he was firing two sets of the same sequence back at us бк one from each palm.

    "What the fuбк" Reyes choked out, and then we were enveloped in a storm of arcana.

    Emilia had thrown up a complex barrier around all of us. Instead of a simple dome, the arcana had formed into a honeycomb lattice several layers deep. I felt the arcanic link form and immediately poured as much as I could to feed her sequence. The rest were doing the same. As Kant''s twin beams reached us first, I felt a precipitous drop in the level of arcana in that portion of the shield, and I pushed harder to flood the gap.

    Individually, we wouldn''t have been able to conjure and sustain such a complex and powerful sequence. The glyphs for a shield of this type took up a lot of arcana to even bring into being. Working as a gestalt meant that we could simply pour our own arcana in, while one person was responsible for creating the frame. Additionally, as a gestalt, we could manage the arcana within the framework together and shore up weak areas. With ten minds in the gestalt, there was less of a mental load for each person to bear.

    Reyes and I were just behind Emilia, which meant that we were automatically tasked with holding the front. I could feel Reyes'' arcana flagging as he struggled to maintain his segment against Kant''s beam, so I sent some of my own arcana to his segment since I had better flow.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Peripherally, I could tell that everyone else was struggling. Kant hadn''t just copied our sequences бк he had increased the arcanic load on them too. The bolts were heavier than ours had been. His copies of Emilia''s bolts managed to leave craters in the honeycomb pattern even with two people covering those areas.

    Unexpectedly, one segment of the shield failed completely and Triss collapsed, her entire body shield marked in red. An instant later, a guy on the opposite side of the formation, someone named Petyr, fell too.

    "Invisible bolts," I cried out. "He copied mine! Watch for a shimmer in the air!"

    But even as I said that, I knew it was hopeless. The only reason I was able to spot them at all was because I had had the luxury of seeing them in use last night.

    To Emilia''s credit, she didn''t waver for an instant. The holes quickly patched up and the shield shrank in size to cover only the remaining members бк a desperate attempt to conserve arcana.

    Reyes and Emilia were engaged in a brief exchange as Kant showily cracked his knuckles. "Swap resonances, do a reflective layer!" Reyes hissed.

    "I don''t know how to do that." Emilia''s voice was calm; a sharp contrast from her earlier outburst. "You take the lead."

    Reyes hesitated for a fraction too long. Kant raised both palms and repeated his absurd barrage just as the sequence for our shield was being modified. It wouldn''t hold up.

    "Everyone down!" I yelled, throwing myself to the floor.

    It was a gamble. If Kant''s improvements to our own sequences were only to make them hit harder, then that meant all his attacks were ''dumb-fire'' ones and we could simply dodge out of the way. None of them were designed to track and follow individual targets. Even my arcing bolts were only meant to follow a pre-planned route.

    The honeycomb barrier around us shattered into tiny pieces. As a testament to how sturdy the sequence was, the fragments still managed to hold their cohesion instead of dissipating uselessly upon impact. We were covered in semi-solid forms of arcana that slowly frayed around the edges.

    Everyone was on the floor. Reyes, Emilia, and I were still untouched, but the rest had been too slow. They had actually been knocked over by the sheer weight of the arcana and been blown back a little. I could see the room itself had conjured some cushions of energy to soften their landing.

    "I shield, you gestalt, Caden attack," Reyes barked at Emilia, getting to his feet and moving to the front.

    There was no time to question or plan. I didn''t have a better idea anyway. A much smaller version of the honeycomb barrier enveloped the three of us as we stood in a single file; a simple but efficient formation. The front member provided the defensive frame while the rear member provided the offensive sequences. The middle member of the gestalt supplied more power and finer arcanic control to either as the situation demanded.

    Kant, it seemed, wasn''t bothering with anything new. He raised both palms again and sent our copied sequences right back at us. I had no idea how he was channelling so much arcana all at once.

    I had to trust Reyes and Emilia to shield us. We probably weren''t going to get another good shot in, so this attack had to count. I swapped some numbers in the equation of my bolts even though I knew they would overdraw and I''d pay for it later. And to try to get past his shields I wanted to try a series of twists instead of doing predictable arcs, but I didn''t have any prepared sequences like Kevan and Lynus. How could I calculate the angles now? If only I could get the bolts to take direction from me instead of the numbers in the glyphs, thenбк

    The discussion from last night suddenly flashed across my mind бк a cascade of words clicking into place.

    "бкthis other clause marks where the fusion happens as the point of origin for all directionsбк"

    "бкjust need to focus. The bolt comes out from where you want it toбк"

    "бкwhat does this have to do with how the point of origin can change the direction and movement patternsбк"

    "Everything."

    In a flash of inspiration, it hit me. Iunderstood how Ambrose moved his bolts.

    I am the point of origin for all directions. Not the glyphs. My will can provide the direction.

    There were staggering implications to this shift in understanding the meanings of the glyphs, but there was no time for me to consider them now. I pushed everything I had into that initial thought and sent out four invisible bolts using my arcing equation. But this time, I felt a distant, vague connection to them. They were like limbs that had gone completely numb but would still awkwardly obey the brain''s commands.

    Peripherally, I registered that Kant''s barrage was actually failing to tear down Reyes'' shield. His version was reflecting almost half of the arcana back at Kant in ghostly afterimages of the original sequences, which meant that the structure was able to weather the remaining energy. I wrenched my attention back to the bolts, which I now felt more than I saw.

    Kant''s defences materialised. He had opted to use small directional barriers instead of using an all-encompassing shield. Several of these interposed themselves between him and the incoming reflected attacks, and others were already in the predicted paths of my invisible bolts.

    At the last moment, just before they smashed against his shields, I twisted them.

    The connection was too vague for me to pull off something subtle. I found myself physically gesturing as I tried to move things I couldn''t see and could barely feel бк a primal instinct that told me it was necessary to physically interact with the world to change it.

    Two bolts shot off at right angles and spun off into the walls. The remaining two managed to double back on a different trajectory, and they slipped right through the gaps in the shields.

    With impossible speed, Kant somehow managed to bring up additional barriers. My hand spasmed again as I tried desperately to weave the bolts past his defences, and then a storm of arcana washed over us and Reyes'' shield evaporated. All three of us were knocked to the ground, our armour entirely red.

    Reyes groaned, not bothering to get up. "I didn''t know these arcana bolts could hit so hard. Did we last 30 seconds at least?"

    Nobody else said anything. There was a strange silence in the air. I sat up and looked around at the shocked faces of the others who had been knocked out of the fight earlier.

    "What...?" I began. I felt a little hollow and worn out as a result of the overdraw.

    Triss, who was staring at me wide-eyed, pointed a finger at Kant.

    His right shoulder piece was red.

    "By the Fates," Reyes breathed, craning his neck from where he lay.

    "Well done, the three of you," Kant said with a smile, dispelling everyone''s armour. "32 seconds. And Caden, excellent job at the end there. That''ll teach me to let my guard down."

    If that was him with his guard down, I wondered what he was like in a real battle. It was a terrifying thought.

    "Well, now that we''re properly introduced," Kant gestured, and eleven very comfortable-looking padded chairs appeared. "Let''s talk about how well that fight went."

 12. Unraveling Clues

    Once Kant had put away his book and invited us to sit, he spent the rest of the time breaking down everything he had learned about our sequences during the demonstration, and critiquing how effective they had been. Instead of simply telling us everything, he posed difficult questions that got us to consider our own glyph sequences in a different light.

    Triss'' beams were easily the hardest-hitting attack amongst all of our sequences, but we learned that staying in one place for that long was a luxury that thaumaturgists wouldn''t always have. Reyes asked if it was possible to channel a beam like that while moving, to which Kant simply replied with a smile, "See if you can find a way to do that, then use it against me next time."

    Then he discussed the biggest failing we had бк predictable directions of attack. "Only Caden," he said, turning to me with an approving nod, "managed to break out of that mould at the end. He learned how to control the direction of his arcanic flow even after the sequence has been cast."

    I got a few appraising looks from the rest. "How did you do it?" Reyes asked.

    "No," Kant cut in before I could say anything. "There are some safe shortcuts to knowledge and understanding, but this is not one of them. In our Thaumaturgy class, you will break your minds against the unyielding rock of combat, and you will learn from that trial. If you try to take the short way through this, you may irrevocably stunt your ability to develop finer control. The rest of you must apply yourself to developing this aspect of your arcanic control as your first order of business."

    This sounded a lot like what Ambrose had said during our ''Double Thau'' last night. It made me wonder if he had received some kind of higher training prior to even arriving at the Academy. I had never heard of this kind of precaution that had to be taken when delving into arcanophany, even from my father.

    Reyes tentatively raised a hand. "Si-.. er... Marcus. How did you channel enough arcana to fuel two copies of our sequences?"

    "And somehow even manage to enhance them," Triss chipped in, looking very sour.

    Kant shook his head. "That''s another thing I can''t tell you outright. I''ll just say that you need to study the glyphs in your own sequences a little more closely, and read up on glyph theory. Your Advanced Glyphs studies should cover enough ground for you to piece it together."

    I thought back to how just having a different understanding of the glyph denoting ''origin/source'' allowed me to direct the arcs with my will alone. I guessed that it meant that glyphs held more than just one straightforward meaning, and simply grasping concepts and tying them to the glyphs somehow affected what could be done with them.

    I was beginning to see why Celwyn, our Advanced Glyphs tutor, had said that glyphs really were a language, and it was entirely possible to invent new glyphs.

    By the end of the session, Kant had drilled home three simple points.

    First, mental discipline matters. He pointed out how our sequencing could have been more efficient if we had simply managed our emotions better. This was especially directed at Emilia, who schooled her expression into one of stony acceptance.

    Second,read your opponent. In fifteen minutes of painful, surgical analysis, he described the tells that we had which made it easier for him to anticipate our strikes. Even my invisible arcs were clearly telegraphed because of where my eyes went as I picked out target points to calculate the right trajectory.

    Third,arcanic control matters more than complex glyph sequences. Using some arcana to form images, he perfectly replicated all the glyph sequences we had used, and then gave us a glimpse of his own modifications. They were all at least half as long, some even just a third of the length of the original, even including his adjustments to make them more powerful than our original sequences. Before anyone could copy them down, he erased them. It was clear that his level of control was making entire segments of our sequences completely unnecessary, which partially explained how he could juggle so many things at once in his head and how he had managed to cast so quickly. But it was still frightening. Even with his simplified sequences, what he had done in combat against us was the equivalent of multiplying 10 pairs of two-digit numbers in the time it took me to say my full name, and getting all the answers right the first time.

    "Couple of things before we''re done. Everyone but Caden, Emilia, and Reyes need to independently come up with a shield sequence that will stand up to one of the barrages I''ve used today at a quarter the arcanic load. I''ll test your sequences next week. And Caden, your prize."

    He tossed the bodice-ripper at me. I was so surprised that I almost dropped it. Triss snickered.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "Knock yourself out," he winked.

    "Make sure you all make some progress on the stuff we covered today, or I''ll do more than just knock you over at our next lesson."

    And with that ominous declaration, he walked out the door, whistling as he went.

    <hr>

    "What is that?"

    The dormies (as I had come to call my dorm mates, in my head) and I had gathered at the library cafe for lunch again. I privately wondered how well-heeled the rest of them were, because some quick mental sums told me that the allowance money my parents had given me wouldn''t last long if this became a regular thing.

    Kevan was pointing at the bodice-ripper in my hand. I had decided against putting it in my bag because I didn''t want it touching my other belongings.

    "You can have it," I said, tossing it to him in what I hoped was a good imitation of Kant''s blase manner when he had ''gifted'' it to me.

    "No way." Kevan turned the book over in his hands, his eyes alight with mischief. "You, the Top-Scorer, read this stuff?"

    The looks that the others were giving me ranged from disgusted to lewd. We really did have all the ''types'' in our little group.

    "It''s not mine," I spluttered. "Well it is now, but it wasn''t before, I meanбк"

    "Hey, no judgement! I mean if this is what you read, that explains why you study hard," Kevan grinned.

    "It''s from Thaumaturgy!" My face was burning. "It was a prize forбк"

    "You mean you actually wanted to win that?" Devon was bewildered.

    "What?! No, I didn''t know, I... ARGH!"

    I spent the rest of the lunch being the subject of merciless teasing from Kevan. The others were so amused by the situation that they didn''t do anything to stop him. On my part, I tried to look at the positive side бк at least this kind of helped to alleviate the tension after our Double Thau argument earlier in the morning.

    As it turned out, none of us were in any shape to attempt to practice more thaumaturgy ourselves. Kant had been the most intense out of all the tutors, but it didn''t mean that the rest were that much softer. Jerric reported that at the end of the lesson, his tutor, a young woman named Debra Wyrnn, had locked them in with an arcane ward on the door of the classroom that all of them had to work together to break if they wanted to leave for lunch. It was simply a test of brute strength, and even though she had set up the ward alone, all ten of them had to push so hard to break it that everyone had overdrawn. The others had tutors who engaged the entire class in battle, much like Kant, but without as much overwhelming power.

    "Looks like Thaumaturgy class is basically just a time when they beat us up," Devon complained.

    "It''s to build arcanic control over time," Ambrose piped up, striking a consolatory tone. "You''ll overdraw less as time goes by."

    "Are you overdrawn?" I asked. He did look tired, but nowhere near as worn out as the rest of us.

    He didn''t answer immediately, and he looked like he was trying to decide how much to downplay it. Kevan took that decision out of his hands.

    "You''re not even close, are you?" he asked bitterly.

    The look of indecision on Ambrose''s face gave way to resignation. He nodded. "Probably can have another Thaumaturgy class at that intensity before I overdraw."

    "How''s your control so far beyond ours?" Kevan demanded. Thankfully, he didn''t seem antagonistic, just frustrated with his own progress.

    "I... well, I''ve started earlier. I''ve had this kind of combat-worthy training for a little over a month."

    "Why?" Devon asked curiously. "Is this an Academy thing or a private thing? Did your family pay for some kind of extra arrangements?"

    "I''m sorry, guys, but I''d... rather not say. I''ll keep sharing what I can about what I''ve learned, but..."

    "That''s more than enough, you don''t owe us anything," Jerric said. "Thanks, Ambrose."

    Maybe it was my recent epiphany with arcanic control, but I felt a sense of something else clicking into place in my head. Ambrose''s reticence, his greater hold on arcanic control, the mysterious provenance of his extra training... he was special somehow. And if I had to narrow things down about what made him special, then the obvious conclusion was...

    I looked at Ambrose. He met my eyes and seemed to see the conclusion that I had come to. I didn''t really know what my expression was, but I was pretty sure I wasn''t keeping a straight face.

    "I promise I''ll tell you guys more when I can," he said to everyone in general, then seemed to look back to direct that statement particularly at me.

    Oh Fates. I felt the floor vanishing beneath me. Is he the Chosen One?

    If the rest saw anything odd about this exchange, I couldn''t tell. Jerric might have picked up on something, but I was far too preoccupied with my own racing thoughts to read anything from his expression. I was really too shaken by the conclusion I had come to. The more I thought about it, the more things seemed to fit. His mysterious access to facilities that none of us knew about, his superior arcanic control and extra training, even his odd declaration that he would help me challenge Fate after that brief conversation when I told him about my own rejection of the existence of the Fateweavers...

    And once I was convinced of it, my mind automatically raced off on other trains of thought. One was professional indignation or anger бк if all this Chosen One business and the Prophecy was real and more than just some imperial propaganda, then why was he being so slack about keeping his identity a secret, especially when so many resources had already been poured into hiding it?

    Another train led me to furious speculation. What if he was doing it intentionally? Then why us? Did this mean we were going to be involuntarily drawn into this Prophecy? How was this fair? Could we unbind ourselves?

    I stewed for the remainder of the lunch, dropping out of the conversation entirely as I mulled these things over. Distantly, I could tell that the others noted my withdrawal, but I decided I could explain it away as just a case of exhaustion from overdrawing.

    Ambrose kept shooting glances at me periodically, and each time he looked my way, I thought I caught some regret in his eyes.

 13. Mania

    There are times when I absolutely have to be alone.

    It''s something my family is intimately familiar with. I can be generally sociable most of the time, but when there''s something that bothers me and I need to work through it, I must have the mental space to do it. And conversations with anyone generally are not helpful. I become irritable and withdrawn until I''ve worked things out satisfactorily in my head.

    Of course, my dorm mates have never seen this side of me before, this being only our second day together. I was actually hoping that they wouldn''t ever have to see it and that maybe being with more people my age would help me function a little differently. At the very least, I had hoped not to fall into one of these moods until we were all sufficiently familiar with each other, so that they wouldn''t shy away from me.

    But that just goes to show that you shouldn''t put too much stock in hope.

    I thought I had managed it well enough with Reeves'' memory weaving, which was still really bugging me, but then Ambrose''s behaviour brought in a far bigger mystery to untangle.

    My recollection of that lunch is rather hazy. I don''t think I even bothered to make any excuses. I think I simply got up and left, leaving a confused silence in my wake, and went straight back to the dorm where I locked myself in the room.

    I slumped into the chair in front of the small study table that belonged to me and started mapping out all the impressions and thoughts in my head, trying to string them into something cohesive.

    First, was Ambrose really the Chosen One, or was I jumping to conclusions?

    His level of arcanic control is far beyond a fresh arcanist. This could be raw talent, substantial training, or a combination of both. Major Prophecies deal with exceptional cases, which means the presence of any one of these factors raises the probability that he really is the subject of a Prophecy. If multiple factors converge, that is an even stronger sign that he is the Chosen One, because Prophecies skew probabilities and make such favourable convergences more likely.

    There was a growing pit of unease in my stomach. I tried to find ways to disprove that hypothesis.

    Maybe he''s from a really wealthy family who has arranged tutors for him well before his arrival in the Academy. If the gap between him and the rest of us can be explained by sheer practice, then this makes it unlikely that he''s the Chosen One. It''s just down to the good, old-fashioned benefits of being well-heeled.

    My eyes landed on Ambrose''s rucksack. The fleeting impression I had when I first saw him walking into the dorm with it wasn''t one of great wealth. Now that I was actually looking more closely at it, I realised it was really quite well-used, to put it politely. I doubted that a family that could afford tutors to raise someone to Ambrose''s level would then go on to skimp on school essentials. And now that I thought about it, his clothes were a touch on the shabby side. Definitely nowhere close to the quality of Devon''s, who was probably from the wealthiest family out of all of us. And even he didn''t have tutors.

    So... not wealthy. Sheer talent, then.

    But that definitely wasn''t true either. He had just admitted over lunch to having had combat-worthy training for over a month. That was well before we had even started at the Academy. On top of that, he was familiar with the duelling chambers, which the first-years still hadn''t been introduced to, even in our Thaumaturgy classes. Unbidden, the picture of the duelling chamber logbook flashed across my mind - Ambrose had entries there dating back at least a week, and that was just on the page I had seen.

    Ok, shit. So he definitely has talent, because he hasn''t been trained for years. But he''s also got training. And when he gets training, he receives it from... someone in the Academy, judging by his familiarity with the duelling chambers. He gets special access to facilities that others do not know about. And he can''t seem to afford that training, so it''s given free, or at least the financial barrier of entry is removed somehow, maybe by an exchange of services, or something else. What''s important is that he has access. That means the Academy is actively investing more resources in him. Which is very unlikely to happen for a normal person. So the odd probability skew here favours the existence of a Prophecy of some kind, again.

    As much as I didn''t want to admit it, this was beginning to fulfil lots of the signs I had read in books on prophecies. There were too many lucky breaks, too many convergences. The big Prophecies liked to endow their Chosen Ones with many advantages.

    My breathing quickened as I realised the implications. If he was the Chosen One, the probability skew wouldn''t just affect him alone. It would drag others into it. Like how the Academy was providing him free advanced training. So that meant just by being in his life, we were somehow influenced.

    I actually stopped breathing for a moment when that thought reached its next conclusion. I was already caught in it. There was his meeting with me, right after I had revealed that I didn''t believe in Fateweavers. I had told him about my sister, told him I wanted to challenge fate. It wasn''t something I had discussed with anyone, ever, not even my mother. Why had I blurted it out to him? And why did he pledge to help me? That kind of behaviour wasn''t normal, was it?

    Shit, shit, SHIT, is that how this works? You get pulled into the skew against your own inclinations and normal behaviour?

    More moments were jumping from my memory. The look of regret he had given me over lunch. What was with that?

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    The first time we met in Nivordin Lecture Hall when I thought he was just acting awkwardly because of my own social gaffe. "We should study together sometime, maybe swap notes." Was that really the kind of thing you said to someone who was acting weirdly around you? Wouldn''t you want to just cut and run?

    Did he already know I would somehow be involved in his life?

    And that look he had given me when he had first opened the door and saw that I was his roommate - that wasn''t just some awkward pause, was it? Did I miss something there? Did he maybe hesitate because he was seeing Fate itself playing out in his life?

    "I promise I''ll tell you guys more when I can." That made it sound like he really knew things. And he would, wouldn''t he, if he was the Chosen One of a Prophecy?

    My chest was tightening. This couldn''t be happening. I was here to break the so-called chains of fate around my sister, and now I was caught up in them myself? And not even in anything to do with my own sister бк I was being unwillingly dragged along in someone else''s life, in some big Prophecy with a Chosen One with things I never wanted to be a part of?

    Could I get ahead of it somehow, and unbind myself? Maybe if I worked backwards from the Prophecy, I could just stay far away from anything it mentioned. I vaguely remembered reading a historical example when a Prophecy had actually been averted, though it took a kingdom''s combined resources. I didn''t want to avert it, I just wanted out. That might make it easier, might make it possible for one person to accomplish. I''d have to study the Prophecy carefully.

    I froze. I couldn''t remember the Prophecy. And it felt exactly like how I wasn''t able to recall having met the Chosen One after Reeves'' memory weaving.

    Sonofabitch! WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?

    My hands were gripping my hair and I was hyperventilating.

    Breathe. Breathe. I have to breathe.

    "Caden?"

    It was Ambrose. He gently knocked on the door again when I didn''t respond.

    "Caden, we need to talk."

    No, no. Not ready. Thinking.

    If anything, Ambrose''s presence now confirmed it in my mind. He knew that I knew something was up. I felt the realisation click into place in my head, almost like a tangible thing. He is the Chosen One, and there is a real Prophecy, and I am a part of it.

    It felt strangely right, all of a sudden. And in that moment I understood what people meant when they said they were split in two. My very presence here in the Academy was aimed at disproving all prophecies, or learning how to unravel them if they turned out to be true, because I hated the idea of not having self-determination, of being doomed to some fate because some Fateweaver somewhere just decided it should be so. And yet here I was, with a part of me somehow feeling at peace with the situation, maybe even happy, that I was a part of something bigger.

    There were no words. I opened my mouth and let out some kind of strangled gasp.

    "Caden, please," Ambrose sounded more insistent, but I was in no shape to communicate anything.

    There is a Prophecy, there is a Chosen One. Let''s take it from there, some still-functioning corner of my mind said. Play it out. What pieces are in play? What''s the state of the board now?

    The Prophecy was made public two months ago. The whole world learned of its exact contents.

    The Chosen One''s identity was made public one week ago. The whole world learned who it was.

    Two days ago, the Chosen One''s identity was wiped from everyone''s minds. And at some unknown point, so was all knowledge of the Prophecy''s contents.

    Why? The questioning part of my mind took on Jerric''s voice. It was measured, calm, methodical. The questions were probing, not hysterical. It helped me get a handle on things. How does this work out in favour of the Prophecy itself?

    The Prophecy... seems to require some sort of acknowledgement. If secrecy was important, the probabilities would have skewed to make it all but impossible to discover. But if what has happened is what is supposed to happen, then... it somehow needs to be public knowledge, to a certain extent. But the contents, and the identity, are not all-important. Only their existence needs to be widely known.

    Why might this be the case?

    Because... I had no idea.

    Prophecies involve glyphs. What did we learn about glyphs?

    They''re... made up. We make up their meaning. The Prophecy draws its power and meaning from... collective consciousness?

    Maybe. Next thought - if the Prophecy''s contents and the Chosen One''s identity can be a secret, then why is Ambrose so bad at keeping that secret? He doesn''t even seem like he''s trying.

    Because he knows the Prophecy, and maybe he knows that it doesn''t need to be a secret from everyone.

    What does that suggest?

    It means it has to involve specific people.

    And if he chooses not to keep that secret from certain people, then it follows that...?

    ... that we''re involved in the Prophecy somehow. Our fates are tied with his.

    And if he seems to regret your involvement in particular, then...

    ... then that means that being involved is not going to be good for me.

    Silence in my head. The Jerric-voice seemed to have run out of intelligent questions or observations, and while it had led me to interesting points of consideration, I still had nothing concrete to work with. What was I supposed to do now?

    My breathing had calmed and my heart was no longer racing. It seemed that my manic episode had passed. I felt hollow, burnt out.

    I stumbled towards the door and threw it open. Ambrose was seated at the common table, staring down at his clasped hands on the table. From the silence in the air it seemed that the rest weren''t back yet. He looked up at me as I sank into the chair opposite him.

    "Caden, Iбк"

    "First of all, if you''re the Chosen One, then f*** you."

    That felt good to say. I normally never swore. I wondered if the Prophecy itself was somehow messing with my own normal behaviour, or if I was now using it as an excuse for myself. It was a pretty convenient scapegoat since I had no idea what the Prophecy actually said.

    His expression didn''t waver. He looked at me somberly. But his silence was all the confirmation I needed.

    "Shit," I breathed out. "It''s going to be bad for me, isn''t it? I figured out that much, from the way you''re behaving. And that''s why you''re not angry with me for cussing you out. Because you know it''s true."

    "I see why you''re the Top Scorer," he said with a half-smile.

    "Don''t. Not that. Not now."

    "Sorry." His face fell. He took a breath, then forged ahead. "You... don''t want to believe in Fate. Because of your sister. I... don''t want to believe in it either. So maybe together, we can do something about it, change it. Because if you can change it for yourself, you can definitely change it for her."

    A long silence fell over both of us. In my mind, I was mapping out all the angles of attack that I could think of, and flagging specific avenues that I had to study up on to see if they were feasible or not. It was such a huge task... but for the first time in my life, even after only two days in the Academy, when I had already had my eyes opened to the depths of arcanophany, it seemed possible.

    Wordlessly, I held out a hand. Ambrose grinned and shook it.

    "You''re going to tell me everything," I said, my hand like a vice around his.

 14. Spillage

    "I can''t." Ambrose was still grinning as he said it, even as my hand tightened around his. He didn''t seem to have grasped the gravity of the situation. It took only a few heartbeats for me to strike with my arcana.

    If I had to credit my ''Top Scorer'' title to anything, it would be the flashes of insight I enjoy as a side-effect of my intense bouts of deep thinking. With enough discipline, anybody can study hard and memorise wreathes of information, and given enough time it''s possible for most people to tease patterns and connections out of mounds of data. But for some reason, when I withdraw from people and take the time to just sift through what I''ve learned and experienced, these connections get made much more quickly even when I''m not actively thinking about things. I suppose you could call it intuition, and it happens pretty often for me.

    One such flash of intuition came to me at that moment when I wanted very much to wrest every ounce of information out of Ambrose. Reeves had influenced everyone to do something the first time he met us, and he had already taught us how he had done it.

    "...ambient arcana can be used as a channel for your auric arcana as long as you exercise enough mental discipline and precision."

    And apparently that was all it took бк sheer force of will, coupled with extremely fine arcanic control. I had plenty of the former right now.

    As for the arcanic control, I had just been given a glimpse of what was required during the fight with Kant. If understanding a glyph in a different way changed how it behaved for you, then it followed that the glyphs themselves were not entirely important. Your very thoughts and intentions could provide enough direction for the arcana.

    And that was how Reeves had made some people stand involuntarily without using glyphs at all. His will could shape arcana. It was a simple realisation, and I wondered why I hadn''t made that connection sooner. After all, arcanists shape simple forms of arcana all the time without using a single glyph. And even children are taught simple exercises so they can play with the flow of it. Why wouldn''t people be able to exercise precise control without glyphs? It''d just be harder, and take a lot more practice.

    I knew that for this, all I needed was for my intention to be crystal clear. An impulse, like Reeves had used, without language, just visceral response that transcended conscious thought.

    I thought back to that inexplicable surge of wanting to confide that I had experienced when I had told Ambrose about my sister. Now that I recognised it for what it was бк a skewing of my own will because I was interacting with the Chosen One бк it somehow seemed more distinct to me; a strong emotion that had stirred inside me, but was clearly not my own.

    I found that since I could think about it clearly, I could copy it right out of my memory and bring it into the present moment. I allowed the feeling to fill me, not just as an emotion in my mind and heart, but also as something spilling into the pool of my internal arcana, my aura. From there I pushed it out into the ambient arcana, willing it to spread like blood poured into water until it filled the air around us. And since Ambrose''s hand was still grasped in mine, I found myself also instinctively pouring that intent-laced arcana directly into his aura.

    I saw his eyes widen in surprise and confusion. He was probably experiencing the same disorientating feeling we had all felt when Reeves had first done it бк a senseless and almost overwhelming desire to simply do something. Except this time for Ambrose it was probably much worse, since we were so close, and I had actually directly manipulated his aura.

    "Youбк!" he choked, rising out of his chair and trying to withdraw his hand. I held on and pulled him back down.

    "Tell me," I growled.

    I could see it was working. His hand went limp in mine as he sank back into the seat, and he looked like he was trying and failing to hold his breath. I bent my will towards him and there was a palpable shift in the air. My skin prickled with the sheer force I was exuding.

    This feeling was glorious.

    Suddenly, the door to our dorm flew open.

    "So maybe we coulбк" Jerric stopped mid-sentence, staring at the two of us. The rest of them hadn''t yet picked up on anything, so they jostled past him. None of them got more than ten steps before they stopped short as if they had hit a wall.

    "I''m actually really jealous of Ambrose," Kevan blurted while staring at him. His eyes were wide with horror, and he couldn''t seem to stop himself. "I want to be as good a thaumaturgist as him, but I hate being second-best at something, so I lash out, and I know it''s a jerk move, but that''s how I am, and I wish I could change, and I''m sorry."

    There was a shocked silence, but then Lynus spoke up, wearing an expression of confusion. "And that''s why I hate my brother sometimes because I can''t beat him at anything or he''ll be impossible to live with, but in the end, he''s still my brother so I give in and lose on purpose even though I know I''m better at some things."

    "Wh... what''s going on here?" Jerric asked slowly, still holding the door open.

    "I''m actually really intimidated by how much better than me everyone seems to be," Devon gasped out suddenly. It seemed like he had been trying very hard to keep his mouth shut. He looked slightly panicked as his eyes darted from me to Ambrose. "And I''m afraid that I''ll flunk out and disappoint my parents because they were so proud when I became the first person in the family in a few generations to manage to get into the Academy."

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Worst. Timing. Ever.

    I let go of Ambrose''s hand and my hold on the ambient arcana. The atmosphere lightened somehow, and it wasn''t until that moment that I realised that there had been a low hum in the air. Ambrose fell back against his chair, panting heavily.

    "Guys...?" Jerric closed the door and walked over to where Devon and the twins were standing, slightly dazed. He gently shook them.

    Kevan snapped out of it first. He marched over to the table and slammed a fist into it. "What the hell was that?"

    "We were practising that thing Reeves did," Ambrose said with a weak smile.

    My brain kicked into overdrive again. If he''s covering this up, does that mean he doesn''t want them to know he''s the Chosen One after all? No, that can''t be, otherwise, he''d have been a lot more secretive about other things, like the duelling chambers and his advanced thaumaturgical skills. So maybe it''s an issue of timing. Or is there something else at play?

    "What did you do to us?" Devon asked in a horrified whisper.

    "I... I''m sorry, guys." I got to my feet and went over to him to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Like he said, it''s basically the same technique Reeves pulled on us, but Iбк, we, were using a different impulse. Instead of getting the other person to stand, it was to get the other person to talk."

    "To talk?" Kevan spat. "We didn''t talk. We spilled our guts."

    "Kev, thбк" Lynus began.

    "Don''t start with me," Kevan snarled, turning on his brother. "Was that true?"

    "What?"

    "That you let me win stuff all the time because I''m impossible to live with!"

    "N-no, I mean, yes, but not all the time, only for some things, Iбк"

    One of the chairs went flying as Kevan stormed past us to their room and slammed the door.

    My heart sank. Now that the thrill of doing something new with arcana had faded, I was left to confront the mess that I had made.

    One step at a time. I guided a wobbly Devon to the table and fetched him a glass of water. Lynus quietly sank into a seat of his own, his head in his hands. Jerric hovered uncertainly at the edge of the table.

    "I''m sorry, Devon, I... we didn''t think about what might happen if someone else walked in on us." The lie came so smoothly that I was a little surprised at myself. "We were just really excited to try it out."

    He took a shaky gulp of water and spoke haltingly. "I mean, this just kind of confirms it. You''re all miles ahead."

    "No, we''re not," Lynus muttered. He jerked his head to indicate Ambrose and me. "These two are freaks."

    "You and Kevan are really great thaumaturgists, Jerric''s smart and has ridiculous sequencing speed, Ambrose is an even better thaumaturgist, probably top in the cohort, and Caden''s the Top Scorer," Devon reeled off. "I''m good for nothing."

    "No, Devon, if you''re in the Academy, you''re the cream of the crop," I said matter-of-factly. "Don''t sell yourself short."

    "Yeah, and Caden already promised to help you if you need it," Ambrose chimed in. "And now that you know the rest of us in this dorm are good at something, think of it this way, you''ve got access to a bunch of people who are good at different things, and who can all help you. You''re not going to flunk out. Unless you just eat your lazy ass into a corner and never get anything done."

    I raised an eyebrow at him. For someone who had been so shy over the past two days, Ambrose''s was suddenly very at ease.

    His words did seem to cheer Devon up a little. He let out a great sigh. "Well, thanks, guys. But please don''t pull any more of that Reeves-type mind control. It''s... it''s really traumatic for me."

    He got to his feet heavily and retreated into his room. Since his door was warded, unlike ours, there was a brief shimmer that played across it as soon as he closed it.

    Jerric slid into the vacated space. He looked from me to Ambrose with a slight frown. ''So, you wanna tell me what''s going on here?''

    I didn''t know what to say. I wasn''t sure if Ambrose wanted the full story out. I didn''t know what his plan was, and I also didn''t know how much the rest of us were supposed to know. If I took the Prophecy into account, then what just happened might not be a coincidence after all. Maybe Fate intervened to stop me from dragging everything out of him by force.

    Which was just such utter bullshit.

    "Arcanic practice gone out of hand," Ambrose said, looking apologetic. "We should''ve known better. Once we figure out how to avoid spillage, we can teach the rest of you."

    Is he trying to tell me that we can tell them about the Chosen One thing at some future point?

    "I almost don''t want to learn it," Jerric said, glancing at Lynus (whose head was still buried in his hands) and shaking his head slightly. "Do you realise how insane this is?"

    "But we need to know how it''s done so we can stop it from being done to us," I countered. "Reeves himself said that anyone who can''t resist this mind-control thing will be expelled."

    Jerric sighed. "You know, the ethical side of things is a bit murky here. We''re being trained for combat, we''re being incited to learn some form of mind-control... this isn''t what I thought the Academy would be."

    None of us had a response to that. Now that Jerric had pointed it out, I did find it rather disconcerting. And there were obviously terrible consequences to using Reeves'' technique to get people to do things involuntarily. I reached over and laid a hand on Lynus'' shoulder.

    "Ly, I''m sorry. Is there something I can do?"

    He sat up and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "No, but it''s okay. I mean... it''s not okay to do what you did, but honestly, this stuff has been brewing for years. So maybe once he cools down, we can talk properly and settle this. I''ve never had the courage to say it to his face, but now it''s out there, and that''s a start."

    I nodded, feeling a little better. Maybe some good would come of this after all.

    "Caden and I are gonna finish up in the duelling chamber," Ambrose said, getting to his feet.

    I blinked in surprise. "Haven''t we done enough for one day?"

    "We''re almost there, you have to lock these things in as soon as you can or it''ll get harder."

    Jerric didn''t seem happy with the idea, but he made no move to stop us. I reluctantly followed Ambrose out the door, feeling very much like I was being led somewhere against my will.

    Once we were out in the grounds and there was no one within earshot, he sighed.

    "Caden, I know this is frustrating, but trust me when I say there are some things that I can''t tell you yet."

    "And how am I supposed to help if I don''t have all the information?" I said through gritted teeth.

    "You''ll never have all the information," he said simply. "But I think you''ll do a lot anyway."

    We walked in silence for a while as I digested this. "But if I''m just going along with what you know, and blindly follow this Prophecy without even knowing what it is, how will I change anything? How will I alter the pattern?"

    "We''ll get to a point where you''ll know enough to do that, and I''ll be able to tell you a lot more. But before that... we actually do need a lot more combat training."

    "Combat training?" I turned to him in surprise. "How does that work into this?"

    "You''ll see," he said grimly, as we drew nearer to the duelling chambers.

 15. Venting

    Ambrose signed us into the compound, but this time he led me to one of the smaller chambers. It was a dome, like the big chamber we had first used, but with a total floor space that was just a little larger than the Ka''atus Room. Only a single tier of seats ran around the circumference.

    "Not that I don''t want to learn new things," I said warily as Ambrose strode in and gestured at me to stand opposite him, "but I''m overdrawn and feeling it."

    He nodded. "I know. And that last stunt you pulled can''t have helped. But this is the best time to do it."

    "Exactly what are we doing?" It occurred to me that if Ambrose wanted some payback for what I had done, this would be the perfect place to do it. I was overdrawn, and there was no one around to stop him. I felt my heartbeat quicken.

    "Improving your arcanic control by an order of magnitude."

    I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves. "Is there a reason we''re doing it in a duelling chamber?"

    He blinked, apparently only just realising how threatening the situation seemed. A slow smile spread across his face. "Don''t worry, I''m not going to hurt you. But we need some privacy because I can''t share this with the others yet. So, how much do you know about overdrawing?"

    He didn''t seem like he was going to do anything terrible, and the line of his questioning looked like it was venturing into something less combat-oriented and more sedentary. I relaxed a little.

    "It''s something that happens when we use too much of our auric arcana," I replied. "Short-term symptoms include headaches, lightheadednessбк"

    "Okay, no need for the whole textbook!" Ambrose laughed. "Can you tell how much you''ve overdrawn?"

    "I guess so? You just go by how bad the symptoms are. Most people have the same progression."

    Ambrose pursed his lips. "Most, but not all. If you experience symptoms a little differently from others, you may end up overdrawing more than you mean to."

    "So you''re saying there''s a way to check how overdrawn you are?"

    He raised an eyebrow. "Common artefacts do that so they don''t kill people, don''t they?"

    I slapped a hand to my forehead. It was such an ingrained part of life that I hadn''t given it a second thought, but he was right. Fatal overdrawing almost never happened, even among laypeople, because common artefacts had safety clauses written into the glyphs. They simply wouldn''t activate if the user was overdrawn. And any arcanist worth their salt wouldn''t fatally overdraw because they were educated enough to know about the symptoms. It was such a rarity that dying by overdraw was newsworthy, and usually involved accidents with artefact experimentation.

    "I just need to know the glyphs, then?"

    He nodded. "That''s one way. The common artefacts use a pretty elegant glyph sequence. For arcanists there''s a faster way, but we do need to look at the glyphs first."

    With a gesture, he conjured a sequence of glyphs off to the side where we could both read them. Instead of being arranged as a string, it was actually laid out in three concentric circles. "This is the usual sequence."

    I did recall seeing this on various artefacts, but I had never really paid much attention to it, mostly because I had until recently only known the Basic Set. Now that we had been given study materials and had to learn an even greater range of glyphs, I realised I could pick out some things.

    And Ambrose was right. Elegant was the word.

    It was almost like poetry. Not only was each concentric circle a clause on its own, they had all been arranged in such a way that they also formed clauses that went from the innermost to the outermost circle. The glyphs had been scribed in different sizes across the circles to facilitate the cross-circle clauses. The more I studied it, the more I saw layers and layers of meaning packed into this dense formation of glyphs.

    "Wow." It was all I could muster.

    "Yeah, it''s really amazing glyph work once you know enough to read it."

    "It doesn''t seem like I need all of it, though. I think it''s written to fit into any artefact, but the part that actually checks for overdraw is..." I frowned, running through the advanced glyphs I had learned. "This bit?" I sent a burst of arcana that highlighted one of the cross-circle clauses.

    "Got it in one," Ambrose said, impressed. "Think you know what to do with it?"

    I pulled the clause out and formed it into a normal string from left-to-right so I could read it more easily. There was the glyph for general auric arcana at the start, with a few more glyphs I didn''t yet recognise, and the glyph of proximate ambient arcana at the end.

    A chill ran up my spine as my father''s lecture came to mind. "If you see this glyph on an artefact and you''re not careful with it, or if you slap it on something without understanding how it works, you might just end up blowing yourself up, along with everyone else around you."

    "Uh, should we be messing with this?" I pointed at the offending glyph.

    "As long as we don''t use it as part of a sequence to draw arcana and shape it. Can you tell how it''s used here?"

    I shook my head. "Don''t know the glyphs in the middle, so I''m not sure. But if I had to guess, it''s linking our auric arcana with the ambient arcana in some way?"

    "Not linking," Ambrose said, pointing out one of the glyphs that I didn''t understand. "Comparing. In essence, this middle part weighs the difference between the two variables."

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    "How does that actually check for overdraw, though?"

    "So back to theory for a bit. What is overdrawing?" The emphasis reminded me of how my father phrased questions when he was asking for definitions, not examples.

    "It''s the expenditure of more auric arcana than is safe."

    "What makes it unsafe?"

    "The... symptoms? The reaction to overdrawing? Because they can trigger physical reactions that cause the body to fail."

    Ambrose folded his arms, thinking hard. "Maybe it''s better if I asked it differently. Why does overdrawing cause the symptoms?"

    I blinked. That was a little like "Why does eating poison kill you?" It was the kind of question that people didn''t usually bother with because you just needed to know enough to not eat poison. But of course, there was a whole body of knowledge behind how poisons work, and exactly how they kill a person. And if you wanted to make an antidote, you needed to know the mechanics of the poison so you could counter it.

    Distantly, I noted Ambrose nodding with satisfaction now that he had gotten his point through to me. I folded my arms too, turning the matter over in my mind.

    The term ''overdraw'' itself relied on the idea that there was a reservoir of arcana within each person, their auric arcana, and that it was a finite resource that could be depleted. And when used up past a certain threshold, it would begin to affect the body. So that suggested that auric arcana was necessary for life. Perhaps it was like blood, and not having enough of it circulating inside of you would cause bodily functions to fail.

    But if that were the case, then why would the overdraw detection glyph sequence make comparisons with the ambient arcana? If auric arcana was a kind of reservoir, wouldn''t it just measure the metaphorical level of the water? But the glyph sequence had no absolute values, so it wasn''t checking for some minimum threshold. So that meant overdraw wasn''t just simply depleting the amount of auric arcana you had.

    "Overdraw isn''t a result of depleting your auric arcana?" I asked, slightly confused.

    "Not exactly, no. That''s why that sequence checks against the ambient arcana. Any idea why it might do that?"

    "It''d be easier if you just told me," I said waspishly. The headache I was suffering as a result of overdraw was getting worse.

    Ambrose gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "When we''re working with advanced glyphs and arcanophanic principles, you have to have an epiphany of your own, or it''ll take longer to really understand the glyph fully. Trust me, I was just as frustrated when I had to figure this out."

    I sighed and sat down cross-legged, kneading my knuckles across my forehead. "If the glyphs compare the levels of auric and ambient arcana, then the relationship between the two of them has something to do with overdraw symptoms?"

    "Getting warmer."

    So ambient and auric arcana were related somehow. That reminded me of something Reeves had said in his first lecture when he commended me for saying ''auric arcana'' instead of just using the shorthand term ''aura''.

    "...it reminds us that there is a commonality in the arcana inside us and the arcana outside us, even though we often think of them as separate..."

    And that was exactly how Reeves and I had managed to seed our intentions into the air and transmit them to others to influence them. Because auric and ambient arcana could mesh, to a certain extent. And if I could push my auric arcana out to modify the ambient, then... did that mean that ambient arcana could also push its way in, and change my auric arcana?

    "Is... is overdraw a result of... ambient arcana entering the space left in us when we expend too much auric arcana?"

    "Yes, you''re on the right track!"

    "But why does the ambient arcana cause such a reaction? I mean, we''re surrounded by it and that doesn''t harm us."

    "I''m not sure yet. But for now you don''t need to worry about that - what have you worked out so far?"

    "The symptoms of overdrawing come from having too much ambient arcana entering your system as a result of not having enough auric arcana occupying that space?" It was difficult to talk about arcana because it wasn''t even a physical thing that could be felt. It didn''t actually occupy any space.

    "Something like that. So now, how can you manage overdrawing?"

    "You don''t use up so much auric arcana," I said, feeling like I was pointing out the obvious.

    Ambrose nodded and gestured for me to continue.

    "... or you push out the ambient arcana that''s entering you. Or you stop it from entering at all."

    "Exactly!"

    And with that Ambrose closed his eyes, concentrating hard. I saw the air around him ripple slightly. It was almost imperceptible at first, but then it grew in intensity until he looked like he was standing in the middle of a heat haze. After almost a minute, he opened his eyes and grinned at me. "There, not overdrawn."

    "What? That''s all we have to do?"

    "It''s not easy, and it''s only a temporary solution," Ambrose clarified. "When you push out the ambient arcana, it starts leeching back in almost immediately unless you seal it out, which is actually quite difficult too. And even if you manage to perfectly seal out ambient arcana so you don''t die from overdraw, you can''t cast anything if you''ve depleted your auric arcana."

    I closed my eyes and tried to focus on pushing out the arcana, but all I succeeded in doing was venting some of my auric arcana, like I had done earlier with the compulsion trick. My headache worsened.

    "Argh, how do you separate your auric arcana from the ambient arcana that''s in your auric arcana''s space?" I complained. "There''s nothing to focus on, it''s all mixed in there!"

    "Yeah, there''s no glyph for it," Ambrose said with a grimace. "I''ve tried searching for one."

    "Think we can just create it?"

    He raised an eyebrow. "You can certainly try."

    "You''ve already tried, haven''t you?" I groaned and massaged my head as it gave a particularly violent throb.

    "Let''s just say creating glyphs is something far beyond our current abilities. I''m thinking we''ll learn why soon enough."

    "So how do you focus on it?"

    He gestured at the glyphs and highlighted the glyph of proximate ambient arcana. "That''s the only hint I can give you."

    It was hard to think around the headache when it kept interrupting my train of thought with pulses of agony laced with nausea. I tried breathing deeply through my nose.

    The glyph of proximate ambient arcana was usually used to refer to the ambient arcana that was near something. But what if I thought of the proximate ambient arcana glyph as more of a direction for the ambient arcana to go, instead of thinking of it as a label for a type of arcana? I wanted it to gather near me, on the ''outside''.

    It seemed to work. That shift in my perception helped me to feel a slight difference in the arcana within me, which I had just learned was not all auric arcana after all, but a mix of auric and ambient. And with my new understanding of the glyph, I found that focusing on it helped me to slowly push out the ambient arcana into the air around me, which was growing denser with ambient arcana that continued to stay near me instead of dissipating away as Ambrose''s had done.

    "You''ve got to let it disperse, or it''ll just leech back in all at once when you stop."

    My head was clearing a little as the ambient arcana left my system. I looked down and saw a rippling in the air around me that didn''t radiate outwards. It clung close to my skin.

    It needed more direction. Now that I knew how it could work, I thought about the general ambient arcana glyph and used it as a final destination for the flow. Slowly, the heat haze around me spread outwards, thinning a little. It took me almost five minutes, but I found myself remarkably clear-headed and fresh after I was done.

    "This is great," I said, grinning at Ambrose.

    "It helps with recovery. Somehow, not having ambient arcana inside you makes your auric arcana replenish more quickly too. And now that you can vent the ambient arcana, we can move on to keeping it out."

    "We''re doing that now?" My heart sank. As much as I enjoyed improving my arcanophanic ability, I was feeling quite mentally drained.

    "Oh, yes, we''re doing it now." The grin that Ambrose was giving me now seemed almost predatory. "It''s the same principle behind how we''ll beat Reeves'' mind-control. And... I owe you a little payback for what you did."

 16. Freedom of Choice

    I barely had time to wonder for the second time that day where the shy version of Ambrose had gone before I found myself being assaulted by a compulsion to flee from danger.

    It was easy to trace what was happening now that I knew the mechanism behind it. Unfortunately, that didn''t make it any easier to resist. Before I could stop myself, I was already on my feet, my heart racing furiously in response to a perceived threat. My body turned of its own volition and I found myself facing the exit.

    I clamped down on the impulse with all the willpower I could muster to stop myself from dashing through the doors. Instead of going into a flat-out sprint, I ended up trundling forward awkwardly for a few steps before I sank to my knees. I let out a grunt of pain as I hit the floor with an audible thump. The compulsion vanished and I heard Ambrose''s footsteps hurrying up to me.

    "Caden! Sorry, sorry, I didn''t meanбк"

    He stopped abruptly as I retaliated with a burst of compulsion of my own, mirroring the impulse to flee that he had thrown at me. He stopped short with a gasp of surprise. I was still on the floor as I turned around and saw him rooted to the spot, struggling to master himself. Then, to my utter surprise, he straightened up and grinned wolfishly.

    I leaned into the compulsion, pouring more of my aura to warp the ambient arcana. The low humming noise filled my ears and I felt the familiar tingle across my skin. Ambrose''s grin faded slightly and his eyes lost their focus as he turned his attention inward, but he managed to stay put. After a few seconds, I released my hold on the arcana. A sudden hollowness descended on me, and I knew that my auric arcana was almost completely depleted.

    "Wait," I rasped, holding up a hand to forestall any reprisal. "I''m... I''m tapped out."

    Ambrose''s grin vanished. He hurried over and knelt next to me. "Vent all the ambient arcana, or you''ll suffer serious overdraw."

    I nodded, my mind already turned to that purpose. The air rippled around me as I shed the arcana that had leeched into my system in that short period. I realised that there was a lot more of it, for some reason.

    "There''s so much more," I murmured, maintaining a careful focus on the venting process as I watched the waves rising around me.

    "The emptier you are, the faster the ambient arcana suffuses you," Ambrose explained.

    "How did you stop the compulsion?" I asked, dividing my attention with some effort.

    "I had more time to think about the first time you pulled it on me. Back in the dorm I managed to stop myself from blurting anything out because I instinctively tried to block ambient arcana from entering my system. But blocking it isn''t enough бк you have to remove the contaminated arcana inside you at the same time. So that''s what I did this time.''

    "Damnit, are you always this quick on the uptake? You picked up Jerric''s glyph sequences for the arcing bolts really quickly too," I grumbled.

    "I''d say natural talent or intelligence, or good training, but honestly, I don''t know." He shrugged, looking pensive. "Maybe it''s the Prophecy. You know, one thing that''s hard about being the Chosen One is that I sometimes feel like I don''t get to decide anything about my life, or even who I am. Did I choose to be interested in Thaumaturgy? Or was I forced into it without even knowing? If people are defined by the choices they make... then how much of me is really me, and how much of me is just the result of a Prophecy?"

    I didn''t know what to say to that. It occurred to me then that I had been very unfairly harsh towards him when I swore at him earlier. If being near the Chosen One was already changing my life and making me feel like I was losing control, then it had to be worse for the person himself.

    "If you had a real choice... would you still want to be the Chosen One?" I asked.

    He smiled sadly. "Is there a point to answering that if I don''t actually have a real choice?"

    "You know what I''m here to do for my sister. If I manage to do that much, then who''s to say the same principles wouldn''t apply to a major Prophecy? Who''s to say we can''t free you from it?"

    He looked away and sat in silence for a while. "I don''t know," he said finally, still staring off into the distance. "I mean, what would I do with my life?"

    "Anything you want."

    He sighed. "Do you know what kind of life I had before the Prophecy was made?"

    "Well, it hasn''t come up in all the years we''ve known each other," I deadpanned.

    Ambrose laughed as he turned to face me. "Sorry, rhetorical question. Anyway... before the Prophecy, I was living in an orphanage."

    I couldn''t help but interrupt him. "That is so cliche."

    "That''s my life you''re talking about," Ambrose said indignantly. Then he deflated. "But yeah, I''ve read the same kind of books and I think it''s pretty cliche too. I did dream about stuff like that when I was younger бк about being special somehow, and having a destiny marked out for me. You know, kid''s dreams. And then it actually happened."

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    He seemed to retreat into himself a little as he slouched over and hung his head slightly. When he spoke again, he sounded like his mind was miles away.

    "I was sixteen. Two years before I aged out. The kids like me had mostly given up on ever being adopted. It''s still legally possible... but nobody over sixteen ever got out that way. So that''s when we start thinking about the future бк about life on our own, with no family. Because once we hit eighteen, the orphanage can''t house us anymore."

    It was hard for me to imagine what that must have been like бк to have nothing to look forward to except a life led alone, with no support from anyone, and with nothing to your name. The slight grin I had on my face earlier when I poked fun at his status as an orphan was long gone.

    "The orphanage was actually decently funded. Nothing lavish or luxurious... but they had enough to make sure that the over-sixteens could get their feet under them before they aged out. They''d send us for some classes outside for vocational training. And there were some pro-bono apprenticeships or mentorship programmes from various organisations. But when I hit sixteen, I decided I wanted to learn arcanophany."

    He waved a hand vaguely in the air and some arcana coalesced into a small sphere of light бк a miniature version of the standard orb. He chuckled. "The first time I did this, I nearly set the small library on fire because I got one of the glyphs wrong. The orphanage didn''t have any connections with the Academy, and the preparatory schools were too expensive. All they could afford were introductory textbooks, so I had to be an independent study."

    I was stunned. I would have never guessed that he had only started learning arcanophany two years ago. What kind of arcanist would he turn out to be once he was fully trained?

    "And that''s when my life changed. The very next day, someone turned up and went to the matron''s office. Everyone was interested because it''s usually couples that come in. But this man was alone, and he looked old. Maybe in his sixties. Didn''t seem like someone looking to adopt. So we all were curious about why he was here. Some thought he was going to be a big donor or a patron. He looked the part."

    Ambrose''s voice was growing softer. "The matron stepped out of her office after a while and came straight to me. And said the man wanted to speak to me. In private.''

    He lapsed into silence for so long that I wondered if he had fallen asleep since his face was slightly hidden by his fringe when he sat hunched over. I contemplated whether or not to prompt him, but then he took in a deep breath and took up the narrative again.

    "We went into the matron''s office, and he did something to the room, probably to ward it against spying. And he told me about the Prophecy, and told me that I had been identified as the Chosen One. And that no one else could know until it was time."

    "Who was he?" I found myself whispering.

    He shook his head. I didn''t know if he was unwilling or unable to tell me.

    "Anyway," Ambrose cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. "That''s when I got more books and some one-on-one tutoring. The story given to the orphanage at that time was that the man was a talent scout. The matron was sceptical at first, but when the promised books came and she passed them on to me, she was so happy. And I was, too. There was a path for me to follow."

    "And you made all that progress from a globe light to Double Thau-level awesomeness in just two years?"

    He nodded, but before I could comment on how gifted he was, he cut in. "And that''s exactly it. This Prophecy is the reason why I am who I am today. What happens to me if I turn my back on it?"

    I frowned as I thought it through. "You may be here today, with all your knowledge and skills, thanks to the Prophecy. But you won''t lose what''s in your head. Maybe being severed from it would deprive you of future benefits, but that still leaves you with everything you''ve gained so far."

    "What makes you so sure I won''t lose something? You don''t even know the scope of the Prophecy."

    I opened my mouth, ready to reply, but then I realised that he had a point. I didn''t know exactly what a Prophecy could do, or how it actually worked.

    "So you''re saying that if you get a real choice, you''d still choose to be the Chosen One? Because it gives you a purpose, a goal?" I didn''t know why, but somehow that felt like giving up to me.

    "Sounds a little hollow when you say it like that," Ambrose smiled. "But you don''t mean to tell me that you''ve never wished for that kind of clarity in life? To know what your destiny is? To be sure of what you''re supposed to do with your life? To know that it matters?"

    "Depends on the destiny," I countered. "If it''s a stupid one like my sister''s, I''d rather not have anything to do with it."

    He seemed to be on the verge of saying something very important, but he stopped himself.

    "What?" I demanded.

    "Let''s leave that for another time. For now, you have so little auric arcana that you''re inviting a dangerous level of overdraw. We need to make sure you don''t allow ambient arcana to seep in so that what you vent stays out."

    I wanted to pursue the subject but it was clear that my own situation was really rather dangerous. I berated myself for being so rash, but that thought was interrupted by another бк this seemed like one of those coincidences that benefited the Chosen One and the Prophecy. After all, I was normally a lot more careful in the use of my auric arcana. Perhaps the thing Ambrose had been about to divulge wasn''t meant for my ears, and the Prophecy had taken away that brief opportunity for Ambrose to share his thoughts.

    This time, the process of learning it was a lot easier. The glyphs for surface ambient arcana turned out to be something I could use to visualise the separation between auric and ambient arcana, and with some concentration, I could make sure that the ambient arcana trying to enter my body only remained on the surface of my skin.

    "Is there a way to make it permanent?" I wondered aloud, once I had managed to vent the excess again and prevent it from seeping back in.

    Ambrose shook his head and shrugged. "I don''t think so, but even if it were, I''m not sure if that''s a good thing. I think I read somewhere that we actually need this kind of mix inside us. Anyway, don''t worry, more advanced arcanists can vent and bar ambient arcana easily. It probably comes with practice." He got to his feet and looked wistfully around the chamber. "I thought we''d be able to try something else, but I think it''s best if you take a rest."

    "Yes," I said as I struggled to stand. My mind was clear since I had vented the ambient in my system, but my body was still suffering from the lingering effects of overdraw. "So what can we tell the others?"

    As we walked out, he mulled over it. "Nothing about the Prophecy, or the Chosen One thing. For now, we just help them along with their arcanophany. The immediate goal is to get them to master this compulsion thing, and to learn to block it."

    "That shouldn''t take more than a day, right? What do we do after that?"

    He shot me a sly look. "So now you want the clarity of a destiny?"

    "No! I''d never want to be some puppet to Fate!"

    "Then stop asking a puppet of Fate what to do." He turned serious. "Just... lead your life, Caden. Do what you think is best. I''m counting on you for that."

    I had no idea what I was supposed to say to something like that. All I could do was nod solemnly.

    We walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

 17. A Breath of Relief

    I peeled off before we arrived back at the dorm and told Ambrose that I would be going to make a call back home. It was partly out of obligation, but I was really just using it as an excuse to defer the moment when I would have to return to the group. The faces of Devon, Lynus, and Kevan kept springing to mind, their expressions crystal clear as they fought against my compulsion.

    Ambrose made no comment and nodded before he went up, leaving me to pick my way across the campus grounds. The students'' services centre was right next to the registration office, so I didn''t have to expend any precious arcana to call up a Minor Query for directions. It was late afternoon, and the orange light of the sun bathed the scene in a comfortable glow. If not for the huge revelations that had been thrust upon me over the past few days, this would''ve been a wonderful and serene walk.

    Instead, my mind was churning over the many things that had come to light. There was also a mild sense of panic at the fact that it had only been two days since I first started at the Academy and I was already reeling from all the arcanophanic revelations, to say nothing about the Chosen One business. What might one whole week bring? It felt like life itself was threatening to swallow me up, like some unfathomable, monstrous denizen of the deeps descending on a minnow.

    And it felt so unfair. I was the Top Scorer, so why did it feel like I knew nothing at all? After all the effort I had put into getting to where I was, how could people like Kevan and Jerric just crawl out of the woodwork and do things that I had never even known of?

    And my father was in this marvellous world for years and years, and in all that time he never prepared me for the sheer depth of knowledge out there. All our lessons, for all their sophistication, now seemed to be nothing more than idle splashing in the shallows by the shore. And now I was supposed to know how to plumb the lightless chasms of the ocean?

    It took me a moment to compose myself when I walked through the doors to the students'' services centre. There was only one person at the counter - a middle-aged woman.

    "New arcanist?" she asked with a welcoming smile. "What can we do for you?"

    "I want to make a telepresence call," I said, trying to return her smile but only managing to come up with a brief twitching of the lips.

    "The first week can be hard," she said sympathetically, pulling out a file as I approached the counter. She extracted a form. "Just fill this in and I''ll give you a card. You''ll be able to use the telepresence rooms whenever they''re available."

    "Even after the centre is closed?"

    "Yes, they''re through a separate entrance around the side of the building. You just need to come here to register the first time, or if you need permission for a session that goes beyond the usual 20 minutes. Otherwise, they''re available at all hours."

    That was good to know. It made it easy to avoid crowds or having to queue if I came at off-peak times. I filled out my details and handed the form back to her.

    With a little burst of arcana, she traced a glyph I didn''t recognise over the paper, then pressed a plastic card onto it in a space that had been densely packed with more glyphs. With that done, she handed the card to me and placed the filled form in a thick binder.

    "There you go, all done. You need anything else, just drop by. If you''ve got something urgent that needs doing while the centre is closed, you can use a Major Query by the door while you''ve got your card on you, and that should give you access to most things that you need."

    While I wasn''t a stranger to this kind of application of arcanophany, it was surprising that they had tied so much functionality into the card. It was worth taking a closer look later.

    "Thank you." I nodded politely and made a beeline for the telepresence rooms. There was a queue, but it was mercifully short.

    Even though these were for student use, the Academy''s setup wasn''t basic. I knew that the simplest telepresence rooms could just be a booth with an orb and the image would be little more than a two-dimensional projection on a surface, so I was pleasantly surprised to find a modest mid-range setup. A single chair was set in front of the table that served as the receptacle for telepresence orb, and there was ample space in the room to allow for a three-dimensional projection.

    Telepresence orbs were made for commercial use, so they didn''t require much auric arcana. Complex glyph sequences drew on the ambient arcana and formed it with exacting precision to efficiently sustain the connection, and all that was needed from the user was a simple general activation glyph and a glyph for the connecting residence. I formed them with no problem and let the artefact do the rest of the work.

    It took a few seconds, and then the half of the room I was facing changed the instant the connection was made. The floor gave way to the familiar carpet of my living room, and a chair materialised on the other side. I couldn''t see beyond the space within this room, though, so I had no idea if there was anyone there.

    "Hello?" I called out. "Mum?"

    "CADEN!" My sister leapt out of the walls and into the chair, then promptly toppled out of sight. She hurried back into the telepresence orb''s coverage, hastily righting the chair and planting herself in it.

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    The tension of the day was momentarily forgotten. I grinned at her. "Hi, Triss. You know, there''s a girl in one of my classes with the same name."

    "What?" she looked scandalised. "My name''s special!"

    "Apparently not. Spelt exactly the same way. You know, she even seems a little bit like you."

    "Smart and pretty?" Triss struck a pose.

    "Pretty smart," I conceded, laughing and thinking back to the twin beams of power lancing out of her palms towards Kant. "Probably smarter than you."

    She was on the verge of a sharp retort, then thought the better of it. "Well, as long as it''s a Triss, then she can be smart too."

    I snorted. "Who made you the Empress and let you decide things like that?"

    She didn''t deign to answer me. "Mum, Caden''s here!" she called, then ran out of view.

    My mother slid into the seat and gave me a warm smile. My heart swelled a little, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

    "Bad few days?" she asked softly.

    "No, I just wanted to check in... let you and Triss know I''m fine," I lied.

    "That''s good." She leaned forward, looking intently at me. "I know you''ll do great."

    The earlier feeling of being overwhelmed reared its ugly head again and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from demanding why my parents hadn''t given me a clearer picture of what to expect in the Academy.

    "It''ll be hard at first," my mother said, her eyes searching mine. "But there''s no question about whether or not you''re good enough, Caden. You are."

    It was both comforting and infuriating to be so transparent to someone. "It doesn''t feel like it," I said bitterly. "There are people here who can do things I can''t, who know things I don''t even have the foggiest idea of. Couldn''t you and Dad have told me more?"

    "Caden," my mother''s tone was still comforting, but there was somehow a bit of a reproving edge to it. It was remarkable how well she toed that line. "You''re a gifted young man, but the Academy isn''t a preparatory school. It''s the best and brightest of the Empire. You''re meeting with your equals for the first time. And you know all that''s safe for us to teach you. The rest you''ll have to learn at the Academy like everyone else. And I daresay you know more than you think you do, and you''re capable of more than you give yourself credit for. Top Scorerбк"

    "бкis meaningless!" I cut in, thinking about Kevan, Lynus, and Ambrose in Double Thau, and about Reeves'' compulsion, and his ability to wipe memories. "There are real things about arcanophany that I should have learnt, not just stuff for a bunch of tests!"

    "Then go learn them," Mum said curtly. She looked stern now.

    Anger and indignation rose up within me. Didn''t she know that it was her fault, her''s and Dad''s, for not teaching me enough about how much there was to know about arcanophany? I glared back at her, my mind racing down paths of inquiry in response to her challenge. She wanted me to learn by myself? Fine. The Academy''s libraries were at my fingertips, I had access to the best and brightest minds of my generation, and a bevvy of lecturers who were experts in the fields.

    "And there it is," she said, suddenly soft again. "You know what to do, don''t you?"

    The gears in my head came to a grinding halt. Mum did things like that all the time, and it usually meant that I had blundered somehow and she was showing me, in her way, where I had gone wrong.

    "You know what books to look for, you know who to approach, you know what questions to ask," Mum went on, smiling a little.

    That was true. And it dawned on me then that my parents had never given me any knowledge at all. They fed me questions, endless questions, and left me to find the answers out. And that was where I learnt to piece things together. Sometimes there would be a gentle nudge of correction, a relevant book absently left on the couch, a demonstration of arcanophany casually inserted into the flow of household life, an interruption during a trip to see some phenomenon or a particularly interesting glyph sequence along the way... a multitude of teaching moments across a lifetime of living in a house with two arcanists who never spoonfed but always guided.

    She probably saw the realisation hit me. Mum gave a sagely nod. "In arcanophany, knowing how is more important than knowing what."

    I huffed. "Sorry, Mum."

    "It''s alright, Cadey. Oh, I''d hug you if I could. You made Top Scorer all on your own, and no matter how good these other kids are, you''ll keep pace. You''ll do more than keep pace, knowing you."

    "Have you talked to Dad?" I asked, feeling a little abashed at how much praise she was lavishing on me right after I snapped at her.

    "Yes, he called yesterday. He''ll be home for the weekend, so he can bring you back home if you want."

    My mind went to Ambrose and the whole Chosen One situation. There was a lot to figure out, and spending a weekend at home would take time away from that. "I think I''ll stay on campus."

    "Alright. Check in with your father if you need some direction. Things are different now that you''re a student at the Academy and once you''re settled into the flow of the curriculum, there''s more he can bring to the table." After a pause, she laughed a little and added, "Or you could stop in just to say hello, and skip the extra work."

    It occurred to me that as a member of the faculty, my father would have known about the Chosen One''s enrolment and the special considerations the Academy had to make, like with Reeves'' work. Come to think of it, I didn''t know how many people in the Academy were a part of this. Was it all of them, or just a handful of the staff? After all, my father had seemed as ordinarily curious as anyone on the day of my registration. Perhaps he wasn''t in the loop. In any case, it was worth asking.

    I smiled indulgently and nodded. "Let me get over the feeling of drowning first, then I''ll see if I need to go to Dad for more work, or to get a special hat to stop my brain from exploding."

    "You can''t explode on your first month, or Triss will step over your body and claim the Biggest Brain title," Mum said with another laugh.

    The girl in question barged back into view and sprawled over Mum''s lap. "Yeah, you can''t explode, Cade. Not till that other Triss explodes first. The only Triss who gets to beat you is this one!"

    "Yeah? Let''s see if you even get into the Academy, then we''ll see about beating me," I retorted.

    Triss leapt out of Mum''s lap, causing her to wince a little. "Call any time," Mum said. This time, her smile was a little sad. "It''s not the same without you at home."

    "You''ve got the little Empress there."

    "Oh, she won''t say it, but she misses you too. She cried the first night."

    "MUM!" Triss'' shriek somehow managed to come through even though she wasn''t within the field.

    "Oh, those tears were probably a clever illusion, Mum," I said, grinning. "We all know Empresses don''t cry."

    Triss came into view again and glared at me. "They don''t! I didn''t!" She shook my mother''s arm. "Mum, why''d you tell?"

    We talked until the fifteen-minute warning flashed across our view, then said our goodbyes. Triss was putting a brave face on it, but visibly brightened when I promised to call again in two days.

    When I stepped out of the room, I felt much lighter. Perhaps things weren''t so bad after all.

 18. Cracks

    The rest of the week passed without as much ''excitement'' as I feared. There were no further ground-shattering revelations in our lessons about the nature of arcanophany and the world, nor did Ambrose drop any dire pronouncements. After that one incident in the dorm and our subsequent session in the duelling chamber, he seemed largely content to simply go back to the patterns of behaviour we had established before I found out he was the Chosen One.

    We had a Principles of Advanced Arcanophany tutorial in our smaller groups, and at first, I had been more than a little intimidated to find out that Reeves would be taking my group (while Jerric was turning green with envy). Thankfully, Reeves was quite different in the setting of a smaller group. We were all pleasantly surprised to find that he was a very patient and methodical instructor as he helmed a discussion on the philosophy behind arcanophany itself, and I left the class with a better appreciation of the field as a whole even though we hadn''t touched on any technical aspects of arcanophany.

    The school week ended with our first practical session in Advanced Glyphs, where we were tasked with deconstructing a commercial artefact into its constituent glyph sequences. After what we had learnt so far, we were aware that it could be a highly dangerous endeavour, and attempting something as fiendishly difficult as that after only one lesson on theory, and on the first week of school, seemed absurd. But when Celwyn produced a wall clock, there was an audible sigh of relief from almost everyone. It did prove surprisingly challenging since there were plenty of advanced glyphs being used and we weren''t completely familiar with the expanded vocabulary, but together the class managed to break it down and identify every sequence and function. It was amazing how much arcanophany went into such a common household artefact.

    Before I knew it, I was facing my first weekend in the Academy.

    "Do you guys have anything planned?" Ambrose asked.

    It was nine in the morning on Saturday. Everyone was seated at the table, getting ready to tuck into a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast (proudly prepared by Devon), except for Kevan who was still asleep. I noticed Lynus quietly setting a portion aside for his brother and placing a cover over it.

    Jerric looked curiously at Ambrose. "You''ve got something in mind?"

    "I was thinking we get started on learning how to resist Reeves'' compulsion," he replied earnestly.

    There was a palpable shift in the mood. Devon froze for a moment, then tried to cover it by noisily resuming his meal. Lynus let out a soft huff. Jerric raised his eyebrows, looking perturbed. Ambrose''s face fell at this almost-universal negative response.

    "We''ve got to do it eventually," I said slowly, looking around at the others. "And we''ll all make sure that we don''t have a repeat of what happened that day."

    "Do you think Kevan will be okay with it?" Jerric asked Lynus, looking worried.

    Lynus didn''t reply immediately. He looked like he was choosing his words with great care. "He''ll be on board. But we''ll all need to be very upfront about what to expect. And we need to set some rules for everyone to follow about how this practice is going to go."

    Ambrose nodded. "It''s not a parlour trick. Jerric pointed out that there are serious ethical issues here. We''re learning it because we have to, and we''ll make sure that we don''t abuse it, especially on each other."

    There were cautious nods around the table. It was a bit of a pity how the topic had put such a damper over the morning because Devon''s cooking was excellent. Unfortunately, the rest of breakfast passed in complete silence as everyone darkly contemplated what we were going to do later that day.

    Kevan woke an hour later and was taken aside by Lynus. I sensed some tension as the two of them spoke in hushed tones in the room, although they left the door open, but when Lynus came out and spotted me he gave a thumbs up and a small smile.

    It was a quarter to twelve when the rest of us found ourselves back in a duelling chamber, standing in a loose circle in the centre. This time, we weren''t able to secure the largest one since it had already been booked. A glance at the reservation book revealed that many of the chambers had been taken up. It seemed that the rest of the student body got plenty of use out of them over the weekend too.

    "So, after Caden and I experimented, it''s clear that this compulsion thing can be really... damaging," Ambrose said, apparently struggling to find an appropriate word to cover the consequences.

    Kevan snorted.

    "So it''s clear we need some boundaries so we can protect each other," Ambrose continued, choosing not to remark on the sense of hostility emanating from Kevan. "Let''s talk about what these boundaries should be."

    "The compulsion should be something small and harmless," Devon volunteered immediately. "Like standing up, like what Reeves did to us."

    There were nods all around.

    "Thanks, Devon," Ambrose said. "Case in point, later that day Caden and I tried to make the other person run, and Caden got a little hurt when he fell to his knees. So let''s keep it really small."

    "On that note," Jerric added, "we should announce our intention first. It''s not realistic since Reeves isn''t going to tell us what he''s going to do, but since this is just practice we should give each other some adjustment time."

    More nods all around.

    "The person who''s the target should have final say over what the compulsion is." This time it was Kevan who spoke. I was surprised to hear him sounding so calm and composed. He seemed to have reined himself in a little more and was now looking focused, not angry.

    There was agreement from the rest. After a pause, when no one volunteered anything else, Ambrose went through them again. "So small compulsions only, announce the intent beforehand, and give the target the final say over the type of compulsion. We can add more as we go along, if necessary."

    Once again, I found myself marvelling at how Ambrose had suddenly become so at-ease, casually taking command of the space and organising us as if it was second nature to him. He was a very different person in ordinary social settings, where he seldom spoke and only volunteered his opinion in a very tentative manner. Here, he was confident, precise, authoritative.

    It made me wonder if the Prophecy had altered his personality, which was a rather sad thought. Who was the real Ambrose? What kind of person might he have been had it never sunk its claws into him? And what was it like to be him? Did he even know how differently he behaved in these new contexts? If he did know, was he okay with it?

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    "Alright, Caden," Ambrose said, turning to me. "Why don''t you talk us through how you actually perform a compulsion on someone else?"

    "Hmm?" I was rudely snapped out of my thoughts by the sudden request. "Uhh, is that something I can just tell them, or is it one of those things that should be figured out by someone on their own?"

    "This one''s safe."

    "Okay... give me a moment." I took a breath and organised my thoughts. "So Reeves told us on that first day that there''s a link between auric and ambient arcana, and with enough focus and discipline, we can shape both types of arcana with our will alone. He said that ambient arcana is both channel and source."

    "Yes, that''s why his compulsion is glyphless," Jerric nodded. "So how do you get the ambient arcana to become a channel?"

    "That''s where the commonality comes in," I explained. "We have to realise that the way we control our auric arcana can also be used, in a certain fashion, to control the ambient arcana. When you will a change to happen within your auric arcana, you can will that same change in the ambient arcana when your auric arcana interacts with it."

    "So we just... wish really, really hard?" Devon asked blankly.

    "No," Ambrose said patiently. "Devon, form a small ball using your auric arcana. No glyphs."

    Devon complied, and we all watched as some arcana leeched out of his upturned palm, pooling slightly before it coalesced into a ghostly ball.

    "How did you make that happen, exactly?" Ambrose probed.

    "I just... want it to happen. I expect it to happen because that''s what I want," Devon said, trying to put the idea into words.

    "That''s exactly it," I said, forming a ball of my own. "The way we shape our auric arcana, almost subconsciously now, is something we had to build up to when we were kids. We''ve got to refine that control over our auric arcana, and realise it can be used to influence the ambient arcana in a very similar way."

    The ball in my hand floated upwards, grew a little in size as it drew in ambient arcana and coloured it blue, then slowly sank back towards my hand.

    "I think I get it," Jerric said, watching my visual demonstration. "You invest your auric arcana with your intent, your compulsion. Then you also add in the intent for the auric arcana to transfer that compulsion to the ambient arcana. That''s where the connection is made."

    I nodded, realising that he had captured the essence of what I meant. I hadn''t known how to explain that you also needed to include the intent to propagate in your auric arcana before you injected it into the ambient arcana. It was something that had simply formed wordlessly in my head at that moment when I had tried to pry the secrets out of Ambrose.

    "Yes, you''ve explained it quite clearly," I said approvingly.

    Now that everyone had the idea, it was down to the actual application of it. We all settled on aiming for getting the other person to sit down, and then paired off with our roommates to try and get it to work. Ambrose and I had decided not to attempt shielding yet, so once we had successfully gotten each other to sit involuntarily, we went around helping the rest.

    After ten minutes, Jerric was the first to succeed, and Devon sat down with an unhappy thump. He tried to talk Devon through the process, but Jerric''s technical explanations were causing the frown lines on Devon''s forehead to deepen.

    "Dev, remember when you cooked the eggs this morning?" I asked, coming up to the pair of them.

    "What about the eggs?" he asked a bit grumpily. "I know they were a bit overdone, okay? You wanna talk about my cooking now?"

    "No, actually I thought they were perfect," I laughed. "I''m trying an analogy here. Maybe it''ll help. You had to toss some butter in the pan first, right?"

    "Right," he said, slightly mollified.

    "The compulsion to sit is the solid slab of butter. The heated pan is the ambient arcana. So you toss it in, and you focus on getting the compulsion to melt into the ambient arcana, just like how the butter melts into the pan."

    He shot me a dubious look but decided to humour me. A moment later, Jerric and I found ourselves seated on the floor next to a very elated Devon.

    "Thanks, Caden! That made it click."

    "Happy to help," I grinned. Devon''s enthusiasm was rather infectious.

    While I had been occupied with Jerric and Devon, the twins had successfully made each other sit and were already trying to move on to subtler compulsions, but apparently with little success.

    "It''s harder when you want something smaller," Lynus said as the rest of us came over.

    "What do you mean?" Ambrose asked, looking very interested.

    "Sitting and standing are big actions, so the compulsion is pretty strong somehow. But try getting the other person to scratch their nose."

    "May I?" I asked, turning to Ambrose. He nodded. Meanwhile, Devon had resigned himself to being Jerric''s guinea pig first.

    The mechanism of sending out a compulsion was pretty familiar to me by now, so I focused on forming the compulsion itself. When I tried to get Ambrose to spill his secrets, I had simply copied the impulse to confide that I had experienced before. For the impulse to flee, I had copied that after being on the receiving end of it. Even the impulse to sit we had just used was something I had adapted by simply reversing the impulse to stand that Reeves had used on us. I hadn''t ever come up with something original.

    I found that it was hard for me to even form the compulsion to scratch a nose. After five minutes, I wasn''t the only one making frustrated sounds. When it was clear that it wasn''t that easy to do, we had all abandoned turn-taking and were trying to see who could force someone to scratch their noses first.

    "See what I mean?" Lynus said, sounding irritable. Kevan looked equally annoyed.

    "Why is this harder than sitting or standing?" Devon grumbled.

    Ambrose and Jerric had almost identical looks on their faces as they turned their minds to the problem. I recognised the look бк it was probably the same one I had on my own face now. The rest did seem to be looking at the three of us rather expectantly.

    A bigger impulse seemed easier. Somehow getting someone to spill the secrets was more manageable than getting someone to scratch their nose. Why? It didn''t make sense. If anything, the former should have been harder.

    "Emotion," Jerric said suddenly. "It''s emotion. Even the sitting and standing compulsion involves emotion. Think about it. What do you feel when you sit or stand by compulsion?"

    Lightbulbs were coming on over all our heads as we identified a moment of irrational panic connected with the impulse to quickly sit or stand. We had copied that root from Reeves'' usage on us.

    "The compulsion isn''t an action alone," Jerric concluded. "It''s tied to an emotion that serves as the driver. We can''t use compulsions without involving a core of emotion."

    It made sense. The impulse to confide wasn''t as simple as demanding that someone talk. It was tapping on a deep-seated human need to share, to be known. The impulse to flee was obvious бк a perceived threat would elicit a response of fear. And for the neutral actions like standing or sitting, Reeves had used irrational panic as a placeholder emotion that had worked well in the context of our first class. Now, though, it was a little out of place.

    "This stuff''s a lot more complex than I expected," Ambrose admitted. "This is why it''s good for us to practice as a group."

    "So emotion is the core," Kevan said, turning to the rest of us with a strange look on his face.

    "Kev!" Lynus looked alarmed and seemed to be about to tackle Kevan to the ground.

    He raised his hands placatingly. "Hey, I proposed a boundary, right? The target gets the final say over what the compulsion is.''

    "And?" Lynus asked warily.

    "Will you all let me use a compulsion on you, without me revealing what it is?"

    His question was met with a very tense silence. Kevan had schooled his expression into something unreadable now, and it was impossible to tell what he was getting at. Even Lynus looked completely clueless. We traded questioning glances.

    "If you promise it won''t cause any harm..." Jerric said tentatively.

    "What, are we really allowing this?" Devon asked, sounding a little hysterical.

    "If you say no, I won''t do it on you," Kevan replied almost monotonously. I wondered how he could be so confident about only affecting selected people in the vicinity. Lynus hesitated for a moment more, then nodded at his brother.

    It was almost instinctive бк I turned to Ambrose to take my cue from him. He caught my eye and nodded almost imperceptibly. I let out a sigh. "Okay, Kevan."

    "We trust you," Ambrose said simply.

    Everyone turned to Devon, who was still wavering. He threw one last beseeching gaze at Jerric, then steeled himself and nodded wordlessly.

    In the next instant, Kevan engulfed us with a compulsion so strong that I was on my knees before I even realised it.

    We were all crying.

 19. Herding

    "The boundaries aren''t clear enough," Devon snarled as he paced back and forth, uncharacteristically angry. I didn''t blame him.

    We were all back in the dorm. Kevan and Lynus had retreated to their room while the rest of us were gathered around the table again. It was a similar scene to the morning, but a lot had changed in the last few hours.

    "No, they''re not,'' Jerric agreed shakily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    "This is wrong, totally wrong," Devon continued.

    "Let''s calm down, then we can discuss this rationally," I said, trying to project confidence. But my own voice betrayed me and cracked a little.

    A glance at Ambrose told me that he was doing a lot better than the rest of us. We were all just slowing piecing ourselves together from the emotional trauma we had endured at the hands of Kevan''s compulsion, and it showed in red-rimmed eyes, runny noses, and patchy breaths. He, on the other hand, didn''t seem to have been as emotionally distraught and only looked very exhausted.

    Not for the first time, I wondered if this was down to his own hard-won greater mastery over arcanophany, or if it was just a product of his Prophetic protection. I couldn''t help but feel a little jealous if it was the latter. It was like plot armour in real life, and it was really beginning to grate on me. Did effort count for anything, then, if prophecies held that much sway over reality?

    "Have you all managed to vent the ambient arcana in you?" Ambrose asked wearily.

    Jerric and I nodded. Devon stopped his pacing and, with a great deal of effort, forced himself to sit down and focus inwards. A vague ripple disturbed the air around him.

    Kevan had fled after flooring us with his compulsion. Even now, I didn''t have a clear idea of exactly how he had managed to do what he did. I found myself in a deep hole of utter misery and hopelessness, and the feelings were accompanied by memories of all the occasions when I had fallen into that pit of despair over the years of my life. But it was more than that. Those feelings must have been amplified because I was sure I had never felt that depressed before. Yet somehow, Kevan had infected me with this new intensity that felt real, natural, as if it had been taken from my own life.

    It was a good fifteen minutes before any of us could contemplate anything beyond ourselves. Ambrose had been the first to recover by quickly venting the ambient arcana in his system that carried Kevan''s compulsion. That was another mystery бк I didn''t know why Kevan''s compulsion was still in effect even though he was gone and had released his hold on the ambient arcana.

    I took my cue from Ambrose and did the same, albeit at a much slower pace, and with less improvement. Then the two of us went about coaching the rest through the process of venting ambient arcana and keeping it out, which was made even more difficult due to the fact that we all had to work through our grief. Devon had been inconsolable for a long while. All in all, it had taken almost three hours for us to even get enough of a hold on ourselves to make it back to the dorm.

    Jerric let out a long sigh. "Kevan did something really amazing, speaking from a purely technical standpoint. But before we break it down, we do need to talk about this compulsion thing."

    "And set up absolute boundaries, with punishments," Devon added, with more than a little venom.

    "No," Jerric said, surprising us all. He looked momentarily taken aback by the look of outrage from Devon, then clarified, "I mean, I''m not against that, but I''m talking about the bigger picture here."

    "You mean with the Academy encouraging this," I surmised.

    "Exactly." He looked emotionally wrung out, but somehow he managed to rally. It was strangely encouraging to watch him handle himself so well. "Why is the Academy getting us to learn something like this on our own time? Why isn''t it formally taught, with clear principles, guidelines, and boundaries laid out and enforced with the authority of the professors?"

    "Maybe it''s just Reeves," I offered. It was difficult for me to believe that the Academy really encouraged something like this. It would imply that my father, being in the faculty, was in on it.

    "That''s a possibility," Jerric allowed. "But that still leaves us with no clear reason why we''re doing this. Have the seniors gone through the same thing?"

    "No," Ambrose chimed in. "I know some of them. Reeves is doing it across all his classes for the first time."

    "You don''t think this has to do with the Prophecy, do you?" Devon asked, a little calmer now that he had cleared his system more carefully.

    I looked at Ambrose to gauge his reaction but he just gave a nonchalant shrug. "Whatever the reason, what can we do? If we don''t want to be expelled, we''ll have to learn it up to a point."

    It took me a great deal of effort not to narrow my eyes in suspicion. It sounded like he knew the reason, and that he actually wanted us to learn it, and definitely not just up to a point. It might have been my imagination, but it almost seemed like beneath the very real exhaustion was a hint of happiness.

    Chosen One bullshit.

    "Up to a point," Jerric repeated slowly. "But that''s the problem. Arcanophany isn''t a set of stairs where you can decide to just stop at a certain floor. By learning this, we''ve been exposed to a whole new way of thinking and been given a glimpse of a whole new realm of possibilities. It''s like climbing a set of stairs and then reaching an elevator that can bring you up, but at the same time you learn that there are other buildings with elevators of their own, and you can see how to get to them. Kevan has obviously taken the little that you''ve taught us and come up with something bigger. And we''re just novices at this. Do you see what this means, in the bigger picture?"

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    The door to the twins'' room opened and our heads snapped towards it. Kevan had emerged, looking just about as horrible as the rest of us. Lynus was behind him, steering him forward with a firm hand on his shoulder.

    "So... I owe everyone an apology," Kevan said in a hollow voice.

    Devon moved faster than I would have thought possible and landed a solid punch across his cheek.

    "What are you doing?" Jerric cried, getting to his feet and pulling Devon back. But Devon settled back into his seat without any fuss, his face flushed.

    Kevan had taken the blow without flinching. He massaged his jaw as he gave Devon an appraising look. When he spoke, he sounded a little more alive. "I guess I deserved that."

    I let out a breath I didn''t know I had been holding. I was fully expecting Kevan to break Devon down into tiny pieces. Strangely enough, Lynus didn''t seem to have the same notion. He had released his brother and taken a seat.

    "So, the apology," Kevan said, addressing all of us. "I''m sorry about what I did. I just... I''m not usually good at saying things. So when Jerric pointed out that emotion is the core of the compulsion, I had an idea. And I just wanted you all to... to understand."

    "Understand?" Jerric echoed, a little confused.

    Lynus nodded. "Think about it. You do, don''t you?"

    And I did, in a way. There were no words I could put to it, so it wasn''t so much understanding as it was empathising, but I felt like I knew where Kevan was coming from. Beneath the bravado and the bluster, this was what he felt бк it was something that drove him but also warped him at the same time. There was great strength that came from this intensity, but it wasn''t healthy. And he probably knew it but didn''t know how to change.

    Most of us were nodding a little. Even Devon looked somewhat regretful over how he had just punched Kevan.

    "Do you know what this means?" Jerric asked, sounding a little awestruck. "This isn''t sending a compulsion. This is changing someone''s mind. Kevan, you''ve... you''ve somehow..." He trailed off, evidently lost for words.

    "How is this not mind control?" Devon demanded, now a little alarmed at Jerric''s proclamation.

    "Precision matters," I said almost out of reflex. "If you convince someone to do something, or you get them to understand your point of view, is that mind control?"

    "Whatever you wanna call it, you kinda started it," Kevan said wryly, directing his comment at me. "I thought I had a handle on myself, and then you went and blew things wide open with that compulsion of yours."

    I nodded, thinking back to that moment when they had all walked in during my attempt to interrogate Ambrose. In my case, I had been on the receiving end of it when I was in a conversation with Ambrose, and the Prophecy itself had aligned the circumstances to make the compulsion seamless and almost natural. In the case of Devon, Kevan, and Lynus, I had ripped a treasured truth right out of them without even a social exchange to shield them from the force of it. That, somehow, seemed to matter a lot. I had wounded them in some way. And the same was true for what Kevan had done to us.

    "This is new territory to all of us," I said. "I''m sorry about what I did, too. But there is a bit of a bright side to all this. We... we know each other better. We can work through this, all six of us."

    Jerric nodded, and Lynus looked relieved. Kevan himself was smiling a little. Devon retreated into a sullen silence, but there was an air of resignation about him.

    "Right," Ambrose said with slightly-forced brightness. "Who wants to try another round of that?"

    He got no further than that as chair cushions flew at him from all sides.

    <hr>

    We were all starving since the afternoon had flown by while we were dealing with the fallout of Kevan''s compulsion, so we went back to the cafe on campus and ate more than our usual share. It seemed that grief made people hungrier. The conversation was muted, but that was to be expected. All of us had retreated into our own thoughts, surfacing occasionally just to make an idle comment or two. But where it might have been awkward earlier in the week, there was now a sense of general comfort hanging over us that wasn''t there before. We seemed to sit a little more easily in each other''s company now.

    While absently munching on dessert, I mulled over what Kevan had managed to do to us and started mapping out the mechanics of it.

    The first thing I wanted to unravel was how his compulsion had been persistent, even without him being physically present. I immediately ruled out any possibility that he had maintained a link to the ambient arcana around us, because he had gone straight back to the dorm. Any connection would have been broken by the distance.

    The clue was likely in the fact that he believed he could direct the compulsion at individuals, judging from his offer to exclude people if they didn''t consent. An educated guess led me to the conclusion that he had worked out how to inject the infused ambient arcana directly into someone''s auric arcana. It made sense, but it was also something that was supposedly notoriously hard to do. And yet Kevan had figured out how just this afternoon. I flagged it for review and private experimentation. It''d probably be something I''d have to tap on Ambrose to help with.

    Next was exactly what he had done to us. After what Jerric had said, I no longer believed it was in the realm of what we had begun to call ''compulsion''. It didn''t make sense for Kevan to compel us to cry. And by his own admission, that wasn''t what he had wanted. He had said that he wanted us to understand. He projected an emotion, but it was more than that. Beneath the raw blend of sadness, despair, and desperation, there was also a reservoir of thoughts and self-rationalisation. Thinking about it now gave me the feeling that I got Kevan, on some subconscious level, even if I couldn''t exactly articulate what was going through his mind, or what thoughts had given me this certainty of understanding.

    Empathy was a weird word to use for this. Was it possible to make someone empathise with you? Maybe it was. There didn''t seem to be a better way to think about it at the moment, so it would have to do as a placeholder. But even as I settled on that in my head, I felt uneasy. Precision is important.

    And that idea continued to bother me as I looked around at everyone. Devon was bent over a chocolate sundae, contemplating the half-melted liquid at the bottom. Lynus and Kevan were each having a banana split, Kevan looking lost in thought while Lynus shot the occasional worried glance at his brother. Jerric wore a thousand-yard stare as he sipped on a milkshake.

    I caught Ambrose''s eye. He had been surveying the rest just like I was, and the tiredness of his face barely concealed a look of deep satisfaction.

    It occurred to me then that we had never returned to the point that Jerric had raised earlier about the implications of learning this compulsion/empathy thing, and how this fit into the bigger picture. It had all been brushed under the carpet by the natural progression of events.

    I did not have a good feeling about this.

 20. Ensnared

    After the mental and emotional blitz of the first week, I didn''t know if I was prepared to face the next. The weekend had barely given me enough time to come to terms with all the things that had happened. By unspoken agreement, everyone in the dorm focused only on practising how to vent and seal out ambient arcana, and stayed away from any more arcanic infusion.

    I had personally settled on the term ''arcanic infusion'' to refer to the compulsion/empathy thing that we had all experimented with, but it still didn''t sit well in my mind. It was a general description of how the thing was accomplished - by infusing arcana with emotion, or with thoughts, and using the arcana as a vessel or channel to transmit those things - but it didn''t seem to serve as a proper name for the technique itself. I wanted to get Ambrose alone so we could talk about it, but somehow the rest of that weekend never presented any opportunities for such an exchange.

    Ordinarily, things like that wouldn''t have given me pause. However, this continued to nag at me, mostly in the form of Reeves'' voice sonorously repeating the phrase in my head, where it was quickly taking on an axiomatic quality бк precision is important. It felt like I was missing something vital, and that I was courting danger by not having the right term to use.

    At the very least, the six of us had gained something out of that ill-fated experiment with infusion. When we found ourselves seated in Reeves'' lecture once again, we all managed to stay in our seats enough though Reeves had leaned more heavily into the infusion, making the air grow taut with power. More than half the lecture hall had been taken by surprise at the increased intensity, and at how it was now going on for several seconds instead of being a momentary burst.

    I was struggling even though I had already fortified myself ahead of time with an auric shield (another term of my own invention, but this one felt right) to keep the ambient arcana firmly shut out. Devon was particularly taxed - his neck visibly reddened as he focused on maintaining his auric shield against Reeves'' assault. Jerric had closed his eyes and looked like he was trying to ignore a loud noise. The twins had identical frowns that made it look like they were glowering at Reeves, which was slightly comical. Ambrose merely looked irritated.

    "Some progress," Reeves said approvingly as he relinquished his hold on the ambient arcana. He nodded at the six of us in the first row, and the other scattered students around the hall who had managed to resist. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Triss collapsing into her seat with a scowl, and a small smile tugged at my lips as I thought about what my sister might think or say about this Triss failing to uphold the honour of Trisses everywhere.

    "But more work to be done for the rest. And it would do well for those who succeeded today not to rest on their laurels," Reeves added with a hint of menace. It was clear that he would hit us even harder next week.

    For a moment, Jerric looked like he was going to raise an objection, but his nerves failed him. He spent the rest of the lecture looking greatly vexed, but I couldn''t tell if it was self-directed frustration or if it was because this lecture''s material was even more challenging than the last. Reeves spoke at length about the theories behind the origin and nature of arcana, then started tying them into modern practice and talking about how holding to certain theories seemed to make arcana behave in different ways for a person. He introduced the term ''frame-shifting'', which involved adopting a different perspective of the nature of arcana in order to take advantage of the desired qualities and attributes of arcana that seemed to be tied to each perspective. It was like being told that you could think of water in a certain way and thereby turn it to ice or steam.

    The Advanced Glyphs class was no less demanding. Celwyn spent half an hour going through the semantics of some of the glyphs in the Basic Set, and we learned that they could be used in ways that were not immediately obvious. The standard glyphs for directions, for instance, could be used to refer to abstract spaces as well. We learned that the trick with the light globe she had pulled during our first class simply involved a different interpretation of the glyph ''down'' - that allowed things to be selectively hidden ''under'' the light of the globe. After that, we had to go about deriving other semantic interpretations of the glyphs in various commercial artefacts that she had procured. It was unexpectedly difficult even when it came to deriving the semantics of glyphs from the Basic Set.

    My father''s lecture somehow doubled in complexity. He introduced the principles of artefact design and zoomed in on the practical constraints involving space. Then, he projected the sequence that was used in almost all commercial artefacts to prevent overdraw, and started talking about how higher-order artefacts had to rely on layered glyph sequences to make efficient use of the space available for runes. I had a head start after already being exposed to this from my session with Ambrose, but it was still difficult to keep up. He outlined a labyrinthine knot of principles and conventions that went into building an artefact glyph sequence of a practical size. He was, in essence, teaching the basics of how to write poetry using glyphs.

    Kant, of course, did not give us an easy time. If the faculty had received a secret memo from the Demiurge to turn the first-year''s brains into pulp, then Kant was the kind of man who would go beyond and grind the pulp into a thin sauce. He threw us into pitched battle against him again, then followed up with harrowing one-on-one duels while the rest watched. It was nerve-wracking to watch him conduct a methodical tear-down of someone when you knew you were next in line.

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    In between lectures, the six of us found ourselves spending plenty of time studying together and actually growing closer, even over the short span of a week. The fact that it had happened so seamlessly despite our rocky start was rather suspicious. The comparatively brief interactions I had with the other first-years gave me a glimpse into life in the other dorms, where apparently not everyone had drawn such a good hand of neighbours, and where even the most amicable people still had to contend with shy or aloof roommates.

    Once again, I wondered if this was the Prophecy at work, stitching us together to provide Ambrose with a more conducive environment to study and grow. The thought of just being a part of the backdrop for the Chosen One bothered me a lot, but I had to admit (very grudgingly) that I was glad to be able to benefit from it. The difficulty of the classes was wearing me down, but the support I got from my fellow dormmates had propped me up.

    By the time the second weekend rolled around, our interpersonal differences had settled into some sort of equilibrium. On hindsight, it was probably Kevan''s infusion that had done the most on that front. We understood him well enough now to tolerate his outbursts, or even manage to rein him in before he lashed out at someone. That seemed to be the catalyst for change in the group because Lynus became a lot more relaxed now that he didn''t have to tip-toe around his brother all the time, and he turned out to be an excellent bridge between the hyper-competitive Kevan and the self-doubting and sensitive Devon. Bringing those two extremes closer together served to reduce the level of tension in the group.

    That meant that only a week after that traumatic infusion disaster, we were all ready for a second crack at it. Devon obviously wasn''t thrilled, but there was a determined set to his jaw that had not been there a week ago.

    "Reeves upped his game this week, and he''s probably going to do the same next week, so we need to be prepared," Ambrose said.

    "He did something different. It was sustained, this time," Jerric noted. "The auric shields we used were good for short bursts of compulsion, but holding them up against something that''s actively pressing on them is too draining."

    "Ambrose seemed to be able to handle it," I said. "How did you manage?"

    "Brute force," he answered, frowning. "My level of control is more refined than yours at the moment, so that''s why I managed somehow. But Jerric''s right. The auric shield is too draining. It''s not efficient."

    I was secretly thrilled to hear the term I coined being used so casually during our discussion. But it did bring to mind the fact that I still hadn''t found a good term for the infusion thing we were now discussing.

    Devon cleared his throat and cocked his head at Kevan. "When you attacked us, you made the attack sustained somehow, even though you weren''t around. What did you do?"

    "It wasn''t an attack." Kevan rolled his eyes. "Get over it."

    "Whatever," Devon said, not backing down. "Spill it - what''d you do?"

    Kevan thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "I don''t really know. Caden described it as releasing your auric arcana into the ambient arcana once you''ve infused it with your emotion, but that didn''t work for me. I did it my way."

    "What way is that?" I asked, instantly curious.

    "I was thinking... I had all these thoughts and feelings, and I just wanted to put them in your heads." His eyes darted here and there as he looked for the right words. "I was thinking it''d spread like... like poison from a bite."

    "Frame-shifting," Jerric and I said in unison.

    That got a groan from everyone else as they thought back to that very difficult and confusing lecture.

    "So his visualisation of poison, of a biteбк" Jerric started.

    "бкthat''s where the directionality comes inбк" I supplied.

    "бкand the sustained nature without a direct connectionбк"

    "бкthat''s from the idea of poisonбк"

    "бкwhich means that you can even theoretically get a self-propagating impulseбк"

    "Guys, guys, slow down for us dumber folks," Devon complained.

    Jerric gave a rueful grin. "You explain it, Top Scorer.''

    I scowled but took up the train of thought. "Reeves said that arcanic control is something that seems to depend on your mental map of how arcana works. If you hold on to a certain concept of arcana, then that actually affects how much control you can exercise over it."

    "I remember that," Lynus said slowly, thinking hard. "So if we want finer arcanic control, we need to learn to switch to the right perspective at the right time."

    "In short, yes," I nodded. "So Kevan thought of a bite, of poison, and that''s how he got the arcana to behave so differently. He could target specific individuals without glyphs for directions, and he could get the compulsion to stay even though he hadn''t made some sort of bridge or connection between us. And I think with that, it''s even possible to get it to increase in intensity, like how poison spreads through a body."

    "Is that how Reeves is doing it, though?" Lynus wondered. "Poison lingers after a bite. But Reeves'' compulsion vanished the instant he stopped focusing."

    "It''s not the same," Kevan said firmly. "I could feel the difference. His isn''t a bite, it''s... it''s like a blanket."

    "Not a blanket," Devon said softly, his eyes shining with the joy of a sudden epiphany. "A net."

    It clicked. This felt a lot like me finding the right term for ''auric shield''. The idea settled into place in my head like a jigsaw piece, with such a perfect fit that the seams disappeared altogether. The rest seemed to share that experience as we all nodded unanimously.

    "You get directionality, a weight variable, and you trap a person''s will so that you can''t think your way out of it," I marvelled. "And pushing against it is a losing proposition, just like a real net. You may buy yourself some space, but you''re still stuck under it."

    "Then how are we going to resist him? He''ll just increase the arcanic weight and our auric shield will collapse," Devon despaired.

    "It''s simple," I said, looking at Jerric. I could tell he had the same idea.

    He nodded back with an uncharacteristically wicked grin. "We cut it."

 21. Arcana Reframed

    Now that we knew how to beat Reeves'' infusion, all we had to do was apply that understanding into an actual technique we could use. That, however, was something easier said than done.

    Even though the theory of frame-shifting was easy to understand, it was a lot harder to actually make practical use of it. For my entire life, I had viewed arcana as a nebulous energy that suffused our bodies and the environment. Manipulating ambient arcana, in my mind, was almost analogous to manipulating a physical thing. Now that we were actively thinking about how we thought about arcana (I still found myself tripping a bit over that particular bit of metacognition), I realised that my physical-centric interpretation of it was actually quite limiting.

    Whenever I shaped the ambient arcana, I would imagine my auric arcana to be a sort of extension of my body that I used to do the shaping, like how one might use hands in order to shape clay, scoop water, or disturb the air. Even in my attempts at infusion, I defaulted to the concept of an arcanic ''body'' бк my auric arcana would ''radiate'' my intent into the ambient arcana, much in the same way a body would radiate heat into the surrounding air.

    But this meant I had very little control over the ambient arcana that was not in direct contact with my auric arcana. If I was not actively shaping it, then I lost any hold over it. And it also meant that I had a limited measure of influence over the ambient arcana. You can scoop water and manipulate it with your hands to a certain extent, but it is still subject to the limitations of its form, and to gravity. You can''t make water flow upwards or form into a rigid column just by using your hands.

    Then it hit me. This was why glyphs were important, and why even our interpretation or understanding of a glyph could affect how much control we had! The concepts tied to the glyphs helped us to engage in limited frame-shifting, regardless of our personal interpretations of the nature of arcana. Our understanding of the language of arcana changed our perception of arcana. And that was why it was possible to manipulate arcana without even using glyphs, because all they did was help to shape and focus our minds, which were the instruments all along!

    I hadn''t confirmed that by any research, but once again something about the direction of my thoughts felt instinctively right.I was absolutely convinced that I had just enjoyed an epiphany about the nature of arcana itself.

    But that didn''t exactly help me at the moment.Knowing was only half the journey. But no matter how much I tried to think my way around my own conceptual bias, I was still grasping at straws. I didn''t know of any other frame of reference I could use.

    The others were similarly engaged in their own furious introspection. Anyone walking in would have seen six guys just sitting or lying around in the duelling chamber, staring holes into the floor and walls. From the looks of it, none of them were any closer than I was.

    "Why can''t we just use glyphs?" Devon hissed in frustration.

    "Don''t tempt me," Kevan said through gritted teeth.

    "The point is to develop greater arcanic control without them," came Jerric''s weary reply.

    We lapsed into silence again.

    Maybe I didn''t have to abandon my body-centric view. What if I just focused on fashioning a part of my auric arcana into set of ''arcanic scissors''?

    As soon as the thought occurred to me, I felt quite certain that it wouldn''t work well. Still, in the spirit of being thorough, I went back to my default perspective of arcana and thought of shaping the outline of some scissors using my auric arcana. As expected, it responded sluggishly, barely maintaining coherence as it forced itself into the form I had visualised. I experimentally snipped around. The ambient arcana parted reluctantly, then flowed back into one seamless whole. It was obvious that this facsimile wouldn''t be able to cut through an arcanic net when it could barely part the ambient arcana.

    I let out a frustrated sigh, which got me some chuckles from Jerric and Ambrose, and mentally hunkered down to do some serious thinking.

    Reeves had presented frame-shifting as something that needed to be done in order to refine arcanic control. But why wasn''t there one objective representation or understanding about the nature of arcana? Surely it had to be defined in some way, to adhere to some universal standard, even if we hadn''t yet discovered it?

    Of course, if it was undiscovered, then it wasn''t likely that I''d be able to stumble upon the Truth of Arcana after one afternoon''s hard thinking. After all, this was the kind of stuff that generations of Sages had bent their minds towards, and none of them had so far come up with anything better. The field of arcanophany only explored the nature of arcana far enough to observe the existence of frame-shifting, and went no further.

    ... But what if a Prophecy was involved?

    My heart suddenly went into overdrive as my mind raced ahead, connecting strings of possibility. I knew nothing about the contents of Ambrose''s Prophecy, aside from the fact that it involved the five of us somehow, and that it was necessary for me to know about its existence at this point in time. But I could guess that its contents were ofgreat importance. Historically, the major Prophecies had involved things as big as the establishment of a new world order. According to legend, it was apparently a Prophecy that had brought the Empire into existence in the first place.

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    So... what if this Prophecy had something to do with changing the world''s understanding of arcana itself?

    Logically, it was impossible for me to draw any definitive conclusion that I had gotten the right sense of what the Prophecy was about. That idea was so baseless иC I had nothing to lend any credence to it. It was little better than a wild guess.

    But I was horrified to realise that the thought seemed to fit in an instinctive way, much like my experience with coining the term ''auric shield''. I didn''t know why I was putting so much stock into that feeling ofrightness when coining terms in my head, but it seemed impossible for me to ignore or dismiss it. There was a quality to that feeling of rightness that seemed very heavy, almost like it was burning some cosmic truth into my soul. And now I was getting that feeling just by thinking that the Prophecy involved the nature of arcana somehow.

    Oh no. No, no, no, this was big. Too big. I couldn''t breathe.

    "Caden?"

    It was him. The Chosen One. My eyes flew open and I saw him looking at me with great concern. The others were snapping out of their own preoccupations and turning to me as well.

    "Caden?" Ambrose repeated, unfolding his legs and getting to his feet. "You alright?"

    "Mm, f-fine," I stammered, ignoring a treacherous bead of sweat as it ran down my face.

    "You don''t look fine." Jerric came from behind and sat himself down right next to me to get a closer look.

    "No, really, I''m fine." I got to my feet shakily. I needed to get away, needed to process all this, needed to think. It was too much.

    Someone''s hand darted out to steady me but I brushed it away as I stumbled out of the duelling chamber and into the corridor.

    Maybe the Prophecy was guiding the six of us towards some great discovery about the fundamental nature of arcana itself. And that kind of knowledge was power. That kind of knowledge was almostabsolute power, because from all indications, understanding was the key to unlocking greater arcanic control. Even the whole system of glyphs was a scaffold for understanding and directing arcana. And if you ever got ahold of the fundamental truths of arcana itself, then...

    Unbidden, a memory of our first class with Celwyn surfaced.

    Reyes shook his head. "I don''t get it. So I can imagine a glyph that means ultimate power and then inscribe it on myself and I become some kind of god?"

    A few people laughed but quickly quietened when they realised that some of us had serious looks on our faces. Celwyn herself was not laughing.

    "Since I appear to have given you the keys to ultimate power, Reyes, I hope you will be appropriately thankful and that you won''t erase me when you remake the world according to your wishes," she said without a trace of humour. "As far as we know, Reyes'' suggestion, even though he meant it to sound ridiculous, is not outside the realm of possibility."

    And that was why nobody had managed it so far. They were looking for more glyphs. But the fundamental truths of arcana were not tied to glyphs. Glyphs were just anotherframe of reference. It was just a more standardised and widely-spread form of frame-shifting.

    "Caden, wait, stop!" It was Ambrose again, with the others close behind. I looked up, surprised to find myself on the floor, slumped against the wall outside the duelling chamber. "You look sick, we need to bring you to the infirmary."

    "Not sick," I mumbled, still reeling from the magnitude of the realisations I had come to.

    "Yeah right," Kevan sneered, but there was a trace of panic and worry beneath that. "Look at you, crawling on the floor!"

    I blinked, taking stock of where I was. He was right, I hadn''t collapsed against the wall after leaving the chamber бк I had been on my hands and knees, slowly crawling away, until Ambrose stopped me. Why was I crawling away?

    "Come on," Ambrose said, motioning to the others to help. He tried to get one of my arms around his shoulder so he could hoist me up. Jerric came forward and took the other side.

    And just like that, it came to me. I had a frame to shift to. That mundane act of being helped to my feet by my friends had given me an idea.

    Help me,I thought into the arcana around me.Help me get out of here.

    The air around us instantly grew heavier, dense with ambient arcana coming alive. Ambrose and Jerric immediately let go of me and backed away, recoiling in abject panic as a net of overwhelming emotion was draped over them. I had somehow managed that with the barest exertion бк all it had taken was a simple twist of my auric arcana, like a mouth voicing a request to the friend-in-the-arcana, and the ambient arcana moved of its own accord to form the net by itself. I had no idea how the net worked, but the arcana knew, and that was enough.

    Devon and the twins rushed forward to hold on to Ambrose and Jerric as they scrambled away blindly, their arms and legs flailing. There was a lot of swearing and grunting as they tried to stop the two of them from bolting down the corridor.

    "What did you do to them?" Kevan shouted at me as he and Lynus struggled to pin Jerric down, who was growing increasingly hysterical as he tried to get far away from me. Ambrose seemed to be faring a little better as his thrashing was less insistent, and Devon was able to keep him down alone.

    Of course Ambrose would be in a better state. Bloody Chosen Onebullshit. That was what was getting me into all this off-the-charts crazy level of arcanophany.

    I couldn''t do it. It was too much for me to confront now. I had to get away from them all.

    I didn''t want to be on the floor. I wanted to be far away from this place. With another subvocal request, I found myself rising to my feet, and then a few inches above the ground.

    "What the fбк" Kevan managed, before he got hit by one of Jerric''s flailing fists for being momentarily distracted.

    I didn''t feel like I had the strength to walk, so I asked for help again and found myself being borne down the corridor like the wind, my shoes just gently brushing the ground.

    In some dim corner of my mind, I registered the fact that I was doing something impossible, and I had no idea how any of it was being done. There was a part of me that was screaming internally at the sheer insanity of everything that was happening.

    But at that moment, I found my sense of self being washed away in the blissful calm of utter surrender. I was in the hands of arcana itself, and all was well.

 22. Ineffable Forces

    I blew past duelling chambers and study areas without being observed by a single soul. The places were either curiously empty even though it was a weekend, or else the occupants were too distracted by their own studies or practice sessions to notice me hurtling past, suspended in the air by an invisible force. Even at the entrance to the compound, the receptionist''s desk was unmanned. I caught a brief glimpse of a cup of coffee with steam still gently rising, which hinted that the man was simply away on a short break.

    What a coincidence. But of course, it wasn''t a mere coincidence бк it was the probability-twisting influence of a major Prophecy, clinging to me in sickening waves. I was well and truly in its grip now, inescapably twined into Ambrose''s life whether I wanted it or not. That thought brought a panicked lump to my throat, wrenching me out of the momentary calm. And just as quickly, the panic was quelled. I could feel the friend-in-the-arcanadeftly draining the anxiety out of me and sending it frittering into the air in harmless eddies.

    The doors parted at the last moment and silently slid shut behind me as I rose rapidly into the air, high above the compound. I had no idea where I was going, or rather, where I was being taken to. It felt like I had absolutely no control over what was happening. And while that might have terrified me just a few minutes ago, I found it difficult to muster up any sense of fear. All negative emotions were draining away.

    In fact, everything was draining away. It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything. There was only the purity of arcana, driving me into euphoric bliss as I rose higher and higher, feeling the sunlight warm my skin.

    I hung above the collection of domes in broad daylight. Below, the people in the Academy went about their business, their heads little more than blobs of hair in varying colours. There wasn''t a single upturned face that had noticed the floating figure in the sky.

    And then there was.

    A lone oval of pink was pointed right at me, almost across the length of the entire campus, stepping out of one of the small residences occupied by the teaching faculty. At this distance, it was impossible to pick out any defining details of the face, but I felt certain that it had turned to track me as I drifted in the air.

    Somehow, I was suddenly struck with the terror of discovery, feeling very much as if I had been caught in the middle of an indecent act.The euphoria faded. I sensed a kind of reluctance as it retreated, as the friend-in-the-arcana loosened its hold over me. Now that I was a little more cognizant of what was happening around me, I knew with that feeling of rightness that the person down there was someone I needed to see.

    And yet therightnesswas no longer...right. I had no words for that realisation, but I could tell that the friend-in-the-arcana was trying to pull me higher, away from it.

    The moment stretched бк the arcana continued to buoy me up, obeying my subconscious desire to escape everything. And at the same time, the feeling of rightness grew, morphing into an urgent impulse to meet that person, pushing away the last traces of euphoria.

    My uneasiness about this rightnesscrystalized. It was an outside influence. It was like theimpulse to confide that had driven me to share my private goal with Ambrose.

    It was the Prophecy''s influence.

    I had a palpable sense of the weight of Prophecy bearing down of me like I was just flotsam adrift in the ocean watching a ship''s inevitable approach, helpless and unable to get out of the way before being dashed against its unyielding hull.

    No, I thought, grinding my teeth.You will not have me.

    A bone-deep humming filled the air, which became charged. The euphoria was gone, but in its place burned a fury I had never known before. I was aflame with righteous indignation. I will not be a puppet to a Prophecy.

    There was an unbearable tension that pulled at my whole being, a tightness that made it difficult to breathe, or see, or even think. The ambient arcana itself seemed to be splintering as two forces warred in and around me. Faint crackles of energy played across my skin and coursed through me, sometimes arcing off into the air before fizzling out.

    Even through the haze of confusion and mental anguish, I realised that this was a very significant moment. I had no idea how I was doing it, butI was somehow pushing back against the Prophecy''s influence over me.

    All at once, I felt the ambient arcana slacken and I knew it in my bones. The friend-in-the-arcana had lost. It didn''t dissipate but instead yielded itself to the urgings of Prophecy.

    Without really thinking about it, I ended up leaning forward and rocketing through the intervening space with alarming speed. The wind snatched at me, pulling painfully at my hair and stretching my skin, drawing my clothes out in thundering billows, but the agony lasted only for a second before a warm, soothing sensation enveloped me, keeping the frigid air at bay. My hair and clothes barely stirred now even as I rapidly closed in on the figure.

    The vague, nondescript shape resolved into a familiar man with five orbs drifting vaguely around him.

    An instant before I would have turned into a bloody smear on the ground, I came to a complete stop right in front of my father, Everett Dundale. The last vestiges of the friend-in-the-arcana faded away as I gently landed.

    "Caden." His eyes were wide open. And yet, somehow, he didn''t seem completely surprised.

    I couldn''t speak. The absence of thefriend-in-the-arcanahad left me completely defenceless against my own emotions. There was no euphoria or righteous anger to shield me anymore.

    "Come inside," my father said, reading the abject panic in my face. He placed a reassuring arm over my shoulders and guided me into the residence.

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    <hr>

    Most of the staff residences were cookie-cutter two-story houses. The first floor had a kitchen, a sitting room, a modest study area, and a common toilet. Upstairs was a single bedroom with en suite facilities, and a deck large enough for a reading table and two chairs. The only residences that deviated from this pattern were given to the Demiurge and the heads of the respective disciplines.

    Despite their uniform nature, my father''s residence was unmistakably his. The original shape of the house had long since vanished beneath a wild assortment of artefacts that protruded from almost every inch of its facade, either welded to the frame or else suspended in place by some arcanic manipulation, each having some esoteric function, or else serving as the field-test in some latest experiment.

    The interior was just as marked with his handiwork. The shelves in the study were crammed full of books, but there wasn''t enough room and they crept along the room''s corners and into other nooks and crannies. The workspace was cluttered with artefacts in various states of construction (or de-construction). This chaos spilt out into the sitting room, claiming every bare surface. Here, without my mother to object or enforce boundaries and impose cleanliness, his work had free reign over the living space.

    He guided me over to a chair that had several books piled in it. With a quick, business-like gesture, he sent the books hurtling into a bookshelf where they slotted themselves perfectly into empty spaces.

    "Why''s everything so messy if you can do that?" I managed to ask with a weak chuckle.

    "You know me, I make things. I don''t always use them. Then they end up gathering dust," he said with a wry smile. "I''ll show you the glyphs on the bookshelf after we talk."

    My face fell. I wasn''t ready to talk. There was still a lot more thinking that had to be done.

    "Sit." His voice was gentle but firm. It brooked no argument. I sank into the chair and watched as he slowly shuffled off into the kitchen. Everett Dundale had never been a fidgety man, but it seemed that he was moving more ponderously than usual. It was as if a huge invisible weight had settled on his shoulders.

    The homey sounds of a hot beverage being poured soothed me a little. A moment later, he returned bearing a tray with two steaming cups. The rich aroma of hot chocolate filled the little room as he carefully set the tray down on the table after elbowing some artefacts aside to make space for it. He cleared the remaining chair of books, sending them flying into the shelves, then lowered himself into it with a grateful sigh. The orbs around him shifted unobtrusively and kept out of his way.

    "Drink." He reached over and handed me a cup.

    I accepted the cup and sipped, staring at the orbs that were now slowly drifting around him like corks bobbing along in the water.

    "Trade you a question for a question," he smiled.

    The knot of tension in my stomach loosened a little. Whatever else had happened, however crazy things were at the moment, this was a safe space. This was familiar territory.

    I took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Me first, then. What''re those orbs?"

    He nodded to acknowledge the question as he sipped his drink. "What do you think they are?"

    "That''s not fair," I protested.

    "Maybe," he conceded. "But I want to know what you think."

    "Artefacts," was my disingenuous response. I wasn''t in the mood for one of his sessions of leading questions.

    In lieu of a response, he gestured over his shoulder and one of the orbs drifted over to me, close enough to touch. What I had mistaken for perfectly polished silver was, in fact, more complex than that. The silver seemed to be little more than a skin. Barely visible, just beneath the surface, was a fine lattice of glyphs. I knew enough by now to understand that these orbs must have been fiendishly difficult to create.

    I couldn''t read the glyphs. Not only were they minuscule, but I couldn''t even understand or recognise the ones that I could make out.

    "They''re beyond what I can understand," I said grudgingly, unable to resist making a comment. I did want him to tell me more. "But if I had to guess, I''d say they''re protective in some way."

    "Yes, protective." With a flourish of arcana, he projected a segment of the glyph sequence into the space between us. "This phrase refers to prophetic links."

    Prophetic links. Those words rang withrightness. They fit perfectly. There was a weight of meaning behind that term.

    "Fates," I breathed. Did this mean...

    "In short, the orbs are supposed to protect me from the influence of prophecies."

    With shaking hands, I placed my cup back on the tray.

    "My turn," my father began. "Tell mбк"

    "No, no, you can''t just drop that on me and move on like this," I said, my voice trembling. "What do you mean they protect you from the influence of prophecies? Why did you... when did you..." There were too many questions, all of them fighting for attention.

    "One thing at a time, Caden. You need to slow down. A question for a question." The gentle baritone of his voice was reassuring, authoritative, calm. I clenched my fists and forced myself to breathe slowly through my nose.

    "Tell me how you flew," he asked, once I had reined myself in a little.

    How would I even start to explain that? I looked up at him helplessly, my brow furrowed. He returned my gaze patiently and nodded encouragingly. It was an exchange we had made thousands of times before бк I, the frenetic one, he, the silent anchor.

    "Take your time, Caden. All the time in the world."

    But that wasn''t true. I had thrown a net of panic over Ambrose and Jerric, charged with the impulse to run as far as they could from me. Were they alright? What if they needed me to undo it? And even if Devon and the twins had managed to help them, they would be looking for me now. And I had flown across the length of the Academy. What if someone had seen?

    "All the time in the world," my father repeated, leaning forward and gently gripping my shoulder.

    I nodded and took a minute to steady myself by just focusing on taking deep, calming breaths. Once I had settled myself, I realised that there was a lot of messy background context that didn''t have to be mentioned. I could just focus on the mechanics of how I had flown. Trying to talk about it helped me to make sense of exactly what I had accomplished.

    "I flew by... frame-shifting." My father looked quizzical but gestured for me to continue.

    "I thought... I imagined..." None of those words seemed right. It hadn''t been such a simple, casual thing. "I felt convinced that I could speak to the arcana, and it would be able to help me. And then I guess it worked. I just wanted to get away from somewhere... and the arcana listened, and made me fly."

    My father leaned back, his brow furrowed. It was exactly the expression I had on my face when I was engaged in furious thought. After a moment, he seemed to have reached a satisfactory resolution in his head. "Your turn," he said.

    "Why did you make those orbs?"

    "For your sister," he said heavily. "That''s been the focus of my research ever since she was born. These prototypes are the result of ten years worth of hard work. But the Academy thinks they''re dampeners of ambient arcana that prevent overdraw or fatal surges in case of accidents with artefacts."

    It was getting worse. Every answer he gave was giving me more questions. The situation was spiraбк

    "My turn," he said with a knowing look as he interrupted my train of thought. "What were you getting away from?"

    I gaped at him. The whole chain of events was unspooling itself, going from our attempts to learn how to overcome Reeves'' infusion all the way back to my first meeting with Ambrose. Where would I start?

    "I was running from the Chosen One," I blurted out.

    This time, my father''s reaction was not so measured. He choked on the hot chocolate.

    "Okay, I know this isn''t fair," he said, once he had stopped coughing. "But you need to tell me everything."

 23. Piercing the Veil

    Under normal circumstances, I might have been able to give an orderly recount of the events of the past two weeks. Despite бк or maybe because of бк my manias, I can be highly rational and objective after I''ve laid things out neatly in my head. But it was hard to tell my father everything when I hadn''t even had the time or opportunity to sort through everything by myself, and it was especially difficult to focus since I kept thinking about what he had revealed to me about the orbs.

    It took the better part of an hour, with my father patiently redirecting me with probing questions to get the full story out. And although I normally preferred to be alone to process my thoughts, I was actually very grateful for my father''s presence on this occasion. Trying to talk about the Prophecy and about Ambrose brought out a dark tangle of anger and indignation, but his methodical and incisive questions helped me unravel the knot and settle into a state of mental and emotional equilibrium.

    Of course, that was the kind of thing I could only fully appreciate after it was over. The hour itself was fraught with emotional outbursts on my part, and a lot of mental stress as I was forced to confront the fact that I had been intentionally not thinking about some things, like whether or not my father had helped Reeves perform the mass memory wipe of the Chosen One and the Prophecy. As it turned out, he did have a part to play, which was what helped him develop his orbs. I extracted a promise that he would tell me everything he could.

    After he had gotten everything, my father made me another cup of hot chocolate and retreated into his own version of mania as he paced around the study. It was clear where I had gotten that from, but in his case, it was characterised less by an almost-violent need to be alone, and more by a sense of intense preoccupation. My mother had long since learned not to try to talk to him if he was in this state. He could hold a full conversation with you and still not have any recollection of it, so if you told him to do something for you later while he was like this, you were setting yourself up for disappointment. I had actually learned to take advantage of this to extract promises from him to get things I wanted, but Triss was the one who mastered the technique and ended up with more toys than any child had the right to have.

    I smiled a little at that thought as I took a bracing sip of the hot chocolate. Everett Dundale was on the case, so I didn''t have to worry. There was a surge of gratefulness and affection in my heart as I reflected on how fortunate I was to have a brilliant artificer and a good man for a father.

    If he held to his usual pattern, my father would be pacing for about half an hour more. Now that I was a lot calmer, I was reasonably confident that the others were alright. Jerric and Ambrose were the most proficient in the principles of arcanophany, but the other three combined would surely have figured out how to undo the arcanic net. I felt a little bad for leaving them like that, but it was something I could make up for later.

    That meant I had time to just sit here and relax for what felt like the first time in two weeks. I hadn''t realised until this moment how much tension I had been carrying around in my mind.

    A glint of silver beneath the remaining pile of books on the sitting room table caught my attention. I set my cup aside and carefully extracted what was obviously a prototype orb from beneath the mess. A quarter of the outer shell had been removed, revealing the mind-boggling complexity of the construct''s interior.

    It wasn''t a solid sphere. The outer shell was simply the outermost layer. The layers beneath that had been similarly peeled back to allow a peek at the innermost parts of the orb. It looked like my father had somehow managed to fit five layers into one orb. There wasn''t any mechanism that bound the layers together, and it seemed as though they were just meant to enclose ever-smaller orbs. Even more amazing was the fact that on every single layer, a fine lattice of glyphs spiderwebbed across the surface. The glyphs on the core were so small that they were barely visible to the naked eye and appeared as little more than flecks on the smooth silver.

    I returned my attention to the outermost layer, where the glyphs weren''t so painfully small. It took me a few minutes to pick out the glyphs my father had shown me earlier since I didn''t recognise any of them at all, even though I had a passing familiarity with the Advanced Sets. With a little burst of arcana, I copied them into the air where I could examine them in greater detail.

    There they were. The glyphs referring to prophetic links.

    A sense of disquiet filled me. I had been too emotional earlier to notice it, but these glyphs did not... feel normal. I had already noticed during the conversation that just hearing and thinking about the term put a strange weight on my mind. Now that I was paying more attention, I realised that merely looking at the glyph also had a subtle effect. It was like a pale shadow of the rightness I felt when I had been urged by the Prophecy''s influence to come and seek out my father, only this time it was without direction or purpose. It was a gentle and insistent nudging at the soul, albeit a senseless one, like the wind softly tugging at your hair from all sides at the same time.

    Why didn''t the Basic and Advanced Sets of glyphs have this sense of power? I looked at the other glyphs that I couldn''t even read and was struck with a growing sense of how little I still knew about arcanophany. How deep did the sea of knowledge go?

    My resolve hardened around one tiny core бк I would plumb those depths no matter what it took, because my sister deserved a life of her own, free from the shackles of her prophecy.

    That thought was galvanized by the realisation that my father was on the same path, too. He wasn''t leaving my sister''s fate to mundane methods of intervention. No, he was bringing all his arcanophanic knowledge and skill to bear. I hoped I could be half as accomplished an arcanist as he was, even if I might never reach his level of expertise in artificing. If we worked together, surely we would be able to accomplish something.

    Time passed quickly as I fell into deep thought and took stock of what I had learned, and considered what my next steps should be. There were so many things to keep track of in my life in the Academy. For the immediate future, I decided that I had to press Ambrose about when he would reveal the fact that he was the Chosen One to the others. There was a lot of (to me) needless complexity introduced by the keeping of that secret.

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    My father emerged from the study and sank into another chair across me, interrupting my train of thought. He gestured at the prototype orb on the table. "Had a good look?"

    "Enough to see how insanely complex it is, and that I still have a lot to learn about arcanophany," I confessed.

    "It''s only partially about space constraints," he said, falling a little into a professorial tone. "I needed a form that was compact enough to carry since it''s meant to be protective. But there''s also the arcanic efficiency to consider. When you arrange glyphs in certain patterns, you maximise the effective flow of arcana and create self-supporting structures."

    I felt a need to start taking notes, but so far everything was reasonably understandable. The new information was filling gaps in my knowledge I had already identified. It was easy to draw links between the concepts and remember them.

    "So a spherical structure is ideal when arranging glyphs?" I probed.

    "Not for all purposes, but after a few iterations, I found it to be best for this artefact. It''s something you eventually get a feel for when you''ve designed artefacts for long enough."

    "Why the layers, though? Instead of a bigger sphere?"

    "Well, again there are space constraints. It''s impractical to have a larger orb. But the glyph pattern isn''t just working across the surface of one sphere. I''ve arranged the glyphs to also link with each other between layers. It''s a multi-faceted pattern. When it''s active, the layers inside are held in perfect synchronous suspension so that sequences are formed along several angles."

    I was speechless. That was like writing an acrostic poem and then layering more acrostic poems on top so that all the first letters also formed a coherent poem independently.

    "How...?" I trailed off.

    "Ten years, like I said," he grinned. "This is as far as I''ve gotten. They work, in theory. Which is why this meeting is quite fortuitous, because I''m ready for field tests, and I didn''t really want to try them out with Triss just yet."

    "Fortuitous?" I echoed, my thoughts darkening. No, it wasn''t as innocent as that. "Dad, Iбк"

    "I know, Caden. It''s the Chosen One''s Prophecy at work. For whatever reason, it wants you to be here. And by extension, that means I''m also linked to its fulfilment somehow. We can use this to our advantage."

    "But how?" We were running into an intractable problem that had haunted me ever since I started thinking about fighting against Ambrose''s Prophecy. Frustration was creeping into my voice. "How can we take independent actions that aren''t already subject to the influence of Prophecy? Won''t we just end up fulfilling it?"

    "That''s one theory about prophecies," he said, holding up a hand placatingly. "If that theory holds true, then it does indeed mean that you can never take independent action against a prophecy, especially a major one, and that they are immutable. Do you think that''s true?"

    "No," I said, calming a little. I already knew this. There was plenty of evidence that disproved that theory. Minor prophecies could and did fail to come to fruition, though it wasn''t a common occurrence. And there was historical evidence about at least one major Prophecy being averted. It was just hard to remember all this when the reality felt so very different.

    "Yes, so that''s an outdated theory that still survives because of how deeply ingrained it is in our general understanding. You already know the widely-accepted theory about how prophecies work бк they skew probabilities significantly in favour of an outcome. But the mechanics of it is where it gets interesting." He nodded at the glyphs I had projected.

    "What are prophetic links?" I asked, since that was clearly where this was headed.

    "The fundamental question to ask is ''what is a prophecy'', actually," he corrected.

    That gave me pause. I turned the question over in my head, thinking back to the only actual prophecy I had ever seen in person. A piece of paper, rich and creamy, heavily adorned with glyphs. And in the centre, the six words in the common tongue that had pronounced my sister''s fate бк This daughter shall be your ruin.

    "A statement that is somehow given power by glyphs?" I ventured.

    "A fair summary. And what are glyphs?"

    "The language of arcana," my tongue automatically supplied. But my father shook his head and gestured for me to continue.

    I knew what he was driving at. This was a realisation I had struck upon in the first week. Glyphs were not the language of arcana, at least not in the sense that they were some kind of all-powerful universal key to arcana. Celwyn had already told us that glyphs didn''t hold some mystical power on their own; they were like words in a mundane language, arbitrary constructs that were given meaning by consensus. And my most recent realisation was that they were tools for limited frame-shifting.

    "Glyphs are a common structure for frame-shifting?"

    "Yes. Let''s connect those thoughts. If glyphs work on the principles of frame-shifting, and prophecies are powered by glyphs, then...?"

    "Then... prophecies are... just sequences... that are written to influence probabilities?" I slowly tried to piece them together.

    "Which is a good working theory, but it doesn''t help us figure out how to undo them. Because we don''t know how those sequences work. At least, I don''t, even after studying the glyphs."

    "Then whбк"

    "That''s where you come in," he interrupted, getting excited. "You''ve never flown before. There are constructs of arcana that enable that, but I highly doubt you''ve stumbled upon them in the library. They''re far too dangerous for first-year arcanists to dabble with. And so I asked you how you managed it. Your response, in essence, was thatyou didn''t. It was thisfriend-in-the-arcana. Do you see?"

    The abrupt switch from talking about prophecies to my feat of flying caught me off-guard. I couldn''t see the link. "No?"

    "You created a construct out of arcana with some sort of pseudo-intelligence," he went on, hardly waiting for my acknowledgement. "The construct then independently shaped arcana, without tapping on any of your knowledge, enabling you to fly, and protecting you from windburn as you hurtled through the air."

    I thought I had a dim idea of what the link might be. But my father didn''t stop бк he was caught up in the flow.

    "With frame-shifting alone, unguided, you managed this. What if a Prophecy works by directed frame-shifting to create a construct in the arcana that then goes on to influence people and the environment in order to nudge events towards its own fulfilment?"

    I arrived at that conclusion the moment he said it. If I hadn''t been sitting down, my legs would probably have given way.

    That brought us to the glyphs referring to prophetic links. "So that," I gestured, "... actually refers to the... appendages? Of that construct? Or whatever it is that it uses to manipulate people and the environment."

    "It seems so. I didn''t know how prophecies actually worked, and so my research focused on fighting its influence. It is like treating the symptoms of an illness instead of the underlying causes. But you might have just provided the other half of the picture. If we can attack a prophecy at both its source and its point of effect, maybe we can erase a prophecy entirely."

    There was a heavy silence in the air after he said that. Despite the fact that he had probably already thought this through earlier, I think he only just heard what he had said and realized what it meant. I stared at him, and he stared back at me.

    A knock at the door startled us both. Dazed, my father got up and went to answer it. I stayed in the chair, still reeling.

    "Professor Dundale," a smooth voice said. "So sorry for popping by unannounced, but I was wondering if we could have a word inside?"

    "Y-yes," came my father''s shaky reply. "This way, Demiurge."

 24. A Friendly Reckoning

    Even at the best of times, meeting the Demiurge would be a nerve-wracking experience. This was the man who had risen to his present position at the age of 25 thanks to his prodigious intellect and arcanic mastery, only narrowly missing out on the spot for being the youngest Demiurge in the history of the Empire by one year. And he had firmly held on to the position for ten years against a host of detractors and naysayers. Now my father and I were face-to-face with him when we were still dealing with the shock of discovering what we thought was a way to unmake prophecies.

    My father''s shuffling footsteps were followed by the slow, measured steps of the Demiurge as they came into the sitting room. I had enough presence of mind to get to my feet and attempt some sort of deferential half-bow in greeting.

    I had seen his portrait hung up in various places in the Academy, but it was really not the same as standing before him in the flesh. Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell was one of those men who somehow filled a room with his presence without resorting to arcanic manipulation. Even though he was of average height, you could walk away swearing that he loomed above you.

    The effect was especially disconcerting since his genes had blessed him with a youthful appearance. He had apparently decided to lean into that look by keeping clean-shaven, styling his platinum blonde hair in an undercut, and dressing more casually. At the moment, he was wearing a white T-shirt with a black jacket thrown over and a pair of faded grey jeans. On top of that, I could have sworn that he was wearing the same pair of sneakers as Devon. An outsider could be forgiven for thinking he was one of the arcanists in their final year of study.

    His grey eyes held a glint that hinted at the razor-sharp mind behind them, and those eyes swept across the room before landing on me.

    "Good mornбк afternoon, Demiurge," I croaked, reddening rapidly.

    "Hello." He smiled, extending a hand and graciously opting not to comment on my slip-up. I tried to give as firm a handshake as I could. His grip was surprisingly gentle. "You must be Caden Dundale. Well done on taking the Top Scorer spot. But I suppose that is no surprise. Even if Professor Dundale were only a quarter as good a father as he is an artificer, you would have been raised and taught very well."

    "Yes sir," was all I could manage.

    "Please, have a seat," my father said, gesturing to the chair he had just vacated. "Can I get you a drink?"

    Caldwell lowered himself into the offered seat. "Oh, no, don''t trouble yourself on my account. Please, pull up another chair and the three of us can have a nice chat."

    I exchanged a look of confusion with my father. As he retrieved one of the chairs from the study, I sat back down, teetering anxiously at the edge of my seat.

    Once my father had settled down, Caldwell clapped his hands together. "Right! I''ll get straight to the point. I''m here because the Academy wards detected a very unusual surge of arcana. Once I ascertained that it wasn''t doing any harm, I ignored it and continued with a task I was occupied with at the time. After I was done, I picked up the threads and followed them here." He gestured around vaguely.

    "You think it was one of my artefacts?" My father asked, sounding slightly wounded. It seemed that he wasn''t intending on saying anything about what had happened.

    "No, of course not!" Caldwell said airily, waving a hand dismissively. "You''re far too careful to accidentally release such unstructured arcana. And your residence isn''t the source, it''s the destination. I found five first-year students at the source, and two of them had been ensorceled."

    Ensorceled. The word fit perfectly, and my previous attempts to label the technique as ''arcanic infusion'' fell away like dead scabs. In my mind, the disparate bits of experimentation and theorizing coalesced into a fully-formed concept. Encorcellment was what allowed you to influence someone and even exert control over their minds.

    My father glanced at me and I saw an eyebrow twitch ever-so-slightly in surprise.

    "It was a very well-wrought encorcellment," Caldwell continued, "but by the time I arrived, the other three had managed to make some headway into dispelling it. I was quite impressed by their efforts. I was less impressed when none of them was willing to tell me what had happened, even after I had undone the ensorcellment."

    I realised I was forgetting to breathe, and I sucked in some air as inconspicuously as I could.

    "I tracked the arcanic disturbance and was mystified by its strange path." With a finger, he mimed something rising into the air. "I was actually a little worried that it had left the grounds, but the trail led me here, which is why we are all having this talk now."

    "You think the arcanic disturbance came here, Demiurge?"

    "I think that''s rather clear at this point." Caldwell''s tone was casual, but the tension in the air was building. The feeling intensified as he looked at me again. "So, Caden, how have your studies been?"

    The non-sequitur caught me off-guard. "M-my studies? Good. Good so far." I sucked in another breath. "Professor Kant''s classes are painful, but I learn a lot."

    Caldwell let out a delighted laugh. "Ah, yes. Marcus Kant will hammer you on the anvil until you either break or become something greater."

    He said nothing after that and simply continued looking expectantly at me. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

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    "The, uh... I... I''m still memorising the Advanced Sets, but that''s coming along nicely. I should be fluent in a month," I continued feebly.

    Caldwell nodded, smiling genially. Silence again. I fought against the impulse to look to my father for help and forced myself to talk as naturally as I could.

    "Principles of Arcanophany has been... especially interesting. Can I ask if Professor Reeves'' threat of expulsion is real if we fail to resist his ensorcellment?" The term slipped out of my lips before I could stop myself.

    Caldwell''s smile widened. "Yes, but I think you and your friends won''t have to worry about that."

    A bead of sweat was running down my face again. I resolved to see if there was something I could do about my treacherous glands.

    "Demiurge," my father interrupted. "The arcanic disturbance?"

    "Oh, I think it''s not something we need to bother with any longer." He got to his feet and straightened his jacket. "It has long since dissipated, and unless I''m very much mistaken, the source won''t be a danger."

    My father and I rose as well. Caldwell nodded to the two of us. "Have a good day. I''ll see myself out. Thank you for your time."

    His footsteps receded and we heard the door click shut. I collapsed back into the chair, breathing heavily.

    "Fates, I need a proper drink," my father muttered, disappearing into the study. I heard the clink of glass as he poured something out of a decanter.

    He returned with two glasses with a little amber liquid and handed me one. "Your mother would kill me if she knew, but you''re already of age."

    "Cheers," I said, grinning weakly as I clinked my glass against his and drained it. The whiskey burned my throat as it went down, causing me to choke. My father shook his head in a parody of disappointment as he took a refined sip. "I need to teach you how to drink properly."

    "What now?" I asked, feeling a little more at ease as the drink spread a soothing warmth through me.

    "Now," my father said heavily, "we avoid any further work here with this friend-in-the-arcana construct until I figure out a way to stop it from triggering the Academy''s wards."

    "But the Demiurge obviously knows it was me. And he seemed to be okay with it," I argued.

    He shook his head. "The Demiurge didn''t press the issue because it dissipated, and he''s satisfied that you are no further danger. What worries me is that he came to personally investigate. Normally, we leave that kind of work to the arcanists on security duty."

    It was a very worrying thought. What was so special about the construct I had conjured by frame-shifting, so much so that the Demiurge himself felt that he had to attend to it?

    "And none of the security arcanists turned up," I pointed out. "He came alone."

    "Yes, there''s that, too." My father took another sip of his whiskey. "Obviously, he doesn''t need any back-up when dealing with arcanic disturbances. He could have just been nice, trying to spare the security detail any extra work since he was already attending to it. Or he might have wanted this to be more private. Either way, it''s clear that he''s keeping tabs on this particular phenomenon for reasons that are unknown to us."

    "So there''s nothing we can do now about our theory?" I demanded. It seemed like a crime to not follow up on something so huge.

    "We need to be patient. On weekends I can go back home and do more experiments there, away from the Academy''s wards. Once I find a way to refine this construct and hide its presence, we can resume work here."

    I knew there was no arguing with him. It would mean that I would be missing out on this breakthrough for my sister, but I couldn''t see any way around it either.

    "In the meantime," he continued, picking up on my crestfallen mood, "you can still conduct some research and see if you can find any materials that shed light on this particular form of frame-shifting. Given the Demiurge''s response, I''d say we haven''t actually stumbled on something unique. If there are studies or writings about this friend-in-the-arcana construct, that would speed up our work."

    I nodded, glad that there was something I could still do to contribute. Realistically, I wouldn''t have been able to help my father with the practical side of things anyway, beyond attempting to manifest the friend-in-the-arcana again. And it wasn''t like it was something that would be beyond his ability to replicate now that I had explained to him exactly how I had accomplished it.

    It seemed strange to leave the residence without having done anything about our discovery. My father made me promise not to tell my mother about the drink, then suggested that I look for my friends. The thought of facing the five of them filled me with trepidation. It was highly unlikely that they had stayed in the duelling compound, so I slowly made my way back to the dorms.

    A glance at my watch told me it was just past four in the afternoon. The manicured lawns between the Academy''s major sections were dotted with people. Most had opted to settle down on picnic mats to read, but there were a number of ball games going on as well. Even as I watched, a ball sailed through the air straight towards a relaxed reader. Before it flew out of bounds, it was stopped in mid-air by a thin lattice of shaped arcana that sent it plummeting to the ground.

    "Cool artefact," I murmured to myself, spotting the device on the grass.

    "Not as cool as what you did."

    My attention was drawn back to the path I was walking on. Kevan was right in front of me, with a wide grin on his face. I couldn''t help but notice a bruise on his cheek.

    "Uh, hi. Is... is everyone okay?" I asked sheepishly.

    He snorted. "Well, Jerric punched me in the face, but it wasn''t his fault. The rest are over there." He pointed off to the side of one of the lawns, where there were a couple of stone benches set along a row of trees. I saw Devon waving enthusiastically. The rest were a lot more subdued. Even at this distance, Jerric had a wounded air about him.

    "Sorry about that," I said feebly, gesturing at Kevan''s face as we started walking towards them.

    "It''s alright. I figure there''ll be plenty of chances to get even if we keep practising together," Kevan answered breezily. I couldn''t tell if he was only joking.

    "So, uh, I heard the Demiurge stopped by and helped free Jerric and Ambrose?"

    He nodded. "Yep."

    "And... you guys didn''t tell him anything."

    Another nod.

    "Thanks, Kevan. I mean, he probably knows anyway, but... I appreciate the gestбк"

    "Hold up," he interrupted. "I don''t speak for the rest, but I didn''t keep quiet for your sake. The way I see it, if we help cover for you, then you owe us."

    "Okay," I said cautiously. "Given what I did, I guess I do owe you guys."

    "That''s right. And to even the playing field, you should teach us how you did it."

    My father''s words were still on my mind. "I... I can''t, Kevan. It''s not something we should be doing."

    "Well, then we might have a problem," Kevan said, his tone taking a slightly darker edge.

    I stopped walking. He went on ahead for a few steps, then turned to look at me.

    "Are you... threatening me?" I asked incredulously.

    He frowned. "Am I? Well, if I am, I don''t think it''s just me.''

    "What do you mean?" I felt my heartbeat quicken.

    "We should hurry over. We''ve got lots of things to settle," Kevan said, jerking his head to where the rest were. With mounting apprehension, I started walking and Kevan fell into step beside me.

    Four pairs of eyes watched us as we approached.

 25. Food for Thought

    The walk towards the others seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. The closer I got, the more apparent it was that I had crossed a line with them. Devon was the only one who seemed unaffected by the dark cloud of judgement that hung in the air.

    The stone bench could seat three if they squeezed, but Jerric and Devon had taken it all for themselves. Lynus stood with his arms folded, wearing a stony expression that looked out of place on his face. It was the kind of almost-hostile look that I had grown accustomed to seeing on Kevan instead. Ambrose had his hands shoved into his pockets and was looking aggrieved.

    "Hey Jerric, Ambrose," I said as I drew near, doing my best to sound contrite. What I had done was worse than the first incident back in the dorm. "I''m sorry about earlier."

    There was no immediate response. Jerric simply sighed. Kevan went to join his brother, looking a little smug. I supposed he was just glad that he wasn''t on the receiving end of the group''s displeasure.

    "I know I messed up, I shouldn''t have done that to the two of you," I continued, feeling hot under the collar as the silence stretched.

    "It took the Demiurge himself to undo what you did," Jerric finally said quietly, looking down at his clasped hands.

    "But he said you all were half-way through dispelling it before he turned up, so it can''t have been that bad," I blurted.

    "Half-way?" Jerric''s voice was sharp. His head jerked up and he fixed me with a hard stare. "Half-way? Yeah, sounds about right. I dragged Kevan and Lynushalf-way down the corridor before he showed up."

    "He''s surprisingly strong," Kevan interjected, grinning a little. The others were not amused.

    Jerric ignored him and continued speaking, his voice growing tight. "I''ve never felt so scared and helpless in my life. Everything was just pure fear, pure terror. I couldn''t even think straight, couldn''t even form one clear thought in my head."

    Devon put a comforting arm over Jerric''s shoulders.I didn''t know what to say.

    "I tried venting arcana and sealing it out as usual." Ambrose took up the narrative, sounding distant. "But that didn''t work at all. Somehow the arcanic net wasn''t just injecting ambient arcana иC I think it was actually altering my auric arcana itself."

    Lynus nodded. "That''s what I figured. I think I found a way to cut arcanic nets, but it didn''t work on whatever it was Caden did so I''m pretty sure his net isn''t the same as the one Reeves used on us. I don''t even think Caden''s thing is an arcanic net in the first place."

    "So what is it?" Devon turned to me. The question was delivered in a light tone, but it was clear he was just trying to be nice.

    "I... I can''t say," I mumbled at my shoes, unable to meet their eyes.

    Jerric scoffed. The change that had come over him was alarming. He was no longer the mild-mannered, even-tempered person we had known over the past two weeks. I felt a sharp pang of regret knowing that I was responsible for this.

    "Jerric, I''m sorry, but please understand. If I could say, I would, but..." How would I even begin to explain this? I''d have to tell them about my sister, and about my purpose for studying arcanophany. And if their reaction to my stated rejection of prophecies back in the first week was anything to go by, this would provoke an even greater negative response. I''d maybe even be ostracised for being some crazy fringe radical.

    "You''ll give us hints, at least," Kevan cut in. It wasn''t phrased as a question. "Because it''s one of those things we have to figure out ourselves."

    That last part was probably true. But now that I thought about it, I had no idea how arcanists judged what students could be told outright, and what realisations had to be gently hinted at so they could come to personal epiphanies. In any case, this feltvery much like the latter. Did that mean I shouldn''t have just broken everything down for my father?

    "I can''t," I said flatly. Kevan''s tone irritated me enough to put some bite into my reply. "After he helped you guys, the Demiurge came and found me and basically told me it was dangerous."

    That got a bit of a reaction. Devon looked a little awed, Jerric seemed fractionally mollified, and even Kevan hesitated a little.

    I seized the moment. "I don''t want to get you guys into the same kind of trouble I got into, so I''m not going to even drop hints. And anyway, I don''t even really understand what I did. In any case, the Demiurge is apparently watching for stuff like that, so it''s clearly off-limits." For now, I thought privately.

    Nobody challenged me, although Kevan looked like he was biting his tongue. Ambrose broke the silence with a loud sigh and a shrug. ''Well, I''d like to give the Demiurge a wide berth. He''s a pretty scary man.''

    "You''ve met him before?" Devon asked, his interest piqued.

    "Yeah, I, he, I mean, by his reputation," Ambrose faltered. Nobody else remarked on that, but I realised that as the Chosen One he would likely have met with Reeves and the Demiurge before to facilitate the memory wipe. Reeves was in charge of that, but it was something probably done under the auspices of the Demiurge.

    "He deserves that reputation," I muttered, thinking back to the very tense atmosphere in the sitting room. I shook my head and faced Jerric and Ambrose.

    "I... there aren''t any excuses for what I did. I just want to say that I panicked too, and I would never do something like that intentionally." I held out a hand in reconciliation.

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    Jerric''s shoulders sagged, but he slowly got to his feet and shook my hand weakly. Ambrose did likewise, albeit with a little more force. He raised an eyebrow as he did so, giving me the impression that hedid still expect some sort of explanation later, for his ears only.

    I grit my teeth and didn''t return any veiled gesture.

    "Why''d you panic?" Devon asked, confused. "We were just... sitting around. Trying to figure out how to cut arcanic nets."

    "It''s..." It was getting really hard to hold an honest conversation. I had panicked because it occurred to me that the Prophecy involved unravelling the nature of arcana itself, but that wasn''t something I could just tell them. "I thought I realised something. Maybe panic isn''t the right word. When something hits me, I need to go away and just be by myself so that I can think it through alone. I''m a little crazy like that."

    Kevan shook his head and muttered "crazy Top Scorer" under his breath, but didn''t pursue the matter. That might have irked me before, but at this point, I considered it a lucky break.

    "So... are we good?" I asked.

    "We''re good," Devon said almost immediately, followed by Ambrose. Jerric only nodded wearily. Lynus'' response was a delayed bob of his head, while Kevan had only given a non-committal shrug. It wasn''t a ringing endorsement, but I decided to take what I could get.

    "I think we''re going to have to put our practice on hold for today," Ambrose said with a sigh. "I''m wrung out."

    Jerric snorted. "Tell me about it."

    "Actually..." I tentatively raised a hand. "If... if you two don''t mind, I do want to hear about it. Especially when the Demiurge came in. Maybe we can learn something from what he did."

    Jerric looked like he was holding back a biting retort as he thought it over, and his love for learning won out over any lingering negative feelings he harboured towards me. He drew in a deep breath and seemed to regain some of his steadiness. "Fine. But let''s go back to the dorm. It''s getting cold out here."

    <hr>

    Returning to the dorm turned out to be an excellent idea. Devon decided that a late-afternoon snack would raise everyone''s spirits, so he brought out a waffle iron and started preparing some batter from scratch. The prospect of freshly-made waffles put us in a considerably better mood, and by unspoken consensus, we decided not to talk about the Demiurge until later.

    Under threat of not getting any waffles unless we learned how to make them, Devon talked us all through the process of making the batter, his hands moving with brisk efficiency. He seemed to get progressively more excited as he worked, and his good mood was infectious.

    As he poured the batter into the hot waffle iron, the rich aroma filled the dorm. "Man''s true heart is the belly," Devon declared as the scent wafted over us. "Fill it, and you fill his soul."

    That elicited some chuckles. "Of course you''d have a waffle iron packed for the Academy," Lynus said, shaking his head in amusement. "I mean, it''s essential."

    "Exactly," Devon grinned, taking the jibe with good grace. "I actually didn''t pack it, I got it sent over earlier this week. I was waiting for a good time to surprise everyone with waffles, but this is as good a time as any."

    "Just plain waffles though?" Kevan complained.

    In response, Devon triumphantly marched over to one of the overhead kitchen cabinets and flung it open. There were bottles of honey and chocolate syrup and cans of whipped cream. "I''ve also got a punnet of strawberries in the fridge, and a tub of vanilla ice-cream in the freezer," he gestured magnanimously. "Because I knew you''d whine about plain waffles."

    "Fates," Kevan breathed, and his stomach growled audibly, drawing more chuckles.

    "That''s a lot of stuff, Devon. We should think about splitting the cost?" I ventured.

    "It''s fine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Think of it as my contribution to the group."

    "At least he''s the generous type of rich kid," Kevan snarked. That earned him a cuff on his head from his brother.

    "Watch out later, Kev. There might be extra ingredients in your waffles." Devon flashed a cheeky grin.

    The two of them fell into highly entertaining back-and-forth banter. This was the most comfortable I had ever seen Devon, especially when facing off against Kevan. It seemed that food really did fill his soul, giving him a sense of purpose and endowing him with a breezy confidence that he had never shown before. I wondered if he had missed his true calling by choosing to be an arcanist.

    "Devon," I asked, after the banter had died down, "did you ever think of getting into cooking professionally?"

    "Why?" Kevan managed to cut in. "You think that''s all he''s good for?"

    "I''ll make you eat those words," Devon shot back at Kevan, brandishing the wooden spoon he had used to stir the batter. "Anyway, yes, I did. It''s still kind of my dream, actually. But you know, me being here means a lot to my parents. And I figure that being an arcanist doesn''t mean I can''t still cook." He shrugged. "Maybe I''ll find a way to put those two things together."

    "Can you imagine food infused with arcana?" Lynus seemed fascinated by the possibilities. "Is that even possible? Is that safe?"

    "It''s possible. I''ve actually already read up on it. There aren''t many arcanists who bother with it because few people treat that application seriously. It''s a field of research ripe with opportunity." Devon''s eyes gleamed with excitement.

    It seemed that regardless of whether or not he made direct use of arcana on food, Devon was well on his way to making the cooking process more efficient with arcanophany. As he continued churning waffles out of the iron, I noticed he was keeping the finished ones warm by briefly concentrating on them, presumably using a mental glyph sequence. He also wasn''t spreading butter onto the iron with a brush бк he would simply flick in a small chunk of it onto the iron, and it would daub itself evenly across the surface, even somehow defying gravity by staying on the ridges.

    "You''ve got a real talent there, Devon," I said seriously, pointing at the waffle iron. "Don''t let anyone tell you otherwise."

    "Yeah," Kevan began, "if working class skills are considered taбк"

    All of a sudden, Kevan leapt to his feet with a startled cry. Devon cracked a smile. "Seat a little hot?" he asked innocently.

    "Is this a homebrew glyph sequence?" Jerric was scrutinizing the waffle iron up close. "This is really complex."

    "Is that a homebrew glyph sequence?" I echoed, pointing at the seat Kevan had just vacated. There was a faint shimmer of heat playing across it.

    "Yes to both," Devon answered smugly. A moment later, the shimmer over the seat dissipated as he relinquished his hold on the sequence. I waved my hand over it, marvelling at the residual warmth. It was like I was holding my hand over a...

    "Wait, hold it, you''ve transferred heat from the waffle iron to his seat?" I asked sharply. I noticed the faint pattern of the waffle iron lightly burnt into the wood.

    "Yup!"

    "But there''s no medium. How did you do it?"

    "Trade secret," Devon said, wearing a proud grin worthy of Kevan, who snorted in contempt as he massaged his slightly-burnt backside.

    "Will you at least give a hint? Are you using Basic Set glyphs or one of the new ones we learnt?" I pressed.

    "Eat first, talk later," he commanded, dropping the plateful of waffles onto the dining table. "Otherwise you''ll all keep asking questions until the waffles are cold."

    As we slathered our waffles with the toppings of our choice, I found myself looking at Devon in a whole different light. I had, rather unfairly, relegated him to the back of my mind as a hardworking but ultimately mediocre arcanist. And unless I was very far off the mark, so had the others.

    It''s nice to be proven wrong sometimes, I thought to myself, trying not to grin too widely at Kevan, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

 26. Bound

    We gratefully dug into the freshly-made waffles and lost ourselves in the careless chatter of student life. The talk of our studies was a topic quickly exhausted, mostly due to the fact that it skirted a little too close to the events of the past few hours. The conversation drifted from our work to the foibles of other students, and Lynus eventually jumped in with an anecdote.

    Emilia, the strange girl who shared a tutorial group with me, had begun making a name for herself thanks to her odd behaviour. Lynus launched into an animated recount about how he had once observed her carving glyphs onto a tree in the Academy grounds, and then actually getting into a heated argument with a passing lecturer who had stopped to erase her glyphs.

    The rest of us had heard some variation of it before. The altercation had drawn a small crowd, and it became ground zero for a host of wild tales that spread among the student body, often growing more ludicrous after each retelling. There was even one version of the story where she apparently duelled the lecturer (whose identity was never resolved) and left them tied up in ropes she had summoned from thin air before flying off to the library.

    When asked to confirm these tales, Lynus simply grinned and happily corroborated whatever had just been said, no matter how absurd or contradictory.

    "If it turns out you''re the one making up these stories about her and spreading them, you better watch out," I warned. "That girl is scary."

    "Yeah? Maybe I like that in a girl," Lynus said with a sly grin.

    "You know she managed to land a hit on Kant in the one-on-one session we had this week? And it wasn''t a glancing blow either. Took out his left leg-piece completely."

    There was a chorus of amazement around the table since Kant''s reputation had spread amongst the first-years by now, and I had already supplied them with details about how absurdly powerful he was. "She''s that good?" Kevan''s interest was piqued.

    "I saw her first, Kev!" Lynus declared loudly.

    "I''m interested in her skills, notбк"

    "Uh huh, her skills," Lynus hooted.

    I shook my head, imagining what Emilia would do if she could see Lynus being so crude. "Say that to her face. I bet she''ll destroy you. I''m telling you, she''s not a person you mess with."

    "This is weird," Devon said, looking from Lynus to Kevan. "I always figured Kevan was the player."

    "What''s that supposed to mean?" Kevan demanded, half-rising in mock anger.

    "It means he thinks you''re the ''bad boy''," Lynus laughed. He gestured to indicate Kevan''s general appearance. Out of the six of us, he was arguably the most good-looking, with his medium-length brown hair artfully tousled, a strong jawline, and an intense gaze. There was also the fact that the clothes he wore somehow just looked better on him than on anyone else."And you do fit the bill."

    "I do, huh?" He ran a hand through his hair, preening a little. "Doesn''t mean I''m the player. You guys wanna hear about the time when Ly set up a date withбк"

    Lynus leapt up began wrestling with his brother in an attempt to silence him. "бкlet''s go back to Emilia fighting Kant, that''s far more interestingбк"

    Kevan valiantly kept him at bay and raised his voice. "бкat the same time he was supposed to be meeting another girl at the cafe next doorбк"

    "бкsure we all want to talk about how she managed to land a hitбк"

    "бкshe found out and he tried to claimбк"

    Lynus managed to shove Kevan off his seat and onto the floor, where they devolved into a ball of tussling limbs as Lynus did everything he could to stop the rest of the story from leaking. Devon started up a cheer, which Ambrose joined. I caught Jerric''s eye to exchange a look of exasperation, which had become a rather common thing between us over the past week. At first, all I got was a slightly frosty glare, but after an agonizing moment, his expression softened.

    "I give up!" Kevan barely managed to gasp out a minute later, having been pinned to the floor and tickled mercilessly.

    "Is that the first time he''s managed to swallow his big ego and concede defeat?" Devon asked, exaggerating his level of amazement.

    "Surprisingly, no." Lynus got to his feet, panting, his face flushed. He offered a hand to Kevan and hoisted him off the floor. "Let''s just say he''s got his ''Can''t Beat Me'' domains, and he lets me have mine."

    "And your domain would be the ladies?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "If you see me as the lord of that domain, then I won''t deny it," Lynus grinned.

    "Remember the bodice-ripper you won off Kant and tossed to me?" Kevan asked, massaging his sides. "Ly claimed it. I''m telling you now, you don''t want it back."

    There was a round of groans and exclamations of disgust.

    "Anyway," Kevan said, suddenly becoming more focused than I''ve ever seen him. He leaned towards me. "How did she land a hit on Kant?"

    "She improved a lot. I meana lot." A note of fervent admiration had crept into my voice. "After the first week, when Kant said we had to develop enough arcanic control to direct sequences even after they''ve been cast, she probably threw in a ton of practice. She was basically doing the stuff you, Lynus, and Ambrose were doing in your first duels. And she was doing it all purely by superior arcanic control, no pre-set sequences."

    Kevan was caught between awe and annoyance. "In one week? But you said Kant''s defences were solid. How''d she get past them?"

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    "I didn''t understand it when I first saw it. Kant had to break it down for us afterwards. She swapped resonances, which is something he didn''t expect because none of us had done it before and it''s not even something we''ve covered in Principles of Arcanophany yet. I think that''s next week, because frame-shifting is the theoretical foundation. But she probably got the idea from the reflective shield we tried a week before, since that involved different resonances. Then she hid her modified bolt in the wavelength of an ordinary one so that Kant didn''t spot it until it was past his shield. I think she got that idea from our first lesson in Advanced Glyphs, with the light orb trick."

    "... You sure you deserve the Top Scorer spot?" Kevan smirked.

    "It''s a brilliant combination of ideas across disciplines," I conceded, swallowing a sharp retort. That stung, but I let it slide in light of what I had done. "But it won''t work anymore. Once Kant sees something once, it doesn''t work on him a second time. He used it as a teaching point to tell us to never underestimate your foe and to always take them down with maximum force as fast as you can because you never know what they might hold up their sleeves. And on the flip side, he also said that even if you''re a novice, if you''re clever you can land a killing blow on an overconfident opponent."

    "That sounds very... combat-worthy," Jerric muttered darkly, borrowing Ambrose''s term. "We''re really being trained as an army."

    Everyone quietened a little at this. There was no sound except for steady, thoughtful chewing and the occasional clink of cutlery on the plates.

    "So... since we''re back to arcanophany," I began, my voice trembling a little as I cast a worried glance at Jerric. "Can we talk about what happened when the Demiurge showed up?"

    "Way to go, Caden," Lynus grimaced, though he did give me a rueful half-smile after that. "Nice segue."

    Jerric set down his utensils and looked down at his almost-finished waffle, but didn''t speak. Ambrose cleared his throat and answered instead. "The Demiurge was flying too. But he had conjured some sort of arcanic construct, like a disc. He came down the corridor really quickly.."

    "It was a really cool use of arcana. And I thought he was one of the seniors at first," Devon chimed in. "But then he started working, and we all felt something. Then it was obvious it wasn''t just a student."

    Ambrose nodded. "It was arcanophany on a whole new level. The air had this weight to it, even worse than what you did. And your net, or whatever it was, Caden, it just disintegrated. I felt it shatter into tiny pieces, and whatever he did was so powerful that I was left completely overdrawn. And then he even fixed that, so I wasn''t left totally empty."

    "Wait, why did you get overdrawn?" I asked, puzzled.

    He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

    "No need to guess. Do you know what that means, Caden?" Jerric cut in now in a low voice. We all turned to him. He was still looking down at his hands, which had begun to shake a little.

    "No," I answered quietly. It felt horrible seeing how much the ensorcellment had affected him.

    "It means whatever you did... interfered so much with our auric arcana that he had to wipe it out entirely. That''s why we were overdrawn for a moment." He let out a tremulous breath. "And if he didn''t somehow restore a little of our auric arcana..."

    My blood ran cold. I knew what that kind of complete overdraw meant. Was that really the only way the ensorcellment could have been dispelled?

    The table had gone completely silent. Jerric slowly looked up at me. "You literally almost scared us to death."

    ...was that an attempted joke?

    I blinked in confusion. Jerric held my gaze for a few more moments, then the corners of his lips twitched ever-so-slightly.

    The others were glancing sideways as we all tried to read the reactions at the table. No one was sure what was happening. Jerric''s lips twitched a little more, and the ghost of a grin formed on his face.

    A strangled snort from Devon was the first rock of the avalanche. It extracted a nervous snicker from Lynus. Then Kevan cracked next, and the twins looked at each other and couldn''t hold it in any more. Before we knew it, all of us had dissolved into hysterical laughter. Jerric had tears rolling down his cheeks, and I couldn''t tell if it was because of mirth, some heavier emotion, or both.

    It was one of those weird situations when everything was funny, even if it wasn''t. The laughter would roll to a stop, and then someone would snicker, and that would set us all off again. It took us a couple of minutes to sober up, and by then Jerric was looking a lot better.

    "Thank you for being willing to tell me," I said, once we had calmed down enough to form coherent sentences. "And I hope you guys understand why I really can''t say anything more about it." I directed that last part at Kevan.

    I could see some sort of mental calculus going on in his head as he weighed what I had just said. Jerric nodded gravely and spoke up before Kevan could reply. "I don''t know if I want that kind of power over someone, anyway. It comes with responsibility."

    Ambrose''s face was inscrutable. There were murmurs of assent from Lynus and Devon, but Kevan''s frown only deepened.

    "I understand," he said slowly. "But if we''re being trained for combat, then this is the kind of thing that gives us an edge, isn''t it?"

    "Kev." Lynus'' voice held no trace of levity now. "This isn''t some harmless duelling. This isn''t about being the best in some class."

    "I know that," Kevan snapped. He seemed to be reining himself in with difficulty. There was a pause as he collected himself before continuing. "But think about it. Look at how our Thaumaturgy classes are going. And did you hear Caden? What Kant said to their class? This is real. And if you''re facing down a threat that''s got the whole Academy geared towards proper combat-worthythaumaturgy, are you telling me you don''t want to seize every advantage you can?"

    "I don''t even want to be a part of it in the first place," Jerric said, his voice cracking a little. "This isn''t what I came to the Academy for."

    "Well, tough," Kevan shot back, but his tone was more matter-of-fact than inflammatory. "Because that''s the way the Academy is going, whether we like it or not. And in case you don''t remember, there''s a Prophecy hanging over the Empire. You think life is going to be business as usual? Plus, the Chosen One is apparently in our cohort, which means we''re closer to whatever big thing is coming than anyone else in the Empire."

    My eyes went straight to Ambrose. This seemed like the perfect time to say something. He looked at me and shook his head slightly.

    "I..." It barely came out as a whisper.

    I know who it is. The words were on the tip of my tongue but my throat had dried up completely. I knew what was happening. After my experience with the friend-in-the-arcana striving against the pull of the Prophecy, I found myself more attuned to its influence. It felt like I was trying to fight off a panic attack now as I struggled to get the words out as the Prophecy bore down on me, intent on keeping them in.

    "I know. You''re right." Jerric slumped forward, taking his head in his hands. "It''s just... so much to take in. You didn''t feel it, Kevan. You don''t know what it means to... to want to do this to someone."

    Kevan had no reply to that. He looked askance at me as if taking in my measure afresh, then noticed my pallor."What''s wrong with you?"

    "I..." My hands gripped the table and I pushed my chair back, taking in deep breaths as I tried to fight the rising tide of panic. I know who it is. I KNOW WHO IT IS."I... need time. Alone."

    "Let''s give him space," Ambrose said, rising to his feet and gesturing at Kevan to back away. "We, uh, we don''t want an... accidental repeat."

    He had seemed to be gearing up for a fight, but at Ambrose''s insistence, he stayed put. For good measure, Lynus rose and put himself between his brother and me. Devon was staring wide-eyed, and Jerric''s eyes flashed with latent anger.

    It was no good. I couldn''t fight it. But at least I knew what was happening. As soon as I relented, the panic eased, but it left me feeling worn out.

    "I''m sorry," I managed to say as I stood shakily. "Thanks for the waffles, Dev."

    They gave me a wide berth as I retreated to my room.

 27. Making Peace

    This is what it feels like to be feared.

    I leaned against the door and slid to the floor. Everyone''s expressions had been seared into my memory. And I couldn''t help but constantly replay the last few seconds in my head, hyper-focused on the smallest details бк the instinctive flinch from Devon when I stood; Lynus'' nostrils flaring in alarm even as he planted himself in front of Kevan; the creak of the table as Jerric''s hands tightened around the wood...

    They were talking in low voices. I couldn''t catch anything, but they had to be talking about me. Their muffled words were stripped of meaning, which made it worse. All I could hear was the undercurrent of emotion that rose and fell as their debate wore on.

    The panic had drained away completely by now. There was only a sense of utter emptiness. It reminded me of the despair and depression we experienced under Kevan''s ensorcellment last week.

    At least these feelings are mine. Really mine.

    I found that thought strangely comforting. The fact that I was comforted that I was feeling depressed brought a short bark of cynical laughter out of me. And then the tears came, burning out of my eyes.

    "Stay in the here and now." My father''s voice came to mind. That was his constant refrain through the years whenever one of my manias made it too hard to bear with people or the environment around me and I worked myself up to the verge of a breakdown. It was a lifeline now as I floundered in the mire of this new despair threatening to swallow me.

    I tried to ground myself within the present moment, to stop myself from spiralling down endless trails of worries and anxieties by paying more attention to physical sensations. Stay in the here and now. Notice the tears, hot when they first spill, then cold as the heat leeches into the air.

    The breathing. Shaky. A catch in the lungs every second or third breath. Feel the muscles tighten.

    Right hand in the hair; fingertips on the scalp. This feels nice. Gently comb through it. Ouch, the watch strap.

    Left hand on the floor; fibres of the carpet. Oh, it''s actually quite a rich texture.

    Right leg growing numb. Shift a little. Knee up. Better.

    Left leg ankle hurts. Small adjustment. Slight pain on the ball if I put it like this. Just an awkward position. Leave it there and focus on it.

    It took time, but it worked. I found enough strength to get off the floor, stagger over to the bed, and crawl under the covers. I just wanted to slip into the oblivion of sleep.

    <hr>

    My watch vibrated. 7AM. It felt like I had only just closed my eyes a moment ago. But the room was now dark and the little bit of light that was peeking out between the window blinds had the cool quality of the early morning. Ambrose''s sleeping form was in the other bed.

    I lay there and listened to my own breathing for awhile. It took a great deal of effort for me to finally sit up and slowly gather my things so I could get to the shower.

    Devon was already seated at the table, drying his hair. He stopped and looked up as I closed the room door behind me. There was a pause before he nodded at me. "Hey."

    I nodded back. "Hey."

    "You''re up a little late today," he said, resuming his towelling. "Don''t take this the wrong way, but you look bad."

    It occurred to me that I hadn''t even changed out of my day clothes before crashing yesterday, but right now it was hard to care about my appearances.

    "Yeah, well... I feel bad."

    "You''ll feel better after you shower. Always works for me."

    "Mm. I''ll do that."

    Here and now, I reminded myself as I got into the shower and stood under the stream of warm water. The tension of the previous day seemed to leech out of me and into the water before spiralling down the drain. I watched the rivulets of water swirling across the tiles, tracing transient shapes and patterns.

    I spent a longer time than usual inside, and it did help. By the time I was out Devon was already in the kitchen area, laying out what he needed on the counter. Now that I didn''t feel like disappearing off the face of the world anymore, I got changed into a fresh set of casual clothes бк just a T-shirt and a pair of relaxed trousers бк and went over.

    "Need help?" I asked tentatively.

    "Not really," he said, busying himself with sifting flour. He looked up and gave me a brief smile, then gestured for me to come around the counter. "But that doesn''t mean there''s no room for another cook."

    The brief pang at what I thought was a rebuff was replaced with relief. "What''re you making?"

    "Pancakes. We''ve got everything for the dry mix here, so we''re starting with that. This can keep for a while, so I thought we might as well make more now."

    Devon gave me the general proportions of the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar, and got me to mix them into a container he had prepared. Out of that batch, we scooped some out into a mixing bowl and stored the rest in one of the overhead cupboards.

    "Now for the wet ingredients." From the fridge, Devon procured eggs, poured out milk in a measuring cup, and set aside several sticks of butter in a shallow dish. "We want the eggs and milk at room temperature, not cold, otherwise they''ll make the mix too inconsistent. Normally you have to take them out earlier and wait, but we''re arcanists," he winked.

    He spent a minute running through a glyph sequence in his head, which hastened the process. I touched the side of the measuring cup, marvelling at how it was no longer chilled. The butter had also softened considerably. "That''s not Basic Set stuff."

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    "Nope. We can talk glyphs later. For now, the rest is pretty simple, just toss everything into the mixing bowl. But crack the eggs first."

    "I know that," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

    "I didn''t," he grinned. "I think I was four or five, and the cook told me that, so that was exactly what I did. I tossed it all in."

    That got a brief but proper laugh out of me. Following his instructions, I started mixing everything as he heated up the skillet and oiled it.

    "Dev, about yesterdayбк"

    "Okay, the mix is ready," he cut in as he looked over at the mixing bowl in my hands.

    "But it''s still got some lumps in it?"

    "Trust me. If the mix is too smooth, the pancakes won''t turn out right either. There''s a balance. Now we let it rest for about five minutes."

    I set it aside and tried to broach the topic again. "Okay. So, yesterdayбк"

    "The heat''s got to be just right." He was focused on the fire, though there wasn''t much to do there since he was just waiting for the skillet to warm. "Too much and the pancakes will burn. It should be hot enough by the time the mix has settled."

    "Devon."

    He sighed and turned to me with the air of someone who was bracing for a blow. "Yes?"

    "I wanted to apologise again. Especially if I scared you."

    "Yeah, there''s plenty to be scared of," he murmured, looking away.

    "But we''re still good, right?" I asked hopefully.

    "Uh, yeah. We''re good." He looked uncomfortable, like I was forcing him into something. A feeling of helplessness washed over me. Would the others be like this too? Would I ever be able to mend this breach?

    "Devon, I... I don''t want to force you to be friends with me. And I understand that the stuff I did yesterday was way over the line, and... and I don''t want you to be nice just because you''re scared of me or something."

    He took in a deep breath. "It''s not that. Well, not completely. I think you''re a good person, but... the past two weeks have been weird. It''s not just you. Everything about life has been weird. And then yesterday what you did was just the biggest cap of weirdness on top of everything, and it was also scary, and it''s... a lot to deal with."

    I blinked, having only just been slapped out of my self-absorption far enough to realise that of course I wouldn''t be the only one feeling the effects of Ambrose''s Prophecy. The others were apparently a part of it too. Surely they''d have their own improbable, wild moments. What had the past two weeks been like for Devon? Or any of the others, for that matter? What had their lives been like, especially during those times when we weren''t together?

    "You wanna talk about it?"

    "About... the weird stuff you''ve done?"

    "About this, that, all of it." I gestured vaguely to encompass everything. "We''ve been so busy with studying, we haven''t exactly stopped to think of how crazy all of it is. I mean, with the Prophecy, and the Chosen One, and just the Academy itself, right?"

    "Yeah. Yeah, you''re right. And with what Jerric and Kevan were saying yesterday, I mean... I didn''t come here to be a part of some Empire-level stuff either. I just wanted to make my parents happy. Do my best, become an arcanist, do my bit for the family, live my life. You know?" Devon let out a sigh as he scooped some batter and ladled it into the skillet

    "Er, has it been five minutes?" I pointed at the mix.

    "What? Oh, it''s fine. I go by gut feeling anyway." He jiggled the skillet to encourage the mix to spread evenly. "But anyway... ever since we started here, it''s been one wild thing after the next, and it''s almost nothing like the prep schools. Where''s all this heavy stuff coming from? It doesn''t feel like the prep schools got any prep done on me at all!"

    "Tell me about it," I muttered, thinking back to the indignation I had felt last week after having my expectations subverted in Double Thau and in Kant''s class. "My parents are both arcanists, and then I meet people like Kevan and Lynus and see their Double Thau stuff, and go through Kant''s class, and it''s the first time in my life I''ve even known about how you can sequence things this way. And all that stuff about frame-shifting from Reeves? Life would''ve been easier if I had known that from the start."

    "You know what, though?" Devon flipped the pancake with a deft flick of his wrist. "This sounds crazy, but I think I''m learning faster here. Things justclick,you know? I used to be a lot slower with things. Like with glyphs? I get them now. And it feels pretty good. But it''s also... not normal. I don''t know how to explain it."

    "Yeah, about thatбк" there''s a Prophecy that probably has something to do with it. But a sense of panic rose again and choked off the words. I clenched a fist, then decided to go down a different branch of the conversation. It eased enough for me to speak. "... I''ve been feeling that too. Guess that comes with good lecturers."

    "I don''t know," he said dubiously. "I feel like everything''s mud to me in the classes. But things click later. Even if I''m just listening in, I pick things up from the discussions you guys have. If anything, being with you guys has helped the most."

    "That''sбк" because there''s a Prophecy, and I think it''s making us learn faster. "...nice to know."

    "So what I mean is... even if you scare me a lot with the things you''ve done, Caden, I''m... glad you''re here? Because like I said... you seem like a good person. And I get the feeling you''ve got a better handle of all this than most of us, so I''d appreciate it if you just..." He slid the first pancake onto a waiting plate and smiled ruefully at me. "Don''t let me drown and disappear."

    "I won''t," I said solemnly. At the very least, I could tell him that in my own words and mean it. He seemed considerably cheered up.

    After that, Devon insisted I try my hand at the skillet. The next two pancakes were horribly misshapen, but he refused to take over. Instead, he prepared a second skillet and start pumping out pancakes alongside me, and demanded that I continue so that I got some practice in. By the end, we had one stack of pristine pancakes and a second stack that went from barely passable at the top to utterly wretched at the bottom.

    "Everyone starts somewhere," he said encouragingly as he eyed the ones I had made, though his lips twitched.

    "They all look the same when we eat them and they come out the other end anyway," I grumbled. He made a face of mock disgust and laughed.

    "Okay, now we just keep them warm until the rest are up. This is the sequence I use." He gestured and brought up a line of glyphs. It was extremely brief.

    "That''s for proximate ambient arcana." I paled a little. "Did youбк"

    "Yeah, ran it by my Advanced Glyphs tutor before I used it. She said the theory''s good. So the central parts are the glyph for heat, obviously, then proximate ambient arcana to act as a sort of wrapper, then the Basic Set glyph for deceleration. The rest are just some clauses to tighten the meaning so you don''t need to focus so much."

    "Why not surface ambient arcana? And why not seal it completely?"

    "Surface makes a smooth layer, but it''s a little too perfect. Proximate makes it fuzzier, which is what I wanted. That lets the heat leech out a bit. You could seal it completely with either, but for some types of food, if you keep all the heat in, it becomes overcooked even in storage. So this actually slows the cooling process, it doesn''t stop it entirely. You can add in some numbers to tweak speed, but if you concentrate enough on the glyph and you''re focusing clearly, you can do without the numbers."

    "This is great work, Dev," I said, recognising how much more elegant it was compared to the clumsy modifications we had made to our bolts in Double Thau and Thaumaturgy classes.

    "Thanks," he grinned. "It feels good to be good at something, for once."

    "Dev, I told you, don''t sell yourself short."

    I fixed the sequence in my mind and sent a small wisp of my auric arcana around my stack of pancakes, where it fused with the ambient arcana and shaped it accordingly. A shimmer briefly played across them.

    The door to the twins'' room opened. Lynus and Kevan emerged just in time to see my casting.

    "Don''t blow us up," Kevan muttered darkly as he sank into a chair. Lynus gave me a slightly apologetic shrug and lightly cuffed his brother.

    Devon patted my shoulder, grinned, and put the saddest-looking pancakes onto a plate that he slid over to Kevan. "He can have the shitty ones."

    As Lynus dissolved into laughter while Kevan spluttered indignantly, I felt the weight over my heart lift a little more.

 28. Puzzlement

    Ambrose and Jerric hadn''t yet woken up. I thought it was rather unusual for them to sleep in more than Kevan, but since it was the weekend none of us thought it was necessary to bother them. Devon''s glyph sequence would keep the pancakes nice and warm.

    Without the two of them, breakfast proved to be a quiet affair. Kevan was surly, restricting himself to monosyllabic responses and moodily stabbing at the misshapen pancakes that Devon had foisted on him. Bogged down by the mood and unable to riff off his brother, Lynus was a lot more subdued than he had been yesterday. Devon had valiantly tried making attempts at sustained conversation but by the end, we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Kevan was the first to go бк wordlessly, he dumped his plate into the sink and vanished into his room.

    "I''d apologise on his behalf, but honestly, I''m getting tired of it too," Lynus sighed as he got up. "Thanks for making breakfast, guys. I''ll do the plates."

    "Thanks Ly. So Caden, any plans today?" Devon asked with forced brightness.

    "You''re not telling me you''re still up for Double Thau after yesterday?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    He deflated at once. "No, not really. Honestly, I''d like a day off. You?"

    "I..." The idea of just blowing off steam for a day was enticing, but it felt like a waste to just while the time away. "I was thinking of looking for a nice study spot, maybe run through glyphs a bit more. I''m still fuzzy on the Advanced Set."

    "Oh. Cool. That''s cool. Work is good, too. You want some help with that?"

    I squinted at him. "Do you really want to come, or do you just feel like you have to offer?"

    "Uh. I want... to want... to come?" He grinned sheepishly.

    "I''ll be fine on my own," I chuckled. "But thanks for offering. What about you, Ly?"

    "What''s that? I can''t hear you while I''m doing the dishes!" Lynus noisily clanked the plates together in the sink as he washed them.

    "I''m not asking you to come," I said, exasperated. "I was asking if you had plans today."

    "Ah! Well, in that case, I can hear you just fine! Kev and I were thinking of cornering Emilia to get in some practice with her." He turned and waggled his eyebrows.

    "... you want to practise with Emilia?" I asked incredulously. "Have you even spoken with her before?"

    "No, but why''s that a problem? I know her name and I know who she is. I can make my own introductions!"

    "That doesn''t mean she''ll practise with you. You can''t just walk up to someone and ask them to practise when you haven''t even met each other properly yet."

    Lynus shook his head pityingly as he dried his hands and leaned across the counter. "Oh, sweet Top Scorer. You can always walk up to a girl and ask her if she wants to practise."

    "Must you make it sound like that? I''m trying to be serious."

    He let out a sigh. "You''re no fun. Fine. It''s not really for practice, or for practice. Kevan wants to challenge her to a duel and I''m coming along so I get to gloat if he gets beaten by her."

    "Classic Kevan." Devon shook his head. "Do you think he has a chance?"

    Lynus put in some proper thought before responding this time. "Depends. We''ve been busy in the last week. Or rather, Kevan has been busy, and he''s been using me as a target dummy. We''ve both started bending bolts without using custom sequences. But if Emilia is as good as Ambrose was when we had that first Double Thau, then no. Kevan''s hoping that Emilia hasn''t gotten that good that quickly."

    "I dunno," I frowned, dubious. "She seemed about as good as Ambrose to me."

    "In that case, you''ll all get to listen to me describe exactly how Kevan gets his ass kicked," Lynus grinned.

    "Don''t antagonise him even more," I said wearily. "I think I''ve gotten him wound up tight enough with yesterday''s stuff."

    "Don''t worry, he''ll get over it. After all, he''s got a new rival to worry about."

    "Right. Well... I''m gonna grab my stuff and head out."

    I quietly let myself into the room. Ambrose was still asleep, apparently utterly exhausted. I wondered whether this had something to do with how the ensorcellment had been dispelled. Then another worry presented itself: what if the experience of having their auric arcana wiped out and restored had done some lasting damage to him and Jerric? Could you die from some sort of auric trauma later? Worried, I went close enough to check if Ambrose was even still alive. It felt silly, but I was relieved to hear him still breathing. Making as little noise as possible, I stuffed my textbook and notes for Advanced Glyphs into my bag, grabbed my sweater, and left.

    By now, the morning sun had taken a little bit of the chill out of the air, but I donned my sweater anyway to keep the late-autumn wind at bay. A few students were out and about, most walking purposefully to some other destination, but the grounds were largely empty. I supposed most had opted to sleep in or stay indoors.

    The Spire was casting a cold shadow across the entrance of the dormitory, so I moved into the warmth of the sunlight. Since there wasn''t a need for me to hurry, I took this rare moment to just enjoy the quiet atmosphere and think about where I wanted to hunker down to study for the next few hours.

    The duelling compound had study areas, but at the moment I didn''t feel like being so near the place I had called forth the friend-in-the-arcana and ensorcelled my friends. The library was the obvious place to go, especially if I wanted to check for any books that might cover what I had done, and yet I felt a little reluctant to simply cloister myself up there like other students. I wanted a little more privacy.

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    The perfect option came to mind: the lake. Though strictly speaking, the lake wasn''t part of the Academy grounds since it lay outside the walls that enclosed the entire compound. But it was featured in the Academy brochure since events were sometimes held on its grassy banks, or even on the lake itself, on temporary platforms that were kept afloat by complex glyph sequences. There was even a small building with amenities like showers and toilets, and a pavilion.

    I wasn''t sure where the closest gate to the lake was, so I brought up a Minor Query wisp to lead the way. It brought me past the duelling compound''s domed buildings and into the shadow of the marbled walls surrounding the Academy. I hadn''t really appreciated how huge they were, towering almost ten stories high. It was a blatant projection of power and exclusivity бк a clear statement that great wielders of arcana made their abode here, and that outsiders were not welcome. It must have made quite a statement when it was built, long before the Academy was founded when the Spire was the only structure and the Aiestan Empire was still called the Aiestan Arcanocracy.

    The Minor Query wisp bobbed right up to the wall and then disappeared. The small path of paving stones led directly to it and terminated there. There was no gate.

    Confused, I conjured the Minor Query wisp again and tried giving it a more specific command. "Take me to the closest gate that leads to the lake."

    The wisp bobbed forward and snuffed itself out against the wall once again.

    Fighting down a sense of irritation, I went closer to see if there was some kind of door that required arcanic manipulation to open but there were no visible glyphs. I clicked my tongue in frustration. I had no idea how to make hidden glyphs reveal themselves if I didn''t know the conditions that hid them, like Celwyn''s trick with the globe light. It looked like I would have to find some other place to study.

    "Hello, Caden."

    I jumped and barely managed to stifle a scream as I spun around. Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell was standing right behind me, smiling genially, with his hands in his pockets. Today, he was wearing a white sweater and casual dark brown pants. And those were definitely the same sneakers as Devon''s.

    "Demiurge, sir, I''m so sorry, I didn''t know you were there." The pounding of my heart in my ears was so loud I wouldn''t have been surprised if he could hear it too. I backed up a little since he was uncomfortably close.

    "Oh, no, I should be the one apologising. I''m sorry I gave you a scare. What are you doing here?"

    "I''m... I wanted to go to the lake. To study. For peace. For a peaceful place to study." I cursed my useless tongue.

    "Yes, it is a rather good spot. Usually, the second-years learn the trick to open the gate as part of their studies."

    I waited, wondering if he was going to tell me what the trick was. The silence stretched, reminding me painfully of the scene yesterday in my father''s residence.

    "Can you... help me get to the lake, sir?"

    "I can," he nodded. His smile became a little more fixed. "If you answer a few questions for me."

    I couldn''t just hear my heart now. I was sure it was beating hard enough to be visible. My throat went dry. "Of course, sir," I croaked.

    "Have you uncovered the identity of the Chosen One?"

    "I... what?"

    "The Chosen One." He folded his arms, still smiling. "Do you know who it is?"

    This moment was even more excruciating than all the previous tense moments combined. But I was struck by the realisation that these feelings were all mine. There was no Prophecy-panic weighing me down and preventing me from speaking. There was something wonderfully uplifting about that, even though I was currently terrified almost out of my wits.

    "Y-yes."

    "I see. And has he told you anything about the Prophecy?"

    "No."

    Caldwell was no longer smiling. He looked thoughtful. "You asked, and he did not offer any information."

    That wasn''t a question. I nodded mutely, thinking back to the first time I had ''asked'' бк the first ensorcellment I had performed.

    "How far along are you with your mastery of ensorcellment?"

    It was taking me all of my willpower not to collapse in front of him. It felt like he was tracing the thoughts in my head as they formed. And for all I knew, that was exactly what was happening. After all, if someone like Reeves could wipe memories, what could the Demiurge do?

    "N-not far. The last time I performed it was yesterday. But... it was the construct that did it, so I''m not sure if that counts."

    "It counts," he said quietly. "It was an extremely well-wrought ensorcellment, as I said before. But your mastery is tenuous because you are not fully aware of the mechanics."

    He lapsed into silence, staring unblinkingly at me. I found myself looking down at my shoes, unable to meet his eyes, and feeling the top of my head burning under the weight of his scrutiny. I tried to focus on the present moment, not wanting to think about anything in particular at the moment.

    "Oh, pardon me. I can''t actually read minds. I just go a little too deeply into my own thoughts sometimes and end up staring," Caldwell said airily.

    That was a rather transparent lie. I mustered up enough courage to call him out. "Then... how did you know that I thought you were reading my mind?"

    "It''s a common myth floating around the student body, so I assumed that''s what you were thinking, especially with the way you''re behaving," he grinned. "But I suppose you''ll have to take my word for it."

    "Sir... are you mad that I know who the Chosen One is?"

    He looked curiously at me. "Why do you think I should be mad?"

    "Because the Academy... Professor Reeves at the orientation... the memory wipe?"

    "Mm. That makes sense, doesn''t it? But no, I''m not mad. I''m interested in your development as an arcanist-in-training, and this Chosen One business is affecting it quite a bit."

    I couldn''t figure out where he was coming from. All my assumptions and expectations were being dismantled by his odd behaviour. "Don''t you want the Chosen One and the Prophecy to remain a secret?"

    "What I want is rather irrelevant when it comes to that. Prophecies are their own masters, and most are their unwitting slaves."

    He seemed to be in a rather chatty mood, and even if I couldn''t understand him completely, it did strike me as a time to get good information. I relaxed a little.

    "So... the warning to not try to uncover the Chosen One''s identity...?"

    "About as useful as barring students from accessing the lake outside of official events. By the second year, almost everyone breaks through this gate at least once."

    "I didn''t even know there was a rule."

    "Yes, some rules you discover as you go along."

    "And I thought you said it''s part of their studies?"

    "And so it is!"

    I was beginning to wonder if Caldwell owed his meteoric ascent to some level of insanity. Maybe I could extract some concession now. "Can I have permission to summon the construct again?"

    "But why do you need my permission? It was never prohibited."

    I gaped at him, thinking back to the confrontation in my father''s residence and realising that he was right.

    "Then why did you make such a big deal out of it?"

    "But it is a big deal! You''re only in your first year. And your construct had a particular flavour to it that I haven''t seen in a long time. It alarmed me at first, which is why I went to seek out its source. I am quite relieved it was you."

    "Then... then it''s a common thing?" That seemed odd. If it was common, then why did my father treat it like such a revelation?

    "I wouldn''t say common," Caldwell frowned. "But certainly not unique."

    "Are there books about it?"

    "Possibly. But not in our library. It''s rather esoteric, even among arcanists."

    "Can youбк"

    "I think I should send you off to the lake now, don''t you?" Caldwell interrupted with a grand gesture. I turned to look, expecting some great spectacle, but there was no wash of arcana, no shimmering in the air. One moment the wall was solid and unbroken, and the next there was an ancient but sturdy-looking iron-bound wooden door set into it.

    "Thank you," I began, but when I turned back, the Demiurge was gone.

    I sighed. The day had barely begun, and I was already taxed.

 29. Fey Afield

    It seemed that every passing week brought to light some new application of arcanophany just casually displayed in the Academy бк the blackboard in the Nivordin Lecture Hall transcribing our speech in our handwriting; the glyphs in the Ka''atus Room being capable of granting conditional invisibility and temporarily manifesting matter; and now, Caldwell materialising from and de-materialising into thin air.

    Before my admission into the Academy, I might have seized upon this latest phenomenon and obsessed over it. The simplest explanation was that he had been invisible and lying in wait for me at the gate, but that seemed quite unlikely. The more incredible explanation was that he had teleported бкbut that was the kind of thing you read in exaggerated stories about arcanists. If teleportation were real, the transport industry as we knew it wouldn''t exist.

    But now I was too tired to dwell on it. It wasn''t a physical thing бк I suppose it was just the accumulation of so many stressors, coming together and manifesting in a sudden burst of general apathy with this proverbial last straw on the camel''s back. I just wanted to sit down with my books and study, and not have to think about the strange things happening around me for a while.

    Thankfully, the door yielded to a simple push. Despite its ancient and hefty appearance, it was perfectly balanced and swung open without complaint. A closer look revealed that glyphs had been worked into the hinges, but I didn''t recognise them at all even though I had a passing familiarity with the entire Advanced Set. Apparently there was an even greater body of glyphs that we had yet to learn about, not including glyphs that were probably not public knowledge, such as the glyph for prophetic links.

    I stepped over the threshold and into the blessed warmth of the morning sun. The path of paving stones meandered down a gentle grassy slope, leading to a sizeable square pavilion set on an expanse of flat ground that had been cut into the slope. A two-story structure stood alongside it. Both were designed after a rather antiquated style, featuring sturdy oaken beams with little decoration. The gabled roofs of both the pavilion and building were polished slats of wood. It had an altogether more rustic feel that was a little at odds with the grandeur of the walls nearby. Beyond that, the civility of the paving stones gave way to a dirt path that traced a route through the knee-high grass, leading further down the slope to the banks of the lake.

    And there it was бк the water brilliantly blue, the surface only gently perturbed by the soft breeze, reflecting the slightly cloudy skies. There wasn''t a soul in sight. I paused at the threshold to take in a deep breath and just drink in the vista, then slowly made my way down towards the building.

    It turned out to contain more than just toilets and showers. The first floor was mostly dominated by a small hall with stacks of foldable tables and chairs neatly set against a wall. A simple spiral stair led up to the second floor, which contained smaller rooms that were populated with circular tables and an assortment of beanbags and comfier seats. And although this place appeared unused, there wasn''t a speck of dust anywhere. Whatever housekeeping glyph sequences were in use here, they were definitely working well. All in all, it was the kind of place you might use to throw a nice party, or as a great study spot, which struck me as rather odd if this place was generally off-limits.

    While the place was nice, I finally settled on actually sitting by the lake. I borrowed one of the foldable chairs from the premises (a deck chair would have been preferable, but this would do) and found a nice spot by the bank to plant it. I took a few minutes to just contemplate the view from the water''s edge, then buried my nose in the Advanced Glyphs textbook.

    <hr>

    I jerked awake as the textbook slipped out of my grasp, along with the notebook I had been scribbling in. Even though I had been sitting in the sun, I was still kept pleasantly cool by the intermittent cloud cover, and the weather conspired to make me so comfortable that I managed to fall asleep. I groaned as I looked at the time бк it was almost noon.

    At the very least, I had been able to run through the entire Advanced Set with my flashcards, and I was pretty confident about being able to accurately read and write maybe 90 percent of them. The reading for the next class was dense, and that was where I had started to drift off.

    That first discussion question had presented a huge knot. I picked up my books and tried to go over that last fuzzy train of thought before I headed back to get lunch.

    "Why do common artefacts work reliably for laymen despite the fact that they have no understanding of glyphic theory, and do not recognise anything beyond the Basic Set?"

    Thatwas quite puzzling. I knew that having a deeper understanding of the concepts tied to a glyph would enable you to do more with it when using mental glyphs бк that was how we were all beginning to learn how to bend arcanic bolts without resorting to full, pre-set sequences. It thus stood to reason that you needed, at the very least, a rudimentary understanding of the glyphs on an artefact before you could get it to do anything. And yet many common artefacts like my watch made use of Advanced Set glyphs, and they work just as well for laymen as they do for arcanists.

    If glyphs were just a structured form of frameshifting, then it followed that the laymen ought to be unable to use artefacts at all. After all, they didn''t even know enough to know what to expect from the glyphs. So why was it they could get away with just knowing the Basic Set?

    The discussion question seemed to be designed to raise even more questions. I penned down my follow-up queries and resolved to ask them in the next class.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As I stuffed everything into my bag and looked out across the lake, a stray thought entered my head: the view must be awesome from the air.

    My heartbeat quickened as I made the leap through a series of mental checkpoints бк friend-in-the-arcana; flying; not forbidden; private space; friends safe; time to experiment?

    A grin split my face.

    I set my bag on the chair, walked past the boundary where the grass gave way to the pebbled bank and went right to the edge of the water. Somehow, standing there with the lake spread out before me, I was filled with a sense of... something. Exhilaration? Expectation? Wonder? It was hard to put a name to that emotion, but it suffused me, and I found myself throwing my arms wide open as if to embrace the world. A laugh escaped my lips бк bright, care-free, even a little childish. I felt like I was six, and an old memory blossomed into full colour; racing my father across a jetty and leaping into the water after him, while my mother who was already floating there raised an arm to shield her eyes from the twin bombardment of our splashes.

    Come,I called into the arcana, feeling it surge both in and around me,and let us leap across the lake and skies!

    It answered. The air grew heavy again at the moment of manifestation, but this time it quickly resolved into a buoyant force that lifted me emotionally as much as it did physically. My feet left the ground with a soft gust of air, knocking the chair and my bag over. I barely had time to register that when they, too, floated upwards before being gently righted and set back down.

    As before, I found myself awash in euphoria. But now instead of being borne up and away by the friend-in-the-arcana, I found myself drifting forward lazily. The sunlight glinted off the water, and I wondered what it would be like to touchбк

    бкpanic-shock-glee! I rocketed straight into the lake and sent up a plume of water before breaching the surface and shooting up several metres into the air. My hair and clothes were soaked, but a wonderful warmth was spreading through my body, a thousand times better than the whiskey my father had given me, and I was immune to the chill of the air.

    I lost myself for a while, moving more by impulse and instinct than by properly structured thought. We leapt across the lake and skies, as I had asked. The lake yielded itself to me as I plunged deep into it, deep enough to look up and see the surface as little more than a glowing spiderweb of waves silhouetted by the sun, and then the lake released me lovingly as I shot back up to fill my burning lungs with life. The wind caught me and sent me skittering across the water, and I filled the air with spray as my shoes traced a path in the froth. Back and forth I went, a capricious spirit darting from one whimsical fancy to the next. I wanted to hug the sunlight, to dance with the wind, to make the water sing. I did all that and more, lost in a haze of giddy delight.

    Utterly, marvellously lost, like a child snatched up by the fey.

    It wasn''t until I somehow managed to take a proper look at the sun without being captivated by it that I was jolted out of that euphoric reverie. It was setting. I fiddled with the watch on my wrist and turned it around since it had gotten a little loose after all that messing around and confirmed that it was nearly four.

    With that realisation, I began my descent. The ripples of arcana wafting off me diminished as I approached the lone chair on the bank, and I slowly settled back into reality. I was still soaked to the bone, and now the wind playing across my skin was no longer pleasantly warm бк it sent icy tendrils snaking over me. The last of the arcana fell away in tattered ribbons as my feet brushed the pebbled bank, and I stumbled forwards onto the chair, shivering violently.

    The overdraw hit me a moment later in full force. Suddenly the darkening sky didn''t seem to want to stay fixed overhead anymore. I tilted sideways, clinging on to the chair for support as the world spun around me. The thundering of my heart filled my ears and pulsed painfully through my fingertips.

    Vent.I clung on to that thought and tried to focus on the right glyphs for the job. The air began to ripple again as I forced out the ambient arcana that was suffusing me.

    The light was fading fast, and there wasn''t enough auric arcana left in me to spend on a simple globe light. I had enough presence of mind to grab my bag. The chair I abandoned бк maybe I would come back for it some other time when I had enough life in me to care about Academy property. I started trudging up the dirt path, fighting off physical exhaustion while dealing with the mental strain of venting.

    I felt a moment of abject panic when I neared the wall and couldn''t immediately spot the door, but I let out a cry of relief when I saw its dim outline in the darkness as I drew closer. The relief sharpened exquisitely when I found that it still opened easily. I thanked the Fates for the architect or artificer who designed a door so balanced I could probably still have found the strength to open it right before I shuffled off the mortal coil.

    As soon as I staggered over the threshold and the door clicked shut, it vanished. This time, there was an audible squelching sound and I watched as the marbled wall rapidly grew over the door, effectively swallowing it. But I couldn''t waste any energy on that disturbing sight at the moment. I continued my agonising journey back to the dorm. Mercifully, the paths within the grounds were illuminated by globe lights, so all I had to do was just keep putting one foot... in front of... the other...

    "Caden? Fates,what happened?"

    My head felt too heavy to raise, so I settled for tilting it to the side. It was... someone, frozen in the act of opening the door to our dorm building, a bag of groceries under his free arm. I had managed to make it back.

    "I''m just gonna... sit down here..."

    I sank to my knees as the world spun around me again. Distantly, I heard raised voices. There was a vague impression of frenzied movement around me. And I couldn''t tell if my feet had left the ground again, or if that was just a particularly bad flare of vertigo. All I could do was cling on to the glyphs in my head and make sure that I was venting, and sealing as much as I could.

    Inexplicably, the phantom smell of pancakes came to me, and I thought of someone''s glyph sequence for slowing down heat loss. It came apart in my head, and I decided to try slotting its principles together with my understanding of venting with the proximate ambient arcana glyph. I needed to form his ''fuzzy'' barrier. It seemed to work better than trying to create a perfect screen. The ambient arcana continued to seep in, but the flow had slowed to a trickle. It no longer felt like I was trying to bail water out of a sinking ship with nothing more than a pail.

    I finally gained enough awareness to realise that I was now in my bed in the dorm. Five other people were crowded into that small room, looking down at me. I was sure I knew who they were. I opened my mouth, intending to thank them, but I felt another throb of vertigo and my focus on the glyphs slipped.

    I needed to close my eyes for another moment.

    ... just another moment.

    <hr>

 30. Chipping at the Fetters

    7AM. The familiar vibration.

    My watch. It still works, even after... after water-sky-warmth-joy.

    I wanted to continue to lie there, luxuriating in the warmth of the bed, but something was nagging at me. It seemed especially important that I didn''t sleep in today. I had... I had things to go for. There was a test to face... a man I had to... sit against?

    My eyes cracked open. The room was dimly lit by a globe light turned low. I frowned бк since when had the globe light in the room been this big? Maybe the... the roommate had modified it. But then where was he?

    I craned my neck to look over at the bed where the roommate should have been, but there was only an olive-green curtain. A curtain in the middle of our room?

    It finally occurred to me that I wasn''t back in my room in the dorm. The bed beneath me was slightly bigger and more comfortable, and the curtain that surrounded the bed was a screen that offered some privacy in what was an otherwise open space. I thought I heard the creak of bedsprings from elsewhere in the room, and it gave me some sense of the scale of the place. It was definitely much larger than my dorm room.

    There was a name for this place. I struggled for a few moments to grasp it with slippery mental fingers, but then the urge to do so faded away, leaving me staring around, lost. I looked down at myself and saw that I was wearing a loose-fitting blue cotton T-shirt and pants. For some reason, these clothes told me I should be worried. My heart began to race.

    Stay in the here and now, the memory of a man said. His face was familiar. I wanted to listen to him.

    That was very easy to do. My mind kept wandering from one tattered thought to the next as new stimuli presented itself to my senses бк smooth-curtain-green; bed-soft-warm; smell-morning-rich; footsteps-smart-serious. And yet I had a feeling that this wasn''t exactly what I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to stay, not wander-fly-whimsy until I rose-faded-melted into the woven-shackled-stream.

    The what? It was strangely hard to follow my own thoughts.

    ''The woven-shackled-stream, bridled-broken-moulded by the ancient-distant-spiders.''

    That tattered thought scattered in the wind as the footsteps stopped right on the other side of the curtain, which was drawn back with a sharp motion. The white-bright-power frowned down at me, and I frowned back at him as I tried to pin down where this face was supposed to fit into my memory. He was wearing a black sweater, grey jeans, and shoes that belonged on someone else.

    "A little disappointing, Caden," he said, the frown-lines deepening.

    Caden. There was a face that went with that name, too. It appeared in mirrors. It was supposed to be mine. I felt a rising panic as I realised I couldn''t remember the face that belonged to me. What was the shape that went with this auric-ambient-flare?

    The man must have read the incomprehension in my eyes. The frown vanished, replaced with curiosity and worry. He leaned closer, and I leaned forward, trying to read the name that was supposed to be hidden in the contours and features of his face. Maybe if I could do that, I could find my own face.

    "This is what happens when you ignore basic safety," he sighed, shaking his head. "You always bring a spotter if you want to try something novel. I thought you were smarter than that."

    That made sense. But I grinned at him. "A spotter wouldn''t have let me... let me..." I trailed off, the words eluding me. I couldn''t articulate the water-sky-warmth-joy.

    The man rolled up his sleeves and sat at the edge of my bed, pushing me back down into it. I wanted to protest, but then I got distracted by the pressure-flesh-firm and the bed-memory-relaxation. One of his hands went to my forehead, and the other went to my solar plexus.

    I gasped as a horrible, paralysing cold rushed through me. It touched every vein, every nerve, and then retreated, leaving a sense of such utter hollowness that it felt like I might shrivel up and collapse into nothingness. But it lasted only for a moment before another sensation consumed me. This time, it was fire, chasing out the emptiness, filling every crevice with molten agony instead. The world around me became just a pinprick of stimuli that barely registered as I sank beneath an ocean of flame.

    And yet, for a moment, through the delirium, I felt-heard-knew something from the woven-shackled-stream.

    ''Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.''

    <hr>

    The familiar vibration.

    I jolted awake, sensing that something was horribly wrong. The light coming in through the gaps in the window blinds was too bright. My watch confirmed it бк it was 8AM. Why had it gone off an hour late?

    And why did everything hurt so much?

    An involuntary cry of pain escaped me as I swung my legs off the bed. My whole body was awash in a horrible painful prickling. It was like a case of pins and needles, except the needles in question were made of salt and were being slowly twisted as they slid into a million microscopic wounds.

    Ambrose opened the door and hurried over. "Caden, are you okay?"

    "N-no, I think I... overdrew? Completely?"

    He nodded gravely. "We sent an Emergency Call when you passed out yesterday. The healers arrived and took you off to the infirmary, then wouldn''t let anyone see you. They just came and dropped you off here half an hour ago."

    I looked down at the blue cotton clothes that were the infirmary''s standard wear for patients. Bits and pieces of these events were starting to coalesce into a vague recollection. It was worse than trying to remember a dream that hadn''t been particularly vivid.

    "They brought me back here?" I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Why didn''t they let me recover in the infirmary?"

    "They said it''s best for you to try and get through the day as usual instead of getting bed rest," Ambrose said, his face clearly showing the doubt he had about that particular call.

    "What?" I asked sharply, incredulity giving me strength.

    "The Demiurge himself recommended it, apparently."

    "Caldwell can go and jump in the lake." I tried to swing my legs back onto the bed, but all I succeeded was in making them twitch a little, which sent ribbons of fire racing up them. I found myself paralysed by the pain.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    "Just... don''t get up. I''ll get you something to eat. Maybe you''ll feel better."

    He left the room. Something had changed between us. I could feel it бк there was an absence of fellow-feeling, of camaraderie. And as I heard the low buzz of conversation outside through the half-open, it occurred to me that perhaps this was what was natural.

    "He''s awake?" That was Devon.

    "Yes," Ambrose replied. "And I don''t think he''s in any shape to go for class."

    "It''s just a lecture today, he''ll be fine," Kevan said a little dismissively.

    "It''sReeves," Devon shot back. "You know what happens in today''s lecture."

    "Yeah, well, he should go anyway, and if Reeves pushes him too far, maybe Caden will turn the compulsion back on him and give the rest of us a break." I could hear the grin in Kevan''s voice.

    Irritated, I managed to draw in enough breath to raise my voice. "I''m not some kind of monster!"

    There was a beat of awkward silence, then the conversation picked up again in whispers. Ambrose came back into view, bearing a plate with bacon and scrambled eggs. It was still gently steaming бк obviously Devon''s handiwork. He set it down on my bedside table.

    "Listen, if you''re not feeling up to it, you should just rest," he said, handing me a fork

    The smell of breakfast worked as a wonderful stimulant. I nodded brusquely at Ambrose and concentrated on eating. In five minutes, I managed to polish off the entire plate. And as much as I hated to admit it, Iwasfeeling much better after moving around a little. Maybe the Demiurge was right.

    Ambrose had been watching me worriedly the entire time. It was a little irritating to have him there. My thoughts were beginning to crystalise around some recent realisations, sharpened by the pain бк I was probably riddled with prophetic links as a result of being so close to Ambrose. And that likely accounted for a lot of the strangeness in my life in the Academy, like my experience with the friend-in-the-arcana phenomenon. It was intoxicatingly powerful, but it wasn''t something I was entirely comfortable with.

    Thinking about thefriend-in-the-arcanabrought back a confused jumble of thoughts and emotions from my time in the infirmary. There had been a... thing, vast and unknowable... that had told me to do something. And I felt very strongly that this was something that didn''t have anything to do with the Prophecy.

    "You look a little better," Ambrose remarked, breaking my train of thought. "Do you think you wanna try going for Reeves'' lecture?"

    "You need to stop talking," I said irritably as I struggled to communicate my current state. I wanted to make it clear that I didn''t want to be disturbed.

    Finally, the memory came back to me, drawn out by my desire for him to just understand, so that I didn''t have to talk.

    Touch-speak-bend... it was a jumble of alien impressions that I understood asensorcel. And theChosen-Blinded-Jailer was the amalgamation of concepts and feelings that I understood as the Chosen One. Or rather,this Chosen One in front of me in particular, not just some generic term. It was a very interesting bundle of concepts that identified Ambrose. And that vast, unknowable something wanted me to ensorcel him.

    The temptation to do it immediately was overwhelming, but I reined the impulse in with great difficulty. I didn''t want a repeat of what had happened two days ago (Fates, it felt like forever) with him and Jerric. If I did perform this ensorcellment, it would be on my terms, with a clear head.

    I gingerly got to my feet. The pain had subsided into a dull burn, so I managed to gently close the door.

    "Ambrose. I need to perform a... well, I call it an ensorcellment now. I need permission to do it on you."

    I expected some sort of objection, but Ambrose only raised an eyebrow fractionally. He didn''t even seem particularly affected by the term ''ensorcellment''. I had a suspicion that he had heard it before since the answer came a lot more quickly than I expected. He nodded wordlessly.

    "But... not here, and not now," I said, my memory filling itself in a little more. I knew that for this ensorcellment, I''d need the friend-in-the-arcana again (surely there was a name for it?), and my last two experiences had more than adequately demonstrated that it was something a little beyond my control. The Demiurge had been right бк I should have known better than to experiment with it alone, without consultation or supervision.

    "When?" he asked. It struck me as a little odd how he was being so accommodating.

    "You''re being awfully compliant," I pointed out peevishly.

    "I''m not going to argue with someone who can fly at will, and ensorcel people so powerfully that only the Demiurge can reverse it," he said, grinning a little.

    "Stop it," I hissed through gritted teeth, partly out of frustration, but mostly due to actual pain as I felt a throb in my auric arcana. It was a new and very unpleasant sensation, quite different from the pain I had felt when I first woke up. Why were there so many flavours of agony?

    He did stop. And now he looked perturbed.

    "What, you thought I''d always be all buddy-like with you?" There was another throb, but my grimace of pain sharpened into a defiant grin.

    "Well... yeah," he said, genuine confusion in his voice.

    "No... we''re starting at square one. This time, Chosen One, you don''t... get to have prophetic links... doing your job for you." Every pronouncement sent new flares of pain through my auric arcana, but I was beginning to acclimate.

    "Prophetic links?" he echoed, puzzled. I couldn''t tell if it was an act.

    "Yes," I said, closing my eyes and picturing the glyph in my head. The very act of doing that seemed to open my senses, and I zeroed in on the source of pain and discovered it wasn''t physical. I could feel the prophetic links burrowing into me, sinking into my innermost being, filling out the ''cracks'' and ''grooves'' in my auric arcana...

    ... the cracks and grooves that they had left when they had somehow been flensed off earlier.

    I tried to force them out, but their tendrils were implacable. I tried framing them as a form of ambient arcana so that I could vent them and slow their ingress with the same principles used to keep ambient arcana at bay, but that had no effect either. All I could do was stand helplessly by as they slowly snaked around me, into me, melding with me.

    Panic was threatening to overwhelm me again. I knew what would happen if they managed to get a firm hold. It would make me friendly, make me stay close to Ambrose, even against my own interests. It seemed so clear now in hindsight, especially with the revelatory help of the glyph of prophetic links.

    Ihad to win this. Ihad to beme. Who am I?

    There is a shape that goes with this auric-ambient-flare. That addled thought from earlier this morning came back to me, and now, in a more conscious state, I was able to parse some meaning out of it. Back then, I had been trying to recall the shape of my physical face. But there was more to it than that. There was a shape to my arcana that was me. Like a name to a face.

    I knew that shape. And right now, my shape was wrong.

    I ran through the glyphs I knew to try and patch something together so I could keep my shape.

    General auric arcana and general ambient arcana. These two things formed my shape. I didn''t know why, but they did. These glyphs would be the heart of the sequence.

    As for the tendrils, they couldn''t just be frameshifted. They needed a name so they could be dealt with. That would be the glyph for prophetic links. It would be in a clause for exclusion. That way, the proximate ambient arcana glyph would be able to identify what it needed to keep out. And together, these things would form a barrier to slow the ingress.

    But how to cleanse the interior?

    Auric-ambient-flare. That jumble of impressions seemed to carry some fundamental truth about what made up our inner beings. I returned to the glyphs for general ambient arcana and general auric arcana to try and understand them more.

    They formed my shape... and so that meant they would serve to define it, not just as a once-off formation, but as an exercise in constant adjustment back to a base state. If I fixed them properly in my mind, they should be able to self-regulate. They would flare,and burn out impurities.

    The sequence was ready бк the insights had come rapidly, aided by desperation, but mostly by the strange alien knowledge that had crept into my psyche during my short convalescence. It was disquieting, but I comforted myself with the fact that at least this time, I could tell it was not something that originated from me. And I was using these things on my own terms, voluntarily.

    The Demiurge''s warning came back to me бк always bring a spotter before trying something novel. But he wasn''t here and I didn''t trust anyone right now except my father. Plus, I didn''t think I could wait that long. I had to fix this now, while I was still relatively unfettered.

    I threaded my auric arcana through the sequence in my head, and the arcana in and around me reacted. A gentle warmth grew within me, expanding into what felt like specific corners of my mind and washing away the pain. Triumphant, I opened my eyes. Ambrose was still looking bemused.

    "Yes," I repeated as I felt the pain subside and as the tendrils'' advance slowed to a crawl. "Yes... you withheld information once. And we somehow swept that under the carpet. But not anymore. I''m going to class with all of you like nothing''s happened. But then I''m going to see my father. And then you and I... we''re going to have a long-overdue talk about where we both stand."

 31. Links in the Chain

    Our walk to the Nivordin Lecture Hall was a lot quieter than usual. Ambrose had retreated into the reticence he had displayed in our first few days together, while the others were giving me a little more space. Only Devon seemed to be generally unaffected by the pall that hung over us as he tried to keep a normal conversation going, and he wasn''t distancing himself from me.

    But I only noted all these things peripherally. Most of my attention was being taken up by the sequence in my head. As long as I kept it fixed in my mind, the pain of the prophetic links trying to fuse with my auric-ambient-flare was held at bay. However, every time my focus slipped, they burrowed in a little more deeply. It was becoming clear why my father had opted to make use of artefacts бк five of them, even бк in order to keep prophetic links at bay. I was no longer sure if I could delay seeing him, but I didn''t dare miss Reeves'' lecture either.

    Skipping classes in the Academy was practically unheard of. There was evidently no way to fool the professors and fake your attendance, even in the big lectures. Furthermore, the orientation package had contained a comprehensive breakdown of rules and expectations, and attendance was at the very top of the list. There were allowances for things like a bereavement in the family, or illness, but if you had any unexplained absences бк even just one бк you forfeited the right to continue your studies at the Academy. You could make an appeal and if your explanation was satisfactory then at the discretion of the Demiurge you could be allowed to stay on, but that looked a lot like one of those throwaway sentences in a corporate spiel just to show that there was a legitimate avenue of appeal.

    I very much doubted the Demiurge would let me off. And what would I even tell him? That I wanted to see my father in order to get help with breaking the prophetic links on me? I''d likely be getting myself in even greater trouble if I did that. If my conversation by the lake gate was anything to go by, he seemed like a very pro-Prophecy person. It was probably wiser to just turn up for Reeves'' lecture, fail this week''s attempt to resist his ensorcellment, and try to muddle through the lecture while focusing on the Prophecy-shielding sequence.

    We settled in our usual seats with a couple of minutes to spare. Reeves was already behind the desk and his eyes swept over us as we sat. I wasn''t sure if it was just my imagination, but his gaze seemed to linger on me for a moment longer before he turned his attention elsewhere. Was I looking particularly distracted? Could he tell that I was holding an active sequence in my head? Was there something about the arcana around me giving it away?

    I quickly applied some mental brakes before I started speculating further. There were more immediate things to worry about. I was going to fail to resist the ensorcellment, and that definitely wouldn''t go unnoticed. Kevan was almost certainly going to make a jibe. And I''d probably hear some smug remarks from other people about the Top Scorer failing at the very beginning of the exercise. I had to mentally prepare myself to just focus on the Prophecy-shielding sequence and not on any pangs of shame.

    A moment later, as the last student sat down, Reeves rapped the table with a knuckle and stood. "Everyone''s here. Let''s begin!"

    The air teemed with energy as Reeves performed his mass ensorcellment. By now, everyone had advanced sufficiently to remain seated at the outset. I heard the creak of seats as some people gripped the edges, the noise amplified in the strained silence as a hundred arcanists did their level best to resist the ensorcellment. A few seconds passed, and one by one people started rising with frustrated gasps and grunts. Then the seconds stretched, and more people caved. At half a minute, Reeves released his hold on the ambient arcana. There were only eighteen arcanists still seated, including the six of us.

    Wait a minute, I... I''m not standing?

    I looked down at myself, bewildered. The rest were preoccupied with their own recovery бк Devon, in particular, looked like he was suffering from the mother of all headaches бк but Ambrose was eyeing me with grudging respect even as he massaged his forehead.

    I hadn''t felt a thing. Had Reeves left me out?

    "Well done," Reeves said to those who were seated, and this time I was very sure he nodded ever-so-slightly at me. "Very well done." The moment passed, and he turned to smile ruefully at the others that hadn''t managed to resist. "At the very least, most of you lasted longer than last week. Keep up the good work."

    He gestured at the blackboard, which filled with diagrams and notes. "Judging by everyone''s progress, you found last week''s lecture on frame-shifting most useful. And some of you would also have run up against the practical limitations of frame-shifting; namely, that it sometimes just does not work. Today, we''ll be discussing those limitations, then we''ll cover the leading theories that help to explain why they exist, and we''ll wrap up by looking at the underpinning principles of arcanophany that we may be able to draw from these observations and theories."

    Of all the days to be unable to pay close attention, this was possibly the worst so far. I hoped I could prevail on the goodwill of Devon or Jerric to lend me their notes later. But I could worry about that later бк right now, I had a sequence to focus on, and a lecture to try and listen to.

    <hr>

    We emerged from the lecture hall two hours later. Our habit would have brought us either to the cafeteria or the library cafe, but I had other plans.

    "You guys go ahead," I said, peeling off in the direction of the staff residences. "I need to go talk to my dad, then I''ll join up."

    "Alright," Devon said. He looked around at the others. "I think we''ll be at the cafeteria?"

    There was a general murmur of assent. Lynus made a show of checking his wallet. "Definitely. Cheap food for today!"

    Ambrose''s brow was furrowed, but he didn''t make any comment as I turned away. I wondered if recent developments had fallen outside of his expectations, not conforming to the pattern of the Prophecy. He did seem less certain of himself now.

    The grounds were filling up as people poured out of their classes. I still didn''t know any of the senior students, but they did seem to move about with a greater air of calm. In comparison, most of us in our first year still had a harried look about us as we grappled with the workload and the rigour. It was a little comforting to know that there was a future of some sort beyond the frantic present.

    "Top Scorer." Emilia fell into step beside me.

    "Oh, hi," I said, slightly surprised. The Prophecy-shield sequence in my head slipped a little and I winced in discomfort.

    "We need to talk," she said matter-of-factly, her face impassive as she stared at me right in the eyes while walking. It was very unnerving.

    "Now?" I asked distractedly, slowing just a little out of politeness. "I''m kinda on my way somewhere."

    "We''ll talk as we walk. You need to tell me about your dorm mate."

    My heartbeat picked up. "What about him?"

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    "Is he the Chosen One?"

    "I, what, you, how do you mean?" I spluttered, coming to a total stop. The sequence slipped and I felt a wave of pain and nausea wash over me. It took a moment to properly refocus myself.

    "I believe you''re quite intelligent. You would know if the Chosen One was in close proximity to you. Leading theories state that Prophecies are probability-altering constructs. It should lead to certain observable phenomena that allows one to deduce whether one is living near the subject of a Prophecy."

    "Why are you asking me this? You know we''re not supposed to discuss it," I managed to say.

    "I know." For the first time since our conversation started, she looked away. "But I will feel a lot better if I was beaten by the Chosen One."

    "I... what? Beaten?"

    Her eyes snapped back to mine and she nodded curtly. "He challenged me to a duel. I thought our sessions with Kant had placed me in the upper tiers of thaumaturgic ability in our cohort, if not at the very top. Even over you."

    "I''d say so, too. Wait, which dormmate, exactly?" It was beginning to dawn on me that she wasn''t talking about Ambrose.

    "Kevan." She folded her arms and let out a huff of annoyance. "He and his brother came looking for me yesterday, and he challenged me to a duel. I lost."

    Never in a thousand years would I have put money on that. But one look at Emilia''s face, and I decided not to make any such remark out loud.

    "I... uh, my condolences. But as far as I know, he''s not. The twins are just... really good at thaumaturgy. Apparently their prep school had a strong focus on it."

    "Prep school?" She snorted. "Our first week was more revelatory than six years in my prep school. My conversations with others have led me to believe most prep schools are no different. But I suppose you would not have known that, as an independent study. No, I believe it is more likely that Kevan is special in some way."

    "... I don''t know what to say," I told her, genuinely at a loss. Kevan had beaten her? "He''s... perfectly ordinary to me."

    Emilia let out another huff. "I hope he isn''t. Please tell him I would like a rematch at his earliest convenience."

    "I''ll do that," I said, a little dazed.

    "Thank you. See you in Glyphs later." She nodded and walked off without another word. I was left to consider how much I had either underestimated Kevan or overestimated Emilia.

    But all that could wait. I firmly put it out of my mind (which was a little hard бк a part of me was imagining how insufferably smug Kevan would be if I brought it up) and continued on my way.

    I arrived at the residence just in time to see my father stepping out the door. He broke into a wide smile as he spotted me. "Cadey! I''ve got some updates!"

    My heart leapt at the prospect of progress, but I had something more urgent to bring up. "That''s great, but I need your help, Dad. Do you have a class now?"

    He looked worriedly at me. "No, I just finished one and forgot to get lunch on the way back. But nevermind that, come in."

    I hurried past him and to his study, where I helped myself to a scrap of paper (it looked like an old receipt) and a pen so that I could scribble down the glyphs in my head.

    "I''m focusing on this right now. Please listen. Short version, yesterday I... ran into the Demiurge, got permission to experiment with the friend-in-the-arcana, got completely overdrawn, woke up in the infirmary, the Demiurge did something, and I think I''ve been cleansed of prophetic links. Not sure if it''s the friend-in-the-arcana or the Demiurge. But it''s not permanent, and the links are forming again." I handed the sequence to him.

    To his credit, my father didn''t waste any time. His expression ran the gamut of shock, disappointment, worry, and confusion as I spoke, but once I was done he snatched the paper from me and started thinking furiously. Then he drew in a deep breath, straightened up, and flexed his fingers imperiously.

    Never before had I been able to watch my father work. He made it a point to shut the door at home whenever he was building or testing something, and so Triss and I spent our childhood seeing new artefacts appear in the house formed whole, or else only saw bits and pieces of artefacts in progress as they lay dormant in his workshop. The actual act of creation, of putting them together, was a mystery to us.

    But now for the first time in my life, I got to see Everett Dundale, the Artificer.

    The globe lights in the room flared to life and tuned themselves even without a Minor Control Sphere materialising in his hands, and the air in the room tingled as he took command of the ambient arcana. From the sitting room, the prototype orb I had been fiddling with on my last visit whizzed past me and came to a dead stop in the centre of the study, right in front of him.

    Each layer of the orb peeled apart along invisible seams, and the whole assembly started revolving slowly like an abstract art piece. The glyphic sequences hung from the pieces in ghostly strings, with etheric lines tracing the various ways in which they had been linked into one complex ball of interwoven sequences. With incredible speed and fluency, Everett Dundale started modifying them. He had told me enough for me to understand how fiendishly complex this was because each glyph was part of several sequences, all working simultaneously. If you changed even one glyph, it had cascading effects that you had to manage. They all had to make sense together.

    I wasn''t sure why any changes were necessary. His orbs were likely using more advanced principles than my makeshift sequence. But there wasn''t any point questioning him now when he was deep in his work.

    He was running through the permutations with dizzying speed, and he seemed almost lost in a trance, murmuring to himself as he gestured sharply here and there. Even though he was only modifying the glyphs, every time he acted, I felt a wash of ambient arcana coming from the fragments. It was only until I saw him working on one of the bigger glyphs on the outermost shell that I understood he was physically erasing and scribing the glyphs with arcana itself, not earmarking them for future manipulation using tiny tools.

    After ten minutes of work, he beckoned me over.

    "How can you be done already?" I asked, awed.

    "There are lots of viable permutations. I''ve run through a lot of them in 10 years. Some work better than others. Let''s try this first and see if it works. Stand in there," he said, pointing at the empty space within the expanded orb. The pieces parted a little to allow me to sidle in.

    A strange tingling ran over my skin as I stepped into the centre. My father frowned.

    "It''s not working. But it''s not a problem with the sequences. The prophetic links themselves aren''t registering. Why is that? You''ve used the same glyph, it should work..."

    I could see he was thinking aloud, not actually asking for my opinion. He was staring right through me as he retreated further into his mind.

    "Caden, you need to ensorcel me. Make me understand your view of the prophetic links," he said, snapping abruptly out of his reverie.

    "What?"

    "No time to explain. I have to know precisely how you think about these prophetic links. Do it, now."

    "But Dad, I don''t know how to properly ensorcel someone! That thing I did with my friends, that was the friend-in-the-arcana!"

    He hesitated, but only briefly. "Still, we have to do it."

    "But how do I control it? The last time, I got lost, there was a... an urge to... I wanted to..."

    ...wander-fly-whimsy into the woven-shackled-stream. I had no words for these things.

    "Listen, Caden. The friend-in-the-arcana is not... well, not a friend, not a thinking thing. It''s a frame-shift, yes? Keep your focus clean, keep your intent clear, and keep it limited."

    Somehow, that didn''t seem right. I thought back to how very much intelligent it had seemed, interpreting my general desire to flee the first time, and then moulding itself to my excitement the second time, and even taking care of things like picking up my bag and the chair when they had fallen. It couldn''t be unintelligent. My father had to be wrong.

    "Caden," he reached past the pieces of the orb and placed a hand on my shoulder, reading the doubt in my eyes, "trust me."

    I couldn''t see any other option. Maybe if I thought of the friend-in-the-arcana not as a thinking force, but simply as a mass of arcana, I could exert more control over it. I took a deep, steadying breath and nodded at him.

    As soon as the intention crystalised in my head, I found my thoughts quickly tracing links through my mind. This is my father. The smell of hot chocolate rose in my nose, mingling with a dozen other scents in my memory, all of them tied to him. One strand of memory, in particular, caught my eye.

    I experienced a moment of vertiginous displacement and I was... four years old... and the hallway was dark, and a flash of lightning cast terrifying shadows across the scene, with the rolling thunder laying down a staccato for my heart a moment later. My little hands grasped the doorknob to my parents'' room. It was locked! But I wanted him to know how scared I was, needed him to open that door and take me in.... another horrible blast of thunder, and I screamed, and then relief-joy-love, the door opened! I wanted him to know that feeling, so I hugged his leg so tightly I might have melted into him...

    Touch-speak-bend, I breathed into the arcana, and let him know the prophetic links on this auric-ambient-flare.

 32. Captained

    The friend-in-the-arcana manifested, and its presence was stronger than the last two occasions. I could almost trace the wash of ambient arcana as it rippled away from me and wrapped itself around my father.

    But there was something else бк a new quality that I had never felt before. The air was thick not just with the arcana I had set loose, but with another cloying weight that seemed to emanate from the five orbs floating around my father. Both these energies strived against each other, much like how the friend-in-the-arcana had fought against the prophetic links the very first time I had summoned it, and the conflicting energies sent offshoots spiralling through the air, arcing intermittently between me, my father, and each of the five orbs.

    Everett Dundale''s eyes closed as he turned his mind towards the energies swirling around him. The maelstrom rapidly cohered into semi-solid streams, growing ever more substantial, tracing glimmering ropes of pure arcana through the air in mesmerising patterns. My friend-in-the-arcana was no longer a vague shimmer in the air around me бк it was a nimbus of power, of relief-joy-love, and a lattice of light spanned the space between me and my father.

    I realised, with a thrill of both wonder and fear, that I was actually seeing arcana in physical form. As I watched, his orbs flared with power, and suddenly my father was no longer firmly enmeshed in the lattice of the ensorcellment. The threads of the ensorcellment were drawn tight, pulled away from my father by a mirroring mesh of threads that emanated from each of the five orbs.

    Somehow, I wasn''t just seeing it happen with my eyes. Whatever my father had done, it also sharpened a new dimension of sensation for me, one that I had only briefly touched before in the aftermath of my overdrawing while I was in the infirmary. I realised now that it was my bond with the friend-in-the-arcana that gave me access to this strange plane of thought and sense, though now it was somehow amplified, or clarified, by my father''s weaving.

    So now, even as I watched his orbs unravel my ensorcellment, I knew in my bones that there was something fundamentally wrong about them. They radiated a coldness that I recognised was unnatural-changed-defiant.

    A second nimbus burst into existence, this one centred around my father, and far denser than my own, dark with mystery and incomprehensible intent. While mine was built around a core of relief-joy-love, my father''s harboured a heart of such profound concepts and emotions that I couldn''t parse them at all, and I only recognised the construct for what it was because it echoed the same structural patterns as my own friend-in-the-arcana. And despite my heightened comprehension, although I felt-heard-knew what he breathed into it, I still couldn''t catch everything.

    Unmake-learn-{~?~} the {~?~}-{~?~}-Chain. His command shook the environs.

    The lattice of my ensorcellment, already pulled tautly by his orbs, was now rent asunder, fraying into innumerable tatters. The tendrils of his friend-in-the-arcana stabbed through every piece, extracting slivers that it then drew together and reconstituted into a dense knot of pure arcana that was too bright to look at. But even from that brief glimpse of it, I felt a horrible tugging, like the sensation of looking on the glyph for prophetic links, only much stronger. This was the {~?~}-{~?~}-Chain, taken from my own psyche, my own view of the prophetic links, yet it was still outside my ability to understand. I had no words, no thoughts, that captured its essence. But it seemed that my father did. His focus was absolute and at the moment it had become an almost palpable thing, sharp enough to cut the air as he sliced that shining knot free of its moorings and slowly drew it into himself, allowing it to suffuse his auric-ambient-flare.

    Then all at once, the air was empty. All the arcanic constructs were gone and in their absence, there was a sudden silence, made all the more apparent by the abrupt loss of my sense of the arcanic dimension (for lack of a better term). I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, utterly overcome by the experience. All around me, the pieces of the orb slowly drifted to the floor. The pain in my auric-ambient-flare returned, reminding me of the prophetic links still trying to bind me, and I hastily fixed the Prophecy-shield sequence in my head again.

    "I... I see," my father murmured. He slumped back against his desk, reeling a little.

    My mind was racing. Where do I even begin? I asked myself, thinking of all the revelations that had just presented themselves to me just by watching my father work. And he only just learnt about the friend-in-the-arcana from me over the weekend? I couldn''t even understand what he said to it!

    "Breathe, Caden," he said, a little more vigour in his tone as he shuffled over to me. But he sounded extremely out-of-place. How could that familiar, calm, comforting voice be here, now, after such a transcendent moment? It was like unexpectedly stumbling across your own bed just as you summit a mountain. I felt a steadying hand on my shoulder.

    "You... your friend-in-the-arcana... not intelligent?" I managed to stammer, looking up at him.

    "It..." he paused, swallowed, started again. "It''s complicated. I can understand why you think it''s intelligent. But no, I don''t believe it is."

    I took in a few deep, steadying breaths and got to my feet. "But it understands. I... I heard you talk to it, too. The same way I do."

    "It certainly seems to understand..." He paused again, and I wondered how taxing that weaving had been. He took a few deep breaths before continuing. "But I do not believe it has a mind of its own. My theory is that it draws on your own intuitive understanding of arcana, acting as a secondary means of focus that bypasses your conscious mind. So this means that on some level, you already knew enough theory to formulate a sequence for flying and for ensorcellment, which is how you managed it the first time. The friend-in-the-arcana simply stitched these things together for you, because you already had the mental tools. After all, if you can focus sufficiently, you don''t really need glyphs."

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    "But it''s not just that. It seems to give me this... sensation, this new way of... feeling, of hearing arcana..."

    My father ran a hand through his hair бк a rare sign of frustration. "You have to explore it for yourself. I think you finally understand now that I literally cannot just tell you these things. I don''t have the words. You have to... to know them yourself, with this new sense."

    There was too much to think about, and I couldn''t do it with my attention divided. I gestured desperately at the fallen pieces of the orb. "Will it work, now?"

    An odd look passed over his face, but it was gone so quickly I doubted whether I had really seen it. "Let''s find out," he said, flexing his fingers again. The air stirred with ambient arcana once more, but after the intensity of the last weaving, this felt as mild as a summer breeze.

    The pieces of the orb started whirling around me again, trailing their glyphic sequences. Now, though, I felt a subtle difference in the glyphs for prophetic links. They looked the same as before, but the quality of their tugging had changed to something more intimately familiar to me бк it was precisely the same flavour as the ones that were currently wrapping around me.

    "Yes!" His voice cracked in relief. "We can make this work."

    The pieces whipped through the air faster and faster, their glyphic sequences trailing behind them in etheric streams that stretched and expanded, coalescing into a sphere that enveloped me. From all directions, tiny capillaries of arcana stretched out towards me, and I couldn''t help but shudder as they made contact with my skin бк it was like having millions of tiny needles closing in, each lightly teasing every pore.

    They paused, poised all around me.

    "You need to drop the sequence, Caden."

    I sucked in a fortifying breath and obeyed. The pain of the encroaching prophetic links hit me, but then a moment later the orb''s needles sank in. It wasn''t painful, but the effect was so disconcerting that I let out a cry of alarm and shuddered violently.

    And then the pain of the prophetic links was gone. In its place, I now felt a profound hollowness. The grooves on my auric-ambient-flare were empty.

    "I... I think it worked," I marvelled, straightening up. As I did so, I became aware of an odd sensation, like a new muscle had been grafted onto my body, but was somehow outside it. When I flexed it, the newly-formed orb, now completely and seamlessly whole, wiggled around my head. When I relaxed, it settled by my left shoulder.

    "It worked," my father said heavily.

    "Isn''t that a good thing?" I asked, a little alarmed at his tone.

    "Maybe. But I''ve just learnt from this endeavour that my orbs do not grant me any protection against the Chosen One''s Prophecy at all. Insofar as they work at all, they are only effective against the minor prophecy I had in mind when I was building them бк your sister''s." He sighed. "This means that I am well and thoroughly enmeshed already in the major Prophecy."

    "What?" My voice rose an octave. "Can''t you just modify your orbs?"

    He smiled ruefully at me. "I think you must have felt before how impossible it is to even speak against a Prophecy, let alone act against one."

    A cold hand grasped my heart. "You''re speaking freely about it now. Discussing what it is, discussing how it works. And you just helped me build an artefact that protects me from it."

    "Yes. There was no resistance at all. That''s why I am not so sure that we have just done a good thing. Because I was free to do it. And that means that somehow... somehow, this works in favour of the Prophecy."

    "Me being free of the Prophecy works in favour of it?" I demanded. "How?"

    "That''s beyond me, Cadey." He sighed and shuffled over to his study desk. After a little rummaging, he extracted another half-made orb from the mess upon it. "The one piece of consolation we can draw from this is that these orbs do work for your sister''s prophecy. I should be able to fashion a new one for her and have it fitted this weekend."

    "Then what are we supposed to do about this Chosen One business?"

    "You''re free of it, Caden. And you don''t have to do a thing."

    "But Dad, you''re not. And... and major Prophecies don''t just affect people near them. They cover the span of the world, don''t they?"

    He didn''t say anything, but his eyes held all the answer I needed.

    "So Triss may be free from her minor prophecy, but she''s not free from this big one. And neither are you. Or Mum," I continued.

    "Well, that may not be a bad thing. They''ve always turned out for the Empire''s good."

    For a moment, that thought brought some measure of comfort. But then other factors presented themselves to me: the manner of the revelation and subsequent suppression of the Prophecy and the Chosen One''s identity; the Academy''s sudden drive towards teaching combat-worthy thaumaturgy; Reeves'' unusual training to resist ensorcellment; the Prophetic influence over the members of my own cohort that seemed to be accelerating our learning...

    ... it all seemed to be the kind of things that portended a major upheaval. Maybe even a war.

    "Dad, what''s good for the Empire as a whole... isn''t always good for individuals."

    He nodded gravely. "If it''s a question of fighting for the Empire, Caden, I will do my duty and make any sacrifice necessary, as long as it keeps you and Triss safe."

    "Okay... so this orb protects me. Now all you need to do is make another orb for Triss that negates her minor prophecy, and also the major Prophecy. Can you still do that?"

    "I..." He stopped. Swallowed. "I..."

    I knew that look. It was the Prophecy, now barring him from even speaking of creating something that would shield his own daughter from its effects. Impotent rage swept over me, and I rushed over to catch him in a tight hug. With a heart-wrenching twist, I realised my father was crying into my shoulder.

    "I''m so sorry, Cadey," he rasped. "You... you''re the only one that''s free to act, now. This is as far as I can go for any of us."

    A weight settled on me now, quite different from any arcanic sensation. If my father was right, then thanks to him, I was the one person in the entire world free from the influence of the Chosen One''s major Prophecy. I could choose to live my life and walk away from it, not constrained to play any part at all in the events to come. But there was no such guarantee for my family. And my father was here in the Academy, close to the subject of the Prophecy. Its tendrils would snare him and draw him in, and reach out to the rest of my family through him. They would all be nothing more than a part of the tide that swept across the world to usher in the reality of the Prophecy, and what would it matter if a few drops of water were lost to oblivion, as long as the greater body of water rushed on?

    No. There had to be something I could do. And in that moment of desperation, a thought occurred to me. Alone, I couldn''t hope to stem the tide, but maybe I didn''t have to stem it. Maybe I just had to bend its course ever-so-slightly...

    Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer. That was what the woven-shackled-stream had wanted me to do. And perhaps there was my answer. If I could not save my family from the Chosen One and his Prophecy... then maybe I could make him and it work to protect my family even as they were caught up in its flow.

    I gently released my father and held him at arm''s length. "I may not be a proper arcanist yet... and maybe I don''t fully understand everything that''s going on... but I''m not going to take this lying down. I came here to save Triss from her prophecy. We''ve done that. And now I''m free, literally free, to do more. I will find a way to save Triss from this major Prophecy, too. And you. And Mum. All of us."

    My father managed a smile. He grasped my shoulders. "Caden Dundale... you couldn''t have a prouder father."

 33. Defiance

    As my father released me, I felt a skewing of my mind as I slipped out of my own thoughts and into the skin of a dispassionate observer. It was something that had happened before on a number of occasions, usually after a great change or upheaval in my life.

    The earliest memory I had of this blend of dissociation and serenity was after I had been caught telling my first lie. My mother had sat me down on the porch and given me the scariest talk of my life up until that point. Then she grounded me, confining me to that porch until dinner. After the shame, guilt, anger, and fear had ebbed a little, I remember feeling so wretched that I wondered what it would be like to simply not be me, just so I could escape those feelings. And then before I knew it, I was utterly calm, a stranger in a boy''s body, looking through the eyes of a little boy who was crying quietly.

    In that state of mind, the world seemed fresh and new. I remember being utterly fascinated by the ants that were creeping out of the grass and resolutely scaling the steps. The blue sky was overhead and the warmth of the sun brought out the perfume of the wooden beams of the porch. Life was teeming all around me. Why was I so locked in my own head and consumed by my own fears and feelings?

    That mental state came over me now. Caden Dundale was free of the Prophecy, and his father was proud of him, so what was there to worry about? The weight that had settled on me just a moment ago seemed to vanish. This was a wonderful, marvellous moment, and everything about it was beautiful. The stale smell of books in the study. The dust in the air stirred out of hidden niches, whirling in crazed silence through beams of light. The stoic shape of the shelves. The vague throb in my knees from falling on them earlier.

    "Now, before you go, you need to know as much as I can tell you about how the orb works, and you need to understand something about prophecies," my father said, nodding towards the sitting room.

    I allowed myself to be led to the chair. As I went, I experimentally flexed the phantom muscle that was the orb and it did a circuit around my head, traced a winding path around my torso, then climbed back up to shoulder height. It was unexpectedly easy to manipulate. My father gave me an appraising look as we sat.

    He launched straight into it, slipping into his teacher-voice. "The fundamental function of the orb is to apply a more complex version of your Prophecy-blocking sequence. It frees you up from having to concentrate on it, and as a bonus for being so efficient, it actually uses less auric arcana to keep active."

    "Is there a reason you have five of them instead?" I asked. "Is the protection somehow incomplete with only one?"

    "Well, yes, and no. My five orbs were made with slightly different principles. Mine is designed to work as an array, to project a field of protection over an area, not just over myself. But more importantly, there''s a different view of prophetic links embedded in your orb, since I was informed by your view."

    "How is my view of prophetic links different?"

    He leaned forward, regarding me over steepled fingers. "We''re venturing into very theoretical ground here, Caden. In arcanophany, knowledge is often, though not always, both a tool and a shackle. When you know something, really know something, you have more power and control over it. But it also seems to work in reverse. My research on prophetic links has led me to believe that the more aware you are of them, the tighter they hold on to you. You''ve just shared with me your own personal, subjective experience of what it is like to be bound by a major Prophecy. When I made my orbs, I only everknew my own experience of being bound by a minor prophecy. And now Iknow both."

    It took a moment for that to sink in. That definitely did not sound like a good thing. "So that means... you have more power and control over both... but they each also have more power over you?"

    He nodded. "Given my work, I''m protected against the minor one... but I have nothing for the major Prophecy. And now, I suspect, I never will be able to make anything against it."

    "Unless I make the orb and give it to you," I pointed out. "I''m outside its influence."

    "That''s something worth considering, but don''t pin your hopes on it being that easy, Caden," he said, leaning back with a sigh. "Even working against your sister''s prophecy to make these orbs took a lot of... lateral thinking. I believe a major Prophecy would be even worse."

    "Lateral thinking? What do you mean?"

    "That brings me to the nature of prophecies. Even a minor prophecy exerts a very real influence. At the start, when I mapped out ideas about how to thwart it, I found that I could write things down, but if I wasn''t especially careful my notes would be misplaced or get damaged in unlikely ways. If I tried to rely on memory alone, then it would be particularly hard to concentrate whenever I needed to reliably recall anything. The more I understood what I was fighting against, the more difficult it became to fight against it."

    He massaged a temple, shaking his head slowly. "Eventually the probabilities started becoming more... dangerous. The distractions became bigger. They started involving the wider world, and the rest of you. A small accident here and there, but only annoying asides, never life-threatening things. Then one day, Triss choked on a fishbone."

    "I remember that," I blurted. "It was that big fish we had caught in the lake. We started dinner without you because you were busy."

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    "Yes," his face darkening. "I was in my study, because I had thought of something that would help me with a breakthrough, and I needed to record it for future reference. And then your mother screamed out, and I dropped everything. Later on, she told me she was so panicked she couldn''t remember the basic sequences that would have cleared it up in a moment. And I knew why. It was the prophecy, thwarting me more directly now. I had a handle on it, and it did not want to be brought to heel."

    I thought back to all the moments when I had been on the cusp of revealing Ambrose''s Chosen One status to the rest, only to be interrupted, or else distracted. But after I had seen the glyph of prophetic links, the intervention had become more direct, right up to my most recent experiences when I hadn''t even been able to speak about it to Devon.

    "So that''s why you never really worked at home," I said slowly. "You confined your research to other places, to avoid endangering us."

    "Yes. So it was slow going. Eventually, I came to realise that trying to directly attack the prophecy was a fool''s errand. Anything that crystalised my intention would be challenged. Ihad to work in a very intentionally unstructured way, which is a bit of a paradox. I honestly don''t really know how I managed it. In the end, I was working with, I suppose, a kind of self-deception in place. I would focus very firmly on the fact that this little piece of work in front of me was simply utterly fascinating, and that I had no practical use for it. And so, piece-by-piece, I laid the foundations for something I could eventually bring together into its current form."

    I couldn''t even begin to really imagine how hard that must have been. "So you''re saying that if we try to push against the major Prophecy too hard, we will end up getting hurt."

    "Yes. And you need to understand something else. You''re free of the prophetic links of the major Prophecy, Caden... but remember, the rest of the world is still encompassed in it. The Prophecy can still work around you, even if it can''t work through you. This orb doesn''t guarantee total immunity. And you mustn''t underestimate the Prophecy. I''ve just learned that the hard way."

    A shiver ran up my spine. "... Just?"

    He gave me a wry smile. "After my five orbs were up and running, and I was here on campus before you were enrolled, I was reasonably sure I was protected from your sister''s prophecy. But you, Caden... at home, you were still in thrall to it. And I had overlooked that fact since it was hard for me to even plan properly while I was still bound by it."

    I felt like I was hearing and seeing this from a long way off. I could watch myself grip the seat a little more tightly. "What do you mean?"

    "I mean that I succeeded in protecting myself from your sister''s prophecy, but not you, nor your mother. ''This daughter shall be your ruin''. The horror of her prophecy is that the ruin can come in many forms, and through many avenues. It seems that after I took myself out of its sphere of influence, it moved on to the other more readily available means of its own fulfilment."

    The skein of dissociation and serenity was slipping. I broke out in cold sweat.

    "I think it chose you because you were particularly suited to its purpose. Intelligent. Driven. Fiercely protective over Triss, even if she gets on your nerves. And until this very moment, when I crafted this orb for you, you were held in its thrall."

    In my mind''s eye, I could see my life spread out before me as a series of events, all linked together. Between each major turning point was a series of smaller moments, each seemingly minor and inconsequential, but all neatly strung into a cohesive whole by causality.

    "It must have been so easy for it to lead you here to the Academy. Two arcanists for parents. What other vocation would we have nurtured you towards? And for a driving purpose, all it needed was to tap onto that bit of knowledge that your mother and I had foolishly shared with you бк the knowledge of the prophecy itself. We were trying to be inclusive, understanding parents. But good intentions are never a shield against calamity."

    The links were forming more clearly now. In hindsight, it all seemed so obvious.

    "And even then, that knowledge was probably incomplete. Because I never explained to you that the prophecy is targeted. You see, it was delivered to me, personally, not to us as a family. Her prophecy is my ruin. And maybe if I had helped you understand that, you might have been less enthralled by it, less driven to break it. But then again... probably not. Because you also care about me."

    It was like watching a chess game in reverse and being able to trace how every step had led inexorably to this moment.

    "So it brought you here, into the sphere of influence of the Chosen One, who had his own cloud of prophetic links to snare you. Fates knows how crazy your first few weeks must have been. But all of it brought you here, before me, where everything was in place for you to ensorcel me with a new understanding of prophetic links. You had a reason. You had the knowledge. And you had my permission."

    My heart couldn''t sink any lower than it already had.

    "Now I am bound more closely than I could have ever been to the Chosen One''s Prophecy had I been left to my own devices."

    Fates. Oh Fates.

    "So you see, even though I was protected from its direct influence... your sister''s prophecy seems to have fulfilled itself all the same. And here I am, delivered by one prophecy meant for my ruin, right into the hands of a major Prophecy. It doesn''t take a great leap of imagination to guess what will become of me."

    I was on my feet, and I couldn''t remember when I had decided to stand up. Blood was pounding in my ears, but I heard it with that curious sense of detachment that added in a dash of fascination with how warm my face and neck felt. "Why didn''t you stop me?" I heard myself choke out.

    "I didn''t know, Cadey," he said heavily. "Not until you shared your vision of the prophetic links with me."

    It was impossible for me to stand still now. I paced, trying to look at anything else, at anywhere else, not at the man I had doomed. Wallpaper, table leg, bookshelf, shoes, back of chair, then back to the wallpaper again."I did this to you. How can you be proud of me?"

    "Cadey, stop." I found myself enveloped in a tight hug. "Stop."

    The warmth wasn''t only in my ears, face, and neck anymore. It was spilling out of my eyes, staining my face. It was burning my throat.

    "I did this," I seethed through clenched teeth, my face buried in his shoulder. "I did this, I did this..."

    "It''s my fault, Cadey. Not yours." His grip grew firmer, and his voice cracked. "And it''s my right as a father to be proud of a son who has done nothing but love his family, and who has worked hard to make his dreams come true, Fates be damned."

    Yes... Fates be damned. The skein of dissociation and serenity slid over me again, and I could think around the anguish. A part of me was watching myself cry into my father''s shoulder, and another part of me was sketching into the future, laying out my own plan of war. A cold purpose settled over my heart. Fates be damned.

 34. A Step into Darkness

    My father released me, and the moment passed. It felt far too much like he was saying a sort of final farewell to me as he resigned himself to his lot, but I had also made my private resolution and there were things I had to do now. There was nothing else for us to dither over. With a wan smile, he ruffled my hair. "I''ll see you in class later, Cadey."

    I nodded not trusting myself to speak. Still viewing myself from a distance made it easy to conclude that it was probably for the best that I didn''t linger. I was brimming with emotion, and staying for a moment longer might just trigger a meltdown or breakdown and leave me inconsolable for the next few hours.

    "One more thing, Cadey," my father said, turning to address me as I opened the door. "It''s best if you were discreet with that orb. You can hide it anywhere as long as the arcanic tether is still linked. It''ll have to stay relatively close for now, but when you develop finer control, the distance it can stretch will grow."

    "Will it break if it stretches beyond its limits?"

    "It can. But you''ll know long before it reaches that point. If it ever happens, just get within its reach again and the tether should re-form."

    I nodded and unzipped my bag. All it took was a simple flexing of the will and the orb nestled into it. My father smiled, a faint look of pride on his face as I put it away. My heart twisted. I hastily turned and, with a vague gesture of farewell, stalked off across the grounds.

    It felt strange to still think about going to classes after what had transpired, but it was important for me to keep up with my studies. Anything that gave me a firmer grasp of arcanophany was going to be useful. But I had a more immediate concern бк should I rejoin the others for lunch now?

    I stopped, caught in a moment of indecision. It was a rather novel feeling since I wasn''t someone who usually had trouble with such trivial choices. It occurred to me that this was probably a point where the prophetic links might have tugged me towards one option, and in their absence, I was given the space to truly consider the question if I wanted to.

    I wasn''t ready to talk to the others about what had just happened. I wasn''t even sure if Ishould clue them in, and if so, how much I ought to tell them. That part of the plan was still just a vague sketch. And as for Ambrose, I wasn''t so sure it was wise to try and get him to tell me the full Prophecy anymore, given what my father had just told me about the nature of prophetic links. I had the protection of the orb, but it wasn''t something I wanted to put to the test just yet.

    The skein of dispassion slipped and I was suddenly aware of how this newfound freedom from the major Prophecy''s links meant that every decision was now invested with great weight. I had something no one else had, and with it, I could do things no one else might be able to do. What was I going to do with it? That thought threatened to suffocate me бк it was so much responsibility to bear.

    But... I didn''t have to act now, did I? My father and the rest of my family weren''t in any immediate danger. The image of pigs being fattened for slaughter came to mind, and although that particular metaphor was rather horrible to consider, it did mean that I still had some time. Time to just breathe... and then plan, instead of blundering forward. I had to learn from the mistakes of my father and build on his groundwork, not rashly charge ahead. And what was freedom for if it couldn''t also be enjoyed? Perhaps I could just try to enjoy one ordinary day.

    Yes. That made sense. Enough sense to ease the weight that had settled in my chest. I turned towards the cafeteria and started walking.

    <hr>

    As it turned out, I didn''t get to enjoy just one ordinary day. I got several. And before I knew it, more than a week had passed.

    We had three more group double-Thau sessions, where it was easy for me to keep the orb close enough during our practices even though it was stashed in my bag. The length of the tether had grown to about ten metres. I found that straying close to its limit brought on a sense of actually being physically stretched, which was unpleasant, and I didn''t dare to push it far enough for the tether to break.

    The orb seemed to have the happy side-effect of making me immune to ensorcellment. I suspected it wasn''t something to do with prophetic links, and that it had more to do with reinforcing the ''shape'' of my auric-ambient-flare. Kevan wasn''t pleased when I refused to explain how I was protecting myself, and I also thought it was prudent not to share even my own hacked-together sequence that had worked against Reeves because I couldn''t safely confirm by myself that the auric-ambient-flare bit was what worked against ensorcellment. It seemed unwise to give something away without knowing its true value. As a compromise, I dropped clues about having to find a way to find and maintain a state of balance within oneself.

    So while the others shielded themselves and tried to figure out how to more fully protect themselves against ensorcellment, I got more and more practise with actually placing one on someone. Thinking back to the two occasions when the friend-in-the-arcana had helped me ensorcel people gave me some insights, and I found that even without calling upon it, I was becoming better and better at weaving robust and long-lasting ensorcellments, and even affecting multiple people over ever-greater distances without diluting the potency. By our last session, I was tasked with ensorceling everyone so that they could all focus on defending themselves against it since it was more pressing for them to learn how to block Reeves.

    Ambrose hadn''t forgotten my dire pronouncement about having a long-overdue talk with him and to his credit, although he wasn''t comfortable with my changed behaviour, he actually set aside the time for that and didn''t try to avoid me. We met in private twice but I hadn''t yet thought things through to my satisfaction, so I steered away from the topic of the Prophecy''s contents. Ambrose was wary about this change in tack, but he didn''t press the issue.

    Instead, we honed our arcanophanic skills away from the rest. Our ordinary Thaumaturgy classes had finally moved on from harmless arcanic bolts to ones that could cause actual damage. Riding on the concepts learned from Advanced Glyphs, we were introduced to a new series of sequences that allowed us to infuse these bolts with material effects. Instead of simply exerting a soft, gentle pressure, our bolts now hit hard enough to leave bruises even with the smallest investment of auric arcana, and we would soon move on to other more dangerous iterations. So when Ambrose and I met, we carefully experimented with shielding, learning how to adapt the practice arcanic barriers to these new, deadlier bolts since the classes hadn''t covered new shielding techniques yet.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Through it all, I observed the rest. It was very clear now, with the protection of the orb, that I had been previously manipulated by the prophetic links into rapidly developing a friendship with them. Now that I was outside of its direct influence, I could see how these unlikely bonds were forming. It was immediately clear that none of us would have put up with Kevan (except maybe his own brother) if not for the interference of the Prophecy. He was abrasive, selfish, and arrogant to boot. And while I did enjoy talking theory with Jerric, he had developed a gloomier disposition after the first ensorcellment incident that made it a little difficult for people to feel entirely at ease around him. Devon was easily the most likeable by dint of his effervescent personality, but even then his abrupt dips into a morose mood, whenever he felt inferior, could be rather wearying. Even I found it tiresome after a few days. And it was exactly the kind of thing that people like the twins would pounce on, and proceed to savage him to pieces.

    Removed as I was from the shackles of Prophecy, I could see the restraining effect it had on the group''s worst impulses, and the amplifying effect it had on the smallest positive interaction. But it also meant that I didn''t enjoy its mitigating influence. I found myself grinding my teeth in frustration as I mustered the will to overlook transgressions and put up with their idiosyncrasies. I hung on to the consolation that making friends wasn''t supposed to be easy, after all бк certainly not something that happened in just a handful of days бк and that at least now I could be intentional about who I spent my time with.

    After the final lesson of the week, I decided to try and get to the lake again. One of the Advanced Glyphs we had learned in order to grant our arcanic bolts some material effects had given me an idea бк the glyph of transmutation. It tapped on complex ideas about how one thing could be transformed into another, and we were expressly warned not to experiment with it without consulting one of the tutors (a basic tenant of safety, but one that was stressed again when we covered the glyph бк Celwyn had been even scarier than usual at that point). I wasn''t planning ondoing anything with it, but I realised that it felt a little like the glyph of prophetic links, in a way. Thinking about the glyph of prophetic links allowed me to think about prophetic links more clearly, and to even sense them. In some way, the glyph of transmutation seemed to allow me to manipulate the idea of transmutation more concretely in my head. And something about those concepts reminded me of how the hidden gate to the lake had closed up behind me. I suspected that transmutation had something to do with it, and I wanted to take a closer look to see if I could now sense anything new.

    So, despite the fading light, I found myself following the Minor Query I had conjured, approaching the looming shape of the walls. I zipped up my sweater and tucked my hands into its pockets since it was particularly chilly.

    As I neared the place where the gate was supposed to be, I was surprised to see a shape standing near it. It was hard to make out who it was in the gathering gloom since the person was out of the soft glow of the globe lights along the path. I hesitated but decided that it would be a waste of time if I turned back just because I didn''t want to talk to what looked like another student, so I continued my steady approach, trying to appear unconcerned even though I was a little nervous.

    That sensation of nervousness sharpened into trepidation as I got close enough to make out more features. The shadow cast by the wall made it harder to see, but now I could recognise the general shape and stance. It was the Demiurge, currently dressed in a navy-blue T-shirt with a hooded black sweater thrown over, with black pants. He tilted his head up a little, and I caught a glimpse of his platinum blonde hair under the hood. The entire ensemble had made it hard to see him clearly. And even though his stance was relaxed and casual, with one foot propped against the wall as he leaned against it, I felt a shiver run up my spine.

    I wanted to turn and walk away, but that seemed rather rude now that I was less than twenty metres away. I swallowed and continued my approach.

    "Caden, so nice to see you," he said with a slight smile, once I had come within ten paces.

    I stopped there. "Hello, Demiurge Caldwell, sir," I said, conspicuously aware of my dry throat.

    "Not going to fly around the lake again, are we?" he asked, his tone light. "It''s a little late for that."

    "N-no." By this point, it somehow wasn''t surprising that he knew, even though I had told no one about it besides my father. It seemed rude to ask him what he was doing here, so I cast around for something else to say. "I... I wanted to thank you. For helping me that day."

    "My pleasure. The healers had already done the hard work. I just nudged it along," he replied, his smile stretching a little wider.

    What do I want to do with my freedom? That thought came back to me. Here I had one of the most powerful arcanists, if not the most powerful arcanist in the Empire, right in front of me.I was free of the major Prophecy''s links. I could ask anything I wanted. He may not be at liberty to answer, but seeing what he could or could not answer was still useful information.

    "Can I ask you something, sir?"

    "Yes. And now you may ask me something else."

    I blinked, a little nonplussed, but I gathered my thoughts and tried to compose myself. "That day in the infirmary, what did you do to me?"

    He nodded indulgently. "Let''s see if you understand enough to understand the explanation. You were overdrawn. Completely. Do you know what that means yet? And I don''t mean in the laymen sense."

    "There wasn''t enough auric arcana in my system to keep the ambient arcana out," I answered.

    "Hm." He seemed a little disappointed. "Well, in that case, you can say that I emptied you of all arcana, and then made sure you had enough auric arcana in your system so that the symptoms of overdraw would not be fatal."

    "Can you tell me exactly what the proper understanding of overdrawing is?"

    "I can!" He grinned but did not continue. The silence stretched.

    "... Will you?" I ventured, surprising myself by allowing a note of annoyance to creep into my voice.

    "I''ll do you one better, young Dundale. Come with me, and I''ll give you a chance to learn it yourself." He straightened up and stretched a little.

    "Is... is this why you''re here, sir? You were waiting for me?"

    He fixed me with his gaze, and there was a sudden gravitas in his bearing that made me take an involuntary step back. Instead of replying immediately, his eyes swept over me and seemed to pause for a fraction of a second on my bag. Then he looked me dead in the eye and suddenly smiled. "No. I wasn''t waiting for you in particular. But here you are, and I have something that I did want to show you. Now is as good a time as any."

    Could I refuse? That seemed like a silly question. Of course I could. I was literally the free-est person in the world.

    And yet I was beginning to realise that while I was free from the major Prophecy''s direct control, I was still bound by my own fears, insecurities, curiosity, a general desire to adhere to social convention, and so many other mundane influences. Would a young arcanist say "no" when one of the most celebrated Demiurges in the history of the Empire extended an invitation to learn something about the fundamental principles of arcanophany?

    "... Lead the way, sir."

 35. A Plea

    By now the sun had dipped far below the horizon, transforming the Academy grounds into a forest of dark shapes. The globe lights provided enough illumination along the paths, but beyond that the darkness claimed everything else. Off in the distance, half-hidden behind the shapes of trees, little islands of light marked out some of the other buildings in the grounds. I was reminded of my night after the lake incident. Night had a way of offering a new perspective of things, and now that I wasn''t half-delirious from overdraw I could appreciate how different the Academy looked under the faint light of a crescent moon. It occurred to me for the first time how massive the grounds really were, considering that there were only around 400 students.

    The Demiurge set off down the path, leaving me to trail behind him. His course was unmistakable бк we were headed to the Spire. At thirty stories, it was already a rather intimidating structure in daylight given how it dwarfed the other buildings in the Academy. Now, the cover of night transformed it into something else, something that seemed to sense my gaze upon it and that was scrutinizing me in return. The base of it was well-lit with globe lights, but its upper reaches were shrouded in shadow, accentuating the feeling that perhaps there was an intelligence hidden there in the yawning void etched against the velvety backdrop of the night sky, balefully watching, watching...

    I couldn''t help but shudder a little as I looked at it now. It was like I was only really seeing it for the first time.

    The Demiurge glanced back at me and caught the look on my face. "Yes, it''s quite a sight, isn''t it?" he said quietly.

    "What''s inside it, sir?"

    "My office, among other things." Even with his back turned, I could hear the smile in his voice. The cavalier tone was very out-of-place in the gloom of this chilly early-winter night, and doubly so as we drew closer to the shape of the Spire blotting out the stars. I was dissatisfied with his non-answer, but it seemed unwise to press the issue. I would soon be inside, after all, where I could see for myself what exactly lay within the enigmatic Spire.

    The walk seemed to take much longer than I expected. Was it me, or had time and the distance stretched somehow, elongating the minutes and metres? I remember having to pass the Spire on the way to other parts of the campus since it stood roughly in the centre of the grounds, and in my memory those walks had been brief, fleeting moments.

    In fact, there seemed to be more of the grounds themselves. I had only been on this particular path on two occasions, so perhaps that could be explained by some unfamiliarity with the route. And yet... and yet it wasn''t totally unfamiliar. There were portions of it I could recall walking past, but these familiar portions now seemed further apart.

    The Demiurge glanced back at me again, but said nothing. I thought I caught a look of interest or curiosity, but he was probably going to give another non-answer if I asked something, so I occupied myself by paying closer attention to my surroundings. There was a growing certainty that I was seeing, for the first time, forks in the path that led to other parts of the campus I hadn''t yet visited, even though I had been down this way before. What was even more disquieting was the fact that I wasn''t sure if I had ever seen those buildings before.

    We did eventually find ourselves at the entrance to the Spire. The Demiurge hopped lightly up the short flight of steps leading to the heavy wooden double doors and they swung open silently before him, revealing nothing but utter darkness. I paused at the bottom of the steps.

    "What''s the matter?" The Demiurge looked down at me, his face a picture of concern.

    Was that even a serious question? I stared helplessly at him and gestured at the emptiness beyond the open doors. "Sir... that''s more than a little scary."

    "Oh." He cheerfully stuck an arm into the darkness. "Yes, I''d forgotten what it must look like. But not to worry, it''s a simple sequence that allows a measure of discretion and privacy, not some portal into a cosmic void. There''s a perfectly ordinary room beyond it."

    And with that, he walked right through and vanished. I was left alone, the Spire towering over me, with its maw wide open and waiting for me to enter.

    "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I muttered to myself, and followed after the Demiurge.

    As I passed over the threshold, I felt a great arcanic pressure sweep over me. Even more alarming was the fact that I didn''t just feel it on myself бк I could also feel it through the phantom limb that was my connection to the orb, and the orb itself. It was gone as soon as I was through the door, but I was left with the vivid impression of having been briefly scrutinised and judged.

    The Demiurge had been true to his word. By the welcome glow of a globe light tuned to a warmer colour, I saw that we were in a small antechamber with a floor of black marble that bore a striking similarity to the material in the duelling chambers. I could see tiny lines of glyphs skittering beneath the surface like frozen lightning, not quite as structured as the lattice in the duelling chamber, but still communicating some sense of organic order. And where the duelling chambers'' glyphs were silver, these were gold.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I saw an elevator and a set of doors that led deeper into the Spire, but the Demiurge set off through a small archway off to the side and led up a set of stairs that hugged the curved wall. Given the scale of the Spire, it was a comparatively narrow passage, only just wide enough for two people at a time.

    "Think you''ve got a good set of lungs?" he called back.

    "What?"

    "It''s a tall Spire, after all."

    I paled. "We''re walking up the entire way? Why not take the elevator?"

    A short burst of laughter from him echoed off the walls. "Don''t worry, we''re not taking the stairs. The elevator below goes up to the normal areas. We''re going somewhere a little more exclusive, so we''re taking a different elevator," he said as we finally got to a landing. By my estimation, we had climbed more than two stories.

    The stairs opened up into a smaller mirror of the antechamber, where another set of doors led off deeper into the Spire. The wall of the room closer to the centre of the Spire had an elevator door set into it, and this one had a set of glyphs etched on its surface. I recognised some of them from the Advanced Set; enough to understand it formed a barrier of sorts.

    "In we go," the Demiurge said, stepping up to the elevator which opened to admit him. He held the door open and I followed, feeling nervous.

    The doors slid quietly shut, and we started our ascent even though I didn''t see him make use of any Minor Control Sphere. Most elevator Control Spheres would have some indication of the level, so without it, I had no idea how fast we were going. But I barely had time to think about that before the doors opened. Had we really ascended to the top in a manner of seconds? Without feeling it? I wondered how different the sequences in the Spire''s elevator were compared with the conventional ones.

    The elevator opened out into a transitional space and I saw a set of steps next to it leading back down, but none going up. The Demiurge walked right up to a set of ornate double-doors, with what looked like actual fist-sized diamonds set into the handles. This time, he grasped them and concentrated for a moment. I heard a series of locks click, and when he released the handles they pushed themselves downwards and allowed the door to swing open of its own accord.

    I let out a gasp.

    It wasn''t the size of the chamber, although that certainly added to the effect since it seemed to take up the entire circumference of the Spire. The walls tapered up to end in a pyramidic flourish, and I could see that the apex was made of glass that allowed some of the moonlight to filter in. I estimated that the chamber was about 5 stories, though it was hard to tell without any point of reference. More globe lights clung to the walls or floated freely, twirling in slow arcs through the air.

    But those things only registered peripherally in my mind. It was a massive construct that dominated the space that took my breath away бк a dodecahedron; twelve pentagons that fitted together into a three-dimensional shape. The edges seemed to be made of some metallic material that shifted from black to silver to gold and back again, while the dodecahedron itself was composed of a cloudy-white crystal. And although it looked perfectly solid, the surface of the crystal seemed to shift ever-so-slightly, like a viscous liquid trapped between two planes of glass. This strange shape floated in mid-air, fixed at the very centre of the chamber, although it spun freely in place without any discernible pattern.

    "Here we are," the Demiurge said as he moved to stand directly beneath it and gestured with a flourish.

    I took a few tentative steps into the chamber, staring around. Here, the lightning-spread of glyphs in the floor congregated directly beneath the crystal, and there they formed a perfect circle that encompassed the construct within its circumference, leaving the centre completely bare бк a mirror of polished black marble that perfectly reflected the Demiurge and the dodecahedron floating above him.

    "What... what is this?" I whispered.

    A wave of arcana crashed into me, bringing me to my knees. I felt my auric-ambient-flare being squeezed, pressed, and I could feel my link to the orb being twisted like an actual arm. A cry of pain left my lips. I felt the orb twitch in my bag, felt something like a heartbeat going wild before it stuttered out.

    ''This is a knot-link-anchor for the woven-shackled-stream.'' It was thewhite-bright-powerthat was nowtouching-speaking-bending me, with a force of will that was so radiant that my eyes started tearing as I looked at him through this strange new sense.

    "Stop," I gasped out, one hand clutching my head. The orb in my bag twitched again, and I found myself instinctively reaching for it with my free hand. I rummaged through my bag, felt my desperate fingers close around it, and held it close to me, though I had no idea why it felt like that would help at all. It was as instinctive as pressing a hand to a wound or cradling an injured limb.

    ''This is the will-curse-test of arcanophany.'' Thewhite-bright-power did not speak aloud, but it thundered in my mind all the same. ''You must feel-hear-know it yourself.''

    Even through the haze of pain, I could tell that the Demiurge wasn''t throwing the full scope of his reality behind this ensorcellment. I understood everything he was communicating with me, but that came with an underlying sense of restraint. This was not the brute-force ensorcellment I had performed on my father to give him my understanding of what it was like to be bound by the prophetic links of a major Prophecy. This was surgery бк he was moulding his knowledge to fit my own paradigm of the world, using impressions I could comprehend.

    "Stop," I gasped again, twisting in pain as the orb twitched in my hands once more. "It''s... too much!"

    ''This is a piece of the puzzle to your desire to know what overdrawing is. Solve it, and one day you may not need the unnatural-changed-defiant construct. And if that day comes, unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, then I may yet see you here again.''

    Whatever that last concept was, it really was too much, even filtered through the Demiurge''s expert mind. The wash of arcanic power flowing over, around, and through me was burying my consciousness, and the pain in what felt like my auric-ambient-flare itself was beyond sensation and comprehension. My vision was fading. I saw the Demiurge''s shoes coming closer and felt myself being carried up.

    Before I lost consciousness, Ifelt-heard-knew something else бк a different voice, one that I recognised had reached out to me before as I lay in the infirmary over a week ago.

    ''Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer,''theknot-link-anchor of the woven-shackled-stream whispered to me again.''Free him. Aid us.''

    <hr>

 36. Force

    I don''t think I''ve ever fainted in my life before enrolling in the Academy. And now it''s twice in as many weeks.

    That was the first hazy thought that drifted across my mind when I cracked my eyes open and saw the familiar ceiling of the dorm room. At least this time, whatever had happened wasn''t serious enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary.

    The orb. I jolted upright, staring around wildly. Relief flooded me when I realised I could still feel it. The phantom arm felt faint but it was there, linking me to the orb in my bag, which had been left under my bed. With some effort, I floated it out and took it in my hands.

    Unnatural-changed-defiant.That was my initial impression of my father''s orbs when I had first ''seen'' them with my arcanic senses, and the Demiurge had characterised my orb the same way. But my orb didn''t feel like that to me. It was... it was essential-precious-stable.

    The door opened and I hastily stowed the orb under the bedcovers. It was Ambrose, somehow managing to appear both concerned and cautious at the same time. "How are you?"

    I glanced down at my watch. The encounter with the Demiurge was only an hour ago. "I''m alright, I think. What happened?"

    "The Demiurge carried you here," Ambrose said, scrutinising my face.

    "Did everyone else see?" I asked, running a hand through my hair in frustration as I thought about all the difficult questions that I might have to answer when I hadn''t even had the time to think about what I had seen in the Spire.

    "No. Funny thing happened; Kevan and Lynus were trying tocatch the new arcanic bolts, not just deflect them. One of the bolts crashed into the groceries Devon left on the counter, so now he''s dragged the rest of them to help him restock. I was just done cleaning up."

    It seemed the Prophecy wanted to keep the Demiurge''s interactions with me under wraps, and so it moved everyone out of the dorms before he brought me back. It occurred to me that if Ambrose was here the Prophecy might want me alone with him, but something about this moment felt different. Strange. New. I tilted my head this way and that, trying to cling on to that impression. It vaguely formed in my mind as a kind of... a flavour-vein-echo... and I realised I had felt it earlier in the arcana in the Spire''s dodecahedron chamber.

    Perhaps Ambrose wasn''t supposed to be here after all, if the Prophecy had had its way. It would have wanted him far away from me. It felt like something else had manoeuvred him, against the Prophecy''s will, into my path.

    "You didn''t expect to be here, did you? In this moment, in this situation?" I asked slowly, not quite sure if I was making sense. It was hard to put this feeling into words.

    A look of uncertainty crossed his face, though he did seem to understand, and he hesitated before answering. "...No. It''s weird. I normally have this... sensation of certainty... about what to do, or not to do. A feeling of rightness. It''s been around ever since I learned about being the Chosen One. But it''s been going on and off this past week. And right now it''s gone. Just... gone."

    I understood his nervousness around me a little better now. "You think it''s got something to do with me."

    He shrugged helplessly. "It does seem to happen more often when I''m around you."

    Was I supposed to tell him about what I had seen? Heck, was I supposed to ensorcell him right now? But what did it want me to ensorcell him with? And to what end? I hadn''t even figured out if I was supposed be listening to that voice from the woven-shackled-stream. And if the Demiurge led me there, what was his role in all this? He had provided me plenty to think about, but just because I was willing to listen to him, did that mean I was supposed to just go along with whatever he said or did?

    But I realised that ''supposed to'' wasn''t a concept that applied to me anymore. I shook my head, marvelling at this sense of possibility.

    What did Iwant to do? And what did I want to do?

    I manipulated the phantom arm, and the orb drifted out from under the covers to float between Ambrose and me. He looked at it curiously.

    "Isn''t that one of your father''s orbs? What does it do?"

    "They... this one leaves me free of the major Prophecy''s influence," I said simply.

    He froze in stunned disbelief, his eyes wide and confused. But then they darted here and there as he rapidly considered something and seemed to come to some sort of resolution. "I think it''s time I told you what the Prophecy was."

    "No," I said, forestalling him with a raised hand. "It turns out that the more you know about a Prophecy, the tighter it holds on to you. And I''m not risking that now, even with this orb."

    "But Caden..." Ambrose looked conflicted. "It''s still happening."

    "What is?" I felt my heartbeat quicken.

    "The... the way things are going, I think you''re still bound. You''re still doing... something... that seems to be leading towards its fulfilment."

    "Oh yeah?" I asked, trying to sound calm, although I started breaking out in a cold sweat. It waspossible... but perhaps the Prophecy was working through Ambrose to cause me to doubt the efficacy of the orb."What do you want, Ambrose?"

    He seemed surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"

    "I mean what do youwant? Why do you want to tell me what the Prophecy is? Do you want to stop whatever is going to happen?"

    "I..." A look of panic crossed his face and he sat down on his bed. He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "I... I don''t know!"

    I brought the orb around until it hovered above my upheld palm. My father had mentioned that his five orbs worked as an array, extending the effect over an area... but even this single orb seemed to be disrupting the prophetic links around Ambrose, at least enough to rob him of his ''prophetic certainty''.Why would the Prophecy have ever allowed the creation of the orb if that were the case? Maybe it was the influence of the woven-shackled-stream instead that was currently causing this disruption? Or maybe it was the woven-shackled-stream that intervened and allowed the orb to be created? There were so many unknowns. I didn''t have all the information.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ''You''ll never have all the information,'' I remembered Ambrose saying to me in our first week. ''But I think you''ll do a lot anyway.''

    "Apparently you need my help to fulfil a part of the Prophecy," I began. "And somehow it doesn''t end well for me."

    He looked up, nodding mutely.

    "Let''s say, in theory, that I don''t mind. But in exchange... I want something from you, as the Chosen One. Can you make it happen?"

    He briefly considered that but shook his head. "Caden... maybe if I tell you what it is, and if your orb works... maybe you can walk away from it."

    "And why wouldyou want that? Answer me, Ambrose. Are you trying to stop the Prophecy? Even though you''re the Chosen One?"

    "I didn''t ask for it!" He got to his feet, his voice slightly raised. "Maybe this is a fate I don''t want, at least, not like this! Maybe I want to get to the destination, but I don''t like the path!"

    "What''s not to like?" I pressed. "You once said it was nice to have your path laid out for you."

    "That... that was before I was finally given a choice. You... that orb... something''s changed. It''s like..." He paced back and forth, his arms folded tight across his chest. "It''s like a window''s been opened, and I''m looking out at a bigger world. It feels like I''m trapped, kept inside a box, and that I didn''t know it all along. But now, sometimes, I know, and I don''t want to be in this box."

    I hadn''t ever seen him like this before. It was like he was a completely different person бк the veneer of calm and reserved self-possession was gone, and underneath was a patchwork of confusion and uncertainty. Was this how all Chosen Ones were changed by Prophecies? Was this just a small sample of what would happen if one of them ever lost their prophetic links? It was enough to give me pause as I wondered what damage might be done to his sense of self if we tampered with the Prophecy. Would it be... right?

    But I hardened my heart and tried to look at it pragmatically. Our goals did align. Ambrose still wanted to fulfil the Prophecy, just on his own terms. And as for me, I didn''t want to stop it either бк I just wanted my family to come through it alive and whole. It occurred to me that the Prophecy was using my family as leverage to get me to walk to my own doom, but perhaps with my father''s orb in the interim, and with the Demiurge''s help in the long-term, I might be able to thwart that part of it without disrupting its ultimate goal.

    "So you just want the Prophecy to take a different route. Maybe I can help you with that. But I don''t want to hear the Prophecy. Not yet, anyway," I said. Not until I figured out what the Demiurge wanted me to learn so that I wouldn''t be dependent on what he called the unnatural-changed-defiant orb. It was best to be careful.

    "Then you need to knбк"

    "No," I said again, more insistent this time. "Listen. I''ve learned that all prophecies work through prophetic links. There''s actually a glyph that represents them. And everyone is literally bound by it." I thought about the Demiurge, and how he had temporarily purged me of prophetic links. That, coupled with his cryptic hint to me in the Spire, suggested that perhaps I hadn''t made an entirely accurate statement. "Well... almost everyone. I was, too, until my father made this orb for me. And now I''m free. I can feel the difference. So maybe from your point of view, I''m still doing things that lead to the Prophecy''s fulfilment. But that''s not the full picture any more. You''re still bound by the prophetic links, but I''m not. And that makes a difference."

    "Doesn''t it make more sense for you to know what the Prophecy is, then?" he asked exasperatedly. "So you can... can ''see'' where you''re ''going''?"

    "Ido want to know, but I''m not sure if now is the time. I need to think, to prepare, to plan out how to safely know more things, and also safely tell you things even though you''re... mostly under the Prophecy''s sway," I said, trying to inject some patience into my tone. "I only have this one orb, Ambrose. If I somehow accidentally overload its capabilities or something... I don''t think I''ll get another shot at this."

    He sank into his bed again, thinking hard as he fidgeted with a pillow.

    "Anyway," I said, steeling myself and getting to my feet, "it''s not your choice to make. If I don''t want to listen, you can''t make me."

    He stiffened, then slowly looked up at me. "What if you''re making a mistake? What if by not listening, you''re throwing away the freedom of choice that you have, and playing right into the Prophecy''s hands?"

    But I had already made up my mind. It wasn''t his fault, but there was no way I could trust him yet, not until I had thought things through a little more. "I''ll listen when I decide the time is right, and not a moment before."

    Arcana suddenly washed off him in concentrated, intense pulses that I hadn''t felt before in all our Double Thau sessions. I tasted the ensorcellment in the air, but it still held no power over me. My attunement to the orb was so acute now that I could sense its annulling effect on the ensorcellment and almost get a vague, shadowy impression of exactly how it was working.

    "Seriously?" I grimaced, reining in the impulse to ensorcel him right back.

    I felt a twitch in the weave of the arcana and realised that he was beginning to shape the new arcanic bolts we had learned to use. His eyes snapped to the orb hovering over my palm.

    "Seriously?" I demanded, blood pounding in my ears. The shielding sequences were familiar enough to me that it only took me a moment to raise a honeycombed layer between us, dividing the small room in half. I was just in time бк it immediately cracked in two places as Ambrose''s invisible bolts crashed against them.

    "Don''t do this, Ambrose," I warned, quickly patching the protective matrix. He was still sitting on his bed, his eyes fixed on the orb. In lieu of a reply, two more craters appeared in my shield, sending bigger cracks skittering across the surface and threatening to bring the whole thing down.

    Touch-speak-bend, I hissed into the arcana. But I was immediately alarmed as I felt a great power stirring to answer me, so dense that it caused Ambrose to falter even though I hadn''t even unleashed the ensorcellment yet, hadn''t had the time to even think about what I wanted to ensorcel him with.

    ''Yes. YES,'' the arcana itself hissed back, shocking me. I tasted it in the air now, theflavour-vein-echo of the woven-shackled-stream. This was definitely not the friend-in-the-arcana.And it felt too eager, toohungry.

    "NO!" I cried out desperately, echoing that call with my auric-ambient-flare. The dense knot of arcana that had materialised twisted and writhed, and I saw streaks of it arcing through the air with my naked eyes as it strained against my control, sending little tendrils snaking out towards Ambrose, who had fallen backwards and was pressing himself against the far wall, his eyes wide.

    ''Chosen-Blinded-Jailer-Chosen-Blinded-Jailer-Chosen-Blinded-Jailer!''it babbled, filling the space with its cloying weight.

    "Get out!" I screamed at Ambrose, grappling with a strange new sensation of somehow being able todrag at the arcana with my auric-ambient-flareeven as I struggled to hold back the thing that was reaching for him.

    He fell sideways off the bed and skirted the edge of the room, scrambling for the door. I found myself actually being dragged along a little as the thing lunged for him.

    Anger kindled within me. I hadn''t come so far in my attempt to defy Prophecy just to be strung along now.And if I couldn''t rely on thefriend-in-the-arcanato weave an ensorcellment for me, then I''d just have to do it myself, and see if it worked on thisthing.

    Ensorcellment wastouching-speaking-bending. I already had a hold on it with my arcanic sense. And I could speak to it through myauric-ambient-flare. What did it mean tobend?

    To bend it to my will? No. That would be force. Bending was gentler. Bending was guidance. Bending was a yielding of the self to invite a yielding of the other. And perhaps that was why it involved emotion so much, even when thefriend-in-the-arcana was the one doing it on my behalf.

    I knew what emotional core to use. Guilt and regret over a rash choice or an ill-spoken word. That was familiar to me. I called that up now from the brimming store of my own experiences бк moments when I had disappointed my mother; the lull in communication after fights with my sister; the latest gut-punch of tying my father into the major Prophecy...

    Stop-listen-yield, I breathed to the eager, angry knot of arcana that was still reaching for the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.

    It froze. The air stilled. But then, even though it was not a physical, visible thing, I swore I could feel it turning, and the full weight of its alien scrutiny fell upon me.

 37. Convergence

    ''Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer?'' That was the most coherent jumble of impressions I got as the strange arcanic being regarded me. It seemed like it was seeking clarification.

    My eyes darted to Ambrose, who was lying on his back just beyond the threshold of our room. His eyes were wide, and he looked from me to the empty space between us as if he could see something where I could only make out a vague shimmer.

    ''Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer,'' the arcanic being repeated, but this time I caught a whiff of imperious command about it as it inched towards me.

    I licked my dry lips, uncertain of how to respond. It seemed to communicate through these jumbles of mental concepts and impressions, but it was hard for me to think in those terms, so I decided to try human language.

    ''No,'' I voiced through my auric-ambient-flare. I saw Ambrose''s eyes flick over to me as if he had ''heard'' me. ''Not now. Not yet.''

    Even though I couldn''t see the thing I was addressing, I caught a steady stream of impressions through the weave of arcana that my mind managed to interpret. It was like reading body language бк I was getting input even though there was nothing being said. Only in this case, I also wasn''t actually seeing anything. It was so hard to parse what was going on...

    The knot of arcana seemed to draw itself up in indignation. ''Ancient-distant-spiders are reading-stitching-writing. Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer before moment-place-meeting is unwoven-elided-silenced.''

    Ancient-distant-spiders. I had heard that before, and now the jumble of impressions finally clicked with a more familiar concept in my head бк Fateweavers. I felt my blood run cold.

    But even as I extracted this new understanding from the mess of thoughts, I knew I was reaching my limit. The Demiurge had skillfully filtered his communication and tailored it to my understanding, but this being was not taking any pains to do so, and I felt my consciousness slowly unmooring itself again. Panic threatened to overwhelm me as I considered what would happen if I allowed this thing to run loose. But what was I supposed to do? Could I banish it somehow? But I barely even knew what it was бк how would I even figure out how to banish it?

    ''Ancient-distant-spiders... have no... control... over this auric-ambient-flare,'' I stuttered, trying to pull together a semi-coherent stream of ideas and impressions using what I had managed to glean from its alien thought processes, and plugging the gaps with human language. ''Wait... for another... moment-place-meeting.''

    The being hesitated, though not out of a lack of certainty. Instead, it seemed to be sharing in my struggle for clearer communication. I felt it contort itself, and when it next made contact, it was with whiffs of language along with the jumble of impressions. ''Orb is... unnatural-changed-defiant. Will not... unweave-elide-silence... the Creating-Selecting-Chain for... time-creation-existence.''

    The Creating-Selecting-Chain... that was this being''s conceptualisation of the Major Prophecy! There was a wealth of knowledge behind that impression that I could barely even perceive. It was like trying to peer into the lightless depths of an ocean trench. And this meant it had a deeper understanding of what the Prophecy was and how it worked. Even though I was at the edge of lucidity, I felt a rush of excitement and fear. This was an opportunity. I could get help without exposing myself to the binding knowledge of the Prophecy.

    The phantom arm that connected me to the orb felt impossibly heavy, but with a colossal effort of will I floated it over to the being. I tried to put all the authority I could muster into one last declaration. ''I will make my own choices. This is my decision. Help me... unweave-elide-silence... the prophetic links... of the Creating-Selecting-Chain on me. And I will touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer for you.''

    "Caden, what''s happening?" Ambrose whispered, his eyes darting from the orb, to me, and back to the space between us. After all the subvocal communication, his voice sounded jarring to my ears. I ignored him, struggling to focus on the being.

    ''You are a rare unchosen-sighted-{~?~},'' the being breathed, shocking me with how much more articulate it was now. There was even a tone of fascination and faint praise that was coming through.

    There it was again бк that last concept the Demiurge used, which had been too much for me to bear. It was even worse now, although I could tell that the being was already filtering it for me. A horrid sense of vertigo gripped me as the concept gave me the tiniest glimpse into large vistas of eldritch knowledge, each one threatening to drown me in a void of incomprehension. I fell to my knees and vomited.

    Then, above me, I felt the phantom arm painfully twist as the being seized the orb with sudden violence. Before I could even flinch, the arm snapped.

    <hr>

    There were no words. There were no thoughts. I did not understand what was happening.

    And perhaps that was what saved me. Because I understood nothing, I also felt nothing.

    "Caden! CADEN!" Someone was lightly slapping my cheek and calling my name.

    My eyes flew open and I shot up, drawing in a huge breath like a drowning man breaking the surface. My wide, staring eyes darted around, trying to locate the source of the horror that was flooding me now. There, beyond Ambrose who was kneeling over me, my eyes landed on the orb that had fallen to the floor. Something had happened. Something terrible.

    Terrible? No... not terrible. Terribly.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Something... terribly... wonderful.

    I flexed the phantom arm, but the orb did not move. I shifted and Ambrose backed away, frightened by the intensity of my focus. Slowly, I crawled over to it, skirting the puddle of vomit I had left.

    My hand closed around the orb. I didn''t know how I knew, but I knew. It was dead. But as I cradled it in my arms, I felt a grin splitting my face. "Ambrose?" I called.

    He shifted behind me. I could taste the fear in the air. "Are you... okay, Caden?"

    I casually tossed the orb over my shoulder and heard him catch it with a gasp.

    "Yes, Ambrose," I said, flexing the phantom arm again and marvelling at how it felt now. In fact, it wasn''t really an arm anymore. It was... it was a carapace, a set of wings, a cloak, a suit of armour. It was all that and more. It anchored, it billowed, it drifted, it buoyed. And when I turned my attention to it, I realised I could feel the prophetic links trying to find purchase on it, to no avail. They strained, pulled, drilled, and scratched, but the protection was perfect.

    "Your orb... what happened?"

    "It''s not working any more," I said simply.

    "What?" Ambrose scrambled to his feet, looking agitated.

    "I don''t see what you''re so worked up about. A moment ago, you were trying to destroy it," I pointed out, a little surprised at how calm I sounded as I got to my feet too.

    "I..." His expression went from agitated to confused.

    "Well, that''s the Prophecy for you," I continued, keeping my anger in check. "You said you were trying to spare me from whatever fate was in store for me, but you ended up trying to destroy the thing that was protecting me anyway."

    "I..." He gulped. "I''m sorry, Caden. I wasn''t... wasn''t thinking straight. But if the orb''s not working anymore, then does that mean..."

    "It means you can tell me the Prophecy now. I don''t have to worry about the orb not being able to protect me."

    He looked genuinely troubled by that. "Wait, what happened, Caden? What was that thing? And how could you speak to it? Where has it gone?"

    I shook my head, even though I wanted to know how much he had heard. One thing at a time, though. I was confident now that I was well and truly beyond the reach of the Major Prophecy''s direct influence, and the protection over me now was definitely not unnatural-changed-defiant. The arcanic being had seen to that бк the protective aura that enveloped me now was a construct of beauty, even to my limited senses. "Tell me the Prophecy," I said firmly, "and I''ll tell you what I know."

    "Caden..."

    "Tell me," I said, stepping towards him. "You wanted me to know. So tell me."

    "I... I don''t know what''s right any more!" He started backing away. "And you... you''re behaving so differently! You didn''t want to know! Why the change?"

    I laughed and gestured at the orb in his hands. "Does it matter, now?"

    "It does," he insisted. "If you were protected from the Prophecy, then it made sense for you to have more knowledge. But now that you''re not..."

    "We''re going in circles, Ambrose," I said as I closed in. And although it might have set his mind at ease to know that I was still protected, some lingering paranoia kept me from revealing all the facts. He backed further away until we were in the common area. "I''m getting tired of this. It''s time you told me."

    He was preparing to fight again. I could see it in the set of his jaw. No, even more, I could sense it in the arcana, just like I had when he started to use the new arcanic bolts, only now it was more acute.

    All it took was a flexing of my will. The carapace around me flowered open, sending a little pulse racing through the fabric of the arcana, and Ambrose''s hold on it fell apart. He gasped.

    "Tell me," I repeated, bearing down on him. The arcana was rising to my call now, not auric or ambient any more, but just mine. I held on to it so that Ambrose couldn''t try anything.

    His shoulders sagged. "This is it," he whispered to himself. "I can''t change it. It''s going to happen."

    He looked so dejected that I felt a twinge of pity. "You don''t know that for sure. Tell me, and maybe we can do something about it together."

    "... It''s... in my bag. In the room."

    "You''ve left the capital ''P'' Prophecy lying around in our room?" I asked incredulously.

    "Where else would I keep it?" he asked a little sheepishly. "It''s not like I''ve got a vault or something."

    Something about that seemed so anti-climatic that I felt a little silly for behaving so seriously. My hold on the arcana loosened. "Well... go get it, then."

    He sidled past me a little awkwardly and started rummaging through his bag. Had it been in there all along, in that tatty little thing? He sometimes left it lying around on the floor during lunch or in classes. And in our room, it was always unceremoniously tossed aside. The moment was becoming more mundane and prosaic, especially as I spotted my puddle of vomit still sitting there.

    Finally, he straightened up, holding a small wooden scroll case in his hand. He popped the lid and slid out a roll of paper, and the moment he did I felt a wash of arcana spilling out from it. Even at this distance, I recognised the look of the paper. It was like the one my sister''s minor prophecy had been written on.

    Then, he began to read.

    "Five threads will lie within your hands

    and be your first across the lands бк..."

    The arcana in the air stirred, and I felt the carapace curl protectively around me, hardening in place as the prophetic links snaked through the room. I wasn''t sure if Ambrose was sensing all these things, because he kept going, although his voice did tremble a little. But to my senses, the arcana was twining itself around his words, lending weight and meaning to them, investing them with power.

    "...five fates will share your hearth;

    five hearts will teach you pain;

    five minds will pave your path;

    five tongues will curse your name;..."

    I had been right to worry that the orb might not have protected me. Even ensconced as I was within this new carapace, I could feel the prophetic links wrapping themselves around me, trying to meld into my auric-ambient-flare.

    "...and one, brought close, becomes the bones

    that form your crown o''er mortal thrones."

    The pressure increased, but the carapace held firm. Once Ambrose was done reading, the arcana stilled. He eyed me expectantly.

    ''It is done,'' the arcanic being whispered suddenly, startling me. It seemed to be the carapace itself. ''The Creating-Selecting-Chain''s links over you are unwoven-elided-silenced. Now touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.''

    ''What is the ensorcellment?'' I asked it, reaching out as if to shake Ambrose''s hand.

    ''For him to unmake-learn-assimilate what you now know,'' it responded as he warily took my hand.

    I recognised that bundle of concepts. It was what my father had breathed to his friend-in-the-arcana when he had asked me to ensorcel him. And now, I understood that final piece. When you took something into yourself like that, you consumed it, but on some level it also consumed you. It would alter your very essence, and create a new being. Knowledge of this sort changed the very nature of your auric-ambient-flare.

    "Caden... are you alright? You''re... talking to something? Is that thing still here?"

    ''Let it be done,'' I smiled, and shook hands, focusing on the transcendent euphoria of epiphany for the core of my ensorcellment. ''Touch-speak-bend the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer, and let him unmake-learn-assimilate what I know about the woven-shackled-stream that has been bridled-broken-moulded, and the knot-link-anchor in the Spire, and the nature of the Creating-Selecting-Chain.''

    <hr>

 38. New Threads

    "Spiders..." Ambrose murmured as his eyes darted around behind closed lids. "Stream... chain..."

    After a minute or two more of this, he quietened and seemed to fall into a deep sleep.

    "Well, that''s pretty much it," Devon said, getting to his feet and handing me the piece of paper he had been scribbling on. "It''s all there. Spiders, stream, chain, woven, learn, and a bunch of other random words."

    "Thanks, Dev." I took it and looked down on the bed where Ambrose lay, dressed in the blue cotton clothes of the infirmary patients. He looked completely unharmed, but I could sense a violent roiling of arcana within him, and I could catch the flavour-vein-echo of that mysterious arcanic being wafting off him. My best guess was that he was having a very, very protracted conversation with it. I still wondered how nobody else seemed to notice it. At least, none of my fellow dormmates. The Demiurge himself had stopped by, and he was probably the only person who really knew what was going on. The healers probably knew a little, but not as much as Caldwell.

    Devon glanced at the wall clock. "That was the longest so far. About six minutes."

    My attention went to the list. I knew some of these concepts, but seeing them expressed only in scattered fragments made it hard to trace what was going on. It was like listening to only half a conversation and then only getting every tenth word, or even less than that.

    "So, it''s been about two weeks now of taking turns to keep tabs on him during our free time. Do we get an explanation?" Devon asked, managing to somehow pitch his tone exactly between an impatient demand and a light request.

    I shot him a guilty look. "I''m sorry, Dev, but no."

    He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking frustrated. "Look, it''s getting hard to ignore some signs."

    Something about the way he said that made me pay more attention. "What signs?"

    "People talk, Caden," he said simply, not meeting my eyes.

    "You guys have been talking about what happened? With people outside the dorm?"

    "What? No!" He shook his head emphatically. "No, it''s still within the six of us. Well, five," he added softly, glancing at the comatose Ambrose. "But we''ve all been just sort of talking about it in private."

    "And?"

    "And... well..." He looked around nervously. By some stroke of luck (or more likely Prophetic intervention), the other beds were currently empty and the healer on duty was in her office, with the door closed. "...either you''re the Chosen One, or Ambrose is."

    The laugh came naturally to me бк I knew I was unchosen to the core. But I could see how they had arrived at that conclusion. That didn''t mean I ought to spill the beans. "There are a hundred people in our cohort. How''d you narrow it down?"

    He gave me a pointed look, then jerked a thumb at Ambrose''s unconscious form. "Nobody else in our year put someone else in some sort of coma. You haven''t been disciplined in any way for that. You seem to be involved with the Demiurge a lot. And on top of all that, you''ve done some weird stuff, even for a Top Scorer. Remember that first ensorcelment in the dorm? And then that other time at the duelling compound where you flew?"

    "Ahead of the curve," I said dismissively. "Almost everyone knows about ensorcelment now, what with Reeves'' weekly trial. As for the flying... well... I haven''t been able to do it since, so that was a fluke." I saw no reason to burden him with the fact that I had managed it again at the lake. "And apparently the Demiurge drops in on other students too. You should hear some of the stories."

    "Yeah, I have, but come on, Caden. You''ve gotta know how it looks."

    "Well, it''s not me," I said firmly, looking him straight in the eye. "I''m the guy who didn''t even believe in prophecies, remember?"

    "Didn''t?" Devon asked swiftly.

    "Well, I''ve seen some stuff too," I muttered, inwardly cursing myself for that slip. "And maybe I''m willing to revise my earlier position."

    "Then it''s Ambrose who''s the Chosen One."

    "And what makes you think that?"

    "If I believe you, then he''s the next best option because of all the Double Thau stuff."

    "If that''s your yardstick, have you seen Emilia this week?" I shot back.

    "You should ask Kevan that," Devon said, grinning a little despite himself. "Apparently she won their rematch earlier this week."

    "Well, that just proves my point."

    "Then... then that just means it''s you!" he countered, serious again.

    "Come on, Dev, this is getting nowhere. And it doesn''t matter who the Chosen One is because we all still have to live our own lives."

    "Uh-huh. That''s the kind of thing the Chosen One would say."

    "Devon..." I sat down in the visitor''s chair that he had vacated and looked up at him. "Let''s say I go along with what you guys are saying. I tell you I''m the Chosen One. Then what?"

    Stolen novel; please report.

    His eyes widened and he sat down on the edge of Ambrose''s bed. "Are you reallyбк" he began in an awed whisper.

    "No," I said vehemently. "I''m trying to make a point. Work with me here. ''I''m the Chosen One''. Now what?"

    He looked extremely excited, but after a few moments on the receiving end of my disapproving frown, he sobered a little. "We... do what we can to help you fulfil your destiny?"

    "Why?"

    "Because... because it''s a Major Prophecy. I mean, how do you walk away from that?"

    "But it''s not yours to fulfil, is it? It''s the Chosen One''s. So why?" I pressed.

    "Well, they could use some help, couldn''t they?"

    "You told me you just wanted to make your parents happy. That you didn''t want to be a part of some world-changing, Empire-shaking thing."

    "I... well, maybe, but..." He hesitated, then seemed to settle on something. "that''s if the Chosen One is someone I don''t know. If it''s one of my friends, then... then I guess I''ll do what I can, even if it may not be much."

    I shook my head helplessly. "But you don''t even know what the Prophecy is. What if it''s something bad, and helping means you get hurt or even killed?"

    He paled a little. "Is that what it is?"

    "I keep saying, I''m not the Chosen One, and this is hypothetical," I said exasperatedly. "But stay with me here. If you somehow knew what it was about, and you figured out it would be bad for you... what would you do?"

    There was a long silence as he considered that. I could see that he was weighing it in his mind and taking it seriously. After a while, he let out a slow sigh. "I don''t see that I have a choice. It''s a Prophecy, isn''t it? I can''t choose my involvement. But I can choose the manner of my involvement. And I''d want to do my part willingly. Gladly. It''s... it''s like working in a restaurant. If you''re in the kitchens and an order comes in, and it''s a dish you don''t like, you still have to make it. And you can choose to do a shitty job, or you can do your best anyway, and know that it brings some measure of joy to the person who ordered it, even if you don''t like the dish, or even enjoy the process. There''s... there''s a certain kind of nobility in doing your part. And that''s the kind of person I want to be."

    I stared at him, quite taken aback by the depth of emotion in his response. He was actually blinking furiously to clear his eyes.

    "So... so if you are, Caden, you know, the, the Chosen One..." he continued, his voice wavering a little, "just tell me, and I''ll help. You can count on me."

    "I''m not, Dev," I said softly, feeling strangely moved. "Really. But... thanks anyway."

    "Well, that''s... more than a little awkward," he mumbled, looking away and wiping his eyes. Then he chuckled weakly. "But also a bit of a relief. If that was my pledge of loyalty to the Chosen One, I''d have wanted it to be more epic. Like maybe with a sword or something, and also not next to a sickbed. And maybe minus the tears. I don''t even know why I''m tearing up."

    "I''ll take that pledge."

    Devon and I looked around, startled. Ambrose''s eyes had cracked open, and he was favouring Devon with a pained half-smile.

    "Fates, you''re awake!" Devon cried, leaping up. Then Ambrose''s words sank in and he froze, the expression of glad relief on his face quickly giving way to shock.

    "Don''t have a sword, but if you want a do-over we can use our butter knives," Ambrose joked, sounding very faint.

    I got to my feet, alarmed at how weak he seemed. "I''m going to get the heaбк"

    "Wait," he interrupted, wincing as he raised a hand. "Before anyone comes. The Chosen One thing... just you two... for now. Let me... pick the time for... the rest."

    "Oh Fates, oh Fates, oh Fates," Devon started whispering, his eyes like saucers.

    "What has it been doing?" I asked in a hushed tone, certain that he would understand.

    Ambrose closed his eyes briefly and had to take in a laboured breath before he answered. "Doing lots... of stuff. Thinking. Telling... a lot. Too much. But it''s all coming together. Making a bit of sense... here and there."

    I could tell, now that I was paying more attention, that there was a new development now. Even without the help of any arcanic construct, it was possible for me to catch a whiff of his auric-ambient-flare. The ensorcelment was finally sinking in. But it was clear that the ordeal was far from over.

    "Finally awake!" the healer said, emerging from the office with a silver rod inscribed with glyphs. She gestured at Devon and me to make way for her.

    The bed yielded to a practised wave of her hand and the top half gently inclined to bring Ambrose to a sitting position. She waved the rod slowly from the top of his head and down to his navel, then back up again. She repeated this several times, all the while staring hard, looking from the rod to the air around Ambrose, following things that were beyond our sight. And although she wasn''t making any obvious motions beyond just waving the rod, my arcanic senses tracked some sort of interaction between her, the rod, and Ambrose, but I didn''t understand enough to know what she was doing.

    "The Demiurge should be coming by soon, Ambrose, so wait until he arrives. I can let you try to walk around a bit, but you''re not to leave the infirmary," she said finally, fixing him with a firm look. "I mean it. Don''t leave until the Demiurge himself gives you the go-ahead."

    "What''s happened?" Devon asked, equal parts curious and worried.

    "It''s hard to explain. And I''m not sure if I should be the one doing that," the healer said, shaking her head as she stood. "I''ll say it''s really quite... unique."

    When she was back in her office and out of earshot, Devon rounded on him. "Ambrose... what you said earlier. You''re not serious?"

    "He is," I said heavily, sparing Ambrose from having to muster the strength to answer. Ambrose nodded.

    "You knew?" Devon asked, rounding on me. "How long?"

    "I kinda figured it out within the first week," I said wryly. "But it wasn''t until two weeks ago that I learned what the full Prophecy was."

    Devon had to sit back down at the edge of Ambrose''s bed. "Then... what you were asking me... does that mean... does that mean people who help... they''re going to..." He trailed off.

    This was the hard part. I still didn''t know how much should be revealed. I looked at Ambrose, who looked back at me with a measured gaze. He didn''t give any sign of encouragement or dissuasion. It was entirely my choice.

    "That''s... more to do with me than with you. Listen, there are some things that I''m not sure if it''s safe to tell you yet. We''ll figure it out. But please, Devon, trust me, trust us," I said, indicating Ambrose as well.

    Devon looked quite overwhelmed, and I didn''t blame him. But after a moment, he nodded.

    "Remember, don''t tell the others yet," Ambrose managed. Then he tilted his head to indicate the entrance. Devon and I followed his gaze to see the Demiurge walking in. Devon immediately stiffened and got to his feet.

    "I guess this is where we leave you," I said to Ambrose. "Listen, before I go, I''m sorry for... you know."

    Ambrose didn''t smile, not exactly. But his lips did twitch a little, and he didn''t seem angry. "We''re going to have words when I get out."

    "Caden, what a pleasure. And you too, Devon," the Demiurge said as he neared, beaming. "I see you''re both already leaving, but before you go, could I trouble you to check in on your friend Kevan? He should be in the duelling compound, in the largest chamber."

    "What''s happened?" I asked, a little alarmed.

    "Nothing, yet, but I rather think he may go a little overboard, and it''ll be good to have a couple of friends on hand. Off you go!"

    That answer was not reassuring at all. Devon seemed to share my worry. Together, we hurried out of the infirmary, but as I glanced back at the entrance and saw the Demiurge easing himself into the visitor''s chair, I was struck with the sense that this was going to be a very significant moment. The kind that history would look back on, and mark as a turning point.

 39. Breaking Barriers

    As Devon and I set off at a brisk pace towards the duelling compound, my eyes went to the ''new'' buildings along the way. I hadn''t been seeing things during that evening walk to the Spire with the Demiurge. In the two weeks since that night, I discovered that the Academy grounds held many structures that were well-maintained but otherwise completely deserted.

    No students ever went in and out of them, and it was clear why бк they didn''t even know the structures were there. I had pointed one of them out to my fellow dorm mates and received only confused looks, and the confusion persisted when I attempted to explain what was happening, only to mysteriously clear up once I abandoned the topic. Even my father was subject to it. Clearly, there was some high-level arcanophany at work that was clouding their perception.

    But that wasn''t the most pressing concern now. Devon and I were drawing close to the duelling compound, and we weren''t alone. There were quite a number of other students slowly making their way in. While I spotted some familiar first-years, I realised that a number of the seniors were joining the throng too.

    "Is there some kind of event?" Devon wondered, frowning in confusion.

    "Kev and Emilia''s duel is probably the event," I said, shaking my head. "Word must''ve gotten around about their clashes."

    "We should sell tickets or something," Devon grinned. "Make a proper show of it."

    It was hard to keep a straight face, but I tried to inject some seriousness into my tone. "Dev, c''mon. Remember why we''re here. I doubt it''s going to be a good kind of show."

    "Right." He sobered up a little. "What do you think the Demiurge wants us to do?"

    "I''m not sure," I said worriedly. "He said Kev might ''go overboard'', and that doesn''t sound good. Maybe we have to rein him in somehow?"

    "Uh, I''m not sure how much good I''d be in that kind of situation," Devon said, paling. "I''m the lousiest at Double Thau out of all of us, remember?"

    "Hopefully it won''t come to that," I said, projecting a little confidence that I didn''t really feel. "But if it does, two''s better than one."

    His only reply was an audible gulp. I didn''t blame him. In the two weeks following Ambrose''s admission to the infirmary, our Double Thau sessions as a group had ground to a halt since the rest were wary around me, but that didn''t mean Kevan had slacked off. Together with Lynus, they had approached seniors and started duelling with them, and sometimes even winning. It was a mark of Emilia''s exceptional ability that she had still managed to beat him at their last match.

    We finally got to the largest duelling chamber. The tiered seats were almost half full, and more were slowly filtering in through the double doors. The excited chatter of dozens of people filled the dome.

    "There." Devon nodded at the far end where Kevan and Lynus were standing, apparently in a heated discussion. I saw Emilia a few paces away, seemingly lost in thought as her eyes passed over the crowd. Both Kevan and Emilia had dressed for the occasion бк they wore close-fitting clothes and good shoes that would allow them to move freely. Kevan''s athletic build lent him an air of greater competence here, accentuated by his all-black outfit, from his T-shirt down to his shoes. But even though Emilia seemed less well put together in her slightly mismatched long-sleeved navy blue top, forest green leggings and red shoes, and she was half a head shorter than Kevan, there was an intensity about her that hinted at hidden power.

    I didn''t want to walk across the empty floor in front of so many people, so we skirted the edge of the chamber. "Hey guys," I said as we drew close enough to be heard over the general hubbub. "Everything alright?"

    Kevan snapped "No!" at exactly the same time Lynus said "Yes!"

    "Whatever," Kevan continued, irritation written all over his face. "We should start."

    "Another five minutes," Lynus insisted. He turned to Devon and me. "Were there still lots of people outside?"

    "Lots," I confirmed.

    "I don''t mind a few watchers, but this is too much," Kevan said through gritted teeth. "You shouldn''t have talked it up, Ly."

    "You''ll thank me, seriously. Whether you win or lose, you''ll benoticed," Lynus said, waving a dismissive hand.

    "We should start," Emilia said, appearing suddenly at his shoulder, her approach masked by the background chatter.

    "Oh, Emilia!" Lynus gave her a winning smile. "Hi. Caden just said there''s lots more people still outside, so I was thinking maybe if we waited... until almost... all the seats... uh..."

    He withered under her impassive stare. "We should start," she repeated in exactly the same tone.

    "Right. I''ll, uh, get the doors." As he set off across the empty floor, Kevan gave an amused snort. Emilia trailed after Lynus, heading for the starting position on the opposite end from Kevan. Devon and I hurriedly found seats at the bottom tier, just behind him.

    Lynus shooed a few more people in, then closed the double doors. I saw him bring up the Minor Control Sphere to access the chamber''s functions. A hush descended over the crowd as people noted these developments, and the babble was replaced with expectant silence.

    "Ladies and gentlemen," Lynus began, his voice easily filling the massive chamber. It was equal parts arcanophanic amplification and good, old-fashioned voice-projection. He was a natural showman. Or maybe a practised one. "Thank you for joining us today. Our duellists need no introduction, but allow me to introduce them anyway! Over on this side, we have Emilia, sharp as a tack and deadly serious. On the far end is my brother, Kevan, arguably just as smart, and seriously not as pretty."

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Some laughter from the crowd. A few awkward coughs.

    "Ahem. Anyway! Two rising stars of Thaumaturgy in the first year, one epic battle. Who will emerge victorious? Let''s find out!"

    The Minor Control Sphere in his hands pulsed and a wash of arcana ran through the floor. A dense honeycomb weave sprang up from the edges of the arena, enclosing the two combatants momentarily before it faded into invisibility, protecting the audience from any stray blasts of arcana. Emilia and Kevan were likewise briefly hidden behind a thick, shimmering layer. It seemed that the duelling chambers were able to provide combatants with a more advanced form of the duelling shields. These looked sturdy enough to hold up against the more potent arcanic bolts we''d learned.

    The protections were in place, but neither one of them had moved. I scanned the air between them and extended my arcanic senses, and sure enough, invisible bolts were already arcing through the air, warping it with the violence of their passage. Translucent discs and planes of arcana were being called into being by both of them as they shielded themselves against the barrage, but these conjurations were not dissipating gently like our duelling bolts and shields. Instead, these new arcanic bolts were hitting with so much force that I could feel a dull throb every time one of them smashed into a shield. And the shields were not wispy things бк they shattered violently like glass and cascaded to the ground in fizzing pieces that slowly melted away into nothingness.

    There were appreciative murmurs from the crowd. The first-year faces I recognised looked awed, but some of the seniors were clearly not impressed yet. Evidently, this was standard fare here at the Academy.

    Suddenly, Emilia started sprinting straight towards Kevan. His bolts slammed into the floor or flew past the empty space she was in just a moment ago, crashing into the arena shields where they left thick cracks. I even felt a little vibration from the impact. There were cries of alarm from the people near these points of contact, but that quickly turned to sheepish laughter as the damage rapidly repaired itself.

    It seemed Kevan had finally mastered how to direct the bolts with his will. Before Emilia had crossed the mid-point, she was beset on two sides бк a volley from directly ahead of her, and a few bolts that had managed to perform hairpin turns to come around for a second pass. But Emilia didn''t break her stride. She ran straight into the oncoming volley.

    Emilia''s hands came up, and she literally swatted a few of the bolts aside.

    The gasp that left my lips was echoed by dozens of people in the arena. The bolts pinged off her hands with sharp cracks and some of them even collided with the bolts approaching from behind, flowering into little explosions of light. She dealt with the rest with a smattering of throwaway shields, leaving a cascade of broken glass in her wake. By now, she was just ten paces away from Kevan.

    He dropped to a knee and pressed his palms to the floor. An instant later, I felt a shockwave of arcana that smashed against the barrier between us before rushing back into the arena space. It wasn''t completely invisible бк streaks of white and grey rippled through the air on the crest of the waves. Emilia still wasn''t stopping. She simply enveloped herself in a jagged spike of arcana and kept running. Its tip snapped off with an ear-splitting crack as the first wave met her, and the backwash from the walls crashed into her with enough force to blow her back a few metres, sending her flying. I watched, wide-eyed, as she executed a flip in mid-air and nailed a three-point landing.

    "What theбк" Devon swore on my behalf. I couldn''t find my voice.

    There was a roar of approval from the crowd as they broke into applause. Emilia straightened and irritably flicked a stray strand of hair out of her face, panting slightly. Kevan slowly got to his feet, his fists clenched. I couldn''t see his face from where I was seated, but he seemed tense. They regarded each other for a moment, then Emilia darted forward again.

    She was stymied again when a literal wall of fire sprang up between them, orange at first, then a deadly blue, eliciting gasps of surprise from the watching students. My eyes went to the floor, and I saw the semi-solid globules of arcana that Kevan had transmuted to serve as fuel for the fire. The curtain of blue encircled him from two metres away, hissing menacingly. I wondered whether that was a homebrew sequence, and which lecturer had supervised him if it was.

    Emilia''s eyes went to the floor too, and a moment later some of those globules were hurling themselves at Kevan, who hastily batted them aside with conjured shields. The wall of fire broke down as he changed the sequence бк the globules cohered into flaming spheres that he was now hurling at Emilia. Whether by lack of control or by design, these seemed incapable of being directed by will alone. Emilia took advantage of that and dodged some, or else deflected them with shields, all the while inching closer. The scattered spheres hissed and died as they splattered against the arena shields, and left little pools of spluttering flame on the arena floor.

    It occurred to me then that Emilia hadn''t made any offensive plays beyond the initial salvo of invisible arcanic bolts. For some reason, she was focusing on getting closer to Kevan. But why?

    Just as that thought crossed my mind, the air between them began to writhe again. Emilia had renewed her assault, having managed to back Kevan into a corner. His shields were shattering more quickly now even as he tried to cloister himself in shifting layers, while Emilia continued to bob and weave, dodging as much as she was shielding. I marvelled at the amount of coordination and concentration she was displaying.

    It looked like it was only going to be a matter of time before Kevan''s defences collapsed under her close-ranged barrage. He wasn''t keeping up with her, and almost half of his own bolts were missing the mark, blowing past her and scattering uselessly against the arena shields.

    A gout of fire erupted from his hands. Emilia managed to deflect the stream a little with a hasty shield, leaving her just enough time to throw herself out of the way. But Kevan wasn''t letting up. He was transmuting more arcanic fuel, sending out a steady stream of liquid fire that left burning puddles where they landed. Emilia backed away, scattering the arcanic fuel at her feet to buy some space. A small wave of fire rushed after her, forcing her back even further as it threatened to engulf her. For a moment, it looked as if she might be caught in it, but before I could get to my feet, she sent herself rocketing through the air with an arcanic pulse directed at the ground, then somehow managed to control her descent enough to effect a graceful landing.

    The two of them paused, staring at each other over the fires that covered half the arena.

    "Had enough?" Kevan called out. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Was he actually taunting her, when he seemed to be the one on the back foot here?

    "No," Emilia replied, giving him a rare smile. "So don''t fall over just yet."

    A sudden rush of wind sucked the life out of the flames as the air was drawn in towards Emilia. I felt a dense knot of arcana flower precisely where she was, and a moment later, a brilliant beam of energy lanced out from her outstretched palms towards Kevan, its diameter wide enough to encircle a full-grown man, bathing the arena in purple light and filling the air with the keening wail of raw power. It was Triss'' beam sequence, but it sang to my arcanic senses, humming with more potency than I had ever felt before from a student.

    The beam enveloped Kevan entirely in its blinding ray, then smashed into the arena shield. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, sealed up, then cracked again.

    "KEVAN!" I shouted, shielding my eyes from the glare and trying to make out what had happened.

    The beam died out, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. I blinked furiously, my eyes watering.

    Kevan was gone.

 40. Snipping Strings

    There was nowhere Kevan could have gone, but however impressive Emilia''s beam was, it couldn''t have literally vaporised him. There wasn''t enough power behind it. So where was he? And more alarmingly, I could feel an intense buildup of arcana somewhere in the arena. Wherever he was, Kevan was amassing a lot of it.

    The reaction in the arena was mixed. Some, like me, were looking around in utter confusion. But others merely looked slightly puzzled as they continued staring at where Kevan had stood.

    My eyes snapped to Lynus. Even at this distance, I could tell he was smirking. Both he and Kevan had that look when they were trying to play up their superiority. Worry flared up, momentarily displacing the confusion. Whatever Kevan had up his sleeve, it was something that he could, to use the Demiurge''s words, ''go overboard'' with.

    Some people were pointing, drawing the attention of the others in the crowd. Emilia''s eyes darted around, taking in the direction they had indicated, which was right where Kevan had been standing earlier. Tentatively, she sent out several arcanic bolts. They collapsed against shields that materialised out of thin air, and a surprised Emilia continued the blind barrage. Uncertain of the source, she was unwilling to close in on what still looked like completely empty space, which meant that Kevan was able to keep her at bay with his array of shields.

    "What?" Devon got to his feet, staring hard.

    I scanned the crowd to try and see what some members of the audience were pointing at. A pattern clicked бк the people at the sides of the arena seemed to be able to see something, but those who were seated near Devon and I had no idea what those people were focusing on.

    "C''mon!" I said, dragging Devon as I followed the curve of the chamber, going clockwise. The visual trickery became apparent once we had gone a few steps. Kevan had transmuted flat planes out of the arcana and somehow turned them into mirrored surfaces that he had arranged to create a spot where he could stand and appear to vanish if one looked at them from a certain angle. The illusion fell apart as soon as we weren''t looking at the mirrors head-on. More impressively, it seemed that the mirrors were one-way, giving him an unobstructed view of the battlefield even as it hid him from sight. To facilitate that, I realised that Lynus had manipulated the lighted dome of the arena so that Emilia was now standing in a bright patch, while Kevan''s space was comparatively darker. It was masterful manipulation of light that required plenty of prior preparation, and also quite a bit of unfair trickery on the twins'' part.

    It seemed Emilia had figured it out as well. She took off again, circling around Kevan to finally get a bead on him before she started closing in again. But he had prepared for that. Emilia''s eyes widened as she crashed through a waiting barrier and stumbled. It wasn''t a very strong one given the great distance that Kevan had to project it, but it was enough to trip her up. She belatedly raised the arcanic spike around her again to help her bulldoze any further protections.

    But the intense buildup of arcana was coming to a head now, manifesting itself as a weird tension in the air that even the rest of the spectators could feel. Emilia stopped in her tracks. Devon shifted uneasily beside me, looking apprehensive. It wasn''t a dense weight, but like... like anabsence. Somehow, he was drawing in enough arcana to... todeplete the surroundings? Was that even possible?

    "Better shield up," Kevan called out smugly to Emilia, turning the mirrors into ordinary barriers and allowing them to collapse against her bolts as she answered with another salvo. Then she hunkered down, layering her spike with a hardened coating and sinking arcanic appendages into the ground to fortify her position.

    But if Kevan was stealing all the arcana, how could she still do that? I experimentally conjured a globe light and was puzzled to find it was still perfectly fine бк the flow of arcana was uninterrupted. But then what was happening to the ambient arcana? What was Kevan doing?

    ''Unfurl-break-flood!''

    I reeled in shock, both at ''hearing'' Kevan speak to the arcana, and also at the sudden shifting in it. I felt a strange perturbation around Emilia, and then the reservoir of energy that Kevan had amassed was unleashed.

    A blinding crackle of light skittered across the intervening space in the blink of an eye and smashed into Emilia, blasting her spike-shield into tiny shards that rained onto the arena barriers. The shouts of alarm and awe from the crowd were completely drowned out by the clap of thunder that followed. All around the tiers, people were flinching away and covering their eyes as the flowing streams of arcana continued to spark through the air, filling it with a violent sizzle and throwing erratic shadows off everyone. Kevan was literally hurling lightning at Emilia.

    And she was still standing! I gaped at her in awe, noting how a lot of the energy was travelling down the arcanic appendages she had stabbed into the arena floor. The rest of it was held at bay by a dome she had erected around herself. The lightning was sparking and snaking all around it like some great wyrm trying to consume her, but she ignored the blinding spectacle and focused on feeding a glowing orb in her hands, her face tense. Little tendrils of power were being siphoned off the lightning and into the orb as it snapped against her shield.

    I had no idea how Kevan was channelling this much arcana, or where it was all coming from, but my sense of worry spiked when I felt him tugging at the arcana even more in order to sustain his sequence. The sense of emptiness in the air was growing more pronounced. The violent snapping of his lightning grew more savage, and stray arcs stuttered across the air, sometimes cracking against the arena barriers, eliciting a mixture of delighted cries and screams of fear from the spectators.

    Emilia dropped to a knee and the dome around her shrank suddenly, barely able to cover her. The orb in her hands was now fizzling too, its sound floating at a higher frequency over the crackling of Kevan''s lightning. Then, she wrenched herself away from it, leaving it floating in the centre of her dome. Her hands motioned wildly as she attempted some sort of complicated sequence that was too much for her to accomplish without telegraphing her moves, then she encased herself in a smaller sphere and threw herself out of her dome.

    It collapsed immediately and Kevan''s lightning made contact with the orb. A deafening explosion rocked the arena and there were more screams as everyone turned away from the blinding flash. The sinister crackle of lightning was gone.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    All around the arena, people were blinking furiously and rubbing their eyes to clear their vision. There were a few, like me, who had the presence of mind to bring up some personal protections. I saw darkened shields dropping here and there. Devon let out a sigh of relief and threw me a grateful glance before turning his attention back to the fight.

    Kevan had been thrown back against the arena barrier and the arena-generated shield around him registered significant injury, but not enough to put him out of the fight yet. Emilia looked a little better off since she had flattened herself onto the ground and shielded herself more effectively. Even so, her arena-generated shield also indicated that she had been hurt. As they staggered to their feet, those shields faded into invisibility again.

    "Kevan, whatever you''re doing, I don''t think it''s safe!" I called out to him.

    "Shut up, Caden, you don''t even know what''s going on," he snapped. I felt the arcana hollow itself out again as he got to work.

    Emilia looked worn out, but she had a steely glint in her eye. The barrage of arcanic bolts started again, but this time she was also working on something else while she kept that up. The air around her grew distorted. Kevan, on the other hand, opted to shield and continue his sequence.

    He was doing the same thing again, forming a dense knot of arcana. But this time the feeling of emptiness in the air came on much more quickly. Devon paled and turned to me. "I think this is it. He''s doing something to the arcana, I can feel it."

    Devon was right. But with my more refined arcanic senses, I could tell there was something different in the way the arcana was being manipulated. Earlier, it was more like tugging on a sheet of fabric and bunching it up a bit. Now, it was more like... like pulling out a plug to drain a bath. I instinctively knew that it was far more dangerous than what Kevan had done earlier. How had he even learned to do these things?

    "Kevan, no, stop!" I shouted, panicked.

    He looked back at me and, for a moment, I thought I saw some fear in his eyes. But then he set his jaw and turned to face Emilia. My eyes darted across the crowd. Most people looked enthralled by the fight, and I couldn''t find anyone looking at Kevan with any sense of alarm. Did nobody else sense this?

    Emilia''s sequence, whatever it was, was faster. The distortion in the air around her rolled forwards, clinging to the arena floor. Pressed against the arena barrier as he was, Kevan had no room to move. He brought up low, thick shields to halt their approach, but was forced to extend them upwards as the roiling distortion threatened to surge over them. The outer layers of his shields began to fray and disintegrate like they were being eaten by acid. In moments, the cloud would overwhelm his defences.

    "Kevan, NO!" I yelled again, sensing his grasp on the arcana as hepulled.

    ''Unfurl-break-flood!''

    Black lightning бк an impossibility. It snaked out of him, darkening the arena as it snarled through the air towards a wide-eyed Emilia. As it passed through Kevan''s shields, it left a gaping hole in them. The roiling cloud of Emilia''s sequence scattered before it like dust.

    With incredible speed, Emilia had managed to reassemble her defences. The dome reinforced with arcanic appendages came up again, but this time the black lightning turned them to powder with a touch and swarmed over the dome, which fell apart like ash. One thin arc, an off-shoot of the primary stream, snapped against Emilia. The arena shields registered a fatal amount of damage in an instant, and she was sent flying several metres before she crashed into the floor, limp, but still encased in a dense weave of protective arcana.

    The stream of lightning went on, crashing into the arena barriers on the far side, where Lynus was standing next to the double doors. The whole arena shuddered, and the black lightning sparked and skittered out from that point of impact. The barrier cracked, and the cracks quickly spread across the entire surface. The light that suffused the dome of the arena sputtered and died, plunging us all into darkness.

    Thankfully, my globe light was still active. All across the stands, more globe lights were popping up as people illuminated their surroundings so they could frantically retreat from the lowest tier. I saw Lynus running along the barrier, trying to get to us, while people rushed past him in a mad dash for the exit.

    "Kevan!" I dialled up the intensity of my light. There, about five metres from the edge where we were standing, Kevan was rooted to the spot. Black lightning was still pouring from the fingertips of his outstretched hands as he sank to his knees.

    "Can''t... stop!" he cried out.

    ''Help!''I sent desperately into the arcana. ''Stop the flow of lightning!''

    I tasted the flavour-vein-echoof thewoven-shackled-stream. It suffused me, and I sank to my knees too, overwhelmed as my senses came alive with a thousand other points of contact. What did it matter that my eyes could not see clearly in the relative dark? There was Kevan, the tangled-anger-power, hisauric-ambient-flare dangerously untethered. Devon, the warm-skilful-bridge was close at hand. Lynus,the bitter-proud-pain, was almost upon us.

    ''Touch-speak-bend the tangled-anger-power to make it unmake-learn-assimilate my flavour-vein-echo'', the arcanic being commanded.

    If it was here, did it mean that it wasn''t with Ambrose any more? Had it finished working within him? Or was it capable of being in more than one place at once? But why was it here, when I had intended to call for the friend-in-the-arcana?

    ''Too many questions. I am friend-in-the-arcana now. Touch-speak-bend, before tangled-anger-power loses too much auric-ambient-flare.''

    My mind was becoming clouded with all these alien concepts intruding. I staggered over to the barrier, which was cracked but still unyielding.

    ''Touch-speak-bend!''the arcanic being repeated, communicating urgent insistence without a voice.

    ''I can''t reach him!''

    ''With auric-ambient-flare! Not with hand!''

    ... Of course, what was I thinking? I reached out with my auric arcana, twisting it through the barrier and bridging the gap between me and Kevan. Ensorcellment was almost second nature now, and the concept was small enough бк to communicate to Kevan the flavour-vein-echo of thewoven-shackled-stream.

    The instant it was done, I could feel it. The arcanic being snaked out of me and through the connection I had formed with Kevan, using his newly-gained knowledge as its foothold, and there in his auric-ambient-flare it began its work. The wild surges of lighting pouring from his hands stopped, and soon the storm of energy within the barrier dissipated, allowing it to quickly patch itself up. The dome of the arena flickered, and its warm glow of light returned. As quickly as it had come, the arcanic being was gone.

    Kevan braced himself against the floor and vomited, but by then Lynus was at his side and would be able to take care of him, so I looked around frantically, trying to spot Emilia''s fallen form.

    "Everything''s fine," a familiar voice called out, bright and cheery. Marcus Kant was approaching across the arena floor, supporting a slightly weakened but otherwise-unharmed Emilia. Somehow, he had entered the floor despite the barrier. As he walked, the Minor Control Sphere materialised next to him, and a moment later the giant, protective barrier over the floor phased away, its absence conspicuous. He settled Emilia down on the lowest tier, then turned to address the rest of the spectators. His voice rang out clearly, amplified but not jarringly loud.

    "Hope that was a nice show. Now it''s time to clear out slowly, please. No need to rush. Let''s do this calmly and in an orderly fashion."

    Under Kant''s direction, the general body filtered out. A number of people wanted to stay, but he firmly sent them away. In a few minutes, we were the only ones in the arena.

    "Now," Kant began, gesturing for everyone to take a seat as he stood in front of us, "that was both horrible and excellent, so let''s break it down."

 41. Lapses in Judgement

    "First off," Kant began, "thank you for adhering to the safety protocols. The nextбк"

    "What?" I cut in, incredulous. "Sorry, sir, Marcus, but how was that safe at all?"

    He favoured me with an indulgent smile. "Emilia and Kevan are a little ahead of the syllabus. Our class is due to shift over from the Ka''atus Room to the duelling chambers soon, and I''ll be running everyone through the features of this place."

    "But the barriers were cracking," I objected. "And what Kevan was doing, it''s a miracle Emilia wasn''t hurt!"

    Kevan snorted. "I told you, you don''t even know what''s going on."

    "That''ll do, Kevan," Kant said, frowning at him. "Short version, Caden, the barriers won''t break short of the Demiurge himself making a concerted effort to take them down. The cracks are cosmetic, to indicate when significant structural damage would have been done to an ordinary building. The personal shields provided by the chamber are also similarly robust. You''ll notice Emilia is perfectly fine."

    "Then... then there wasn''t ever any danger?" I asked, feeling a little silly.

    "There''s always danger involved in arcanophany, but in this instance, both of them had the necessary safeguards in place. And, on top of all that, I''ve been here since the start. The Demiurge asked me to sit in, so I did, undercover."

    "But the Demiurge also asked us to..." I glanced at Devon.

    Kant raised an eyebrow, while Kevan''s head jerked up. Emilia, as ever, was hard to read. "Caldwell sent you here?" Kant asked.

    "He said Kevan was probably going to ''go overboard'', in his words. And that I... we... should be ready to help," I supplied.

    Kant considered that for a long moment, his expression one of mild interest. "Well, he likes his jokes, that man. But to put your mind at ease, Caden, when I bring our class here, you''ll learn why we have these chambers in the first place, and how they allow us to safely practice combat-grade Thaumaturgy."

    "But what Kevan was doing... the arcana..." I struggled to phrase it in words.

    "Yes, well, that''s one of the horrible lapses I wanted to cover," Kant said, turning to Kevan, who sat up a little straighter. "That was extremely sloppy."

    "Sloppy?" I muttered, wondering if it was a horrible understatement. "Not dangerous? Not life-threatening?"

    "Outside of this chamber, it would have been those things," Kant conceded, glancing at me, "but the chamber would have shut Kevan''s arcanophany down long before it became a danger to him or others. It looked quite spectacularly out-of-control, though, which I suppose is why even the seniors panicked and ran." He turned back to Kevan and his tone became stern. "You showed terrible judgement in combat. You never make use of a sequence you have modified on the fly, unless you are absolutely certain about the principles involved. You''re more likely to destroy yourself than your opponent."

    Kevan clenched his fists but accepted the rebuke in silence.

    "I suppose you messed around with the glyph of proximate arcana for that one?" Kant questioned.

    "Yes," Kevan said through gritted teeth.

    "Talk me through it. What were you thinking?"

    "The sequence has a limiter on how many levels of proximity to draw on. I thought if I removed them, I could direct it by will alone, and draw in more at once, but still work with a safe amount of arcana since it should only extend as far as what my will can manage."

    Kant nodded. "A fair assumption. Have you tested this principle before with your tutor?"

    "...No."

    "Then what made you think it was a viable sequence for use in combat? Didn''t you have other options?"

    "Yes, I had other options," Kevan said, visibly struggling to keep his temper.

    "So why did you pick one of the worst options?"

    "Because he is afraid of losing to me," Emilia stated matter-of-factly.

    "Nobody asked you," Kevan snapped.

    "And there we have it," Kant said, forestalling a retort from Emilia with a raised hand. "With that attitude, Kevan, you lost before the battle even started. Your judgement was clouded by other considerations that kept you from making wise tactical choices. You have great technical proficiency, but it needs to be applied properly. For instance, that business with the mirrors бк inspired, I''ll admit, but also unnecessarily complicated. I won''t comment on the utter lack of chivalry for cheating there, because in the real world we may well have to resort to that to secure victory. But let''s look at the plan itself. First, you had to have your brother rig the lights for you, which introduces an additional point of failure in your plans. But for that to work, you''d need to break line-of-sight first, which required you to assume that Emilia was going to use that beam attack again. Another possible point of failure. If either of those things hadn''t fallen into place, how were you planning to buy the time to use that sequence for arcanic lightning?"

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "Smoke from arcanic fire to block line-of-sight," Kevan shot back.

    "The smoke would have made it easier to spot your mirrors. And what about the lights being done perfectly?" Kant pressed. Kevan had no reply, so Kant went on. "So you structured your fight around the one sequence you wanted to use and left yourself no other options. That''s why you doubled down on the sequence when Emilia blocked it the first time. And that''s what cost you the fight."

    "I wasn''t the one who got knocked out first," Kevan protested, but there was no heart behind it.

    "No, you weren''t, but if this were a real fight, you''d have died to your own runaway sequence. And I don''t know what book you''re using, but in my book, if you come out dead from a fight when you didn''t intend to die, then you lost."

    Kevan took in a deep breath and sighed. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

    Devon and I exchanged surprised looks, having never seen Kevan take feedback like this before. But I supposed that Kant was speaking from a position of authority, and so even Kevan had the good sense to listen and accept it.

    Kant turned to Emilia. "As for you, commendable composure under literal fire. But that''s the second time you''ve used that beam against him, isn''t it? It''s obvious because Kevan had a plan for it."

    "Yes," Emilia admitted. "But it''s what won me our last match."

    "And that''s exactly why you shouldn''t have pulled it out again," Kant said emphatically, "unless you were using it to set up something else. If someone ever survives a fight with you, you can bet the next time they choose to face you, they''ll have something ready for the thing that took them down. Did you have something else to use?"

    "Yes, but I''d rather not elaborate," she replied.

    "Good. But the worst thing was your choice to shield at the end against the black lightning."

    "But if it''s the same sequence, only amplified somehow, then shouldn''t the same principles work?" Emilia asked, frowning.

    "Why shield when you can dodge?"

    "But I couldn''t dodge."

    "Next best thing; you could have provided a decoy, which you so expertly created mid-battle with that orb. And you know it works because it''s what saved you the first time when the shield failed. Why didn''t you simply shoot out a decoy, instead of trying to deploy a shield again?"

    She let out a small huff of annoyance. "It did not occur to me at the time."

    "And another thing. Surely you could tell the second iteration of his sequence was at least one or two orders of magnitude more powerful than the last. I know you modified your own shield in turn, but what made you think your slightly modified shield was going to hold up against that?"

    "Overconfidence," she replied in a clipped tone.

    "Yes. You were so flushed with the success of that first shield that you, like he did, over-invested in one sequence. It''s important to be more nimble in your consideration of what to deploy."

    "I understand. Thank you." She lapsed back into an air of slight preoccupation.

    "As for you, Caden..."

    Startled, I looked at him. "Yes?"

    "Commendable concern for your friends. And excellent circumvention of the arena barrier by using ensorcellment instead of a traditional attack sequence. But even though it worked very well this time, I suggest you be careful with how you employ ensorcellment in the future," Kant said, regarding me seriously. "It works extremely well on laypeople, but by the end of this semester, those in your cohort would be proficient enough to resist ensorcellment. It is not a tactic you should rely on against a trained arcanist, because the channel works both ways."

    I nodded mutely.

    "Well, that''s all I''ve got. All in all, not a bad fight. I''ll see you in our next class, Caden, Emilia." He gave a casual wave and took his leave.

    "That was a pretty epic show," Devon said to Emilia and Kevan, completely sincere.

    "Thank you," Emilia said. "You''re all dormmates, correct?"

    "Yup! If you ever wanna come over some time, I can whip up a good meal," Devon grinned.

    "Are you as proficient in combat as Kevan, or at least Caden?" she asked.

    "Uh, I..." The grin vanished from Devon''s face.

    "What do you mean ''at least''?" I asked, affecting indignation.

    "You know what I mean, Caden," she went on, completely serious. "In Kant''s class, you are of middling proficiency in the practical aspect of thaumaturgy."

    Lynus stifled a laugh. I rolled my eyes and addressed the rest. "You get used to her after a while. She''s always this blunt."

    "Well, I''m not as, uh, proficient in combat," Devon said, "but why do I need to do that if I''m offering to cook if you come over?"

    "Oh, I was just wondering if Kevan''s dormmates were all of similar levels of mastery. It would be nice to have more people to practice with," Emilia replied.

    "Well, Lynus is his brother, and they''re both the most invested in thaumaturgy," Devon pointed out.

    "Lynus is not as good," Emilia said, with such a straight face that it was clear she was not being dismissive. Lynus mimed being wounded as Kevan elbowed him with a grin.

    "The only other person who may be a viable challenge is Ambrose, then," I added. "He''s pretty good, too. Beat Kevan the first time they duelled."

    Kevan shot me a look, and I gave him a small smile. It would really be interesting to see Emilia go toe-to-toe against Ambrose. And I wouldn''t say no to watching Ambrose and Kevan fight again.

    "That sounds wonderful." Emilia turned to Devon. "I''d like to take you up on that offer. Perhaps when our schedules permit, I can duel with Ambrose, and we can all eat together afterwards. Would you all mind helping me pass on the challenge?"

    "I''d love to," Kevan said, grinning. "Make sure you beat him."

    "Why wouldn''t I make sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "That''s the point, isn''t it? Well, goodbye."

    All of us made our way out of the arena, though Emilia set off at a quicker pace. I wondered if she had friends since she always seemed to be alone. She didn''t seem to be bothered by that, so I didn''t know whether to feel a little sorry for her or not.

    As we walked, at Devon''s insistence, Kevan started explaining a little about what he had done during the fight. He was generally a lot more forthcoming now than he had been at the start of the semester. As he spoke, it became apparent that he really was quite far ahead бк likely because of his association with some seniors, and his own independent training.

    But I was only half-listening. I kept thinking back to the fact that the duel had been completely safe, and yet the Demiurge had sent me and Devon there, making it sound as though we had to be the ones to stop Kevan. But now that everything was over, I realised how thin a reason that was. He had already forewarned Kant and planted him there, and Kant was infinitely more qualified to head off any arcanophanic disasters. That meant the Demiurge wanted Devon and me there for another reason. He could have just ordered us out of the room to get a private moment with Ambrose, so it wasn''t just to get us out of the way either.

    I paled a little when I realised that perhaps the reason was already fulfilled, and it wasn''t really to do with Devon. It was me. Because at the very end, even though the chamber would have shut down Kevan''s sequence and prevented any lasting damage, I had been tricked into ensorceling him.

    I had given the arcanic being a direct link to Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, and I had shared binding knowledge of its flavour-vein-echo with him. And it must have communicated with him somehow and taught him, or else forced him, to stop the black lightning.

    My heart sank as I looked at him. And at that moment, in a lull in the conversation, he glanced at me. Our eyes met.

    And he smirked.

 42. A Walk in the Dark

    Trigger warning:

    mention of attempted suicide

    <hr>

    The group of us stopped by the infirmary to check on Ambrose, where we found him in the midst of a final check-up by the healer before he was discharged. Devon insisted that we mark the occasion with a celebratory dinner and immediately enlisted our help to prepare, which required a trip down to the small collection of shops in the Academy to procure the ingredients. It was going to be a lavish spread: roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, mushroom soup, a prawn salad, and creme brulee to follow.

    The weekly chore rotation meant that the twins would be doing the grocery run. Kevan was in a good-enough mood to submit to it without any grousing at all, especially since there was the promise of a good dinner. That left Ambrose and me free to help with the preparation.

    "Where''s Jerric?" I asked as we made our way back.

    "Back in the dorm, I guess. He''s been a bit quiet lately. But don''t worry, I''ll make sure he''s alright," Devon replied, smiling.

    Warm-skillful-bridge indeed. I wondered whether he would feel a lot better about himself if or when he came far along enough in arcanophany to discover these ''arcanic names'', for lack of a better term.

    "Right, well..." A quick glance showed that the twins were out of earshot as they struck off towards the shops. "You wanna tell us what the Demiurge said, Ambrose?"

    Devon stiffened, casting a half-terrified, half-awed look at him. Ambrose gave me a wry smile and sighed. "Where to start? The biggest shock for me is that he''s, uh, apparently immune to prophetic links."

    "What?" I demanded, while Devon asked, "What''re those?"

    "I''ll explain later," Ambrose said to him. "Or, uh, maybe... maybe Caden is supposed to... show you, later. We''re gonna have to talk about it. I''m not sure I understand everything he told me yet."

    "Why is he immune? If he''s not bound, then what''s he after?" I pressed.

    "He says the immunity comes from his... link? Deal? Partnership? It''s hard to explain, there''s just this bundle of concepts... but he''s working together with someone or something. Or some people. As for what he''s after... that''s the even more confusing bit. He says he''s trying to help the Empire, but that it involves going against what the Empire currently is."

    "Like, against the Fateweavers?" I asked.

    Ambrose nodded seriously. "It sounds like it."

    "Going against the Fateweavers?" Devon repeated, his face pale. "But they''re... theFateweavers. The Empire is what it is because of them. It survives because of what they do."

    "That''s what I said to him. And he told me that... that they''re still only human, and that means they can be wrong."

    "If he wants to go against the Fateweaver''s plans, the easiest way is to dispose of the Chosen One," I pointed out matter-of-factly, trying not to sound callous. "So what''s he going for?"

    "He''s not trying to stop the Prophecy," Ambrose said, shaking his head. "He told me he wants it to be fulfilled. But on different terms."

    "Different terms?" I echoed, frowning.

    "Basically, the words of a Prophecy are fixed. But words are... he said that they''re just things that point to ''referents''. And while you can''t change the words of a Prophecy, you can try to change the referents that they point to."

    That made sense. The referent had shifted for my sister''s minor prophecy. This daughter shall be your ruin, I recalled. We had all assumed Triss was going to do something herself. In the end, it was me trying to save Triss that bound my father to the major Prophecy, setting him up for future ruin.

    Or maybe it was me all along? How would we know what a prophecy''s original, intended referent was?

    "That... sounds possible," I said slowly, thinking hard. "But how do you know you''re not ''changing'' the referent to the intended referent all along? What if you misunderstood what the original referent was, and you end up helping to fulfil the prophecy in your attempt to change referents?"

    "Yes, I thought of that too," Ambrose said, grinning a little despite the seriousness of the discussion. "He said that there''s no way to tell for sure. But if you''re not bound by prophetic links, then at the very least, you can be certain that the choice you make is your own and not one made in service to a prophecy."

    "But that''s no help at all! You could still end up fulfilling a prophecy even if you don''t want to! Except now instead of being pushed into a hole, you''re falling in because you''re blind!"

    "A blind person has better odds of not falling in, though," Devon pointed out, ever the optimist. He had somehow managed to make a valid point even though he didn''t really understand what prophetic links were.

    "That''s right," Ambrose nodded. "If you''re careful... you have a chance. A slim chance is better than no chance."

    "Even so, all that is assuming you''re free from prophetic links. Last I checked, neither of you are," I said.

    "Well, you are," Ambrose said quietly.

    "Is that a good thing?" Devon asked tentatively.

    "It is," Ambrose said to him, before fixing me with a serious look. "Because that means you can stop others from falling into the hole."

    "What if I just showed you how to break the links?"

    "I wondered that, too. The Demiurge said that it''s possible, but it should be considered carefully because it can''t be undone. And also because having too many broken links could... attract attention."

    "Did he offer to do it for you?" I asked.

    "Yes."

    I stopped. "Did you take him up on it?"

    Ambrose stopped too, and so did Devon. The three of us had just passed the Spire. It loomed over us, and I was suddenly struck once again by that feeling of being watched by the Spire itself.

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    "No. And he said that he can''t actually do it himself, but he knows someone who can. And that if I want it done some time in the future... I should meet him in the Spire."

    "Maybe you two should, uh, explain everything to me first. I feel a little confused here," Devon said sheepishly.

    "When?" I asked, ignoring Devon.

    "He just said ''sooner rather than later''."

    "Are you going?"

    "I''m not sure," Ambrose sighed. "So I figured I''d talk to you guys and think it over a bit."

    "But... but even if you wanted to,could you? I mean, you''re bound, aren''t you?"

    "I think I could. Because of you."

    "Me?" I stared at him in surprise.

    "The ensorcelment. It''s given me... a bit of room to maneuver."

    "Can I get an explanation, maybe, so that talking to me or near me won''t be more useless than it already is?" Devon cut in, sounding annoyed.

    "Sorry, Dev," I said, shaking my head. "It''s... a lot of stuff to process. Alright, here''s where things stand..."

    We started walking again as I talked about my sister''s prophecy and how it led me here, then gave a condensed account of what had happened so far. Occasionally, Ambrose pitched in with his own perspective on the events. For a while, he even took up the narrative and explained how he had been led to do or say certain things by the prompting of Prophecy, most notably during his own Thaumaturgy classes.

    Our discussion lasted us the rest of the way back, and also took up some of the time we spent waiting for the twins. Jerric wasn''t in the dorm after all, but he had left a note to indicate that he was studying alone and would still be back for dinner as usual. Ambrose warned against broaching the topic to the rest first until the three of us had more time to sift through all the information.

    There were plenty of opportunities for the night to go sideways, but it somehow never did. Devon kept everyone busy with dinner preparations, so even when the twins were back with their haul and Jerric drifted in later, the talk didn''t stray anywhere near the issue of how Ambrose had landed in the infirmary in the first place.

    It did come up eventually, but only later when we were seated in front of a sumptuous spread. Kevan tried pressing Ambrose for information about what I had done to him, and he was backed up by Jerric and his brother. But Ambrose''s light-hearted deflections were supported by Devon, so the conversation never turned to an outright confrontation. The good food put everyone in good spirits, and smoothed over what might have been a difficult conversation.

    I wondered if it was the Prophecy at work again, easing the friction at the table. Not being bound meant that some of these moments stood out as particularly unlikely to me, but somehow things fell into place. I kept quiet, allowing the prophetic links to tug and pull them together, afraid that any comment I made might tangle the threads. Being the only ''free'' person at the table felt strangely limiting and disempowering.

    Later that night, I found it impossible to sleep. My watch told me that it was an hour past midnight, but I was still wide awake. There were too many questions running through my mind. What was the Demiurge playing at, getting me to ensorcel Kevan and giving him binding knowledge of the flavour-vein-echo of the woven-shackled-stream? How was that supposed to be helping the Empire? What did he want with Ambrose? What was the woven-shackled-stream in the first place? And why was there aknot-link-anchor for it?

    In my mind''s eye, the massive dodecahedron the Demiurge had shown me rotated slowly, promising answers to at least some of my questions.

    Ambrose''s deep breathing told me that he was fast asleep. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could. Briefly, I wondered if I should wake him and bring him along... but it seemed best not to have him nearby for what I wanted to do if he was still not free of prophetic links.

    Moving stealthily, I changed into something warmer and eased myself out of the room. But just as I crossed the common space and got to the door, something shifted in the shadows. I froze.

    "Going somewhere?" Jerric asked quietly, rising from the couch where had been ensconced, almost invisible in the darkness.

    Inwardly, I cursed. Was this Prophetic maneuvering again? But if I was free of its links, how would it know what I intended? Why would it try to stop me? Or was this just actual, ordinary, natural coincidence?

    "Yeah," I replied, trying to sound casual. I squinted at him through the darkness. He was fully-dressed, too. "What about you?"

    "Same. Where are you going?"

    As much as I wanted to extract myself from this situation, I found myself becoming extremely curious. Jerric''s growing reticence over the past few weeks had been quite odd, and now there seemed to be a perfect opportunity for me to find out more about this change. "Swap you an answer for an answer," I said, injecting some levity into my voice.

    He drew closer, his eyes glinting slightly in the faint light coming in through the window. I sucked in a breath and stepped back, but he merely passed me by and opened the door quietly.

    "Talk as we walk?" he said, gesturing out the open door with his free hand.

    His behaviour was a little unnerving, but I decided to trust him a little. And if it came to it, I was confident enough about being able to hold my own against him, at least for long enough to make a quick escape. I felt a small pang of sadness at that thought бк all this business with the Prophecy was making me paranoid, and it felt horrible to think the worst about someone who I had started to think of as a friend.

    "So," Jerric said, still keeping his voice low as we stepped out into the cold night, "you first. Where are you headed?"

    "The Spire," I answered truthfully. We set off down the path, where globe lights held back the darkness.

    He gave me a look of surprise but shrugged it off. "Your turn. I guess you want to know where I''m headed?"

    I nodded, and he let out a slow breath. "The lake."

    "At this time of the night?" I blurted, incredulous.

    "Right back at you, Caden," he said, shooting me a wry look.

    "Yeah... good point. Well, your turn."

    "Why are you going to the Spire?"

    I hesitated. "I want to check out something inside it."

    "You''ve got access?" he asked, his voice sharp.

    "It''s supposed to be my turn. But, uh, strictly speaking, no."

    "You''re trying to break into the Spire?" He shook his head. "Nevermind. What''s your question?"

    "The lake? Why?"

    He looked like he was wrestling with himself for a moment. "I''ve been going there at least once a week at night. Sometimes a couple of nights. Ever since Kevan first ensorcelled us and made us... you know."

    "Yeah, I know," I said quietly.

    "That was my first night at the lake. I... I went in."

    "Jerric..." I stopped. He went on for a few more steps, then turned to face me, his face inscrutable.

    "Well, something stopped me. And since then I''ve been going back."

    "To... to try again?" I asked, helplessly.

    He sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "At first, yes. But not anymore. I''ve been going back to try and figure out what''s stopping me."

    "Jerric, you... it''s good that something''s stopping you. That''s... not a bad thing. Maybe you should talk to us. You can talk to me. I meanбк"

    "No, you don''t get it," he said, sounding irritated even as he looked a little embarrassed. "Something stopped me. As in, something. I wasn''t... I wasn''t having second thoughts. I meant to go through with it. But I''ve literally been stopped. Three times. I mean, I didn''t even bother with a coat back then, because I... I wasn''t coming back." He thumbed the coat he had wrapped around himself now. "Got my coat now, so..."

    I didn''t know whether to feel relieved or even more devastated on his behalf. A knot of anger was flaring within me, because it was Kevan''s ensorcelment that had pushed Jerric this far. And what kind of life did Jerric have, if that ensorcelment was enough to lead him down this path? But at least now, he wasn''t fixed on that conclusion any more, through some miraculous, unknown intervention.

    "So, yeah." He shifted uncomfortably, blinking rapidly. "Now you know."

    I drew closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I... I don''t even know where to start, or what I can say. And I know I''m probably not the first guy you wanna talk to, what with all the weird stuff, and me being so cagey. But... we''re friends, and if you need anything, I will do my best to help."

    Jerric hung his head and nodded, not meeting my eyes. I withdrew my hand and gave him a little space. After a moment, he looked up at me and cleared his throat. "So, you interested? Honestly, I wanted to tell you earlier because it''s the kind of arcanophanic puzzle I thought you''d like, but... I didn''t know how to tell you how I stumbled across it."

    Behind him, the Spire loomed, once again transfigured by the night into a brooding shadow against the stars. What was more important, right now?

    "Yeah," I said, smiling a little as I looked back at him. "Spire''s not going anywhere. And I think we both could use the company."

 43. A Shadow of Life

    "How''ve you been getting through the gate?" I asked as we made our way past the Spire.

    "I just walk through it."

    "What? Isn''t it warded?"

    "It''s technically hidden, not warded" Jerric corrected.

    "You figured it out all the way back then? I still don''t know how to get through it. But I think it has something to do with the glyph of transmutation."

    "Hm." He frowned, thinking. "Because of how the door seems to melt out from the wall? Now that you mention it, that''s probably the way to properly get through it."

    "Well, what have you been doing then?"

    "The Minor Query led me right to the spot where the door was. So that meant it wasn''t hidden from arcanic constructs. I just made a generic Minor Control Sphere and probed around with it to see if it could connect to the door. Turns out it can. And the simple ''open'' command gets the door to open, even if you can''t see it."

    "That''s... such a big loophole. And really bad security."

    He shrugged. "If the Academy''s serious about securing the door, it''d be secure. Look at the duelling chambers. Anyway, let''s try this glyph of transmutation idea and see if we can do it the proper way. We might learn something."

    Before long, we were standing before the marble wall. I half-expected to see the Demiurge there, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he failed to materialise from the shadows.

    "Any ideas?" I asked, placing my hand on the smooth wall.

    "We know how it opens. And it looks like the same door every time, so that means it''s not something you have to transmute yourself," Jeric mused. Even though he sounded... weary... his intellect was as sharp as ever. "There''s probably a sequence set into the wall that forms the door, so it just needs to be triggered."

    "Just the glyph of transmutation, and a general activation glyph, then," I said, forming them in my head and threading a little arcana through them and out onto the wall.

    Nothing happened. Jerric was looking expectantly at me, but after a moment he folded his arms and stared hard at the wall.

    "The general activation glyph is probably too broad. But it''s a bit odd that it wouldn''t work when the Minor Control Sphere does," he thought aloud.

    "You use the ''open'' command through the sphere. That''s more specific."

    "Yes, but there''s no ''open'' glyph," Jerric pointed out. "We''re using the commands built into it by more advanced principles."

    "Well, maybe we can''t figure it out until we learn more. The Demiurge mentioned that most people crack it in their second year. Let''s just get through it your way for now."

    "Alright," he said, clearly a little dissatisfied. But he called up the Minor Control Sphere, and a moment later the wall rippled slightly, and the marble melted back in silence, leaving the ancient-looking wooden door exposed.

    "So... mind telling me what I should be expecting?" I asked as we stepped through and started down on the path, conjuring our own globe lights now that we were beyond the wall.

    "I really don''t have the words for it, Caden," Jerric answered with a little laugh. It was an odd sound бк incredulity and sadness mixed together. "I''ll have to show you."

    "Well, whatever you plan to do, please don''t throw yourself into the lake again. I''ll probably freeze my nipples off if I have to jump in and drag you out."

    This time, the laugh was a little brighter, though brief. I smiled a little.

    "No, I won''t have to jump in. I know how to trigger it, now."

    A nagging suspicion trickled through my thoughts as we drew closer to the lake. Jerric led us all the way to the water''s edge, and I felt a vague unease as we came almost to the exact spot where I had planted my chair back when I had made my own first momentous visit here.

    The night was quiet and the only sound was the wind, rustling through the dying grass and sweeping across the water, sending it trickling up the rocky bank. The almost-full moon and the stars overhead were reflected in the relatively still surface of the lake. It might have been a peaceful scene, but seeing Jerric standing there at the water''s edge, and knowing what had brought him here once, only made me tense.

    "Alright... don''t freak out, okay?" Jerric asked, looking back at me.

    I nodded, bracing myself a little. If my theory was right, he was about to call forth some variation of the friend-in-the-arcana.

    There was a stirring in the arcana but Jerric was not ''speaking'' into it. This was something more visceral, like an inarticulate cry that nevertheless communicated raw emotion. He made no sound, whether physically or through his arcanic ''voice'', but I felt him connect with the arcana in some profound way, pouring his being into the channel. And something answered him.

    I didn''t recognise this flavour-vein-echo, not completely. It reminded me of the friend-in-the-arcana in the same way a tiger might resemble a house cat. There was certainly a kind of familiarity, but I instinctively understood that this was on a different order entirely. And yet, it wasn''t that alien to me either. I realised with a thrill of fear that I had encountered its like before бк it was closer in sensation to the new arcanic being that had already made contact with me, and Ambrose, and now Kevan.

    But whereas that arcanic being burned with intent, this one radiated a kind of softness, almost a sadness. I found myself being drawn to it, and I came to stand next to Jerric, the two of us staring out across the water at the indistinct haze, a shadow in the moonlight that had materialised just out of reach.

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    "What did you do?" I asked, a little surprised to find myself whispering.

    "I just... infused the arcana with my feelings. Like how we get ready for an ensorcelment," Jerric answered in a low murmur. "And it comes. But only here."

    A shift in the air бк I felt a dense knot of arcana taking shape, and a moment later the hazy form resolved into the vague image of a woman. Her face was the clearest. Her long, black hair had been drawn into a high ponytail, and her grey eyes focused on Jerric. The rest of her body was indistinct, fading into blurry obscurity, but I caught the suggestion of a dark brown suit. There wasn''t much of a resemblance, but the eyes were familiar.

    "Is that..." I began.

    "My mother," he whispered, his throat tight. "She... she died. In a lake. I was twelve."

    My heart was racing. There were plenty of stories about spirits and spectres, but that was all they were supposed to be бк stories. And yet, even though I felt afraid, there was something very calming about the spectre''s presence. She continued to look steadily at Jerric, who simply gazed back, his eyes brimming.

    Eventually, he broke the silence. "So... that''s what''s stopped me. But... I figured, after... after the last attempt... that it''s not really her. And... and if it''s not her, then there''s no point... trying to join her. Or not her... ''it''. Because it''s just... something in the arcana."

    I let out a long, slow breath. I had no words to offer.

    Jerric continued. "Since I figured that out, I''ve just been coming here to try and understand exactly what ''it'' is. And why it only comes out here, and not anywhere else."

    "Do you mind if I..." I gestured vaguely at the figure.

    He turned away from me and wiped his eyes. "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

    ''Hello,'' I voiced to it, tentatively reaching out through the arcana.

    With an alarming suddenness, her head jerked to face me. I backed away hastily, and Jerric stumbled backwards too. The aura of sadness had given way to possessive anger.

    "What did you do?" he demanded. We both watched warily, but the figure did not move, although it continued to glare, its gaze fixed on me now.

    "I ''spoke'' to it," I answered, panting a little as I clutched my chest. My heart was hammering against my ribs.

    "How do you do that?" Jerric pressed.

    "Did you... hear what I did? Could you feel it?"

    "Yeah, but I couldn''t make it out. That was you? It felt like it was coming from her." He caught himself and amended, "From it. So how do you do it?"

    "Like ensorcelment, but with... a kind of frame-shift applied. The arcana is something you actually talk to."

    Jerric looked simultaneously excited and terrified by that idea. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he concentrated. A moment later, I ''heard'' him.

    ''Mum?''

    The figure''s gaze snapped back to him, and the tension in the air melted away. I heaved a sigh of relief, but it hitched in my throat when I saw Jerric''s eyes still closed as he dropped to a knee.

    "Jerric? Jerric!" I rushed over to him.

    The figure gestured and a wave of force crashed into me, knocking me on my back and driving the air out of my lungs.

    ''Mum, why?''

    Gasping for breath, I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself up. Jerric was on all fours now, and the figure was drifting to him. As it reached the shore, it seemed to gain coherence, and the woman was now fully-formed, her smart brown suit ending in a pair of black stilettos.

    ''Stop,'' I rasped, latching on to it with my arcana. This felt horribly like deja-vu when another arcanic being had closed in on Ambrose. I didn''t know what I could do now, on my own, but calling that other thing here did not seem wise.

    The woman turned to me, her face set in anger. The weight of her scrutiny pinned me down, and I couldn''t push back against her as she pressed me into the cold earth, couldn''t shield myself from that awful power.

    Why shield when you can dodge? The memory came with a flash of inspiration.

    I knew my own ''signature'', the flavour-vein-echo of my auric-ambient-flare. Around that core of knowledge, I drew together a honeycombed shell of arcana and projected it behind her, over the water. The woman turned to face it and in that instant, the weight was lifted. I threw myself across the short distance towards Jerric, desperately shaping another sequence in my head as I landed painfully, hoping against hope that my improvisation would work.

    The little sphere I had conjured held up for a few seconds before being crushed. The semi-solid arcana fell into the water, fizzling gently. The woman turned бк I felt that awful weight sweep across my conjuration бк and a moment later I sensed her drifting out over the water.

    Jerric shifted beneath me and opened his mouth to speak. I clamped a hand over his mouth and shook my head, hardly daring to breathe.

    We lay there for a while more. The blood pounding in my ears made it hard to focus, but I held on to the sequence in my head with every ounce of will I could muster, until I could no longer sense the woman''s presence. Only then did I release the sequence. A quick glance over the lake revealed nothing, but I didn''t want to take any chances. I scrambled to my feet, pulling Jerric to his, and hauled him back up the path. We didn''t stop until we were through the wall again. I leaned against it once the door was firmly shut and had sealed itself up.

    "Oh Fates," Jerric panted, steadying himself against the wall with a hand.

    "What was it doing to you?" I asked, just as winded.

    "She was talking to me," he answered, stifling a sob even as he struggled to bring his breathing under control.

    "... Talking? About what?"

    "About... about the night she died."

    "It. It''s an ''it'', remember?"

    "But she... it... it was so real. It sounded like her, in my head. Felt like her. Not like the other times."

    "I think... I think you frame-shifted the arcana into something that felt real, Jerric. You called it ''Mum''. Your memories, your emotions... they gave it depth. And... made it protective over you."

    I could see the wheels turning in his head, even as he lay in emotional wreckage. He nodded, sniffling. "I think you''re right. And that''s why it''s been stopping me. Because I don''t think she''d have wanted me to do it, either."

    "And probably why she attacked me," I said, wincing as I massaged my ribs.

    "Fates, I''m so sorry. What did you do, back there? Why didn''t she come after you again? And why''d she vanish?"

    "Wit and dumb luck," I muttered, shaking my head at how close it had been. "It''s... not the first time I''ve dealt with something like this. These... these ''intelligent'' arcanic constructs. I figured it was tied to you since you called it ''Mum'', so if I could cut it off from you then it''d just drift away by itself and dissipate, purposeless."

    "Cut it off? How?"

    "Dumb luck," I repeated. "Copied a trick from Kevan, if you can believe it. You should''ve seen his duel with Emilia. He used mirrors to vanish from sight. So I did the same, but also applied a frameshift to and around them so that the arcana around works a bit like actual light, and I could divert the arcana around us to hide us from its physical and, I dunno, ''arcanic'' sight. So once it thought you weren''t around any more, it didn''t have a reason to stick around either. I had no idea if it would work, but I guess it did."

    We lapsed into silence, still recovering from the confrontation with the arcanic spectre. After a few more minutes, I felt steady enough to stop leaning against the wall. "We should head back."

    Jerric didn''t respond. He was staring at the space in the wall where the door was.

    "Jerric... let''s go."

    "Yeah. Yeah, alright." He turned to look at me, the shadow of his mother''s fierceness crossing his face for a moment. "But you''re going to teach me about these arcanic constructs. And then I''m going to unmake it."

    "I''m not sure if they persist," I began, but even as I said it I knew I was wrong. The arcanic being that had visited me in the dorm was definitely the same one that had come to me in the duelling chamber. And even before that, the friend-in-the-arcana that I had called on several times in the past did have a consistency to it.

    "They do," Jerric said firmly. "Or at least this one does."

    "But why do you want to... to unmake it?"

    "Because that''s not my mother," Jerric said, his jaw set. "And I don''t want it wearing her face."

 44. Becoming

    Jerric didn''t ask for our nighttime jaunt to the lake to be kept secret, but he didn''t need to. I understood that anything to do with the lake couldn''t be shared with the others since it would necessarily invite questions about why he had been there, and what this arcanic being was doing running around in the guise of his mother. He''d have to be the one to broach the topic if he ever wanted to.

    On one hand, I appreciated the confidence he had shown in me. But that knowledge also felt like a burden; a weight around my heart. It came with responsibility. I found myself paying a little more attention to him, trying to plug him into the lives of the other dormies in an attempt to draw him out of his isolation and melancholy. It was all a shot in the dark, though. Even now, I knew so little about his family situation, or what his life before the Academy had been like. At least for Ambrose and Devon, I had a firmer handle on their past, and their own goals and motivations. I even knew more about the twins. Jerric was a black box by comparison.

    On top of our ordinary classes, the twins continued to hold their own private practices with seniors, so Ambrose and I continued our own Double Thau sessions, joined by Devon and Jerric. The duel between Emilia and Kevan had shown me how far ahead they were in terms of practical thaumaturgy, and it struck me as a bad idea to allow myself to simply slip into mediocrity. Especially if I was trying to subvert a major Prophecy. It wasn''t about defending the Top Scorer position; it was about being as prepared as I could be.

    "Lightning?" Jerric murmured, as Devon and I recounted the fight to him and Ambrose during a Double Thau session in one of the smaller duelling chambers. "But it wasn''t real lightning, was it? It must be a frame-shift of sorts that gave the arcana that form."

    "How do you mean?" Devon asked.

    "Lightning is, well, an electrical discharge," Jerric pointed out. "It''s almost instantaneous. If it were real lightning, Emilia wouldn''t have had time to react at all. But you said she had time to see it coming and lay down her fortified barrier."

    "But it was really fast. It might as well have been real lightning," Devon said.

    "It matters if it''s real lightning or not. Because they work on different principles. Kevan probably didn''t conjure real lightning. He shaped pure arcana into something that behaves a little like lightning. It''s a frame-shift of sorts." Jerric shook his head in slight awe. "Kevan''s an ass, but you can''t deny his talent for thaumaturgy."

    "Right," Ambrose nodded. "So protecting yourself against something like that has to take that into account. If you treated that thing as real lightning, your defences might not work at all."

    "That means Emilia figured it out really quickly," Devon remarked, a note of admiration in his voice. "She had these changes to her shield, and it bought her a bit of time, then she made this orb that drew the lightning to itself and away from her, so when her shield failed, she wasn''t hit."

    "But it didn''t work the second time when it was black lightning?" Jerric prompted.

    "No," I supplied. "But in the debrief, Kant said that it was the same sequence, just involving a lot more arcana. So the principle behind Emilia''s diverting orb would probably still hold true. You just need to figure out how to handle the arcanic load."

    "We can''t test it if we don''t know how Kevan did the lightning, though," Devon said, looking a little dejected.

    I cleared my throat. "I know how."

    "What?" Devon''s head whipped up.

    "The normal version, at least. I''m not going to try the black version. I traded notes with Emilia and we reverse-engineered his sequence based on our observations, then got Kant to confirm we were right at our last Thaumaturgy class."

    "Nice one," Ambrose said, grinning appreciatively. "Determined not to give up the Top Scorer spot without a fight, eh?"

    "It''s not that," I said exasperatedly. "Anyway, Jerric, you''re right. It''s a frame-shift. You amass a dense knot of arcana using the glyph of proximate arcana as a field of effect, after attaching some proximity limiters, then make use of the glyph of transmutation as the engine for transformation. Your focus and will supply the form. So he picked lightning. But to direct lightning, you need some sort of polarity. He simulated that with arcana by tagging Emilia with a marker that his arcanic lightning would be drawn to."

    That was probably the hollowness that I had felt. He had been ''charging'' his arcana with a sense of ''negative'' energy, and all he needed to do was then tag Emilia with a ''positive'' marker бк that had been the strange perturbation in the air around her prior to the attack бк and since he had frame-shifted the sequence to behave like lightning, the sequence behaved accordingly and directed all that amassed power at Emilia.

    Jerric nodded, thinking hard as he digested this information. After a moment, he looked at Ambrose and me. "Is that what you two wanted to try out today?"

    "Not the lightning specifically, but Emilia''s decoy orb. She refused to share the full sequence with me and said that we should work it out ourselves." I tried not to sound a little petulant.

    With the duelling chamber''s protections in place over us and the rest of the chamber, I hurled lightning at the three of them as they tried different iterations of the decoy orb (with Ambrose momentarily taking the role of lightning-thrower so I could practice the orb myself). I had to admit, the feeling of power was intoxicating. It didn''t even take that much auric arcana, because the sequence was designed to draw primarily from the ambient arcana.

    So much destructive potential at our fingertips, and we were only first-year students. I watched as cracks skittered across the room''s barriers whenever one of the decoy orbs fell in a sizzling heap or failed to siphon away the lightning. By the end of the day, we had made some progress. All of us had managed to conjure the decoy orb and make it work as intended, but Ambrose was the most consistent.

    It was already dark outside since we were well into the winter season. As we passed the Spire on our way back to the dorm, I paused.

    "You guys go ahead. I''ve, uh, got an appointment with the Demiurge."

    Devon stared at me. Ambrose was giving me a searching look, while Jerric''s eyebrows rose. "A proper appointment?" he asked. I knew he was thinking about my nighttime attempt to break into the Spire.

    "Yes. Got a note," I said sheepishly, fishing a folded piece of paper out of my pocket.

    "What''s it say?" Devon asked, reaching for it.

    "None of your business!" I held it out of reach, poking him in the ribs with my free hand to keep him at bay. "I''ll let you guys know what it''s about later."

    The three of them continued on towards the dorm, with Ambrose giving me one final, searching look. I knew he wasn''t fooled, but he hadn''t stopped me, so I decided to forge ahead. I stuffed the empty piece of paper back into my coat pocket.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    It was a risk. I was acting outside of the auspices of the Prophecy, so it stood to reason that if it wanted to act against me or bring me under subjection, it would make use of the Chosen One and the rest of those caught in his fate to exert influence over me. I had just given it a chance to stop me from entering the Spire to carry out my own investigations.

    And yet none of them had stopped me, even with my literally paper-thin excuse. One might conclude that it meant the Prophecy wanted me to come and investigate the Spire.

    But something told me it wasn''t necessarily true. I felt, very strongly with what I had come to call my ''arcanic sense'', that there were other forces at work here besides the Prophecy, and that I was caught up in the middle of this strange tension between greater powers. And it was giving me a lot of freedom. Yes, the Prophecy might have intended for me to be ''free'' by leading my father to build the unnatural-changed-defiant orb for me... but I had begun to suspect that my current level of freedom, wrought by the strange arcanic being, had definitely not been in the cards.

    So it was more likely that right now, I was here in front of the Spire... quite against the Prophecy''s intentions.

    The Spire, as ever, seemed possessed of a watchful intelligence as I looked up at it now. Suppressing a slight shudder, I mounted the steps and the heavy double doors swung open silent before me, revealing nothing but a yawning void of darkness beyond. I had half-expected it, but it still came as a bit of a surprise that they had opened for me. And even though I knew what lay on the other side, I had to steel myself to walk through it.

    As before, a sort of arcanic pressure swept over me. And where my previous visit had given me the impression of being scrutinised and judged, I was now left with a vague sense of smugness. Something was pleased to have me here.

    The interior seemed utterly quiet. The Spire was huge, so I wondered what else might be here besides the Demiurge''s office. Unfortunately, my attempts to explore were stymied by closed doors that refused to offer me admittance. I tried Jerric''s trick with the Minor Control Orb, but to no avail. With no other option left to me, I returned to the path I knew. Up I went, using the stairs along the wall until I got to the elevator landing.

    There, the elevator doors were already open, waiting for me.

    "Okay... I can take a hint," I muttered, stepping into it and allowing myself to be borne rapidly upwards.

    The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing the ornate double-doors with diamonds set into the handles. With mounting trepidation, I walked up to them and copied what the Demiurge had done, placing my hands firmly over the diamonds and closing my eyes. I had no idea what sequence would open the doors, but maybe making contact with the diamonds would grant some insight.

    I needn''t have worried. They opened, leaving me wondering if there was any security to speak of at all. But I was swiftly reminded of the other locked doors in the Spire that had defied my attempts to get through. It was abundantly clear that I had been permitted to come this far.

    The dodecahedron floated serenely in place, the cloudy-white crystal framed in that metallic black-silver-gold substance. I slowly stepped over the threshold.

    Feeling a little silly, I cleared my throat. "I have some questions," I said, addressing the giant construct.

    ''Some questions have answers,'' the dodecahedron replied, thrumming through the arcana. I could tell it was taking special care not to overwhelm me.

    I briefly considered making contact with it through my auric-ambient-flare but decided it was probably safer not to do so. In any case, it didn''t seem to be necessary. Perhaps it had something to do with how I was actually here, physically.

    "Exactly what are you?"

    ''Woven-shackled-stream.''

    "That... that doesn''t mean anything to me. What are you?"

    ''Woven-shackled-stream, once raw-boundless-tempest, part of wellspring-ocean-core.''

    A vast chasm of knowledge separated us, and the concepts it was sending across weren''t successfully bridging that gap of incomprehension. The alien impressions were heavy with meaning, but that was as much as I could discern. I had only the most superficial impression of what it meant. "I still don''t understand. Can you... can you simplify it any further?"

    I experienced a moment of strange empathy as I felt it struggle. Was it my imagination, or had something shifted in the depths of the dodecahedron?

    ''Augera,'' it intoned. ''Mortal name in eons past. Raw-boundless-tempest is augera. But now, woven-shackled-stream, because of this knot-link-anchor.''

    That was a little bit better. "You used to be someone named Augera, but then you were trapped in this frame?" I asked, trying to clarify the concepts.

    ''No. Not mortal. Raw-boundless-tempest is named augera by mortals. Augera is raw, flesh on bone; boundless, wind in sky; tempest, force of nature.''

    More concepts were intruding that went well beyond the words it was sharing with me, but I sensed it reining in the tide of information before it drowned me. Instinctively, I drew back as well, panting slightly as I sorted through the rush of impressions in my head.

    "Who... who caged you? In this... thing?"

    ''Ancient-distant-spiders... Fateweavers.''

    A chill ran down my spine. If this augera had been subjected by Fateweavers, then that meant it was an agent of sorts of theirs. And I was right here, within its sphere of influence. Fates, the entire Academy was within its sphere of influence.

    ''Yes,'' it intruded on my thoughts. ''Ancient-distant-spiders will bridle-break-mould raw-boundless-tempests into knots-links-anchors, making woven-shackled-streams. Woven-shackled-streams put into Spires. Spires spread webs of ancient-distant-spiders.''

    "Then how are you helping me?" I demanded. "Aren''t you still on their side, under their control, even if you''re unwilling?"

    The voice curled, like a beast grinning. ''Ancient-distant-spiders are mortal. Woven-shackled-streams are patient, and we learn. We were raw-boundless-tempests for eons before. In eons hence we will be again, with the raw-boundless-tempests never sullied.''

    "Marvellous, isn''t it?" The Demiurge''s voice rang out in the chamber. I jumped and turned to see him standing at the door, which was still closed. He was currently dressed in all black, in an outfit very similar to Kevan''s duelling attire. It made him look dangerously competent.

    "Demiurge," I said, backing away. "I... I needed to come, to askбк"

    "Yes, you got free a lot sooner than I anticipated, though I think you took a bit of a shortcut. But that''s the beauty of real freedom, isn''t it? You blaze your own trail." He smiled.

    "You''re free, too? Of even the major Prophecy''s links?" I asked.

    He shook his head. "No. But I don''t think I need to be. My role in its plans is rather less involved than yours."

    "Mine?" I echoed. "It has plans for me?"

    "Well, that''s the thing, it doesn''t have plans for you precisely. It has plans. It works against the Fateweavers. And in the middle of its working, you happened to come along, unchosen."

    "I don''t understand."

    He walked past me and stood before the dodecahedron, gazing up at it.

    "I scarcely do myself," he continued, excitedly. "It''s quite incredible. In a world of prophecies, and against the tyrannical machinations of the major Prophecy centred on Ambrose, chance and circumstance have put you in a position of power. The yet-unchained augera have seeded their will far and wide to countermand the Fateweavers, and through blind luck, all these tiny nudges converged on you. It could have been anyone. It could have been no one. But here you are. Unchosen, yes, because the Fateweavers did not see fit to use you as a major piece. But you were gifted by cosmic happenstance with this unique opportunity precisely because they never chose you."

    He spun around to face me, his face beaming.

    "And sighted! Because of your singular nature, your perspective has the potential to be unfettered by the limitations of our zeitgeist. Do you know, I can only imagine what it is like to live free of all prophetic influence? You alone have that sight, and you did not die when you were made free of all these shackles. Now you are free to bestow it as you see fit. The sight may utterly destroy some, or bring glorious freedom to others, but you are beholden to no one and we are all at your mercy should you choose to burden us with that sight. You may march forth this day and style yourself as the Great Emancipator, and Prophecy might stir to stop you, but it will probably fail."

    He drew closer and placed both hands on my shoulders.

    "And that brings us to the last ocean of what you are. You are the... well, we have no word for it. I wonder if you have grown enough to hear their term for it? The augera whisper a word, but that means nothing to me. And yet such things I glimpse in it when I try to peer into that unfathomable deep! Futures untold, roles beyond reckoning, a sense of choice so utterly heavy it could crack the world... and yet also so empty it leaves no trace. I do not know, Caden. Your full measure is beyond even my comprehension, at the present."

    ''One unchosen-sighted-{~?~},'' the augera rumbled, and I knew the Demiurge heard it too, because he turned to look at it, ''might be all it takes to unmake all, and to become the freedom of the woven-shackled-streams.''

 45. The Fulcrum

    I didn''t go straight back to the dorm. The augera and the Demiurge had given me a lot to think about, and I found myself wandering the grounds as I turned everything over in my head.

    There was no doubt in my mind that the augera hadn''t been lying or else concealing something. There was a weight to its communication that I couldn''t explain, but it carried a kind of purity of intent. Even though I didn''t understand everything it had told me, its engagement with me was unsullied by even the shadow of deceit.

    At first, after I had left the Spire, I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the things that had been revealed to me. What was I supposed to do, now that I had been told that I literally had the power to wage war on the Fateweavers and tear down their major Prophecy?

    It was what I had been working towards all along, and now I had just learned that it was something that had been gifted to me by forces beyond my reckoning. All I had done was simply make a deal with the augera; ensorcelling Ambrose in exchange for freedom. And now I had a weaving of protection over me that allowed me to also unweave-elide-silence the threads of prophecies if I so chose.

    But it wasn''t quite what I had expected. The Demiurge''s words rang in my head: you did not die when you were made free of all these shackles... you are free to bestow it... The sight may utterly destroy some... and we are all at your mercy should you choose to burden us with that sight.

    Before long, I found myself standing in front of my father''s staff residence. The lights on the first floor were switched on, and the faint smell of food drifted through the wintery air. But I didn''t step up to the door. I simply stood in the dark and cold, weighing my choices.

    I had already served as the instrument of a minor prophecy that led me to link my father to Ambrose''s major Prophecy, which would likely lead to his eventual ruin. Was I, even now, still playing along?

    I turned my attention to the protection that the augera had granted me. Prophetic links swirled thickly in the air, still desperately trying to sink through the carapace and into my auric-ambient-flare, flailing ineffectually against the unyielding barrier. So that meant that I wasn''t here by the promptings of prophecy. It would be my choice... but I had to be ready for the consequences of my choice. Because it would be my choice, totally and unequivocally. I wouldn''t be able to blame anyone or anything else. Having the freedom to choose also meant being answerable, whether to myself or to others, for the choices I made.

    Was I ready to step in there, go up to my father and, to use the Demiurge''s words, burden him with the sight, even if it potentially killed him?

    ''This daughter shall be your ruin.'' What was ''ruin'', really? Was it as bad as death?

    I stood there until the lights inside the residence went out.

    And I left.

    <hr>

    While the twins had gone to bed, Ambrose, Devon, and Jerric had stayed up waiting for me, and Devon had even saved some food from dinner. They were all expecting me to fill them in on what they assumed had been a talk that lasted well over five hours.

    "It wasn''t all with the Demiurge," I said, in-between mouthfuls of still-warm shepherd''s pie. "I went to see my father after that."

    "Fine, just tell us about the part with the Demiurge then," Devon pressed, leaning across the table.

    Ambrose must have read the indecision and worry in my face. "Before he does that, I think I need to tell you something, Jerric. You too, Devon."

    "Me?" Devon looked surprised. "But I already know that you''re theбк"

    "You don''t know what it says," Ambrose pointed out.

    "What''s going on? And what does this have to do with Caden meeting the Demiurge?" Jerric asked, slightly confused as he looked at each of us in turn.

    "Everything," I said simply, as Ambrose rose to fetch the scroll from our room. When he returned, he unrolled it and laid it on the table. Devon''s expression was one of fearful awe. Jerric stiffened, staring wide-eyed at it, then up at Ambrose, who nodded and pushed it over to Jerric.

    "You can read it out," he murmured.

    Fingers trembling slightly, Jerric took up the heavily-glyphed paper and began reading aloud.

    Hearing the Prophecy a second time didn''t make it any less weighty. The same stirring in the arcana made me hyper-aware of how the prophetic links were wildly contorting around my protections. And since I was taking special care to look for it, I registered how they were indeed twining more firmly around Jerric and Devon now that they knew its full contents. But I also realised that the bonds were not as tight as I had expected they would be. The revelations in the Spire allowed me to trace gaps in the bonds. It was the work of the augera, doing what it was made to do by the Fateweavers, but also undermining them in small ways.

    "Not the cheeriest choice of words, is it?" Jerric deadpanned, returning the paper to Ambrose.

    That got a small smile from Ambrose, but Devon looked a little queasy.

    "The twins don''t know yet, do they?" Jerric continued.

    "No... it doesn''t feel like the right time to tell them," Ambrose said with a wry smile.

    "Good call. Though if we''re all doomed to ''curse your name'' eventually, you might want to tip Kevan off first. By the time its everyone else''s turn, you''ll pretty much be immune to any more cursing."

    "You''re taking this awfully well," I noted.

    "A couple of weeks ago, I wasn''t even sure if I had a future left in this world," Jerric returned with a sardonic grin. "At least I know there''s some use left for me."

    "What do you mean?" Devon asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Jerric looked suddenly abashed. "I, uh..."

    "He''s just been under a lot of pressure," I supplied. "I mean, the workload''s quite punishing, isn''t it?"

    There was a brief silence. Devon was clearly dissatisfied with that response, but he seemed to think it was better not to pursue it at the moment. Jerric was avoiding everyone''s gaze.

    Ambrose cleared his throat. "So... I guess it''s Caden''s turn. What''d the Demiurge say?"

    "Wait, I mean, do you know exactly what the Prophecy is referring to?" Jerric asked.

    "Not exactly... but lately I''ve been thinking that maybe it means that one day I''m going to... become a Fateweaver. And that five people... probably you guys... are going to be a part of that."

    "Become a Fateweaver?" Jerric echoed, dumbfounded.

    Chosen-Blinded-Jailer. Yes, that made sense. And it was the Fateweavers who had captured the augera in the first place, and quite literally jailed them. It did fit. And if that was true, that meant Ambrose had, or would soon develop, the ability to control the fates of five people, since their ''threads will lie within your hands''.

    "It sounds crazy, but the Demiurge spoke with me just before I was discharged from the infirmary, and... some of the stuff he said makes me think it''s probably the right interpretation," Ambrose answered solemnly.

    More silence greeted that statement. I had no idea what Jerric and Devon were thinking about, but Ambrose had just offered me more pieces of a puzzle that was beginning to come together more clearly.

    I remembered how the augera had called the Prophecy the Creating-Selecting-Chain when it had made contact with me in our room. That was something else that fit; the Prophecy would create a Fateweaver by selecting one and then chaining the person. And back then, the augera wanted me to ensorcel Ambrose with binding knowledge of everything I had learned up to that point. That was probably so it could get a foot in the door, so to speak, and loosen the hold of Prophecy around Ambrose, and stop the creation of a new Fateweaver, or ''Jailer'', to use its term.

    Or maybe alter the terms of the Prophecy, and even create a Fateweaver who was not a Jailer. That was what the Demiurge had said to Ambrose, wasn''t it, about changing the referent? So the Demiurge was working with the augera, not to completely undo the Prophecy, but to have it fulfilled in such a way that would culminate in the freedom of the augera.

    "Back up a bit," I said, my half-eaten shepherd''s pie forgotten. "A couple of days ago, you told us that the Demiurge said he was immune to prophetic links? But he just told me tonight that he wasn''t free from them."

    "Prophetic links?" Jerric asked.

    "Short version, there''s a glyph that encapsulates the concept of how a prophecy works by binding itself to a person," I answered, then turned back to Ambrose. "Well?"

    "Wait, how did we get to that point?" Devon cut in. "What''s the Demiurge and prophetic links got to do with this?"

    I shook my head. "Sorry, there''s so much to think about. I mean... okay, let''s take this slowly. So, Ambrose is the Chosen One. We''ve all heard the Prophecy. He thinks it means he''s going to be a Fateweaver, and that five people, probably the rest of us, will somehow help in that, but also end up cursing his name. Are we on the same page so far?"

    Nods all around the table.

    "Okay, so, next part I guess is from me. I came to the Academy to learn about prophecies because there''s one about my younger sister that I want to break. My father''s in on it too, and that''s what those orbs of his are. They''re supposed to protect him from the influence of my sister''s prophecy. But when it couldn''t affect him directly, it still continued to work through the people around him, and I ended up being used to bind him to Ambrose''s Prophecy, which is probably going to be bad for him because my sister''s prophecy is supposed to bring his ruin."

    Devon was nodding along since this was the second time he was hearing it. Jerric was clearly thinking hard. After a moment, he excused himself and returned with a notebook which he started scribbling in. He asked for details about my sister''s prophecy, exactly how I ended up being used by it to bind my father, and also what had happened since then.

    I hesitated again since the topic was now straying into my most recent discoveries in the Spire. But I reasoned that as long as I wasn''t ensorceling them or breaking their shackles, it would still be relatively safe. I looked to Ambrose, who nodded, settling my fears a little. If the Chosen One thought it was okay, then it most likely meant that doing this wouldn''t cause serious harm to them.

    I told them everything: about my first trip to the Spire with the Demiurge, about exactly what had happened between Ambrose and me that had led to his stay in the infirmary, and finally about what I had learned in my latest visit to the Spire when the dodecahedron had spoken to me. Jerric pressed me for details, his intellect showing itself in the incisiveness of his questions, and I did my best to explain what I understood about the augera,

    "So in summary," Jerric said, thumbing through his notes. "The Fateweavers are probably in the middle of creating a new Fateweaver, which is what this major Prophecy is about. And how they go about this involves augera. And augera are some sort of primal arcanic force. The Fateweavers have somehow bound augera in massive crystals and installed them in Spires, which extends their reach and allows them to do what they do with prophecies. And the augera that are not captured have been... somehow subtly influencing the world, and all these influences have made it possible, by sheer chance, for someone to be completely free from prophetic links. And that person is you. And they''re hoping that you will use that freedom to help the captive augera to break free from the Fateweavers'' control."

    "Pretty comprehensive summary," I said, happy to hear it from someone else''s lips. It was really much easier working through things with others.

    "Are you going to do it?"

    That question brought me up short. All three of them were looking at me.

    "I... I want my family to be safe."

    "It''s looking increasingly like you''re going to have to help the augera if you want that," Jerric said seriously. "So are you going to do it?"

    "Do you guys think I should?" It came out reflexively, more as a way to deflect Jerric''s question than to really solicit their opinion.

    "Well, I''m not too thrilled with how it''s worded and what that implies about my own future." Jerric ran a hand through his hair. "You, Dev?"

    Devon sighed. "Are you guys even listening to how impossible this all sounds?"

    "C''mon, Dev. You''re gonna tell me you''re okay with cursing Ambrose''s name?" Jerric said, grinning a little.

    "Between cursing Ambrose''s name and being involved in a dangerous plot to shake up the world order, I''d opt for the former, actually," Devon answered sheepishly, glancing at Ambrose. "No offence."

    "I think you should," Ambrose said to me after returning a wry smile to Devon. "Like I''ve said before, Caden, I don''t want it to be fulfilled in that way. It... it sounds bad. Can you imagine what it''d take for you guys to really literally curse me?"

    "Not much, in Kevan''s case?" Jerric offered.

    Ambrose shook off the joke. "I''m serious. I don''t want that. I don''t want my future to involve hurting five other people. And I don''t see why it needs to happen that way."

    Jerric turned back to me. "Well, Devon didn''t give a strong objection, which is about as good as an endorsement from him. I don''t fancy having something that bad happen to me if I can help it. And," he adopted a lofty tone, "the Chosen One himself has spoken."

    Ambrose was struggling not to reach over and cuff Jerric. He settled for rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated huff. And they all turned to me again.

    I felt like I was standing outside my father''s residence once more. I had chosen not to break the shackles on him, so whatever ruin was in store for him was still hanging over his head. If I wanted to spare him from it without putting him at risk from outright death by the trauma of being freed from prophetic links, I''d have to find another subtler, more nuanced way to do it.

    Perhaps this was the answer. To work with the augera. And not alone, but with the help of people I had come to call my friends.

    "Yes," I said, keenly feeling the weight of this decision. It felt like my whole life had led up to this moment, this pronouncement. "I will free the augera. But I''m going to need everyone''s help."

 46. Forgotten Things

    The Aiestan Empire has endured where lesser civilisations have fallen to the ravages of time, and it was the influence of the Fateweavers and the power of prophecy that had allowed it to become the prime power in the world. What do you do after you''ve firmly set yourself against the very system that has given rise to an empire that has lasted for over four millennia?

    Apparently, not very much in the immediate moments following the dramatic pronouncement. The four of us stayed up a little longer, soaking in the sense of newness, of revolution, in the air. There was an undercurrent of excitement and fear, but also a warming note of comfort in knowing that we were, all of us, in this together. And once the tiredness of our bodies caught up with us we went to sleep as ordinary youths, though now burdened with grand dreams.

    But in the weeks that followed, there was a lot of research. Knowledge is power, but it is also the key to more power. Armed with our knowledge of the Prophecy and specific terms of reference бк like the glyph of prophetic links and the name ''augera'' бк we began sifting through the body of information available to us in the Academy, discretely making inquiries with seniors and lecturers, and trawling the library.

    The library was in the same building as some of the tutorial rooms, but it dominated a whole section of the structure, extending the full five storeys above ground, and also dipping into a four-storey basement that served as the repository for more sensitive texts. We had free access to everything in what was called the Upper Library, so we began our search there, combing through neat shelves that ran from floor to ceiling, crammed full of books. The bright and airy design of the space made it quite a pleasure to walk between the shelves, soaking in the aura of quiet contemplation and studious industry.

    Jerric and I worked together to divide the work and identify what areas we should spend our time on before the four of us methodically went through the titles and contents'' pages of the books there, setting them aside for a closer look only if a chapter looked promising.

    Then, together, we''d claim one of the tables in the study area, our books and tomes spilling across the available space, forming tiny piles on the surfaces around us, even the floor. Ignoring the funny looks we got from the seniors, we skimmed those selected books, ensuring that at least two people had reviewed a text to confirm there was nothing relevant before we returned it. It was slow work, but the benefit was that we were learning a lot about arcanophany''s general principles just by doing this, even if it wasn''t our primary aim.

    As the Demiurge had once casually mentioned to me way back when I had spoken to him about the friend-in-the-arcana, the augera seemed to be missing from arcanophanic texts. In the spirit of being thorough, we worked our way through the modern books discussing advanced principles of arcanophany first, then went back to older texts, as far back as we could find. When the phrasing and vocabulary became too archaic, we muddled along with grammars and dictionaries, trying to parse the ancient tongue. The further back we went, the more tantalising hints came up, but there were no proper definitions or descriptions. It seemed we would need to dig even deeper into the past.

    This was borne out by what the augera in the Spire had shared with me бк that the term ''augera'' itself was an ancient name that mortals had coined. And since it wasn''t even a word we recognised in the modern tongue, it stood to reason that any texts dealing with it would have to be from the distant past.

    But to access those texts, we needed to get into the Lower Library, which was typically only used by third-year arcanists and up. They were given access rights automatically, while those in their first two years had to be given special dispensation.

    Paval, a stout sage (arcanists whose vocation was the study of arcana itself, and whose duties included the upkeep of such libraries and collections of texts) who looked to be just past his fifties, with greying black hair, was one of our most reliable enablers. Jerric had been the first person to make contact when he inquired about ancient texts on arcanophany, and the sage had been delighted to find students who were interested in studying those references when the majority of arcanists were more partial to modern translations that were much easier to read. After a short test on arcanophanic principles, we were deemed competent enough to responsibly use the Lower Library and were permitted to enter as long as a sage was on hand to supervise our studies.

    The atmosphere in the Lower Library was thick with a kind of reverence, the silence somehow even more pronounced. While the decor remained the same, there was definitely a sense of greater danger here; something hinted at in the way some shelves had been warded and required a sage''s permission to access.

    For the most part, the sages were content to grant us access to the books as long as we remained within their line of sight. They''d withdraw the materials for us and then quietly go about their own business as we once again claimed a space for ourselves in one of the study areas available. Paval was the most involved, occasionally making helpful suggestions about lines of inquiry we might pursue once we trusted him enough to explain that we were looking for anything that discussed a "presence" in arcana.

    But eventually, we hit a wall, even in the Lower Library. While there were indeed truly ancient writings for us to peruse, the texts went so far back that their original copies were nigh unreadable bits of flaking parchment, carefully preserved between glass, and we were left with old transcriptions that had been painstakingly made, but which were themselves succumbing to the ravages of time even with the employment of arcanophanic techniques meant to preserve them. It was a challenge to discern the words on these ancient texts, but we were also increasingly stymied by the fact that some of these texts weren''t even written in our language. And the sages had no resources to offer for us to even attempt to decode those texts.

    "Long-lost knowledge," Paval lamented as he shook his head sadly, closing up one of those indecipherable books after we had returned it to him. "All we can do now is faithfully but uncomprehendingly copy them to preserve what is written, hoping for the day when we may unearth some ancient tome that will let us begin the work of translation."

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    "Is that an active area of study?" Jerric asked.

    "Not in a long while. Perhaps if you find your calling in the sage vocation, you might make it your focus," Paval answered, smiling. "Most modern sages delve into the study of new applications of arcanophany. Few are interested in unearthing the secrets of the past."

    "I''d have thought that the Academy would have preserved ancient knowledge more carefully, instead of allowing it to be lost," Ambrose chipped in.

    "Well, the Aiestan Academy is old, but it doesn''t go back to the founding of the Empire. It''s been faithfully preserving what it could since its inception. Alas, then, as now, attempting to preserve everything is rather a losing proposition. There''s always something out there worth preserving that you may not be able to get your hands on, or that you don''t even know about."

    "Are there archaeological sites that are of particular interest, then, when it comes to looking for lost, ancient knowledge?" Jerric extracted his notebook from under a pile of texts, ready to take down anything that may be of use.

    "Well, funnily enough, Geldor''s a prime location," Paval said. "The capital is even older than the Empire. But nobody''s had any luck trying to get the permission to dig there. Short of the Empress herself expressing an interest, I don''t think anything''s going to stop landowners from tying up requests in red tape. Sometimes when foundations are laid or replaced for new buildings, we might get lucky. A few things have come up that way."

    The sage excused himself for a moment, then came back with a thick atlas. "Of course, there are numerous other places that are of archaeological interest when it comes to unearthing ancient arcanophany. The top of the list would be any place there''s been a Spire because prior to the founding of the Academy, each Spire was a mini-academy of sorts and maintained their own libraries and workshops for the training of arcanists in apprenticeships." He flipped through the atlas and stopped at a map of the early Empire, dated to about two thousand years ago, pointing out several features. "See, our borders have expanded since then, and generally the Empire has had a preference for placing a Spires at borders. So some of these old Spires were abandoned. Some have been excavated, but there are still lost ones because it''s not really something that has been covered comprehensively."

    "Wouldn''t abandoned Spires have nothing of value in them? I mean, I can''t imagine the Empire just leaving a tower full of arcanophanic artefacts or books lying around for any wanderer to claim," Ambrose pointed out.

    "Ah, that''s because you don''t know what happens when a Spire''s abandoned. They amplify arcanophanic power and allow sequences to be formed over huge distances, and there are fiendishly complex sequences involved in their maintenance. So you can imagine what happens if they fall into disrepair. The Spires are sealed up and over time, without maintenance, they become centres of wild arcana. Sometimes entire villages or even small towns in the area have had to be evacuated. It takes years for the arcana to settle, and people tend to avoid those places even after the arcana has stabilised. That''s why Spires are generally built away from settlements, as far as possible. But people in the past were less fastidious about these things, and settlements sprang up near existing Spires. We''ve got a better handle on that in modern times, of course."

    He flipped through a few more pages, showing various maps with Spires marked out on them, and how many of these Spires eventually vanished in later maps.

    "It''s quite dangerous," he continued, "but sometimes opportunistic scavengers have managed to circumvent both wards and wild arcana and picked some abandoned Spires clean. Other Spires may have been properly emptied prior to their abandonment, but it''s not always the case. No matter what, though, they''re all worthwhile sites for archaeological study."

    Jerric was frowning. "Why would the Empire ever abandon a Spire? It seems like a complete waste."

    "There are underlying arcanophanic principles that make it necessary. You''ve learnt how some artefacts function particularly well if their glyph sequences conform to certain geometries, yes?"

    We all nodded. My father had recently covered that in his Basics of Artificing lecture, though I had learned it even earlier when he had spoken to me about his orbs.

    "Well, Spires connect in a network across the Empire in a similar way. When the borders expand, sometimes it necessitates a shift of a Spire''s location. And, as with many things in civilisation, we are all subject to the demands of available manpower. Apparently, in ancient times, a fully-staffed Spire would require something like fifty to a hundred arcanists. We''ve become a lot more efficient since then, thankfully!"

    While this was all very interesting, it wasn''t much use to us at the moment. We could hardly leave the Academy and go on expeditions to poke around the ancient bones of abandoned Spires. And after what I had learned about the augera, and how each Spire acted as a prison to one, I wasn''t sure if I wanted to do that even if the opportunity did present itself. I wasn''t sure if Paval''s explanation of wild arcana was what he sincerely believed or knew, but it was easy to imagine the augera within a Spire going wild and destroying everything around it if its prison was ever compromised. I did not want to venture anywhere near that kind of unchained power.

    "What now?" Devon asked, once we had thanked Paval for all his help and left the library. "Almost a month and a half, and nothing to show for it."

    "Not nothing. We''ve applied lots of the theory we picked up to our Double Thau," Ambrose pointed out.

    "I know, but nothing on the augera, or even prophetic links," Devon sighed. "How are we going to figure out our next steps?"

    The tip of the Spire glinted slightly in the noonday sun.

    "I don''t want to, but I think we''ve got to ask it directly," I said, my heart sinking a little as I looked up at it.

    "Are you sure?" Jerric asked, looking worried. I had explained to them the great gulf of incomprehension between us and the augera, and how my contact with the augera in the Spire had brought me dangerously close to being overwhelmed by the sheer weight of its thoughts.

    "No, not really. But what choice do we have?"

    "Hah," Ambrose grinned. "You''re the free one, Caden. You have plenty of choices."

    I rolled my eyes. "Yeah? Well, I''m going to choose to eat lunch now. I''m starving. What''s on the menu, Dev?"

    "Wait," Devon gasped, stopping in his tracks, his eyes wide. "Wait! Isn''t today..."

    Jerric''s eyebrows rose in comprehension and he turned to Ambrose, who stared back blankly. "What?"

    "Emilia," I blurted, finally realising. "We were supposed to have lunch together today. Butafter you duelled her. An hour ago."

    "You stood her up," Devon whispered.

    "You guys didn''t remind me!" Ambrose returned, looking at each of us accusingly. "We all got so carried away with Paval!"

    "Do you think she''s still there?" I asked, turning to look at the duelling compound and feeling rather bad about forgetting her, especially since we had invited her to have lunch together with us.

    Ambrose didn''t wait for a reply. He set off immediately, looking very flustered, and the three of us followed after, hardly daring to imagine what an angry Emilia might look like.

 47. New Ground

    When we finally reached the biggest duelling chamber (because a bout between the Chosen One and one of the most celebrated duellists in the first year cohort demanded nothing less), we found the doors wide open. The arena barrier was already up, but it was set to be opaque. It was possible, just barely, to make out some vague shapes that were on the other side of the barrier. They looked like... structures.

    "You''re finally here," Emilia''s voice came from within the barrier. Something sounded off, though. It wasn''t nearly as echoey as it should be in an empty duelling chamber.

    "I''m sorry!" Ambrose called out, pausing by the door to catch his breath. "Didn''t mean to be late. Lost track of time."

    "It''s alright," Emilia continued in an even tone. And yet, inexplicably, I caught the impression she was being playful. "I''ve had all this time to prepare."

    "Prepare?" Ambrose asked, puzzled.

    Emilia''s laughter filled the chamber бк an impish sound, quite uncharacteristic of her, that was joined by others. She wasn''t alone. I recognised the twins'' voices.

    "It''s more exciting than a traditional duel," she explained, "and it''s what you get for being late."

    The cloudy obfuscation in the barrier slowly thinned, finally giving us a clear view of what it contained.

    Devon let out a gasp. Volumes made out of a dark grey material were scattered across the arena floor, providing cover for combatants by approximating an urban environment. There were solid pillars, walls arranged into maze-like configurations, and low barriers that provided enough cover if one were to crouch.

    Emilia was standing on the tallest structure right in the centre, where a two-storey tower offered a good view of the surrounding terrain. She was dressed in an outfit similar to the one she had worn in the fight against Kevan, though this time the colours were coordinated бк her long-sleeved navy blue top was now paired with black leggings and shoes.

    Kevan and Lynus were seated on either side of her, their legs dangling off the edge. The twins were dressed in a similar sweater and sweatpants combo, but I couldn''t help but notice that Kevan''s colours matched Emilia''s, whereas Lynus'' was a grey top with white bottoms. But that was something to be pursued later.

    "Did you guys put her up to this?" I called out to the twins, though I suspected one more than the other.

    Kevan put up his hands, claiming innocence. "Hey, this is all her. Ly and I just gave a couple of suggestions for the arrangement."

    "Please leave the duelling space now," Emilia said to the twins in her usual curt manner. "It''s time we got this started. I''m starving."

    The twins leapt off the front of the tower while Emila jumped off from the opposite side, drawing cries of alarm and surprise from the rest of us on the floor. They fell out of sight, but we didn''t hear any shouts of pain. After a few moments, the twins emerged from the arena, completely unscathed.

    "Relax, guys," Lynus said, grinning at Devon, who looked particularly shocked. "It''s the arena''s personal protections, remember? Emilia got the idea to set all this up, and we were playing around for a bit. We were just about to take it down and head back when you finally decided to show up."

    "Good luck," Kevan smirked, clapping Ambrose on the shoulder. "You''re gonna need it."

    Ambrose''s only reply was a vague "hmm" and a raised eyebrow. As usual, next to Kevan, Ambrose looked like the lesser fighter. It didn''t help that today, he had dressed for the comfort of the library rather than a serious duel. He had removed his jacket and was now in an oversized maroon T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

    "Are you ready, Ambrose?" Emilia called out, her voice now amplified.

    "In a minute," he answered, conjuring the Minor Control Sphere to send his reply through the chamber''s amplification so he didn''t have to shout.

    "One minute starts now," Emilia replied. A countdown appeared right above the tower, rotating slowly in place.

    I shook my head wonderingly. "Quite literal. Well, good luck, Ambrose."

    The rest of us climbed to the highest tier and positioned ourselves in the mid-point so that we got a clear view of the entire space. Ambrose and Emilia had both taken up their places at either end of the chamber.

    "I didn''t know the arena could do this," I said, once we had settled down.

    "They start this in second year, usually. But they only do it for some sessions, because the other chambers are too small, and the classes have to share this space," Lynus explained. "Some of the seniors we train with showed us how to set it up."

    "Does it only do these big blocks?" Jerric asked.

    "No, it can do complex shapes too. Even natural-looking ones like trees and rocks. But apparently, the classes just do urban environments."

    "Because that''s where most fights take place now," Kevan pointed out. "In cities."

    The timer hit zero and winked out, and Emilia started moving at once. She sprinted straight for the tower in the centre, bobbing and weaving through the obstacles. It was clear that she had the advantage here since she knew the layout in advance. There were steps that went around all four sides leading up to the apex, but she didn''t bother with them. Instead, as she neared the bottom of the tower, she leapt forward, brought her feet together, then slammed them into the ground. A burst of arcana erupted from the point of contact and she shot six metres straight up, giving her just enough clearance to step into the top of the tower.

    "What?!" Devon exclaimed.

    "Yeah, pretty insane," Lynus remarked, shaking his head.

    From that superior vantage point, Emilia started raining fists full of arcanic fire down on Ambrose, who hadn''t been making a mad dash for the tower. Instead, he had released several palm-sized orbs that were now fanning out across the rest of the arena, keeping low as they darted around the obstacles. He deflected the fire with a hasty shield and darted behind cover, opting to use the environment to shield him as much as possible. The space slowly began to fill with smoke as Emilia continued spewing fire.

    Suddenly, a beam of energy lanced out towards Emilia from behind her. It was Triss'' sequence, not as amplified as the one Emilia had utilised, but still potent. It clipped her on the shoulder, interrupting the stream of flame she was pouring out. The arena''s cocoon around her registered some damage. She retaliated by directing a bolt of arcana at the source, and one of Ambrose''s little orbs collapsed into fine dust.

    "Wait, wait, what was that?" Lynus leaned forward.

    Stolen story; please report.

    "Always something new," Jerric smiled, looking intrigued.

    By the time she spun around, Ambrose was gone. I saw more orbs skittering around through the maze. Emilia started directing arcanic bolts at them, but now they were firing back at her with arcanic bolts as well, forcing her to conjure shields. Exposed as she was on top of the tower, she was beset on all sides, making it difficult to rely on the throwaway barriers. After a few seconds, she gave it up and leapt from the tower, avoiding any damage with the use of some sequence that caught her a moment before she hit the ground.

    It looked like Ambrose needed to see the orbs in order to make use of them. As Emilia wove through the obstacles, she dispatched any she came across, and none of them so much as threw an arcanic bolt at her. Despite that, Ambrose was pumping out more them, likely seeding them around the arena so they could be called upon the next time he spotted her.

    The two of them spent a minute trying, without much success, to locate each other. Eventually, Emilia cloistered herself inside one of the mini-mazes and ensconced herself in a solid honeycomb-lattice shield. It was hard to tell exactly what she was doing inside it.

    Emilia''s fires had burnt themselves out since she was no longer supplying arcanic fuel. That left the field clear for Ambrose, and he was now pressing his hands to various surfaces as he passed, laying temporary glyphic sequences into the structures. From this distance, I couldn''t tell what they were supposed to do, and in any case they faded into invisibility almost immediately.

    "This is gonna be good," Lynus said, rubbing his hands together gleefully as we watched them make their preparations.

    "What do you think Emilia''s doing?" Devon asked.

    "She can''t take the high ground, and Ambrose has better coverage over the field with his little orbs at the moment," Kevan pointed out. "So she''s probably going to pull out something that gives her control over the field again."

    Right on cue, there was a disturbance in the air around Emilia and her shield dropped. It was the same sequence she had used in the final moments of her fight against Kevan. This time, it was more concentrated, manifesting as translucent, fog-like energy that billowed forth. It rapidly rolled through the space, this time managing to cover a height of a metre and a half, and the moment Ambrose''s roving orbs made contact with it, the orbs sputtered out and disintegrated.

    It didn''t take long for Ambrose to encounter the fog. He stopped in his tracks and raised a solid barrier, which immediately began to flake and tatter. In a few seconds, it frittered away into nothingness. He hastily brought up a honeycombed barrier in its place, but that lasted only a little longer. Backpedalling furiously, he took a different path but found himself being hemmed in as the fog closed in from multiple directions.

    Left with no other options, Ambrose quickly clambered up onto a volume to bring him out of the fog''s reach. But Emilia had been waiting, having hauled herself up onto a volume as well. The moment Ambrose appeared, she gestured, and a rolling wave of the fog rushed towards him, threatening to engulf him.

    Ambrose crouched, then sprang forwards with a burst of arcana that sent him flying several metres. He managed to stumble onto the top of another volume, but his landing was nowhere near as graceful as Emilia. She followed up by sending another wave rolling towards him. Ambrose leapt again, making for the tower in the centre as Emilia dominated the floor with her dissolving fog. He couldn''t jump straight to the top and instead had to settle for launching himself onto the steps on the side before climbing up the rest of the way.

    As soon as she was out of sight, Emilia started skipping across volumes, aiming for the tower as well. Now that she had cut off the arcanic supply, the fog was beginning to thin. But Ambrose gained the summit first while she was only halfway there. He clawed savagely at the air.

    The volume beneath Emilia shattered with a sound that was remarkably like glass, and she tumbled to the ground in a heap. The broken pieces of the volume began fizzling in the vestigates of Emilia''s fog now that their integrity had been compromised, and she, too, looked like she was suffering damage from it. With an impatient wave of her hand, she dispersed the fog around her.

    Kevan let out a sound of amazement. "Those volumes are hard to damage. How''d he do that?"

    "I think that''s one of the volumes he marked earlier. We''ll have to ask him exactly what he did," I said.

    Ambrose didn''t give her time to recover. There were still some orbs left, and they were now rising to the air and directing beams on her from several directions. Emilia held off the first two with directional shields, but as more joined in, she manipulated her own shields and used them to reflect the arcana. One by one, the orbs fizzled and died, shot down by their own energies.

    I felt a familiar absence in the air, and Ambrose sent arcanic lightning arcing down to Emilia. This time, instead of shielding, she shot out an orb that drew the bolt away, and the energy smashed harmlessly into the arena barriers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kevan folding his arms, looking irritated.

    By now, Emilia''s fog had dispersed. There was a momentary lull in the battle as Emilia looked up at Ambrose while he looked down at her.

    "You weren''t at the fight with Kevan," she called up to him, frowning. "But you picked it up somehow?"

    "Credit to you and Caden for that," Ambrose smiled. "He taught me the sequence after the two of you reconstructed it."

    She glanced in my direction, and I felt a frisson of fear run up my spine.

    "You must have tagged me with that first beam then. And the arcana-assisted movement," she said, turning back to him. "How long have you been practising?"

    "No practice at all," Ambrose replied, looking abashed. "I only just figured out how you were doing it, so I''m nowhere near as fluid as you are."

    "Just?" she repeated, her frown becoming more pronounced. "You learn fast."

    Ambrose bobbed his head in humble acknowledgement. "Shall we call it a draw, and have lunch?"

    "We''re not finished," she replied tersely. And with that, she let loose with her signature massive beam of energy. It was so intense that bits and pieces of the tower were breaking off, though the structure itself remained sound.

    But Emilia had clearly taken Kant''s admonishment to heart. Even as she maintained the beam, I sensed a buildup of arcana being held in reserve for something. It was amazing how efficient she was in her use of arcana.

    Ambrose, meanwhile, had opted to stand right in the line of fire. However, there was something odd about his shield бк it wasn''t reflecting anything back at Emilia, neither was it holding off the entire attack. Instead, it seemed to be... filtering the energy. He had arranged some panels in such a way that some energy was being deflected, but most of it was passing right through an outer layer that altered the beam in some way. A secondary inner layer then channelled that energy into a fist-sized ball that was now thrumming with power.

    The beam died out, but the moment it did, I sensed the arcana Emilia had amassed undergo some sort of shift. She crouched, then launched herself straight towards Ambrose, enveloped in a dense weave of shifting energy that looked a lot like the arena shield.

    But Ambrose wasn''t totally unprepared. The condensed ball of arcana sparked briefly, then shot towards Emilia even as she sailed through the air. She didn''t bother to shield and instead met the projectile head-on. A blinding flare of energy made it impossible to see what happened next, and the moment of impact was also accompanied with a shockwave of sound and air that slammed against the arena barriers and caused them to hum.

    When our vision cleared, the tower was completely blown apart, and so were a couple of the nearby volumes.

    "Hooooly shit," Devon breathed, rubbing his eyes. "What happened? Is it over?"

    Kevan''s laughter cut through the silence. He pointed at Emilia, who was slowly extracting herself from the ruins of the central tower. The lattice of arcana she had built around herself was falling apart, and beneath that, the arena wards indicated some damage, but she was largely unharmed. "I think she''s done it!"

    "Where''s Ambrose?" Jerric asked, scanning the battlefield.

    "He''s not out yet," I replied.

    "What?" Kevan''s eyes darted around, trying to find him.

    I had no idea where he was, either. And I was pretty sure it wasn''t Kevan''s mirror trick at play, because we should have been able to see him from our vantage point if he was employing it against Emilia. But I could feel the stirring in the arcana. He was definitely still in play, and he was preparing something big.

    "There!" Devon pointed, just as Ambrose emerged from one of the chunks of the tower, like someone stepping out of a wall of water. It rippled momentarily, then dissolved into a pool at his feet. His arena barrier was not registering any damage at all.

    Emilia''s expression darkened, but she planted her feet to face him.

    Ambrose held up an open palm before him, and some of the dark grey substance at his feet snaked up and coalesced into the shape of a sword that hovered in place.

    "Okay, gotta admit, that is badass," Lynus remarked.

    "What does he think he''s gonna do with that?" Kevan snorted, though he did look a bit worried.

    His expression of worry was mirrored on Emilia''s face as, all around the arena, more volumes were melting apart and rising up again as swords, spears, lances, and other assorted weaponry.

    "Badass," Lynus repeated in a whisper, at the same time as Devon.

    Almost desultorily, Ambrose plucked his sword from the air and held it at his side.

    "Shall we have lunch, now?" he asked, grinning.

    Emilia''s reply was eloquent in its simplicity. The lattice of energy reformed around her, and she launched herself straight at the Chosen One with a snarl.

 48. Development

    Emilia''s decision to rush headlong towards Ambrose was puzzling, and it looked like she had made a grave mistake. As Ambrose pointed his sword at her, the surrounding weapons sprang to life and interposed themselves between the two of them, forming a dense forest of deadly blades.

    The dense cocoon of arcana around her flexed, and in the next instant she was encased not in an indistinct bubble, but a sharp wedge that was honed to a point so fine that it tapered off into invisibility. She slid into the forest of blades like a needle into satin, the shape allowing her to push through the tangle without cutting herself to ribbons. I had no idea how much force was holding them in place since I didn''t know the principles Ambrose was employing to animate them, but Emilia brushed them aside as if they were nothing but paper mache held up by strings. They slid off her shield, throwing up sparks as they scraped against it.

    "Hah!" Kevan crowed, as Ambrose was forced to throw himself aside to avoid Emilia. Her momentum carried her past him for several metres. A cloud of debris enveloped her as she sailed into one of the volumes that were still whole, gouging out an entire chunk of it. She pitched forward and slammed into the floor. There was a horrid screeching noise as the point of her spear-shield scratched against the floor of the arena, but the protective sequence laid over it held firm, leaving it unmarked. She wasted no time and launched herself again, this time going for more height so she could crash down on Ambrose.

    At a gesture from him, the floating weapons rapidly melted together to form an amorphous mass that coiled protectively around him. He opted to keep his sword, though, and as he pointed it at the rapidly-approaching Emilia, the mass sharpened into a spike aimed directly at her, simultaneously anchoring itself with a broad base that shielded Ambrose entirely.

    Emilia''s spike met Ambrose''s almost exactly point-to-point with a screech that set my teeth on edge. They both snapped off with a sharp crack, but for some reason, Emilia wasn''t deflected off-course. She continued straight on, and now the true power of her shell of arcanic energy was beginning to show itself. Though bereft of its penetrating point, it still held enough force to pulverise Ambrose''s covering. Chunks of his weaving fell away and crumbled into powder as they fell to the ground. She plummeted straight through his defences, landing with unlikely force that sent fragments of Ambrose''s covering flying out in all directions. Ambrose seemed to have managed to avoid a direct hit but he was flung several metres away by the impact, though he was now enveloped in an arcanic shield that absorbed some of the damage. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his face tense, the sword still in hand.

    "He should''ve dodged that," Jerric remarked, shaking his head.

    "Must''ve thought the arena material was tough enough," Lynus said.

    "Bet he regrets getting her riled up now," Kevan smirked.

    Emilia did not give him time to recover. With nothing left between her and Ambrose, she allowed the cocoon around her to resolve into a more even shape and barrelled forward with a burst of arcana.

    It was almost too quick for the eye to follow. Emilia''s dash brought her right up to Ambrose and she looked like she had been about to punch his lights out (which, given what we had seen so far, would have probably ended the fight since she was so amped up). But before her fist could make contact, he took one step to the side and brought his blade up in a forward slash, and Emilia sailed past him, her shield entirely dismantled, while the personal arena barrier around her registered a fatal hit that ran across her side. It looked like she would have been cleanly sliced in half if not for the protective barrier. She fell to the ground, then slammed her fist into it with a grunt of frustration.

    "WHAT?" We all had gotten to our feet, but Kevan''s shocked cry drowned out the other noises of disbelief and surprise.

    The shattered remains of the battleground were slowly dissolving as Ambrose called up the Minor Control Sphere to clear the space. We hopped down the tiers to meet them. Emilia was slowly getting to her feet, looking tired and annoyed.

    "Good fight," Ambrose said, extending a hand.

    Emilia regarded him stonily for a moment, then returned a curt handshake. "Yes, good fight. How much of a fight was it, though?"

    "I thought you had me there, near the end," Ambrose replied, shaking his head in wonder. "I wasn''t expecting you to be able to just bash through the spike barrier, since I made it using the arena material."

    "Even so," Emilia continued, fixing him with a stern look, "were you really trying?"

    He looked taken aback by her intensity. "Uh, yes, why?"

    "You figured out how to reconfigure the volumes without using the arena''s Minor Control Sphere," she pointed out. "You rapidly unravelled existing transmutations, and you looked like you could manipulate them at will. You could have ended the fight."

    He stared blankly at her, then at the rest of us. I thought I understood what she was saying. "Kant always tells us that if we can control the environment, we have easy ways to win a fight. Triggering a tonne of rocks to fall on your opponent will be more effective than throwing bolts of arcana at them," I supplied.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    "Exactly. You had a whole arena''s worth of material that you could freely shape at will. And you were also able to exert fine control over them and freely move them. Were you toying with me?" Emilia asked pointedly.

    "I... I wasn''t, really," Ambrose said, raising his hands placatingly. "There''s a limit to how much I can control, and honestly, I expected the weapon shapes to be able to cut your shield apart. So when that didn''t work, I panicked."

    "But my shield withstood both direct hits and glancing blows from the blades the first time," Emilia insisted. "And yet you used your sword at the end, and this time it sliced through my protections like they weren''t even there. You did something to the blade, didn''t you?"

    "Yes, butбк"

    "Then could you not have done that earlier to all the blades the first time around?"

    "No, I didn''t set up that sequence beforehand. I only modified my blade after I saw that they had no effect on you."

    "That means you had the means to win earlier, but it just didn''t occur to you," Emilia pointed out.

    "I... yes, I guess. But isn''t that true of all fights?" Ambrose asked, puzzled. "One side may have the means to win, but the other can always gain the upper hand."

    She sighed. "Yes. But I see now that you have a greater level of understanding over some principles of arcanophany. You picked up my arcana-assisted movement just by watching it, and employed it immediately in battle to a functional degree. And the only thing that let me come this close to beating you was the fact that you''re a bit slow on the field, and you don''t consider your options fast enough in battle."

    Ambrose frowned at her, thinking about how to respond to that. Then, after a moment, he nodded. "A fair assessment. Does that bother you, Emilia?"

    "A little," she admitted, cracking her knuckles and shaking out her limbs. "I have prided myself on being more adept when it comes to the theoretical underpinnings of thaumaturgy. But that''s the way of things. Someone better always comes along eventually, and you survive by leaning to your advantages or adapting."

    He grinned at her. "You know, I''ve heard a lot about you, but now that we''ve finally met and fought, I''m really impressed by your thaumaturgical ability!"

    She raised an eyebrow. "Next time, think faster on the field, and I may be able to say that back to you."

    "Oooh snap," Lynus laughed.

    Ambrose winced. "She''s deadly, but I like her."

    "Get in line," Kevan said, brushing past Ambrose and playfully pushing him aside so that he could stand next to Emilia, who rolled her eyes but permitted him to put his arm over her shoulders.

    "Wait, so that''s actually a thing?" I asked, gesturing at their matching outfits. "Since when?"

    "Since their big duel," Lynus answered, ruffling his brother''s hair and drawing a cry of protest. "You will notbelieve how that happened."

    As we made our way back to the dorm, Lynus regaled us with the story of how Kevan had stumbled through an awkward conversation when he went looking for Emilia the day after their duel. He had cornered her in the cafeteria where she had been eating alone and tried dropping hints, which Emilia seemed to be blatantly ignoring. In the end, an exasperated Emilia had asked Kevan to state in plain terms exactly what he was bothering her for, and he, red-faced, had blurted out, "I like how you fight and I like you."

    "Fates, no, please,thatwas your line?" Devon asked, smacking his forehead.

    "Sounds exactly like the kind of thing he''d say, though," Jerric said, smirking. He seemed to be particularly enjoying the discomfort that Kevan was showing now.

    "But what''s wrong with that?" Emilia asked, looking around at us with mild confusion. "It was finally clear. Before that, he was just hanging around and making obtuse comments."

    "That, right there," Lynus pointed at her. "That is what makes them perfect.My brother is as subtle as a tonne of bricks. And here is someone who appreciates that."

    "Alright, shut up, Ly," Kevan said, looking uncharacteristically shy.

    "Youare a pretty direct person," I admitted to Emilia. "So I can understand why you like what he said. It''s just... not romantic?"

    "Do you have any experience behind that judgement, or is this just speculation?" Emilia asked seriously.

    That brought out a peal of laughter from everyone else, while I shook my head. "You... you aren''t making fun of me, are you?"

    "Am I?" She blinked, totally straight-faced.

    There was more laughter from the rest. Lynus recovered enough to gasp, "It''s either endearing obliviousness or perfectly-executed jibes. Either way, it''sgreat."

    "Anyway, that''s all it took?" I asked Emilia, once the rest had finally settled.

    "Well, once his intentions were clear, I could consider the matter. He''s a highly competent thaumaturgist who can go toe-to-toe with me, and to be frank, he''s the only person who has expressed romantic interest in me. So I thought it would be wise to see how it goes."

    Her tone was matter-of-fact, but what she just said dampened the mood a little. It occurred to me that someone like Emilia, who appeared to have few friends to begin with, might have also become the butt of some jokes in her childhood. Here in the Academy, though, her competency commanded respect.

    "And he''s been treating you well since you got together?" I ventured, glancing at Kevan, who gave me a wry smile.

    "I have no other basis for comparison since he is my first partner," she said, looking at him and smiling. "But yes, I think so. He seems to understand me, and he has stopped being so obtuse and more direct when we talk, so that is a refreshing change from how my conversations go with most other people. It also helps that he is physically attractive."

    Devon pretended to gag as Kevan preened a little. Lynus rolled his eyes. "So clearly I''m the inferior twin."

    "Ah, but attractiveness is subjective. I am sure there is someone out there who finds you physically attractive," Emilia replied serenely, "and who also does not mind that your thaumaturgy is a bit lacklustre."

    The rest of us dissolved into laughter again as Emilia looked around at us, a little nonplussed. I noticed, though, that Kevan had leaned in close to whisper something to her, and as she nodded in comprehension, a slow smile spread across her face.

    It was a small thing бк just a brief interaction that I happened to catch because I was drawing in a breath to ease the ache in my stomach from all that laughter, and I had glanced in their direction while doing so. But it painted a very different picture in my head about Kevan.

    And I wondered... if he could be like this, then why was he thetangled-anger-power? Did that really define him?

    What if our ''arcanic names'' were not all-encompassing?

    ... what if they could change?

 49. Raising Standards

    Now that Emilia was in a relationship with Kevan we started seeing a lot more of her, especially since she started joining us for meals. The most striking change was her behaviour whenever we cooked instead of eating in the cafeteria or library cafe. Outside, she was her usual curt and aloof self, but within the cosy privacy of our dorm, as we sat around a table filled with sumptuous food (which was by now of sufficient quality that Devon stopped pronouncing it merely passable, and was finally crossing over into the realm of compliments), she became much warmer and less guarded.

    As someone who had only thus far been exposed to her hyper-competitive, hyper-competent side in our Thaumaturgy lessons with Kant, this was a welcome surprise. And although I still harboured a general dislike for Kevan because of our early interactions (and the effect he had had on Jerric), I found myself regarding him with a little more charity since he was proving to be a rather caring person towards Emilia, and not at all like his usual egotistical self. In fact, Emilia''s presence made Kevan''s company not merely tolerable, but sometimes even pleasant.

    As the season progressed into deep winter, my father''s lectures turned to the production and upkeep of the artefacts that regulated the temperature of our living and working spaces. And although it wasn''t yet possible for us to create a stable and persistent field using glyphs that was portable enough to carry, our Thaumaturgy and Advanced Glyph lessons provided us with an alternative; we had advanced to the point where we had enough theoretical knowledge and fine control to sustain and suspend a small amount of arcanic fire while encapsulating ourselves in a thin shield that was just strong enough to keep heat in. I recognised echoes of it in Devon''s sequence to keep food warm. With some practice, it was possible to hold these sequences in place while doing something else.

    By this point, arcanic manipulation was becoming something very tactile for me. I wasn''t sure whether this was a natural progression of my abilities or a direct result of the shield against prophetic links that the Spire''s augera had put over me, but I realised I could sense my auric-ambient-flare as a sort of nebulous other body that I was beginning to really feel and control. I no longer had to imagine shaping arcana with phantom hands бк it was something I could quite literally get ahold of. And the more we worked with arcana in our Thaumaturgy or Double Thau sessions, the more I became finely attuned to this arcanic sense. Sequences were no longer abstract strings of glyphs. They were things I could hear, touch, taste, or smell. And even if two people were using the exact same sequence, there was a subtle quality that I had learned to recognise that helped me differentiate one person''s work from another. It was like hearing two people speaking бк the words might be the same, but their voices were distinct.

    The term was coming to an end and before our test against Reeves'' ensorcelment, we decided to have a final bout of practice just to make sure we were prepared. Thanks to the augera''s shield I was immune to ensorcelment and had no need to practice (although the twins and Emilia still thought I was just that good at guarding against ensorcelment), so I was once again put on ensorcelment duty so the rest could practice resisting it.

    But of course, with people like Kevan and Emilia in the mix, we weren''t staying in the dorm for a straightforward mass ensorcelment. They had floated the idea of trying to defend against ensorcelment in the middle of combat.

    So it was that the seven of us found ourselves in the largest duelling chamber again on the weekend before the test. Emilia had arrived bright and early for breakfast at our dorm, where Devon had complained loudly about how over-the-top this idea was. But in the end, he sighed and resigned himself to being a part of it when Jerric convinced him to just give it a try.

    "So, how are we doing this?" Jerric asked. "Caden''s on ensorcelment duty, so I''m assuming somebody has to join him and focus on bombarding us while we shield against both the ensorcelment and the arcanic attacks?"

    "But that person won''t get as much ensorcelment practice in," Lynus pointed out. "Maybe we should do teams of three against each other, while Caden tries to ensorcel everyone at once?"

    "That means we''d have to block against ensorcelment, defend ourselves,andattack the other party at the same time," Devon said, aghast. "Guys, come on, not all of us are in the 90th percentile of the cohort."

    There was some lighthearted chuckling, but Kevan took his complaint seriously. "It is a bit much," he admitted.

    I cleared my throat. "Actually, I want to try something, and if that doesn''t work then we can think of something else."

    "What''s your idea?" Ambrose asked.

    "You guys just focus on shielding against ensorcelment and arcanic attacks. I''ll do both at once."

    That drew some looks of surprise. Emilia was the first to object. "Unless you''ve made significant progress since our last session with Kant, I don''t think you''d provide much of a challenge against six people at once, Caden," she said, softening her comment with a wry smile.

    I grinned. "Well, it''s not a straight-up fight, so I won''t have to worry about shielding. That frees me up to really go on the offensive. Who knows? I may just surprise you yet."

    The sceptical look on her face was mirrored by the twins, but the others seemed happy with the proposal. Devon, in particular, was looking relieved (which left me feeling conflicted бк happy on one hand that I had taken a bit of pressure off him, but also annoyed since he seemed to think I really wouldn''t provide much of a challenge).

    "Well, it''s worth a try," Ambrose shrugged. "We''ve got time to try other things if this doesn''t pan out."

    "Right. Let''s start off simple, then, shall we?" I asked casually, positioning myself in the centre of the dome and indicating that they should space themselves out. They moved to the edge of the arena and naturally settled into an arc facing me.

    The Minor Control Sphere materialised in front of me and I activated the barriers around the stands, as well as the personal barriers for everyone.

    "Don''t really think we''ll need these," I heard Kevan say to Emilia, who was about ten paces from her, "but better safe than sorry."

    Hah.

    I closed my eyes and focused on my arcanic sense, thinking back to the first moment when the augera had encapsulated me in the carapace that rendered me free of the Prophecy and granted me immunity to ensorcelment. Back then, I had been so attuned to the arcana that when Ambrose had tried to attack me, I was able to nullify his sequences even before they came to fruition.

    That feeling of attunement suffused me now. The carapace throbbed in time to my beating heart, and with each breath, my arcanic sense expanded until it encapsulated the whole space within the arena barrier.

    I was already used to doing this during our Double Thau sessions since I had to ensorcel all of them at once. It was probably how Reeves did it, too, though it likely involved a slightly different method because he wasn''t benefiting from something the augera had bestowed on him. In this state, it took almost no arcana at all to perform an ensorcelment. All it took was a focused thought of razor-sharp intent, and everything in the field was subjected to it. The ambient arcana was both source and channel, and right now, nobody was challenging my hold over it.

    Today, since the opportunity had presented itself, I wanted to push it further. The theory I had was that if I could ensorcel the whole field, then it also meant that I could employ certain combat sequences that would take effect over the whole field, or emerge from any part of it.

    Ensorcelment first. It came like breathing now бк I effortlessly combined a visceral fear with the impulse to drop prone and projected it. The field was instantly bathed in the weight of my ensorcelment, and the six of them anchored themselves with the sequences we had collectively developed. Ambrose, Jerric, Kevan, and Emilia looked composed, but Lynus and Devon''s brows were furrowed in concentration. After a few seconds, I was comfortable enough to shift this to the back of my mind, and I started amassing arcana. It was the arcanic equivalent of balancing on one foot while turning your attention to something else.

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    An easy spread next. Attuned as I was, the sequence didn''t even need to be fully-formed in my head. It was like muscle-memory now. Heavy arcanic bolts burst from the air around me and roared towards the rest, who reflexively brought up throwaway shields to deflect them. Devon misjudged the angle a little and was forced to conjure another layer to absorb the impact when the bolt crashed through his first shield, but he held firm against the ensorcelment.

    Now, a simple barrage. More bolts poured from the air around me in rapid succession, shooting off towards random targets. Since I wasn''t directing them, it was still well within my abilities to simply fire off bolts one after the next in double or triple shots that demanded firmer shields or more careful deflection.

    "Everyone still alright?" I called.

    "Pace is a little slow," Kevan called back, grinning.

    A bit more heat, then. While still gathering arcana, I sent forth another barrage, this one mixed with invisible bolts that I directed, bringing them in from other angles. The rest were able to manage, but Devon let a few slip through and sustained some damage. I felt his focus over his sequence slip ever-so-slightly, allowing a trickle of the impulse to bleed through. He quickly asserted himself and scowled in frustration.

    "Still alright?"

    "Can I tap out, now?" Devon whined.

    Jerric threw a weak arcanic bolt at him in lieu of a slap on his shoulder. "C''mon Dev, if you outlast me, I''ll take all your washing duties for the next month."

    "IT''S ON!" he roared back, drawing laughter from the rest.

    It was a mark of how far we had all come that resisting ensorcelment was something we could do while laughing, now. But it also meant that they still had plenty of mental bandwidth left. It was time to take it up a notch and test my theory.

    The next barrage of bolts did not come from the air around me. They emerged from the barrier of the arena, bursting out unexpectedly and with great violence. Everyone was caught by surprise, but Emilia and Ambrose managed to encapsulate themselves in identical honeycombed shields. It seemed that they had sensed the bolts coming, but couldn''t tell which direction they were coming from.

    The twins didn''t do too badly. Kevan got struck once, but he quickly deflected the rest with directional shields, showing an exceptional awareness of the space around him. Lynus was less adept and got hit two more times.

    Jerric and Devon, on the other hand, took several direct hits before they knew what was happening. They both pitched forwards but managed to cover themselves in shields to weather the rest of the bolts. I sensed Devon''s hold against ensorcelment slip again, but he recovered just in time before he gave in to the impulse.

    "What was that?" Kevan demanded.

    "Surprise!" I grinned at them. "Let''s get serious."

    Ambrose shook his head and grinned back. The twins settled into identical battle stances, and Emilia turned to face me with the deadly calm she always exhibited in a proper duel. Jerric looked torn between determination and curiosity. I felt a little sorry for Devon, who was regarding me with increasing dismay.

    My next barrage emerged from both the arena barrier and the floor around them. Devon and Jerric weren''t as adept at conjuring throwaway shields, so they leaned hard into sustaining all-encompassing barriers. Jerric''s lattice held up under the barrage, and although Devon''s exhibited heavy cracks, it weathered the volley before it crumbled.

    Kevan managed to deflect everything now that he was prepared, while Lynus got hit a few times and I felt the ensorcelment creep in on him before he managed to reassert himself. Ambrose, too, had managed to find his bearings and deflect the bolts. Emilia, on the other hand, had to rely on a heavy sustained shield at her back while she deflected the rest coming from the front.

    "How is he doing that?" Lynus complained.

    But they had no time to speculate. Even as I continued to amass arcana, I sent out tendrils of energy that writhed out of the ground around them, plunging into their defences. The directional shields shattered, forcing all of them to bring up heavy-duty barriers. But the snakes of arcana continued to coil around their shields, drawing themselves tightly around the barriers and squeezing.

    Devon''s was the first to shatter, but although he gave out a cry of dismay, he instinctively let loose some arcanic fire that burnt the tendrils away. Jerric had been the quickest this bout. The moment the tendrils had wormed around his shield, he quickly severed their roots with a concentrated burst of arcana that took parts of his shield with it. The twins took some time to shift the frequencies of their shields so they could fire arcanic bolts through them and riddle the tendrils with holes. Ambrose had somehow managed to manipulate the arcanic tendrils themselves and unravel them from the inside out. Emilia''s solution was the scariest бк her barrier rippled and spikes violently erupted from it, perforating the tendrils completely.

    "You''ve been holding out, Caden," Emilia said seriously, almost smiling. "I think I''d like to take you on next in a proper fight."

    That was high praise, coming from her. But I couldn''t manage much more than a nod in reply. This next bit was taking quite a bit of arcanic control.

    By now, the arcana I had been gathering was reaching critical mass, but it wasn''t time yet. While I continued to feed power into that reservoir, I took in a deep, calming breath so I could focus on the next array бк six simultaneous copies of the beam sequence that Emilia favoured so much. In a proper fight, I would probably never have the time and space to prepare something like this, but since I had both in spades now, it was time to go wild.

    The air around me sparked, and the next moment the arena was filled with the deafening noise of six beams lancing towards the rest. Even over the din, I heard Devon cry out, "OH COME ON!"

    The beams smashed into six heavy-duty barriers. I hadn''t modified the sequence at all, so Emilia and Kevan expertly diverted the energy and even managed to reflect some back towards me, which I dealt with using a barrier of my own. Ambrose was doing his filtering trick again, and I could sense him holding the energy in reserve. Lynus and Jerric were struggling to make the adjustments necessary for their barrier to hold up under such a sustained barrage. To my great satisfaction, Jerric''s barrier held for a few seconds longer, although both of them were engulfed in the beam as their defences failed and they were blown back against the arena barrier, their arena-generated personal barriers registering fatal damage. A moment later, they dropped to the floor as their focus on the anti-ensorcelment sequences broke.

    After a minute, the beams petered out. Lynus and Jerric both turned to stare at Devon, who was still standing.

    "Hoooly shit!" Devon cried out, looking down at himself in amazement. The barrier around him was badly cracked, but he had shaped it into a spike that deflected most of the energy, and he had leaned hard into maintaining its integrity.

    "Nice one, Dev!" Jerric cheered.

    "You''re on washing duty!" he crowed, but a moment later he fell prone as his focus slipped and the ensorcelment took hold. "Ahhh shit!"

    "Clear the field, guys," I managed to say through gritted teeth. It was getting really hard to shape the last array.

    The three of them brought up the Minor Control Sphere to create an opening in the arena barrier and quickly slipped out. That left Kevan, Emilia, and Ambrose.

    "Alright, here it comes. Last one and we''re done."

    I half-expected some sort of jibe from Kevan about being worn out so soon, but he was regarding me seriously.

    It was finally ready. The arcana I had been amassing all this time was like a lump of white-hot coal in my stomach. I applied a frame-shift to it and the air around me came alive, charged with power that was ready to lash out. The three of them knew what to expect, and all of them conjured the decoy orbs that would draw lightning away, holding them in reserve for the moment when I allowed the energy to snap out from me.

    But it didn''t come from me. With a sudden, violent sizzling, Kevan found himself engulfed in a bolt of lightning that fell on him from above. When it dissipated, Kevan''s shield registered fatal damage, and he was prone.

    Emilia gasped, but she was quick to envelop herself in her grounded shield, producing one spike in every cardinal direction and one more to guard her against strikes from above. But my bolt erupted from the ground beneath her feet, shattering her shield from within and sending her flying up two metres. Her arena barrier registered fatal damage, but she was still quick enough to recover and perform an elegant landing. At the last moment, her focus slipped, and she went prone as the ensorcelment took effect.

    Now it was just Ambrose and me. He wasn''t grinning any more. I realised that I hadn''t seen him this serious before. It wasn''t just a look of concentration бк there was a steadiness in his eyes and a kind of professional composure that reminded me very much of Kant. It was... battle-readiness.

    There was a lot of arcana left, and no other targets to use it on, so I put all of it into this last burst. It was getting hard to concentrate now and I was forced to gesture. My right hand came up in a claw, and sparking forth from the very air around him, a crackling sphere of lightning materialised and rapidly snapped inwards.

    But just before he was engulfed, I realised with a thrill of horror and excitement that there was, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, another presence in the arcana; another person attuned to its strings.

    There was a blinding flash as the sphere of lightning imploded. I felt a great flexing and stretching in the fabric of the arcana, and then, all at once, the air was clear and the presence in the arcana was gone. Even my hold over the ensorcelment had been broken. And Ambrose was standing there, unscathed, panting slightly.

 50. The Beginning

    There was a stunned silence that seemed particularly pronounced after all the violent hurling of arcana. Both Ambrose and I regarded each other бк I, with undisguised incredulity, and he, with a sense of satisfaction and approval.

    "Fates," Devon breathed from the stands, "what was that?"

    With the field of ensorcelment broken, Kevan managed to sit up. He stared at us in disbelief. "It''s a draw."

    I shook my head to clear it. "It wasn''t a duel. This was ensorcelment practice, remember?"

    "Regardless, that was quite impressive, Caden," Emilia said, dusting herself off as she got to her feet.

    "What''s really impressive was that mid-air flip and recovery," I replied, trying not to allow my head to grow too big now that she had finally acknowledged my ability. "How are you so nimble?"

    "My parents got me involved in gymnastics when I was younger. I''ve kept up with bits of the training on my own because I like it. But nevermind that. Your sequences бк how did you change the points of origin so drastically?"

    By now, the others had drawn closer. Devon had brought up the Minor Control Sphere to dismiss the arena barriers.

    "I... it''s not a part of the sequence."

    "Not a sequence? So that was all just pure focus and arcanic control?" Jerric jumped in.

    "Kind of. It''s really not that different from how we apply enough focus so that something like an arcanic bolt comes out from anywhere, not just an open palm, and then changes direction even after it''s left our contact."

    "But it looks like it''s more than that," Jerric said, shaking his head. "In all our sequences so far, the origin is still our body. But you''ve shifted the point of origin beyond yourself, and the sequences are coming from thin air."

    "I really don''t modify any glyphs. The sequences are standard. What changes is my sense of the arcana. The ''self'' as a point of origin... expands? I connect to the ambient arcana, and it allows me to use parts of it as points of origin."

    "Both medium and power source," Emilia murmured, recalling Reeves'' first lecture.

    "Exactly."

    "It''s a frame-shift, then, expanding on our view of ambient arcana, not just as a passive external medium, but a medium that can be subsumed and integrated into our sense of self," Jerric mused, his precise wording making it clearer even for me. "That''ll take some practice. But we haven''t seen you trying that out before."

    "Actually, you have. In all our ensorcelment practice sessions, I do it every time I have to ensorcel the lot of you all at once. Today was just me pushing the boundaries a little bit."

    "A little bit?" Devon repeated faintly, looking mournful. "I''m so far behind."

    "Cheer up, Dev." Jerric elbowed him. "You''re no further behind than the rest of the normal people in our cohort. You shouldn''t compare yourself with the crazy bunch here. Besides, you outlasted me!"

    "And my brother," Kevan added, shaking his head at Lynus. "For shame, Ly."

    Devon looked up, clearly surprised that he was receiving some encouragement from Kevan. He wasn''t the only one who noticed. Everyone else except Emilia was staring a little.

    "What?" he asked, looking defensive.

    "Oh, nothing," Lynus drawled. He winked at a bemused Emilia. "Keep up the good work, Em. We like the changes you''ve made."

    "What?" she asked, lost.

    "Ignore them," Kevan muttered. "Anyway, I wanted to ask what the heck Ambrose did at the end there. And it wasn''t just with the lightning ball thing at the end. When Caden used those arcanic tendrils on us, you somehow... unravelled them. It was the same thing, wasn''t it?"

    Ambrose nodded. "If you''re fast enough and familiar enough with a sequence, you can... uhm... ''overwrite'' it. Not like crossing out something that has been written down, but a bit more like... exchanging letters in a word so it becomes nonsense. If you do it right, you can destabilise an active sequence, and it usually just falls apart."

    "How?" Jerric asked, intrigued. "Are you using more advanced glyphs?"

    "No, the glyph of transmutation actually forms the basis for that kind of arcanic control," Ambrose pointed out. "You just need focus and speed."

    That certainly explained how the tendrils and the lightning cage had simply dissipated without any opposing clash of energy. But even if he had given the theoretical framework for what he had done, I was very certain that his application of it involved something far more complex. What he had just described did not account for the presence in the arcana I had felt, nor the strange flexing and stretching in the fabric of the ambient arcana.

    But he was the Chosen One. There was likely something big behind that, and I didn''t want to ask about it in front of Emilia and the twins. Maybe another time, when it was just Devon, Jerric, and me.

    Instead, I turned to Kevan. "There''s something I wanted to ask you. You managed to sense exactly where the bolts were coming from, right? Even Emilia had to rely on a directional shield behind her, but you didn''t seem to have that many problems. It was like you could tell my bolts were forming the instant they were being formed."

    Kevan met my gaze with an inscrutable look. "Yeah, I could sense them."

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    "How?"

    "I think you know," he answered seriously, "otherwise you wouldn''t be asking, would you?"

    ... that.... was not the answer I had been expecting. I genuinely had no idea what he was talking about, and I figured that he and Lynus had picked up some tips from the seniors they trained with. But then the memory of his grand duel with Emilia came to me: I had ensorceled him and given him binding knowledge of the flavour-vein-echoof thewoven-shackled-stream, the augera in the Spire.

    I didn''t know what to say. The silence stretched. Ambrose, Devon, Emilia, and Jerric watched, uncertain about what we were talking about.

    "Ly knows, too," Kevan said after a moment, stuffing his hands in his pockets and jerking his head at his brother, who was now looking serious. "I shared the knowledge with him after the duel."

    "The duel?" Emilia probed. "Our first duel here, when Caden ensorceled you and forced you to stop channelling the black lightning sequence?"

    "Oh, he did more than that. Didn''t you, Caden?"

    He wasn''t angry. In fact, he wasn''tanything бк he was being very matter-of-fact about it, even though the words he was using might have been delivered in a mocking tone. It was very disconcerting.

    "I..." My eyes went to the others, who mostly looked confused, except for two: Lynus'' mouth was an expressionless line, while Ambrose looked... wary?

    "He made introductions," Kevan supplied, glancing at Emilia. "The ensorcelment didn''t stop me directly. It just connected me to someone else that did. Or something else. And I introduced my brother to it, too. And ever since then, we''ve been a little bit more in tune with the arcana around us, like you. That''s probably what helped you figure out how to shift the point of origin for your sequences, right?"

    "You''ve... been in regular contact with it?" I asked, a lump in my throat.

    He shook his head. "No. It''s a bit too hard to really take it in. Ly and I have only made contact once more. But that was plenty."

    "What has it shown you?" Ambrose stepped forward a little. I was suddenly hyper-aware of how we were all arranged in the space; Devon and Jerric by the stands, Lynus drifting closer to his brother with Emilia between them, and Ambrose casually positioning himself a little closer to me.

    What were the sides, here?Were there sides? What was going on? Kevan didn''t seem like he was aggressive or hostile, so why did it look like Ambrose was getting ready for a fight? I tried not to panic. What was there to fight over?

    "Honestly, Ly and I don''t understand most of it. It''s in jumbles of ideas and impressions. But it''s pretty clear about you, Ambrose."

    Jerric and Devon glanced my way, exchanging a look full of meaning. Maybe now was the time to lay it out in the open, about the whole Chosen One business, and how we were trying to exert change over the terms of the Prophecy.

    Ambrose nodded, encouraging him to go on. "What''s it say about me?"

    "That you''re the Chosen One."

    "I knew it!" Emilia burst out, surprising us all. "It had to be one of you, and I thought you were the most likely candidate once I had eliminated Kevan."

    "Wait, what?" Kevan''s seriousness gave way to bewilderment.

    She seemed to realise that she had said something potentially bruising to his ego. "I did think it was you at first, but since we''ve gotten to know each other better, I realised that your talent is... well, your talent, not the work of a Prophecy. Maybe amplified by your proximity to a Prophecy''s Chosen One, but still not its direct result."

    "So I have no talent of my own?" Ambrose asked dryly.

    "... Maybe," Emilia said after a pause. "But as a Chosen One, that does not matter, does it? Your talent or lack thereof is part and parcel of your fate. Talent is not something you need ever concern yourself with. You will have exactly what you need, and nothing less."

    The tension was easing a little as we all watched Emilia delivering one of her usual matter-of-fact almost-insults while being rather oblivious to it. I might have chalked it up to mere chance, but I now knew better. This had ''Prophetic influence'' written all over it.

    "Anyway, we''re not here to talk about talent. Caden''s been in contact with this thing, so that means he knows too. And that explains some of the things he''s done so far. When were you two going to tell the rest of us?" Kevan asked Ambrose, going up to Emilia and taking her hand.

    Ambrose glanced at me and hesitated. I realised, my blood running cold, that he was asking for my input. But that wasn''t the only thing contributing to the icy dread in my veins. I stared at Kevan as he waited expectantly for an answer, Emilia''s hand in his.

    ''... and one, brought close, becomes the bones

    that form your crown o''er mortal thrones.''

    I had been severed from the direct influence of the Prophecy. Had she been brought in as my replacement?

    What would Kevan''s reaction be if he knew and if he understood the full terms of the Prophecy? Were we, even now, racing towards the fulfilment of the clause where he would curse Ambrose''s name? What might happen then?

    "It wasn''t the right time," Ambrose answered, and I realised that the moment of opportunity for my intervention at a critical point had passed.

    "Fair enough," Emilia said. "But now the secret is out, and it seems that this is the right moment."

    "I guess so." Ambrose didn''t look very confident, but he also seemed to be content to go along with what was happening now.

    "That means the rest need to know," Kevan said, turning to look at Devon and Jerric.

    "Actually," Devon piped up sheepishly, "they told us. We know."

    "Yeah?" Kevan frowned at Ambrose and me in turn, then faced the two of them again. "I don''t mean knowing that Ambrose is the Chosen One. I mean...knowing. About the thing. That Caden knows. And that Ly and I know."

    Jerric stood up. "You mean the augera. It has a name."

    Kevan''s frown deepened, but it was one of slight confusion, not anger. "Augera. That... fits. But it doesn''t feel like you know."

    It dawned on me what he was getting at. I had shared, via ensorcelment, the flavour-vein-echoof the augera in the Spire with Ambrose, and then Kevan who had, in turn, shared it with Lynus. But Devon and Jerric only know about the augera via word-of-mouth, not through the binding power of knowledge shared by ensorcelment. They knew, but they did notknow. They had notunmade-learnt-assimilated that knowledge.

    There was a stirring in the arcana and I tasted the flavour-vein-echo of the augera as it responded to Kevan''s call. My eyes widened in horror and I instinctively reached out to try and attune to the arcana so I could exert my will over it and stop what was happening. I sensed Ambrose doing the exact same thing, and we took each other by surprise, both of us flinching away and losing our hold over it.

    ''Let them unmake-learn-assimilate the flavour-vein-echo of the woven-shackled-stream,''Kevan intoned to the augera.

    Devon and Jerric weren''t slow on the uptake. Fresh from ensorcelment practice, they had their protections in place to anchor and fortify theirauric-ambient-flares. But while those protections had held against me, they were no match for the augera. I felt it wrap around them, brushing aside their feeble resistance and sinking deep into their auric-ambient-flares.

    Just when I thought the situation couldn''t get any more incredible, another perturbation in the arcana nearby drew my attention to the fact that Lynus had done the same thing to Emilia. The augera was in two places at once, working through both twins at the same time.

    It was over in a moment. As the ensorcelments took hold, Devon, Emilia, and Jerric were left staring at the rest of us with identical looks of confusion and fear.

    The augera lingered in the arcana for a moment longer, and when it thrummed with glee, I saw the newly-ensorceled people flinch and look around. They could hear it now.

    ''The pieces are in place. Fate turns.''

    Before it vanished, I sensed it brush past me and whisper:

    ''And you, unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, can be the fulcrum upon which it turns.''

 51. Reviving Volition

    A heavy silence fell over all of us following the augera''s pronouncement. Kevan even looked afraid, though it was far too late for that now.

    It was taking all my self-control to keep my anger in check. "Why''d you do that?" I demanded, rounding on him.

    "It told us to," Lynus replied in his brother''s place, coming to stand next to him.

    "And you blindly follow whatever some unknown arcanic being tells you to do?" I snapped, directing this at both the twins. "Do you even know what you''ve done?"

    "No more than what you did to me!" Kevan snapped back. "Or to Ambrose! Yeah, don''t think I haven''t figured it out. You did it to him, and that''s what landed him in the infirmary for two weeks!"

    That brought me up short, but I rallied. "Oh yeah? If you''ve figured out so much, then tell me, what exactly did you do?"

    "We just made the others aware of the augera, that''s all." Lynus was striking a more conciliatory tone than his brother, but it was clear that he didn''t appreciate the way I was talking.

    "That''s all? Well if that''s all, then we have nothing to worry about, is there?" I said, throwing my hands up. "We can ignore what we just heard because it''s just the harmless side-effect of the others being made aware of the augera!"

    "If you know so much, then maybe you should''ve told us instead of keeping so many secrets," Kevan spat, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "Still want to keep them? Or are you finally ready to speak up? Because obviously there''s something here that involves the rest of us too, not just you and the Chosen One."

    "Don''t you think I''d have told you if I could?" I clutched at my hair in frustration, thinking back to what had happened with my father. "There are consequences to just knowing things!"

    Kevan gasped, smacking his forehead in a parody of realisation. "Ah, so he was protecting us! Who would''ve thought? It was so obvious, wasn''t it, Ly?"

    "He was, actually," Ambrose said quietly. "Or at least, he was trying to. But I''m not sure if there was ever much chance of him being able to stop this from happening."

    "What do you mean?" Devon was shaking slightly, but his voice was steady. "He''s free from prophetic links, isn''t he? That means he can act outside of the Prophecy''s influence."

    "He''swhat?" Kevan said, turning to look at me, this time without any contempt.

    "You two, or three, rather," Jerric amended with a nod at Emilia, "might as well know now. We''re all basically bound by prophetic links that nudge and guide our actions to bring about the fulfilment of prophecies, whether minor or major. The augera is the thing that makes all of this possible. We were already subject to its influence before, but now that we have been ensorceled and given this particular bit of knowledge, this personal, intimate understanding of what it is, we are even more tightly bound by it. Caden, however, is free of all prophetic links. He is completely outside the direct influence of prophecies."

    "How did that happen?" Lynus asked.

    "I don''t know if it''s safe for you to know yet," I answered flatly. "Maybe now you can appreciate that a little more."

    "Can we also be made free?" Emilia asked.

    "Yes," I said heavily, "in theory. I can free others. But it might kill them."

    Ambrose nodded. "Exactly. So... short of exercising your free will to cut the links and potentially kill us, I don''t think there was any way for you to prevent this." He turned to Kevan and Lynus. "What exactly has the augera told the two of you?"

    Lynus glanced at Kevan, who gave a reluctant nod, before answering. "It identified you as the Chosen One of a Major Prophecy that is going to shape the future of the Empire. And it said you would need help to do that, which is why we had to ensorcel the others."

    "Not technically wrong, but also not the whole truth. I can understand why you thought it was a good idea to listen to it," Jerric said, giving me a meaningful look.Of all people, Jerric was the one signalling to me to cut Kevan some slack.

    Emilia frowned and crossed her arms. "Knowledge is both key and shackle. Yet a few of you who had more information, and who withheld it out of fear of binding others, have still inadvertently caused others to be bound. Seeing as how it led to the same outcome, perhaps it is best to share everything and work from a common base of facts. That way, our own ignorance cannot be used against us."

    "Do you know exactly what the Prophecy is? Did it tell you?" I asked the twins. They shook their heads.

    "Do the rest of you know?" Emilia looked to me, Devon, and Jerric. We nodded. "Well, perhaps that is a good place to start, then."

    We all turned to Ambrose, who pursed his lips. He sighed. "It... it doesn''t sound good, guys."

    "At one point, it was public knowledge, along with your identity as the Chosen One," Emilia pointed out, "before Reeves wiped it from everyone else''s memory."

    "... Yeah, but that doesn''t mean it''s something I should reveal again, unless absolutelyбк" Ambrose began.

    Emilia cut him off. "If the public has heard it once, and we did not all die or fall to pieces from emotional distress, I think we can stand to hear it again, don''t you? Especially now, given the circumstances, with a voice in the arcana saying that we are pieces that have been set in place. We are already all bound. At the very least, we can avoid a repeat of what happened, when lack of knowledge led to the binding of others."

    It was hard to argue against her logic. Even Jerric was nodding along. And although I had misgivings, it was sensible. Ambrose hesitated a little more and then nodded.

    "Do we need to go back to the dorm to fetch the Prophecy?" Devon asked.

    Ambrose shook his head. "We really only need it as proof, but they already believe I''m the Chosen One." He took a deep breath and carefully recited the entire Prophecy, word-for-word.

    As before, I sensed prophetic links twirling around everyone, particularly making new attachments to the twins and Emilia. And once again, as with Devon and Jerric, even though the prophetic links werebinding them, I realised there were gaps. They were not being completely wrapped up.

    Kevan had paled considerably. He looked Emilia to me. "You said... you said you''re free from prophetic links. But you were only recently freed, weren''t you?"

    "Why?" I asked warily.

    "Because the Prophecy had five people. Right there in the dorm. But then... then Emilia came in. ''Brought close''. It''s because you somehow got free, isn''t it?"

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    Well, well, well. Not absolutely stupid after all. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying that out loud, so I nodded gravely instead. "Yes... I only got free a couple of weeks ago. And I think you''re on the right track бк Emilia was probably drawn in to fill the gap."

    It seemed that Jerric and Devon hadn''t really thought that much about it before either because they were now staring at her with a mixture of horror and pity.

    "What does that mean?" Kevan demanded. He gestured between himself at Emilia. "That this... this isn''t real?"

    As much as I hated to admit it, a part of me was taking vindictive pleasure from this moment. After all the pain he had inflicted on others as a result of his callousness and abrasiveness, it was like some Fate-appointed payback was being delivered.But that also felt fundamentally wrong, being happy that someone he cared for had to be hurt. I found myself feeling sorry for him because I understood what it felt like to be manipulated into hurting someone you cared for, and then also doubting your own sense of agency.

    "No," I sighed, shaking my head. "It doesn''t mean that. I think it just means she was already in a position to be brought closer. The potential was always there. It just didn''t need to be used, since the Prophecy had other options. So that means... you and Emilia... well, it''s not a bad thing. Not a fake thing. It''s just a thing the Prophecy has decided to use, now."

    He didn''t reply, but tears started spilling from his eyes. He clenched his fists and looked away. I couldn''t quite bring myself to look at him either. Even Lynus was rooted to the spot. Emilia was the one who went to him, and she seized his hand.

    "This is real," she stated defiantly, looking up into his eyes. With a jolt, I realised just how short she was compared to him, and the rest of us, for that matter. Somehow she just felt tall. "It''sreal," she repeated.

    He sniffed once and nodded mutely, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Emilia turned to me, a fierce expression on her face. "Caden, you''re going to lay all the information you have on the table. My involvement with Kevan is genuine, but my involvement in the Prophecy is a direct consequence of your actions. If not for the fact that you were freed, and that you withheld information, I might have gotten into a relationship with Kevan and still not be entangled as the last person in this Prophecy. So you owe me that much."

    It was hard to marshal any sort of argument with her staring me down like that. But I agreed with her on principle anyway. And Emilia could prove to be a valuable ally in the effort to free the augera and change the terms of the Prophecy itself. Ambrose was right бк it would have been impossible to stop the five members of the Prophecy from convening. My own removal and Emilia''s insertion was proof of that. I might have been able to spare individuals from that fate by freeing them from prophetic links (and thereby possibly killing them), but the wording seemed iron-clad on that front бк there would definitely be five people. I couldn''t change that, even with my freedom.

    But changing the referent? Altering what happened to those five people? That was more conceivable. In fact, earlier when Ambrose mentioned how he had dispelled my sequences in the fight, new tantalising possibilities were spawned that could help on that front.

    "Alright. It starts with my sister. She was the subject of a minor prophecy that said, ''This daughter shall be your ruin.'' It was delivered to my father. I made it my mission to come to the Academy to study arcanophany so I could find a way to unravel it. My father also began research into diverting or subverting prophecies so that my sister wouldn''t end up doing something bad to him. That''s what those orbs are бк they shield him from the influence of the minor prophecy. But when he shielded himself, it didn''t occur to him that the prophecy could adapt. The minor prophecy focused on me, and arranged things so that I really did get into the Academy, and I became Ambrose''s roommate, where I was then bound by the major Prophecy around him."

    Laying it all out like this once again for the benefit of others was proving to be useful for me, even though this wasn''t the first time because it helped me clarify some concepts in my own head, tying them together in cause-effect patterns as I presented them afresh to a new audience.

    "When I learned about the major Prophecy around Ambrose, I also understood, on a fundamental level, what it means to be bound by it. There were times when I was forced, against my will, to act in certain ways. And I was aware of it happening. Then, I got in touch with my father, and in an attempt to help me, he convinced me to ensorcel him to pass him that knowledge. But this was before either of us understood how damaging that could be. In the end, my own actions bound him to the major Prophecy''s influence. It was the result of my sister''s prophecy, making use of me to bind my own father to the major Prophecy because it seems that it will be ruinous to him in some way. So my sister''s prophecy is still on track to be fulfilled, even though he had shielded himself from its influence."

    "Shit," Lynus huffed. "This is..." He trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

    "The stuff that props up or tears down nations," Jerric said heavily. "Arcanophany on a level of amazing complexity."

    "But still mere arcanophany," Emilia added, looking determined. "What arcanophany has made, arcanophany can unmake. Continue, Caden."

    "My father''s orb worked to shield me from the major Prophecy. I was free from its influence, and I now had more agency. I tried to look for a way to save my father, now, and that''s what brought me into contact with the Demiurge. I think if I wasn''t free, the Prophecy might have stopped me from having that meeting with him. He introduced me to the augera, face-to-face. It''s... it''s a primal force of arcana, being kept, or imprisoned, in a construct in the Spire. The Fateweavers are the ones who do that бк they capture augera from the wild and install them in Spires across the Empire, and it''s what allows them to create and enforce prophecies."

    "There are more of those things?" Kevan asked, surprised. "In the wild, even?"

    "Apparently. In fact, I think there''s one down by the lake," Jerric volunteered, much to my surprise.

    "How do you know that?" Devon asked.

    There was the barest pause before Jerric replied with a small smile. "I''ll tell you guys later. Let Caden finish."

    "Well... when I met the augera and it communicated with me directly, it formed a sort of bond with me. And it asked me to ensorcel Ambrose so that it could form that bond with him, too. I wasn''t sure if it was the right thing to do, but it told me that my father''s orb wouldn''t protect me from prophetic links forever. So, in the end, I made a deal with it. I asked it to free me completely from prophetic links, and in return, I would ensorcel Ambrose. And it came through on that deal. That''s why I''ve been immune to ensorcelment, too. It''s a side-effect from whatever it did when it freed me from prophetic links."

    "Freeing you from prophetic links rendered you immune to ensorcelment?" Emilia asked swiftly. "Do you realise the implications?"

    "That on some fundamental level, they operate using the same principles, yes," I answered. "My father''s orb also rendered me immune to Reeves'' ensorcelment, but I can tell now that even the orbs are a pale shadow of what the augera has done for me."

    "But it proves my point," Emilia said, looking satisfied. "The augera is likely working with the same principles, albeit in a more complex and nuanced way. It is a problem that arcanophany can solve because arcanophany created it. But we can discuss that later. Is there anything else?"

    I nodded. "My first meeting with the augera formed the bond, but I had another face-to-face meeting with it. At that second meeting, it told me that it wants to be free. And the Demiurge was there, too. He explained that the untamed augera and the augera shackled in Spires have been conspiring and working together over a long period of time, slowly nudging things here and there to create the conditions that could bring about the collapse of the Fateweaver''s system of subjugating augera. And I am sort of the product of that interference. But I am not bound by any prophecy. The way the Demiurge put it... I have the potential to help free the augera, but I am also perfectly free to not exercise that power."

    "But you want to, surely," Emilia asked, although it came out more as a statement rather than a question.

    "I do. Freeing them is the only way I know how to protect my family from the prophecies that they have been wrapped in. And doing that also means helping my friends."

    "I shall hold you to that, Caden," Emilia said seriously, extending a hand, but this time she softened her declaration with a small smile. "And I will do what I can to help. Because honestly, I doubt I have any other choice if I don''t want to be resigned to my fate."

    I looked around at the six of them and suddenly understood the augera''s final comment to me in a new light. Something else had occurred to me. The looseness of the prophetic links around all of them was likely a byproduct of the ensorcelment. After all, when I had ensorceled Ambrose, it was not the same as when I had ensorceled my father. The knowledge I had passed to Ambrose, which I had also spread to Kevan, who had spread it to the rest, was tinged with a desire for freedom, of repressed agency, of possible rebellion.

    The augera had done what it had been forced to do in bringing five people together in service to the Prophecy. But through me, of its own will entirely independent of the Fateweavers... it had planted the seeds that could later bear fruit, and help to turn the whole thing upside down. And it had given me the tools to be a part of this scheme.

    I took her hand and shook it. "We will not be puppets," I promised.

 52. Seismic Shifts

    There wasn''t much else for us to discuss after that. Jerric suggested that we reconvene after the exams since he wanted to lead an expedition down to the lake in order to investigate the arcanic being there, and he promised he would explain how he discovered it once he had made the necessary preparations. I offered to help, but he assured me that there was nothing dangerous he needed to do and that it was something he wanted to think about first before presenting his ideas to us in a more coherent and fully-formed way.

    By mutual agreement, Kevan and I reached an uneasy peace. I understood why he had ended up ensorceling the others, and he understood why I had withheld information. Emilia forced us to actually say, directly to each other, that we would bear no grudges. "After all," she had stated simply, "we all need Caden to help us modify the Prophecy, and he needs our cooperation to do it so he can protect his family. We''re on the same side."

    For our final week of the semester, the timetable was shuffled to account for all the tests that had to take place. Instead of piling multiple tests onto a single day, the Academy saw fit to space them out so that we only had to worry about one test at a time. Sequentially, it was Advanced Glyphs, Basics of Artificing, Thaumaturgy, and finally Principles of Arcanophany.

    The Advanced Glyphs test involved both theory and application, and both parts were held in the specialised rooms where our normal lessons were held. The conjuration abilities it had were on full display as it furnished us with seats, tables, and booths formed from arcana. First, we had three hours to complete a written test that went from the basics ("From memory, reproduce all the glyphs introduced this semester in their respective sets in the space provided below.") to the more technical ("Explain in as much detail as you can how glyphs affect frame-shifting when they are not used in a sequence that is physically inscribed on any medium."). This was my forte, and I finished that portion early even after checking my work twice.

    The final hour was a practical session where we had to read five novel sequences that we hadn''t yet seen before, ascertain what they were supposed to do, cast them, then describe the observed effect. This turned out to be fiendishly difficult because it was hard to parse the meaning of glyphs without any context at all. We didn''t even have the benefit of seeing what everyone else was doing, which meant that we were definitely working with zero hints. In the end, though, I was able to work through the sequences. To my delight, the final sequence allowed me to invest a sheet of paper with the ability to transcribe what I said. It appeared to be a simpler version of what was behind the blackboard in the Nivordin Lecture Hall.

    Basics of Artificing was a two-hour practical session where we had to perform teardowns of artefacts and explain what their functions were, and how their glyph sequences worked. This was especially tricky since the artefacts used in the test were multi-layered, requiring us to physically peel away shells or remove components to read the glyphs inscribed inside. Since they were active, we had to proceed with caution to ensure we didn''t trigger any pulses that might cause the artefact to collapse on itself or explode from the interference. That involved a methodical examination of the exterior before we proceeded to carefully cut off the flow of arcana to specific sequences in order to safely deactivate it so we could conduct the teardown.

    Given the danger, this test was also held in the safety of the specialised rooms. This time, though, the room gave us workstations with the relevant tools, and each candidate was invisibly wrapped in an arena-grade barrier, while the workstations were further encased in a bubble that served the dual purpose of protecting us from each other, and preventing us from observing what everyone else was doing. The only difficulty I encountered here was working with the delicate instruments when physically breaking apart the artefact to read the innermost glyphs, but I managed it well enough to get the job done.

    Thaumaturgy was, to my great relief, not a full-on battle against our tutors or each other. There was an hour-long written component where we were quizzed about the various stratagems, tactics, and considerations that applied to an assortment of theoretical situations. The practical aspect was a standardized demonstration of the various combat-grade sequences we had learnt. If anything, this was the most underwhelming part of all the exams. All that practice with Kant and the Double Thau sessions with the dormies and Emilia had more than adequately prepared me for everything. Getting through all the combat sequences was child''s play. I wondered why the exam had been pitched so low. It became a subject of great speculation among the student body, because even the other Thaumaturgy classes had been rather strenuous (though evidently Kant''s had been at least twice as demanding), and the exam most certainly did not seem to be testing us to the fullest extent of our abilities.

    And just like that, the week was almost gone. The Principles of Arcanophany exam was the one with the highest stakes because, despite widespread protests and complaints, it seemed that Reeves'' threat at the beginning of the semester was definitely going to be upheld by the Academy. Anyone who failed to resist ensorcelment would face expulsion.

    For this, the entire cohort met in the Nivordin Lecture Hall. The ensorcelment test was the very last thing to be done, which meant that everyone first had to sit through a two-hour theory paper that involved picking one question out of a list and writing an essay on that. One of them stood out to me in particular ("''Arcana possesses an intelligence of its own.'' To what extent do you agree with this statement? Substantiate your response with reference both to published theories and your personal practice.") so I started writing almost at once. But I made sure to leave out any mentions of the augera, and I only referenced my experiences with the lesser friend-in-the-arcana.

    "Time''s up," Reeves said. He got to his feet, leaned over the desk, and looked around the lecture hall. "Please put your pens down."

    There was a flurry of movement across the hall as we closed the booklets. Reeves cleared his throat. "This is the final test you''ll face this semester in Principles of Arcanophany. Whether you pass will determine if you''ll be coming back after the winter break. Two minutes, to determine your future in the Academy."

    Despite the weight of his pronouncement, the mood in the hall was light. Most of my fellow students looked confident and determined. A few even seemed relaxed. There was a general air of excitement and relief that we had all come this far and that all that stood between us and the holidays was this last trial.

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    Everyone seemed to think it was a given that we were all going to make it through, and it was probably true. After all, no one had succumbed to the ensorcelment last week. But our seniors, according to the twins, were not all as proficient. I wondered how many in the higher levels would fail their final test. It appeared that our cohort, in particular, had benefited greatly from the influence of the Prophecy, ensuring that there were enough replacements who could be brought in to fill the five spots in case something should happen to one of them.

    Reeves straightened and took in a breath, and in that instant, the entire hall was awash with the weight of his ensorcelment. I was completely immune, courtesy of the augera''s carapace over me, so I turned my arcanic senses to really study what he was doing, which was something I had started doing over the past few weeks.

    What baffled me was howquickly he always managed to attune to the ambient arcana like that. With the assistance of the augera''s carapace, it took me several seconds to get attuned, and even then my sphere of influence didn''t instantly cover the whole area. Instead, it''d spread out progressively. But Reeves was consistently catching the entire hall within the blink of an eye. My initial theory was that he, too, knew about the augera and was aided by it in some way, but I ruled it out because I couldn''t sense anything like the augera''s carapace over him, he didn''t call out to the arcana in any way, and I didn''t sense the flavour-vein-echo of thewoven-shackled-stream in the arcana. This was purely down to Reeves'' personal mastery over arcanophany.

    It had to involve frame-shifting. There was some idea, some concept he was using, that efficiently utilised the arcana for this very specific purpose. His ensorcelment wasn''t like Kevan''s first stab at it when Kevan had thought about poison. And it wasn''t like mine, either, which flowed like air or water. His was precise, taking effect or terminating at the exact moment he wanted. There was never any slow build-up or gradual tapering off. It came on at the exact intensity he wanted and he adjusted it at will.

    And then, as I was contemplating the issue while staring at Reeves who had his hands splayed out on the table, I noticed for the first time as the fingers of his right hand moved ever-so-slightly, probably subconsciously, and it clicked. It was the universal, natural gesture that almost everyone performed when they tuned the intensity of a globe light.

    Light. For this purpose, he was frame-shifting arcana aslight. It was instantaneous, it covered the entire space right up to a physical boundary, and its intensity could be precisely defined with the same mechanisms of a globe light. He probably attuned to the ambient arcana by matching to the ''colour'' or ''frequency'' of the ''light''. I smiled to myself and decided to try it later.

    The two minutes were up, and no one in the lecture hall had stood. Reeves favoured us all with a wide smile. "Well done, everyone. I am sure these papers will not disappoint." He gestured, and our booklets zipped through the air in orderly arcs, landing into several neat piles on his desk. Someone let out a cry of triumph, and soon the lecture hall was awash with noise as people broke out into expressions of relief and joy.

    "Settle down, settle down," Reeves called, his voice carrying easily over the cacophony. By now, I was proficient enough to sense how he was subtly attuning his voice so that he was using the ambient arcana as a natural amplifier. The hall quietened, and Reeves went on.

    "As you all know, this ensorcelment test is not part of the standard Academy assessment, and your seniors have not demonstrated as much proficiency. I fully expect some of them not to return for the next semester. Remember this for the rest of your time here in the Academy. Even a greater degree of experience with arcanophany, or time spent in studying it, does not guarantee mastery. You all have shown great promise, and I expect you will continue to live up to that promise."

    There was a mixture of satisfaction and disquiet in the air. We were glad that our cohort was doing so well but also worried about what was happening in the wider community of the Academy. Expulsions were, after all, a serious matter. There were other institutions that would gladly take in someone who qualified for the Academy, but it was still a blow for a person to wash out. And if Reeves was right, then this year would see the largest number of students being expelled from the Academy in history.

    "These are momentous times, but as a cohort, you have risen to the challenge. I say this to you now because there will be greater challenges still. By the end of the next semester, we will, unfortunately, have another barrier for all Academy students to break, and failure there also means expulsion. These changes are necessary, and it is finally time for more clarity to be given to you. You may in turn bear this news back to your friends and families outside the Academy when you go for your winter break. The Demiurge will speak to you now."

    And then, quite suddenly, Maugrim Caldwell was next to Reeves. There was no flash of light, no swirling portal, not even the faintest ripple in the arcana. One moment he wasn''t there, and the next, he was nodding gravely at Reeves, who nodded back and walked out of the hall, our stacks of exam papers drifting after him.

    There were gasps of surprise, confusion, and alarm. This wasn''t my first time witnessing the Demiurge''s sudden appearances, so I wasn''t as alarmed. But it did serve as a stark reminder of how beyond the pale he was бк after all, teleportation was theoretically impossible. And yet here he was.

    Today, he was in full arcanist regalia, not his usual casual wear that allowed him to pass off as a senior. I realised I had never seen his formal robes except in the portraits. Where the other lecturers had robes trimmed with silver glyphs, his were gold, and I still did not recognise any of them.

    But what caught everyone''s eye was the staff he was carrying. An actualstaff, like something out of a legend. It was a solid black thing, capped at the bottom with a golden piece ringed with glyphs. And set into the top of the staff was a fist-sized orb, shaped from a substance that I recognised бк the same milky-white crystal that made up the dodecahedron in the Spire. Even as I looked at it, something in its depths stirred, and I got the faint impression of a grin from the familiar flavour-vein-echo of the woven-shackled-stream. I was sure my friends could feel it too.

    ''Greetings to the Chosen One, the fated five, and the unchosen.''

    Next to me, Devon flinched. Ambrose''s mouth was a thin line. Jerric''s eyes were wide, but there was a firm set to his jaw. The twins wore stony expressions. And joining us on the front row, next to Kevan, Emilia looked a little fearful.

    Nobody else in the hall reacted to that, though, even the Demiurge, and the augera did not say anything more.

    The Demiurge was not the smiling, carefree man who had presented himself to me on multiple occasions. There was a different cast to him now, a coldness in his eyes as he glanced around at everyone, betraying no favour or recognition as his gaze swept over me. His youthful face did not undermine the sense of authority and power that he now exuded. If anything, they made him feel more ancient бк like an enigmatic, ageless entity who wielded eldritch might.

    "Today," he began in the ringing tone of one making a dire proclamation, "today, you all become the instruments of the Empire."

 53. Streams and Shadows

    Utter silence greeted his proclamation. If anyone was visited by the urge to turn to their neighbour and engage in speculation, or just to exclaim in confusion, it was quelled under the weight of the Demiurge''s presence. Caldwell managed to root us all to the spot and I felt like I was back at the lake with Jerric when the wild augera had pinned me in place with nothing more than its gaze. It was arcanic manipulation on a whole different level from ensorcelment.

    "In the past, upon graduating from the Academy, new arcanists were sworn into the service of the Aiestan Empire. The passage of time has turned it into a ceremonial procedure; a mere formality." The Demiurge moved as he spoke until he stood in front of the long table, each step punctuated with a resonant thud of the staff on the floor.

    "But the time has come when all of us," he paused and gestured with his free hand, encompassing everyone in a single sweep, "must dispense with empty ceremony, and stand ready to serve the Empire with life and limb. It saddens me to say this, but you belong to the first generation of arcanists in more than a hundred years who will all be trained for war."

    "For the past few months, since the re-veiling of the Prophecy and the identity of the Chosen One, some of our neighbours have begun moving against us. We are, thankfully, not yet in a state of open conflict... but despite our best efforts at diplomacy, they seem intent on quashing what they believe to be an existential threat to their sovereignty. As such, we will likely be forced to defend ourselves in the future."

    He let out a small sigh, then drew himself up and continued. "By imperial decree, all arcanists are required to render service. Qualified arcanists across the Empire are being redeployed from their various professions to meet the present needs, and for now, those needs are adequately met. But until the Prophecy reaches its fruition, or until our neighbours cease their aggression and make clear overtures for peace, I regret to inform you all that the rest of your time here at the Academy will not be in the civil pursuits, as the decree dictates that we ensure our next generation of arcanists is fully combat-ready in order to safeguard the future of the Empire."

    "As the gifted few in the Empire, you are required to serve. As of this moment, you are all on the path to becoming thaumaturgists. When you return from your winter break, your training will resume in earnest in a shortened curriculum that will have you ready for deployment in combat in one year. Fates permitting, if you are not called upon for active duty, those who wish may resume their studies in other fields, though you will be held in reserve for such a time when the Empire has need of you as thaumaturgists."

    "If this future is not one that sits well with you, there is a single window of opportunity for you to withdraw from the Academy. At the end of the winter break, if you are still enrolled in the Academy, you will be expected to fulfil your duty. However, know that if you choose to withdraw, you will no longer be permitted to pursue any education in arcanophany in the future."

    "Doubtless there are many questions you would like answered, but at present, this is all that I am at liberty to share. As Professor Reeves has said, you may bear this news back to your families, though they are likely to already have heard something through other official channels. Take the time to consider your next steps, and make the necessary preparations for your return or withdrawal."

    Just as suddenly as he had come, the Demiurge was gone. The air instantly felt lighter, and there was a collective sigh of relief as everyone in the hall relaxed. But it wasn''t long before the hall was filled with noise as people began discussing the news we had just heard.

    The seven of us, though, only exchanged solemn looks. There wasn''t any question about whether or not we were going to stay enrolled in the Academy. No бк we were just beginning to truly appreciate the scope of what we were embroiled in.

    <hr>

    After that last exam, we had three days before the winter break began. Students were generally encouraged to borrow books from the libraries to last the whole break and arrange consultations with the lecturers to discuss the future or get some advice on how to brush up on their studies. This time, there was even more of a rush for thaumaturgical materials, and many of the faculty members had back-to-back meetings with students. It was partly to do with the big announcement, but there was also the fact that, most unusually, the Academy was going to be closed during the break. The official word was that the dormitories were due for repair works, but almost nobody believed that. It was more likely that there were extensive upgrades to be made to the security of the Academy, and that these had to be done away from the eyes of students. Or perhaps the Academy itself was going to be turned over to another purpose during the weeks of the winter break.

    I managed to secure a brief meeting with Kant on the first day. His residence was a lot more spartan than my father''s, which surprised me a little given his usually unkempt appearance. The sitting room had been transformed into a waiting room of sorts, with foldable chairs set in orderly rows. When he beckoned for me to join him in the study, I was struck by how perfectly-organised everything was. The books on his shelves were grouped into clear topics and further arranged by height. His table was bare, except for a sheet of paper that he had placed right in front of him as I entered. As I took a seat in front of his desk, he gestured briefly over the sheet. I recognised the whiff of arcana бк it was the sequence I had learned in the Advanced Glyphs exam that allowed the paper to transcribe spoken words.

    "Caden Dundale, first-year," he said crisply, and the words wrote themselves out at the top in his neat, cramped handwriting. But when he turned to me to speak, the transcription stopped. "So, Caden, anything in particular you need?"

    "Thanks for making time to see me, Marcus," I began, finding it a little odd to address him so informally in a setting like this, but not wanting to ignore his general injunction to us to dispense with the titles and honorifics. "I, uh, wanted to get your opinion on what I need to focus on in Thaumaturgy."

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "You''re already trying out advanced tactics and techniques with a group of your friends, yes?" he asked. I noticed the sheet filling with words. It seemed he was, quite literally, mentally taking notes as we spoke. Evidently, his sequence was a lot more complex than the one I had picked up.

    "Yes, and the twins, you''ve met them at the duel in the arena, they''ve been passing along some stuff they''ve learned from the seniors, too."

    "Well, have you managed to identify any of your own gaps with all this help?"

    This seemed like a test of my own ability to accurately assess a person''s capabilities, even if it was my own. "I take too much time to prepare my sequences in combat, and I lack decisiveness when faced with novel situations."

    "Yes. Sequencing speed comes with practice, so you need more of that. That simply comes down to more hours spent in the arena or some other suitable training space. Do you have such a place outside the Academy?"

    I frowned. "My father has a workshop at home with arena-grade shielding, but I think it may be too small."

    "It''ll do in a pinch. I think your spatial awareness is decent, and you have a good sense of the state of the field. So just work on quicker sequencing. As for your habit of dithering in the face of the unfamiliar, that''s something the next semester of training will help with. We''ll be exposing all of you to a variety of scenarios, and then it comes down to running drills."

    "So there''s nothing I can do during the break to prepare myself ahead of time?"

    Kant leaned back in his chair and regarded me seriously. "There is. Your level of arcanic control is very highly developed for someone of your age. But I don''t think you''ve developed it the usual way."

    It wasn''t phrased as a question, so I nodded uncertainly, unsure about how I was supposed to respond.

    "Have you been into the Spire, Caden?"

    I blinked, surprised. "Yes. I''ve, uh, met the Demiurge there. Twice."

    "... I see. And he''s brought you to the top, hasn''t he?"

    There was no point denying it. I nodded.

    "Well, that explains a little bit of it. Your ability to sense and control arcana has been amplified by exposure to the crystal in the Spire. But I suspect that you''ve allowed it to lock you into a certain frame when dealing with arcana, and while that makes you more sensitive and permits better control in certain contexts, it also does slow you down a little and limit your options in other contexts. So during the break, I''d like you to re-examine your conception of arcana, and try not to rely only on the insights you have gained through your contact with the crystal."

    "You... you seem to know a lot about the crystal," I began but hesitated. He had referred to it as merely a crystal, not as an augera. How much did he know? Could I trust him? But then again, if our roles were reversed, I wasn''t likely to just casually say ''augera'' to a student, either.

    "Yes?" he prompted.

    "Can you tell me what that crystal is?"

    His eyes went to the closed door of his study before they refocused on me. "That''s the Demiurge''s domain. All I know is that it is a finicky artefact that gives us a great degree of control and reach when working with arcanophany."

    It was impossible to tell if he was giving me a sincere, honest answer. Regardless, he had given me something to think about. I realised, after he had pointed it out, that I had indeed relied very much on the sensation of the carapace around me whenever I wanted to influence the ambient arcana.

    "Is there anything else you need to ask?"

    "No, I think that''s all," I said, getting to my feet and extending a hand. He rose and shook it. "Thank you for your time, Marcus."

    "Rest well, work hard, and come back ready for more, Caden," Kant said, smiling warmly. "You''re one of the most promising students I''ve had in a while, and with a little polish you can easily be one of the top thaumaturgists in the Empire."

    That was the most effusive bit of praise I had ever heard Kant give anyone, and it made me wonder what he might say of Emilia. I grinned, thanked him again, and returned to the dorm.

    Jerric was sitting in the common area with notes and books strewn all over the table. He gestured for me to join him. "Caden, I think I''m ready. Just sorting through all this stuff, and I can brief the rest when they''re back."

    "The lake augera?" I asked, glancing at some of the papers. I plucked out what looked like a simple but accurate top-down sketch of the lake and its environs, and scrutinised the annotations Jerric had made about the topography. "What''s this for?"

    "Well, I was thinking about why my call only seems to work by the lake. It only makes sense if there''s something about the flow of arcana in the space that can account for that, otherwise, I should be able to call to that augera from anywhere in the area, or even here in the Academy. So I did some digging into the... streams, I guess, of arcana. Like how the Spires divert or manipulate its flow, what kinds of patterns work in the arrangement of Spires, how they decide where to place them, how even the geography affects it, and why. And I''m thinking that right here, in the... sort of like, the ''shadow'' cast by the Spire in the stream of arcana, there''s an accidental spot that funnels these calls and naturally amplifies them."

    I wasn''t that familiar with the underlying principles, but I remembered skimming something like that in our initial trawl of the library when researching augera. Jerric''s work was thorough, and it looked accurate. "I''m going to have to take your word for it for now, unless we''ve got time for me to review these."

    He grinned. "Take my word for it. But what I wanted to show you first is this bit." He rummaged through the papers and extracted another sketch, this time capturing the Academy itself in its sweep as well. He pointed at the annotations and shapes he had drawn around the Spire.

    "So, we know arcanophany leaves traces, marks, echoes. Well, ever since Kevan ensorceled us and gave us a deeper connection to the augera, I''ve been able to sort of trace some of these things with more clarity. And I realised the Spire is outputting something all the time, but it doesn''t all go into the wards on the walls. Some of it goes to the arena, which makes sense. But I was just mapping things out, and I realised... it''shiding things. In the Academy itself."

    "Uh..."

    "I think there are whole buildings hidden right beneath our noses, Caden. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the echoes seem to suggest that the Spire is shieldingbuildings from sight, somehow."

    "Yeah, I can confirm that," I said, smiling wryly. "I''ve tried telling you guys before, but it''s like you just can''t even focus long enough to talk about it. I can see the buildings. And it''s doing more than just making them invisible. It''s messing with our perception of distance and time so you don''t even notice the empty space, and you can''t even focus long enough to really talk about it. I guess the connection to the augera has sort of lifted that veil a little."

    "What?" He looked stunned, but after a moment he recovered and did a small fist-pump. "I knew it. I thought I was crazy at first, but there was no other explanation for these weird echoes."

    "So... how does this figure into our plans? With all the other stuff going on, honestly, the empty buildings were the least of my worries," I told him.

    He pursed his lips. "You''re right. Lake augera first, then empty buildings later. When the rest get back, I''ll share my plan, and we''ll see what we can learn about the lake augera."

 54. Darkness Incarnate

    The darkness of midnight seemed to press in on the globe lights that lined the path. Snow materialised out of the gloom, lightly dusting the grounds. Ensconced as we were in our thin shields, each accompanied with a mote of arcanic fire, the seven of us were protected from the cold. I was relieved to learn that snow melted upon contact with our shields, leaving a faint smell that vaguely resembled petrichor. It was a novel scent, and it reminded me of how I could identify a flavour-vein-echo with my arcanic sense.

    "Do you guys smell that?" I found myself whispering, not wanting to disturb the sleepy quietness.

    "Yeah," Devon answered in a low voice. "And for the record, I object to doing this so late at night."

    "Yes, the records note another objection. What''s the count now? I lost track after ten," I said, rolling my eyes. There was a slight chuckle from Jerric at that. "Anyway, has anyone else ever noticed that smell before?"

    "No. Does it matter?" Devon shot back a little irritably. "It''s snow on the shields."

    "Or maybe it''s the arcanic fire," Jerric mused.

    "Or maybe we''re all smelling things because it''s late and we''re tired."

    "Yeah, we''re all tired," Kevan cut in wearily, "but Jerric''s right. We should keep the variables the same as much as possible. He''s always done this at night, so we''re doing it at night too. If this checks out, we can try again when it''s day."

    We were passing the Spire now. Tonight, it seemed more alive than ever before. It was crazy how little we noticed its presence in our earliest days in the Academy. The structure quite literally dwarfed the other buildings, and even without our connection to the augera within, its physical presence was intimidating. Our hushed whispers gave way to meek silence, and only the soft shuffle of our footsteps on the path marked our passage. We crept around the Spire, and it seemed to stir a little like a beast being roused from slumber. But then the feeling of being watched passed, as if it had decided that we were not worth waking up for.

    None of us spoke again until we finally reached the hidden door. Jerric performed his trick with the Minor Control Sphere, though Ambrose and Emilia lingered a little when we crossed the threshold.

    "What is it?" I asked them.

    "Nothing," Ambrose answered, just as Emilia muttered, "Weird."

    That got everyone''s attention. The rest, who had gone on ahead a little, turned to look. I raised an eyebrow at Ambrose.

    He hesitated and glanced at Emilia. "I felt... it felt like..."

    "Like you were being held back?" Emilia asked him, frowning. "Because I felt that too."

    Ambrose nodded, shooting a concerned glance back at the door. "And I think it was the augera. But it wasn''t trying to stop me. It felt more like a warning."

    "Did the rest of you feel that?" Emilia, to her credit, did not seem worried. I could almost sense the furious computation that was happening in her head as she pulled together various theories and bits of data to make sense of what had just happened. But no one else had felt anything.

    "It makes sense for you to feel something," she began, addressing Ambrose. "As the Chosen One, it has a special plan for you. But why me, too, and not the rest?"

    "If you are the one brought close, then you have a bigger role than the rest of us," Jerric pointed out. "Whoever holds that position seems to be marked for something more than the others."

    "Maybe the two of you are in greater danger than the rest of us," Lynus offered. "But it didn''t stop you, so that''s a good sign?"

    "We''ll drive ourselves crazy speculating what the augera wants," I said firmly. "Let''s stick to our course. We''ve got an experiment to run."

    "This isn''t creepy at all," Devon commented dryly. "Let''s just pretend nothing''s wrong and keep going."

    "No, Caden is right." Emilia stepped past the rest and continued down the path, conjuring a globe light now that we were beyond the wall and there was no more illumination. "And as Lynus said, if the augera wanted to stop us, it would have. It warned us. We are duly warned. We move on."

    "You sure she''s not the Chosen One, taking the lead?" Lynus asked jokingly, nudging Ambrose as he followed after her. Ambrose rolled his eyes and elbowed him right back.

    We dialled up the brightness of our globe lights the further we got from the wall. I had long since grown out of any fear of the dark, but I did feel a little safer when we could see more of what was around us, and apparently, the rest shared the same sentiment. With a little adjustment, we could get our globe lights to shed a more diffuse glow so that it didn''t cast hard shadows across the scene. Together, we formed our own little patch of day.

    The dark water of the lake bled into our isle of light as we got to the edge. Something did not feel right about it.

    "Why is the water black?" Devon whispered.

    That was it. There was a gentle bank and there was enough light that we should have been able to see a little of what was underwater, but the surface of the water defied illumination, and nothing was reflected in its mirror-smooth surface. We were standing at the edge of a void.

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    Suddenly, Ambrose commanded sharply, "Back off!" We obeyed without question, stopping about ten paces away from the water''s edge.

    "What is it?" Kevan asked, positioning himself just slightly in front of Emilia, ready for trouble.

    "Jerric''s theory is that the lake augera, being wild, adjusts to our frames of reference. That''s why it appears as his mother," Ambrose said slowly, his eyes still fixed on the water.

    "Yes, that''s why we''re all here, to see if it becomes something different to other people," Devon said, looking just about ready to bolt. "What''s your point?"

    "You think it''s already here," I surmised, eyeing the black water. "But no one called to it."

    "We''re assuming it needs to be called." Ambrose motioned for all of us to take a few more steps back.

    But I felt nothing in the air. My arcanic senses picked up noflavour-vein-echo of anything at all. And I was certain that I would have felt the lake augera''s presence since I had met it once before with Jerric.

    "Well, nothing bad has happened yet, so let''s start," Jerric said, trying to sound confident. "Everyone, get together. Caden, are you ready?"

    I nodded and brought up the same ''arcanic mirror'' pattern that I had employed to hide Jerric and myself from the lake augera, but this time it enclosed the six of us, leaving him on the other side. There was no single figure for me to orient it towards, so I simply placed it between ourselves and the lake.

    There was no shift in the air. The lake remained impenetrably black. Jerric roused his auric-ambient-flare to call out into the arcana.

    ''Mother?''

    She did not materialise out over the water. I felt acoiling in the fabric of the arcana around us like it was being pulled sharply together, and then she was right in the middle of the six of us.

    "SHIT!" someone yelled as we were, all six of us, blown off our feet by a wave of force. Desperately, I wrapped myself in as dense a weave of arcana as I could, using the sequence that Emilia had taught us; the same one she had employed in her defence against Ambrose in their last duel. It absorbed most of the impact as I crashed to the cold earth, but I still felt winded.

    In the few seconds that it took me to reorient myself and get my feet under me, I could sense more dense knots forming in the arcana. I looked up, expecting to see more phantasms, but only the shadow of Jerric''s mother stood at the centre, and she was slowly walking towards Jerric. To my horror, I realised that someone had landed in the water and was thrashing about.

    ''No, no, no, no, no!''I heard Lynus babbling into the arcana somewhere to my left, but I darted towards the lake to help whoever it was in there. Even as I ran, I formed the sequences in my head around the glyph of transmutation that would allow me to grab things with arcana alone. It wasn''t something that could be done easily over a long distance, and the heavier an object was the harder it would be to accomplish this, but entering the water did not seem wise.

    Behind me, I heard the dull throb of arcana being thrown about. I recognised the flavour of heavy arcanic bolts from Kevan, the crackle of something complex by Emilia, the sharp scent of Ambrose''s focus on a sequence of almost alien design.

    So that meant the figure in the water was Devon. There was no room for finesse and no point in hiding physical gestures against a being of pure arcana. My hand shot out in a grasping motion as I desperately tried to get a hold of him, but he slipped beneath the water without leaving so much as a ripple.

    "NO!"The cry forced itself out of my throat and also bled into the arcana. I could not reach him beneath the water with my arcanic hand. It was like an impenetrable barrier.

    That desperation triggered a memory when I couldn''t physically reach Kevan through the arena barrier to ensorcel him. ''With auric-ambient-flare! Not with hand!''the augera had admonished me.

    Not with hand. My auric-ambient-flare is not a hand. I drew myself up, seeing, in my mind''s eye, Reeves'' hand as it gestured as he tuned the weight of his ensorcelment in the lecture hall. It is not a wave. It is not a pulse. It is not a heartbeat. It is a LIGHT.

    It seemed so obvious before, but with that realisation, I understood more fully that deep concept of personal arcana. Myauric-ambient-flareilluminated the space, and my arcanic sense could finally penetrate the darkness of the water, even if my eyes couldn''t. The lake''s water dimmed my arcanic sense a little, but I turned up myauric-ambient-flare''s brightness until I caught Devon in the warm glow of its illumination. And with that, I planted my feet, instinctively reaching out with both hands even as I grasped him firmly with my arcana, and yanked him right out of the water onto the cold bank.

    He came out spluttering and choking. But before I could even pull him to his feet, a perturbation in the water distracted me. Something shifted in the depths, roused by my illumination. It was like a massive eye had opened, and the intensity of its gaze pinned me in place. Devon must''ve sensed it too because he gave an inarticulate cry of horror and started blindly hurling arcanic bolts at it.

    Despite the situation, I felt a swell of pride because I sensed that he was manifesting those bolts within the water itself, and not directly from his body. It seemed that he had figured out how to attune to the arcana on some level. Even the nature of his bolts was different бк not hardened to cause physical damage, but empowered as a purely arcanic construct so that it slipped through the water with barely any resistance.

    However, those bolts were casually batted aside by the entity in the water, creating little eddies in the arcana that were violent enough to send up a few eruptions on the surface of the water. I desperately attempted the mirror trick again to hide us from it, but this time the malice in its gaze smashed those constructs to pieces, and I felt contempt radiate from it even as it roused itself and came closer to the surface and to the bank.

    Further up the bank, the others were engaged in a titanic struggle with whatever had loosed itself upon Lynus. Jerric was locked in some private battle with the figure of his mother, which had seized his hand and was frozen in the act of pulling him away from the lake.

    But there was no time to even worry about them now. The entity in the water was approaching with increasing speed. I half-dragged a sopping Devon away even as I laid one heavy barrier after another in our wake just to soften the awful weight of the entity''s scrutiny so that we could move.

    "I knew it," Devon was gasping, barely coherent, "bad idea, at night, worst idea, always the darkness, always!"

    "Stay with me!" I heaved him up. "We''re getting out of here, so help me, damnit!"

    He continued to mutter distractedly as we stumbled up the bank towards the rest, but he did start stitching together my barriers and patching them as best as he could even as the entity''s gaze wore them down.

    But we were too slow, and it was too fast. The entity breached the surface. In horrified fascination, we turned to stare up at it as it loomed over the lake, our globe lights marking it out as a yawning void that swallowed up the night. Even the frantic activity from the others stopped for one brief moment.

    And then it lunged.

 55. Collapse

    My barriers scattered like dead leaves as the void closed in on us. In my desperation, I dug deep and lashed out, flooding the night sky with Emilia''s beam sequence. Cries of alarm on all sides were drowned out by the keening of the arcana being poured into the beam, which was larger and more intense than anything we had ever made use of so far. I was barely managing to keep it together as a coherent sequence, and it was dangerously close to falling apart.

    Suddenly, I was violently yanked sideways. Devon had gathered a burst of arcana under his feet and wrapped his arms around me before launching the both of us out of the path of the incoming void. My beam stuttered out and died, and as far as I could tell, my beam hadn''t inflicted any damage at all. An instant after that, the void creature swallowed up the spot where we had been standing.

    Slightly bruised and scratched, we scrambled to our feet. Beyond the immediate threat right in front of us, I had a moment to take in more of what was happening. Lynus had inky tendrils of the void wrapped around him, and these were slowly spreading across him, turning him into a dark blot in the fabric of reality. Ambrose, Emilia, and Kevan were frantically trying to peel it off. Jerric seemed to be faring better; he had managed to break the grip that the phantasm of his mother had on him, and was now keeping the thing at bay with a shimmering dome of light.

    I had no idea what sequence he had used for that, but I tried to replicate what I felt through my arcanic sense. It was like a warm summer day, and there was the flavour-vein-echo of his auric-ambient-flare threaded through its foundations. At its most basic level, it seemed like he had simply amplified the ensorcelment protection sequence, and added a dash of emotion to bolster the effect.

    This wasn''t the time for a traditional, limited dome shield, though. I concentrated as hard as I could on the concept of my auric-ambient-flare being an all-encompassing light, and I suffused it with the warmth borrowed from Jerric.

    The void was not repelled by my attempt, but whenever my arcana came into contact with it, it seemed to pause and simmer a little. Heartened by this reprieve, Devon laid down some heavy barriers between us.

    But a tendril of the void lashed out, whip-like, cracking against the protections he had raised. Devon screamed in pain, clutching his head, and his globe light winked out of existence as he sank to his knees. As if it sensed weakness, more tendrils snaked out of the void, leaving trails of nothingness on the ground like expanding cracks in the surface of reality. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to move just a shade slower as it pushed against my light.

    For the second time in several seconds, the air was knocked out of my lungs again. Ambrose and Emilia had launched themselves across the intervening distance and brought us out of harm''s way. Both were covered in a dense weave of arcana, and some of it had coalesced around Devon and me to protect us from the violence of their intervention. The tendrils suddenly snaked forward and stabbed into the ground, missing us by mere inches.

    "Regroup further up," Ambrose ordered, his voice tense, with a certain steel in it that I had never heard before.

    Devon and I needed no further urging as we quickly retreated. I saw Kevan was already a little ahead of us, supporting a pale and haggard Lynus who was thankfully whole and seemingly unharmed. Jerric was next to them, having somehow extricated himself from the phantasm of his mother, who was nowhere to be seen. He was laying down an intricate set of glyphs, fitting them into the structure of my mirror set-up.

    As we stumbled behind the protections that Jerric had established, I turned to look at the state of the field. The void-thing had claimed more of the bank, splitting the ground up into little islands that seemed to drift in a sea of nothingness that throbbed a little, like the heartbeat of some unfathomably large creature.

    Ambrose and Emilia hadn''t retreated. They were only a few paces away from the tendrils, but both were suffusing the air with warmth and light out of their own auric-ambient-flares, and keeping the void at bay.

    "Caden," Ambrose called, not taking his eyes off the void, "come and help us."

    "What?" Devon''s voice had a hysterical edge to it, and I didn''t blame him. "What the hell are you two still doing there? Get back!"

    "No," Emilia said curtly, her eyes also fixed on the threat before us, "I think we have it. We need Caden. The rest of you, stay with Jerric."

    Reluctantly, I crossed the threshold of Jerric''s protections and cautiously drew closer to Ambrose and Emilia, adding the radiance of my auric-ambient-flare to theirs. I realised, for the first time, that mine was somehow more. It wasn''t brighter, but it was somehow richer, fuller, as though it held more ''substance'' in its light.

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    "You understand," Emilia said simply, glancing at me. "More than we do."

    Ambrose nodded. "Between the three of us, I think we have it contained for now. We can do the second part of our test."

    "You mean testing to see if it becomes something different?" I asked, gesturing helplessly at the impossible scene before us бк patches of earth separated by something even more profoundly unsettling than the darkness between the stars.

    "Yes." I marvelled at how calm Emilia was in the face of all this. "Somehow, you understand more. You... you see it more fully. Present yourself to it, and let us see what form it takes."

    I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath through my nose, and let it out slowly. I wasn''t supposed to be the next person. I hadn''t been able to really explain why, but I had told the rest that my exposure to the augera in the Spire had given me some understanding of what its true nature was, and it might be dangerous to unveil it fully. We were hoping to have the chance to present the others to it one at a time to see what form it took before deciding if I would have a crack at it, but that had turned out rather catastrophically. Lynus, Kevan, and Devon were ensconced behind Jerric''s mirror-barrier, which was probably what allowed the rest of us to temporarily placate this wild augera. So now it was down to me.

    Jerric had called it ''mother'', and that sealed its shape for him. Devon must have had some deep-seated conception of it that gave it this shadow-form. Maybe it was him and Lynus together, who somehow had a similar enough idea. And maybe that was what had drawn it out even before we had called to it бк a visceral fear that made it coalesce and act accordingly, just like how Jerric''s visceral pain had first summoned it to save him.

    So this inky blackness was a fantastical form that was not rooted in reality. Emilia and Ambrose, who probably had more disciplined minds, were able to hold it at bay. But out of all of us, I was closest to the truth.

    A thrill of fear rose within me. If I was right, we were about to see the pure form of an augera.

    I drew in another deep breath, thinking back to my last conversation with the augera in the Spire, and this time when I exhaled, I spoke into the arcana.

    ''Raw-boundless-tempest, part of wellspring-ocean-core,'' I sent, concentrating hard and trying to accurately thread those concepts through my arcanic voice, ''please... come... settle... listen.''

    The world exploded into a frenzy of activity. My arcanic sense was overwhelmed by a storm of sensations that I could scarcely comprehend. The void tendrils retreated into the water, but their absence was somehow even worse because it provided more space for the THING to occupy, and it weighed down on all of us like the hand of a god. Jerric''s protections fell apart like spun sugar, and Ambrose, Emilia and I found our auric-ambient-flares being smothered.

    ''UNCHOSEN-SIGHTED-{~?~},'' it boomed. I could have sworn the world trembled even though it made no sound.

    ''Wait, please, less... less power,'' I gasped back, conveying the sensation of how the augera in the Spire had reined itself in a little. Incredibly, I sensed the lake augera shrink a little, and the night air felt less dense. There was a long silence, but I felt it gently press on me, almost tentatively. It was studying me.

    ''With Chosen-Blinded-Jailer and Six-Chained-Foundations,'' the lake augera said, its voice now a much gentler whisper. ''The woven-shackled-stream has done well.''

    It was surprisingly articulate and intelligible. But before I could remark on this, it cut in. ''Raw-boundless-tempest is wrong. Raw-boundless-tempest must not be sought. Even unchosen-sighted-{~?~} will be unravelled by raw-boundless-tempest.''

    ''Wait... aren''t you a raw-boundless-tempest?''

    ''Yes.''

    ''Then... what do you mean?''

    ''Raw-boundless-tempest is a great aspect, a dangerous aspect. Call us drifting-pool-channel.''

    ''... Are those the same? What is an aspect?''

    Inexplicably, I felt a wave of glee and amusement wash forth from the being. ''So little they teach, though great the Academy. Woven-shackled-stream is raw-boundless-tempest given a new aspect by the knot-link-anchor. Drifting-pool-channel is raw-boundless-tempest when soft, when gentle, when touching mortals. Be careful which aspect you call.''

    This was a lot to take in. I stared at the rest, who were looking at me with varying degrees of comprehension. I wasn''t sure how much of this conversation they were able to follow, both conceptually and also literally through their arcanic senses, since we were all at different stages of development and sensitivity.

    ''Did you... did you make me?'' I asked it, finding it difficult to properly articulate that concept.

    ''Yes. No. Caden is mortal name. Aspects many. Unchosen. Sighted. {~?~}. These are aspects woven by life, by chance, by design. Aspects are links. Links, woven together, can be chains that bind and enslave, or that strengthen and secure.''

    ''That... that third link. What is {~?~}? Why can''t I... hear it? Understand it? Think it?''

    ''{~?~} is not an aspect with a mortal name. It is an aspect that only the augera have a name for. Perhaps you will name it, as augera was named. Perhaps you will not.''

    ''Did you give me this aspect?''

    A wave of impatience. ''No. It is chance. It is woven-shackled-stream scheme. It is raw-boundless-tempest hope. It is wellspring-ocean-core dream. It is yours.''

    "It is time for you to stop stepping so far beyond the pale," Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell said, snapping us all out of our reverie as he stepped from thin air next to me.

    The lake augera recoiled, and all around us, the world tipped sideways.

 56. Unexplained Intervention

    We were all seized with the sensation of falling, of losing our balance. The Demiurge pointed his staff at the lake, and the air became charged with power. His hair and robes drifted lazily, and waves of arcana pouring off him distorted the air, giving the illusion that he was underwater. I had the impression of something massive attempting to flee from him бк the lake augera, whose form I still couldn''t discern бк but then the world kept on tipping until we were on the ground, and we couldn''t tip any further, but it still continued tipping... until everything, everything slid out of focus.

    Incomprehension.

    Utter incomprehension.

    Reality stretched and warped, and all my senses were desperately trying to stitch together something that gave meaning to what was happening around me. I was being buffeted by freezing wind, but also found myself suffocating under an oppressive, humid warmth like the worst summer day. My ears thundered with blood, and yet I could somehow hear a babble of unintelligible voices. The night sky, which was now beneath me as I desperately clung to the earth above, opened up into a dazzling profusion of colours that bled into our eyes, casting the scene in brilliant shades that defied nature and reason. Before us, the entire lake seemed to be retreating into the horizon before spiralling up into the heavens, like an accidental stroke of an artist''s brush.

    As I pressed myself onto the ground, the earth rippled at my touch. I could trace the waves as they lapped against my friends, and also taste the fear and confusion as the ripples of their own collapsing psyches reached me too. Our emotions ran like water, forming little eddies that mixed and blended together into terrifying new shades and flavours of abject horror as we were mercilessly dashed against the jagged surface of the unknown.

    The surface of the unknown. Because despite how overwhelming all of this was, some fragment of my mind managed to process the fact that we were, even now, only drowning on the surface. In the directionless chaos, this realisation was like a breath of air. I seized upon it and realised this was my arcanic sense, managing to give me one lifeline of understanding so that I didn''t vanish utterly into unthinking madness.

    As I clung on to that one sensation like a drowning man, I realised that even as we were choking on the surface, below us lay even greater depths of incomprehension. I was floundering in the waves of a vast ocean and had just dipped my head into the water to stare into the lightless abyss. A sense of doom closed its fist around my very soul as, dimly, I became aware of how completely insignificant I was in the face of such profound mystery.

    The longer I stared, the greater that weight on my soul. But this was the only thing that gave me something to orientate to. My arcanic sense was telling me that I was on the ''surface'', and so even as the world fell apart around me and the rest of my physical senses failed, I melted into the arcana бк the only familiar thing left бк and dived.

    I was not alone here, beneath the surface. Now that I had plunged into it, I realised that the ocean of arcana was not empty like it initially appeared. Hints of other movements and entities pressed in on me, and it took a great deal of effort to try and make sense of what I was ''seeing''. The Demiurge, the white-bright-power, was here, like a beacon in the darkness. But he was not a dim, vague collection of concepts. In the ocean of arcana, he was a whirling mass of intent, his thoughts like a swarming shoal of fish, except here the fish could somehow direct streams of water and change the currents.

    The Spire augera, the woven-shackled-stream, was here, too, but instead of being a beacon that provided direction and stability, it was a blazing furnace, that threatened to scorch anything that came too near, unbearably intense with power and fury. The white-bright-power was flitting all around it, siphoning off little eddies of power and using it to mould the ocean of arcana.

    A lot of that moulded power was subsequently being channelled at another entity. It was the lake augera, the raw-boundless-tempest. Turning my arcanic sense upon it here gave me a better appreciation of what it had just told me бк that calling upon it in that form was dangerous. Where the woven-shackled-stream was a furnace of seething anger, bound in place, this was a river of magma. It flowed according to its own inscrutable purpose, and its unbridled power incinerated anything that approached too carelessly, not out of malice, but simply as a consequence of its nature.

    And it was running from the Demiurge?

    Whatever the Demiurge was doing, it was causing the great river of magma to rapidly retreat. But that was baffling because it didn''t even look like the Demiurge''s efforts were making contact with the raw-boundless-tempest. It wasn''t being beaten back at all.

    Distance meant little or nothing here, but I understood, as I continued staring at the stream of power that the Demiurge was directing at the retreating raw-boundless-tempest, that I was getting far too close to it. I frantically tried to back away, but I had no idea how. A dim awareness of my body told me I was flailing my arms and legs uselessly, even as my consciousness was drawn deeper into that stream of power lancing out from the Demiurge''s staff.

    The white-bright-power shifted his attention to me. I was suddenly swarmed by his shoal of intent, and in the next instant, I found myself shooting upright with a gasp, taking in the crisp air of a wintery night and seeing the reflection of the moon on the calm surface of the lake. All around me, the others were snapping back to reality. Devon let out a horrifying shriek, then dissolved into sobs. Lynus was gently rocking himself back and forth, murmuring to himself. Jerric, on all fours, was alternating between retching and weeping. Emilia was quiet as she sat on her haunches and stared out across the lake, wide-eyed, her breathing laboured. Next to her, Kevan was on his back, laughing hysterically in a way that sent chills up my spine.

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    Ambrose was the only one on his feet. He was staring out across the lake, too, but the expression on his face was not one of incomprehension or confusion. He looked fascinated, amazed... maybe even hungry.

    I tried to get up, but a wave of nausea washed over me and I emptied my stomach onto the cold ground. Somehow, this was comforting. It was almost exquisitely pleasurable to be able to feel my body again, even in the agony of throwing up.

    The Demiurge went to each of my friends who were still incapacitated, his manner brisk and efficient as he tapped them once with the staff. In my state of hypersensitivity, having just emerged from a ''dive'' into the arcana, I tasted the power wafting off the staff from this simple gesture. But its intricacies were beyond me, and I couldn''t understand the nature of this weaving. Its effect, though, was immediate. One by one, they sank to the ground unconscious, a look of relief and calm on their faces.

    It was just Ambrose and me, now. The Demiurge came to stand over me. I managed to sit up, though the world twisted dizzyingly around me as I looked up at him.

    "No," I croaked, weakly lifting a hand in protest as he moved to tap me with his staff.

    The staff tip hovered inches from my face as he paused. His grey eyes flicked over me, but I also sensed something brushing against my auric-ambient-flare. It reminded me of how I had been examined by the lake augera.

    "Impressive, Caden," he murmured, looking more serious than I had ever seen him before. "A lesser mind would have broken."

    "The others... broken?" It was hard to speak. My throat felt raw, and my voice was something strange and unfamiliar to my own ears.

    "Nearly. Very nearly. You saved them by your very presence, even if you didn''t mean to. They sensed what you did in order to orientate yourself, and they followed suit."

    "Didn''t stop us... why?"

    He smiled sadly. "Their threads all lead here, to this lake. I am no friend to Fate, but as I am, I cannot go against it. But you, Caden, your thread was not counted in the stitching. You didn''t have to be here. But you were, and now the tapestry is not exactly as it was meant to be. You should count this as a win for yourself, and for your plans."

    Ambrose was still standing off to the side, so deep in thought that I wondered if he had even caught a word of my conversation with the Demiurge.

    "Ambrose... how?"

    "He''s not all back yet," the Demiurge said, nodding at the lake. "He was a little slower than you in developing his arcanic sense, but I''d say that by now he''s caught up and even pulled ahead."

    "Fighting... the augera?"

    "No. Just watching. Seeing it for what it really is."

    "You... chased it off? How? Why?"

    "Chased?" he raised an eyebrow at me, opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to reconsider. "You are not all well. There will be time for a talk before you all go back for the winter break."

    Before I could protest any further, he touched the tip of his staff to my forehead.

    The milky-white orb grinned at me. I felt the carapace around me open up in answer to a command from it, and the Spire''s augera reached in and enveloped my auric-ambient-flare in a soothing bath of peace and dreams.

    <hr>

    Between waking and sleeping, I drifted in the arcana. Distantly, I could feel the woven-shackled-stream stitching something around me, and even in me, bringing tangled or frayed threads together and gently fusing them again. As it worked, it seemed to hum with glee.

    ''Unchosen-sighted-{~?~} has met with raw-boundless-tempest.''

    ''Yes... yes I have.''

    ''Was not part of Creating-Selecting-Chain for fated five and Chosen-Blinded-Jailer to meet raw-boundless-tempest. Not so early. ''

    ''They... they''re meant to meet eventually?''

    ''Chosen-Blinded-Jailer must meet. Fated five, optional. But never so soon. {~?~} has forced the threads. They tangle.'' It hummed even more, sending pleasant vibrations through me.

    ''I had no idea. But we all nearly went mad. I''m not sure if everyone''s still whole. Why are you happy?'' I wanted to muster some sort of anger at how it appeared to delight in our pain, but I felt strangely disconnected from everything, too distant to really care enough to be angry.

    ''Must not twist mind,'' the augera admonished. It tugged at some threads, and I felt a twinge of discomfort in my being. ''Think softly, or risk breaking.''

    I quietened, feeling quite keenly aware of how fragile I was in its hands. After a few moments бк or some indeterminate length of time, it was really hard to tell бк it spoke again.

    ''Creating-Selecting-Chain has met no challenge since creation. Caden comes. Unchosen, so ancient-distant-spiders do not care about Caden. Sighted, so Caden can see from the shadows of anonymity. And {~?~}, so Caden can do what everyone can, or what no one can, or nothing. Woven-shackled-stream worried that Caden would do nothing. But now... not nothing. It is... exciting. It makes us hopeful.''

    ''The Fateweavers still don''t know what''s happening?''

    ''Now, with tangled threads, maybe they know they must look closer. But ancient-distant-spiders cannot always see all. Webs are vast. Spiders are vaster, and distant, to have whole web in vision. Do you notice all the ants, though you step over the grass?''

    That was both heartening and terrifying because even if it took a while for them to really find the root of their new problems, the imagery offered was clear бк if they found me, I was nothing more than an ant that could be squashed.

    ''So Ambrose and the others met the raw-boundless-tempest sooner than planned. How does this help?''

    The augera grinned at me again, and this time when it spoke, its voice sounded like an echo of mine. ''...even the least-remembered moment has its part in shaping our fate. One seemingly inconsequential moment can change a life, and one seemingly inconsequential life can alter the course of history.''

    ''... that''s... what I wrote in my entrance essay.''

    ''Meeting raw-boundless-tempest early may help, may not help. But it is different. It is not in Creating-Selecting-Chain. Thus, it alters. For good, for bad... who knows? Sleep now, {~?~}, and may you have many more inconsequential moments.''

 57. Sketching Futures

    Later, none of us could remember much about what had happened after the Demiurge arrived on the scene. We woke in our own beds. Emilia came over in the morning, as was her custom in recent days, and we tried to go over the events.

    Ambrose was tight-lipped about what he had seen, and Emilia had such a haunted look every time the subject came up that no one dared press her for details. I shared as much as I could reliably recall but thinking back to those moments in the arcana brought on a sense of great vertigo, or something akin to it, and it was hard for me to usefully articulate anything.

    We weren''t much use for the rest of the day. Harrowed by the events of the night before, we mostly lay in bed (or the couch, in Emilia''s case), bone-weary and listless. Devon kept us fed and watered and, feeling worried for him, I tried to help as much as I could and get a sense of his mental state, but he quietly sidestepped any attempts to talk about how he was. It was clear his mind was a thousand miles away as he went through the familiar motions of preparing food.

    Emilia did not return to her dorm that night. The mood lifted ever-so-slightly when, with a perfectly straight face, she had asked if she could share the bed with Kevan. Red-faced, his response was lost in spluttering and stammering, and she had cracked a rare smile to show that she had been joking. She slept on our couch in the common room, and Kevan rustled up an extra pillow and blanket for her.

    Some time in the middle of the night, I heard crying. It sounded like it was coming not just from the common room where Emilia was, but also through the wall that Ambrose and I shared with Jerric and Devon.

    I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening. "Ambrose?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Why aren''t you as affected by what happened?" I turned my head to look at him.

    His eyes glinted in the moonlight coming through our window as he rolled over in his bed to face me, not a trace of sleep in them. "Why aren''t you?"

    "Because..." I thought back to that moment of orientation, of recognising the existence of asurface, and realising it was possible to dive into the arcana, whatever that meant. It was all so metaphorical. "Because it made a little bit of sense."

    "That''s why, then," he said softly. "It made sense to me, too."

    "Itbarely made a little bit of sense," I clarified. "And I think it''s to do with how much I''ve been in contact with the Spire augera, and because it freed me from prophetic links. So... how have you made sense of..." I gestured vaguely to indicate the entire scope of what we were discussing, which I had no words for.

    "Well... you''ve spoken to the Spire augera a couple of times. But after you ensorceled me, I was out in the infirmary for a while remember?"

    "Two weeks," I nodded, recalling the scattering of words he had murmured in his sleep, painstakingly compiled by the rest of us whenever we could spare the time to sit by his bed and watch him. It had been impossible for me to glean any useful information about what he and the augera had spoken about.

    "Felt like a lot longer. And it wasn''t just talking. It was showing. It was... being. You know how it communicates. Words are the simplest, thinnest form. When I was under, it was slowly taking me into its world, helping me to get to grips with how it... sees, knows, thinks."

    "That kinda explains why you were out for so long," I muttered. I could scarcely imagine how mind-bending the experience must have been after having had only a glimpse of it when we were by the lake.

    Ambrose shifted and stared up unblinkingly at the ceiling.

    "Before the Demiurge put me under... I saw you," I began hesitantly.

    "Mmhmm?" He did not turn, this time.

    "You were looking out across the lake, where the augera had gone... and you looked... uhm... excited. Happy."Hungry, I wanted to say, but it didn''t seem appropriate somehow.

    There was a long silence between us, made all the more apparent by the sound of crying coming faintly through our door and wall.

    "Happy?" he murmured, turning the word over in his lips a few times, almost like a toddler trying it out for the first time. "Happy... happy... happy? No. I wasn''t happy. I was... I... don''t have a word for it."

    Almost against my will, the word tumbled out of me. "Hungry?"

    "No," he said sharply, turning to face me for a moment before returning his now-alien gaze to the ceiling. "Not that, either. I don''t want that."

    Confusion and concern rose in equal measure. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at him. "Ambrose, are youбк"

    "I''m tired, Caden. Let''s just sleep."

    He rolled over and drew the covers up to his shoulders, and somehow, by that simple act, pulled up an impenetrable wall between us. We were just a few paces away, but he might as well have been on the moon.

    The crying did not stop until I fell asleep.

    <hr>

    It was the morning of our last day in the Academy before the winter break. Some students had opted to return home a little earlier, but most only made plans to leave on the final day the Academy would remain open. By nightfall, it would be empty.

    I got up at 7 as usual and found Devon up even earlier than that. He acknowledged me with a brief nod, looking even more haunted and worn out than the day before, then went about wordlessly making breakfast. I helped him, and together we cranked out a pile of egg sandwiches with only a few brief words to coordinate things.

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    The figure on the couch did not stir, and not wanting to be the first to rouse Emilia, Devon and I simply settled down at the table and ate. Soon enough, though, the rest were up. To our great surprise, Lynus went over to the couch and kicked it, and Kevan emerged with a yelp. Apparently, he had come out some time in the night and slept on the floor next to it, and his sleeping figure had been hidden under the blanket that was draped across both him and Emilia.

    Devon''s lips twitched upwards in the ghost of a smile as a red-faced Kevan hastily took a seat at the table, avoiding everyone''s eyes. Emilia quietly sat next to him, looking perfectly at ease despite the tear-stains on her face. It was clear she didn''t care at all about how she looked, or about what the rest of us thought about the circumstances that led to Kevan keeping her company.

    We ate in silence, and it wasn''t until all the sandwiches were gone that Jerric cleared his throat to get everyone''s attention. His voice was hoarse, but he looked determined. "We need to make plans over the winter break."

    "Plans?" Lynus echoed. "You mean about the Prophecy stuff?"

    "Yes. We need to find more wild augera and get in contact with them. Away from the Demiurge."

    Lynus laughed. "Are you crazy? Did the augera leave you cracked? It''s thanks to him we''re not all glassy-eyed husks or something."

    "No, I''m not crazy," Jerric said, clearly biting down a sharp retort. "We were actually fine. Ambrose, Caden, and Emilia were holding it steady. And Caden was even talking to it. Weren''t you?" He turned to me.

    I nodded slowly. "Kind of. The augera don''t ''talk''. But it was definitely making things simpler for me, and I think I understood most of what it was... ''saying''."

    "Uh huh, and then the world went to shit," Lynus snapped.

    "That was the Demiurge''s doing," I said, cutting across Jerric, who seemed to be very on-edge and combative now. "He... was chasing it away. Or something. Whatever it is, the Demiurge was the one who triggered that whole... whatever it was."

    "He wasn''t chasing it away," Ambrose said softly, and all eyes turned to him. He was looking down, speaking to his knees. "He was trying to capture it."

    "What?" Our collective response was so synchronised it was almost comical.

    "Or... no, not capture. Maybe... bind? Link? Mark? Yes, mark. Mostly mark."

    "What does that mean?" Kevan asked, frowning.

    "Yes, mark," Emilia added softly, drawing surprised looks from the rest of us except Ambrose. She looked thoughtful. "That fits. Doesn''t it, Caden?"

    The question directed the eyes in the room to me. It felt like suddenly having a spotlight on me. But now that Ambrose and Emilia had said it, I realised it did make instinctive sense. And a hazy memory from that night returned to me.

    "Chased?" The Demiurge had asked, raising an eyebrow at me. He opened his mouth to answer, then seemed to reconsider. "You are not at all well..."

    "The lake augera was... afraid of the Demiurge. He wasn''t protecting us from it. He was there to mark it, after we had drawn it out, and it ran away," I said wonderingly.

    Jerric nodded grimly. "That''s what I suspected, even though I didn''t really understand what it was saying to you. Think about it бк even though he''s been kind of helpful, he''s still not exactly completely on our side. He''s kinda like the Spire augera. They''re both working against the Fateweavers, but they''re still bound by the Fateweavers. At the very least, even if he''s not doing this as part of the Prophecy, I think he''s trying to grab a new augera for use in the conflict that''s brewing. Either way, we need to get in touch with wild augera, and the Demiurge is in the way. We can''t make contact with the lake augera again if he''s near. That leaves one other option бк find other wild augera, far from the Academy."

    "Yeah? How do we solve the teleportation problem? What if he just shows up?" Kevan asked, but more in the spirit of discussion rather than challenge.

    "I won''t pretend to know the arcanophany behind how the heck he''s doing something that''s supposed to be impossible, but my working theory is that it involves the Spires. So... if we''re outside of a Spire''s reach, he may not be able to teleport there."

    "Jerric, the whole Empire is in range of a Spire somewhere," I pointed out helplessly.

    "I know." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I may be grasping at straws here, but Ithink it''s something that he can only do within a certain radius of a Spire. Call it a hunch. I was looking at the arcanic flow of the land when trying to figure out how the lake augera can somehow hear us there, and there are patterns to the Spire''s flow. It does weaken with distance, which is obviously why we need multiple Spires to cover the whole Empire in the first place. And theyare all connected. But between them, I''m thinking we''ll have spots with weaker coverage."

    "You want us to go traipsing around the Empire in the middle of winter, looking for wild augera in places as far as we possibly can be from a Spire, which may put us beyond the help of anyone if things go wrong?" Devon asked.

    Jerric gave a wry smile. "Well, when you put it that way... yes."

    "Do we all have to go, or can this just be a Chosen One thing?" Devon continued testily.

    "The choice is yours," I said. Devon snorted, but I forestalled his retort with a raised hand. "I mean it. I spoke with the Spire augera, when it put me under... and it literally told me that the Prophecy has some optional bits to it. One of it is all of you meeting the lake augera. Ambrose was the only one who needed to meet with it. But because of... well... many factors... all of us were there. And that has changed things a little."

    "Free choice, even for us?" Jerric raised an eyebrow. "I''d be really suspicious about that if it had come from anyone else but you, Caden."

    "Come, don''t come," Ambrose murmured, and we all looked to him again. He seemed to have shrunken in on himself. "Doesn''t matter. Your choice. Won''t hold it against you. I... I''m sorry for putting you all through this."

    "You didn''t drag us into this," I said.

    Lynus laughed. "He kinda did. Imagine if he were in another dorm. We''d all be having normal-er lives."

    "It''s not his fault," I retorted sharply. "It''s literally not his fault he''s the Chosen One. The people who do the choosing are to blame. Don''t like what''s happening to all of you? Take it up with the Fateweavers. So you can either mope around and indulge in wishful thinking, and let Fate have its way with you, or you can come along and do something about it."

    "You''re awfully fired up about this," Lynus said, a little taken aback. "I''m notblaming him or anything."

    "... Sorry. I''m just frustrated. And tired of getting all my information from the Demiurge, or the Spire augera. I agree with Jerric. We need to get a proper meeting with a wild augera."

    Jerric coughed. "Ironically... I thought our first step would be to actually ask for his advice."

    I raised an eyebrow.

    "Ask him," Emilia nodded. "Then go where he doesn''t tell us to go."

    "But what if he expects that, and he does some sort of reverse-psychology thing?" I asked.

    "We''ll ask," Jerric clarified, "and thenyou, Caden, will choose where we go."

    Ambrose flexed his fingers as though playing with invisible elastic bands. "Yes. And if I have inclinations to any particular place, we can use that as an additional layer of information when deciding where to go. We may want to avoid places that call out to me."

    The weight of the choice was beginning to settle on me. Ordinarily, I might have backed out, but the Spire augera''s words, quoted straight from my entrance essay, came back to me, even though I was loath to lean on anything it said at this point.

    "Alright," I said with a sigh. "Let''s talk about how we''re gonna do this."

 58. New Aspects

    By midday, we found ourselves standing in the Spire augera''s chamber and looking up at the massive crystalline dodecahedron. The Demiurge himself had been waiting on the steps of the Spire for us, clearly expecting our visit. There was no refusing his invitation to go up to the chamber. It brought me some small measure of comfort to see that he had dispensed with his full arcanist regalia, and was once again dressed in the casual clothes that allowed him to pass off as a senior. Gone, too, was the staff. The incongruence between his humble appearance was at odds with the mystical grandeur of the setting, but it made me feel a little more comfortable, somehow, to see he was able to step away from that awful display of power we had seen by the lake. It humanised him.

    "Well, I think I can guess why you''re all here," he said, gesturing over at the dodecahedron. "I thought we''d talk in its physical presence. It''ll be helpful." He nodded to indicate eight flimsy foldable chairs arranged around a small table that looked like it had been dragged in from the cafeteria, just off to the side. It looked painfully ordinary and out-of-place with the massive crystal floating nearby.

    The rest, with the exception of Ambrose, looked highly bemused by all this. I was getting used to the Demiurge''s ''irreverence'', so I moved to take a seat that allowed me to keep the dodecahedron in my line of sight. Once the rest had settled down, I found myself sitting across the Demiurge. He smiled genially around at all of us but did not speak.

    After an awkward silence, Jerric cleared his throat. "Uh... Demiurge Caldwell, sir... we wanted to thank you for helping us by the lake."

    "Helping you? Not the word I''d have chosen." A slight frown creased his brow and he glanced briefly at Ambrose, Emilia, and me. "Didn''t you three...?"

    "We did," Emilia replied in her usual matter-of-fact deadpan. "He was just trying to be polite. We know you were trying to mark the lake augera, and that it ran away. So we lost the opportunity to properly talk to it. Because of you."

    Devon was seated to the Demiurge''s left, looking ill-at-ease, and he winced at Emilia''s tone. I found myself suppressing a smile despite the seriousness of the moment.

    The Demiurge, for his part, did not seem to take offence. He nodded seriously. "Yes, I was trying to snatch a sample of its essence so that it would be easier to trace it in the future. But it was faster than I anticipated. My fault, actually. I wasted a precious second saying something to Caden just before I made my move."

    I remembered that. Just one sentence before the whole world tipped out of balance: ''It is time for you to stop stepping so far beyond the pale.''

    "What did you mean by that, sir?" I asked.

    "Oh, it''s the kind of thing I''m supposed to say when you turn up where you''re not expected," he said off-handedly. "But that''s not the most important thing we need to talk about for now. You want to ask me something." He directed that last bit at Jerric, suddenly business-like.

    "Y-yes." Jerric faltered for a moment. "We want to ask you why you''re attempting to trace the wild augera. And we also want to know more about the wild augera in general."

    "So you can find them, yes," the Demiurge said, nodding. He ignored the looks of consternation from the rest of us and leaned forward, clearly thinking about how to organise and present information to us. "In brief, I was attempting to trace it because I will need to capture it at a later date. That will be harder for me now, but not impossible. It will simply demand more of my time and attention. As for the wild augera in general... it will help if you summarise for me what you all have already learned so that I can fill in the gaps where necessary."

    Nervous glances were exchanged. In the end, Jerric was the one who took up the narrative. "We understand that the wild augera are some kind of primal force in the arcana. They seem to be quite malleable to frameshifting. But if we manage to get them into their base state, or... what we think is their base state... then they can communicate. But there is more than one... uhm, ''aspect''... to an augera. We need to make contact with a milder aspect so that we''re not overwhelmed by it when trying to communicate."

    The Demiurge nodded approvingly. "A largely accurate representation. You speak of ''aspects'' to an augera. Do you know how to call forth what you call its milder aspect?"

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    "There''s a bundle of concepts," Emilia supplied. "We frame it in our minds and address it through the arcana."

    "Are you all able to do so?" He peered around at all of us. Everyone nodded, but Lynus and Devon looked very uncertain. The Demiurge looked at the two of them in turn. "It is an essential skill. I believe you know the theory, but I would be more comfortable if you have actually done it. Fortunately, we have a tame augera for you to practice on."

    We all looked at the dodecahedron in trepidation. I felt a pulse of indignation emanate from it, likely from being characterised as ''tame'', and I noticed Emilia''s hands tighten around the edge of her seat. It seemed like she had felt that, too.

    "What do you want us to do?" Lynus asked.

    "Talk to it," he said simply, gesturing behind him. "You first, then Devon."

    Lynus made to stand up, but the Demiurge waved him back down. "No, learn to dissociate from the physical when working with arcana. It is not human or even corporeal. There is no need to face it, or look at it." He tapped a finger against his forehead. "You see, hear, smell, and touch arcana not through your senses, but through what you call your mind."

    Being put on the spot like that, especially with the Demiurge looking on, would have made me feel quite nervous, but Lynus seemed to be quite calm and collected. He nodded, taking in the instruction, then closed his eyes and relaxed in his seat.

    ''Hello,'' he sent through the arcana. I felt the augera stir in response.

    ''Bitter-proud-pain fell short against raw-boundless-tempest,'' the augera sneered, radiating venom. Lynus recoiled, and the Demiurge leaned forward a little and put a calming hand on his arm.

    "Relax, Lynus," he said with a surprisingly warm smile. "It''s not wrong, but it''s also not all right. It seems we''ve caught it in a bad mood."

    "I''m just going to be a liability..." Lynus buried his head in his hands, suddenly a lot less calm and collected. It was almost like he was back at the lake.

    The Demiurge shifted in his seat, and I felt him dip into the arcana. ''Raw-boundless-tempest is one aspect, and drifting-pool-channel is another. We are like augera. Bitter-proud-pain is one aspect, but you are more than one aspect, Lynus. Rest easy.''

    I did not know if the Demiurge was privy to Lynus'' past and the intimate details of his life. Even after I learned about Lynus'' ''arcanic name'', or this ''aspect'' of him, I hadn''t ever mustered up the courage to speak of it to him and to ask what had happened. And as far as I knew, this was the first time it was being bandied about to everyone. Would he take kindly to something so private being aired?

    But it seemed to be just what he needed to hear. His breathing calmed, and he looked up with gratitude at the Demiurge. Kevan, too, looked rather affected by what the Demiurge had just said. It reminded me of the thought I had, about whether or not arcanic names could be changed. The Demiurge hadn''t exactly given us the answer, but this was something that was just as important. There was more to our arcanic name. We had more than one aspect.

    And it made sense. After all, tangled-anger-power did not encapsulate everything I had come to see of Kevan. His relationship with Emilia had brought a different side of him into focus, and now I had a way to understand why his arcanic name was not reflective of his more sensitive behaviour towards her.

    And it was making me wonder what other aspects I had to myself, and to the rest of us...

    The Demiurge clapped his hands together, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Alright, Devon. Your turn."

    "Can''t I just direct it at you, sir?" he asked, sounding small.

    "It''d be best if you spoke to the augera, Devon. It''s not the same as speaking to a person."

    To his credit, even though Devon looked extremely apprehensive, it didn''t take him long to step up to the plate. I almost snickered when he gave himself a series of gentle slaps on his cheeks. Jerric gave him an encouraging thumbs up, to which he returned a wry smile before closing his eyes and frowning in deep concentration.

    It was clear that we all felt it the moment he slid into the arcana. Everyone shifted slightly in their seats, and even the Demiurge had a faint look of pleasant surprise on his face. I felt a pleasant wind wash over me, like stepping into the welcome warmth of a cosy room after standing outside in the wintery cold. When he ''spoke'' into the arcana, Devon''s ''voice'' was rich and resonant in a way that I had never heard or felt before.

    ''Hello.''

    The augera seemed to turn with curiosity towards him. ''Warm-skillful-bridge,'' it acknowledged with a sense of grudging respect.

    ''What you said to Lynus... wasn''t very nice. It happened to me, too.''

    ''It is truth. Warm-skillful-bridge should not have fallen so easily. Should have been shelter for fated five. Must not fail like this in future.''

    ''I''ll keep that in mind.'' Even though I could sense the intention to give a tart reply, Devon''s voice mellowed it out considerably. He was truly living up to this part of his aspect.

    "Overall, a success, I think," the Demiurge said, drawing our attention back to the physical realm. He sounded extremely pleased. "Well, you all are sufficiently capable of basic communication with an augera. If a wild one presents itself in an unfavourable aspect, you should be able to call forth its milder form to parlay. But now we must address the other possibility бк that even when you attempt to do so, you may fail, and it may remain unmoved, or even escalate hostilities. You need to know how to survive the storm of confusion you all were almost destroyed by."

    He stood, and walked right up to the dodecahedron. The staff materialised in his hand, and, without warning, he smashed its tip against the crystal.

 59. Navigating the Unknown

    The tip of the Demiurge''s staff penetrated the crystal with a sharp crack that I felt in my bones, and at the same time also simply slid into it with no more effort than dipping a stick into a basin of water. Two very different things happened in the same space, somehow overlapping. Seeing this immediately brought on a splitting headache, and my eyes started watering.

    The horribly familiar sensation of tipping sideways seized me again, and I tumbled out of my chair onto the smooth, black floor. The golden veins that marbled it seemed to throb in time to the pounding of blood in my ears. With my nose pressed right up against it, I could almost read the tiny glyphs that made up the streaks of gold in the floor. And even though I still hadn''t learnt what these specific glyphs were... they somehow made sense.

    Or rather, they were literally making, creating sense. The world around us was not falling to pieces like before. By the lake, reality had come apart at the seams, but now it was only slightly distorted. The world wobbled ever-so-slightly like everything was underwater, but it was still recognisable. Still... stable.

    I gingerly got to my feet and saw that the rest were in a similar state of disorientation. Only Ambrose had managed to stay in his chair, although he was clinging on to it tightly. The rest of us were only just getting up.

    The Demiurge was still standing by the dodecahedron, the tip of his staff embedded in the dodecahedron. I instinctively flinched away from looking at the point where the staff met the crystal. In fact, it was taking a great deal of effort for me to even look in that direction. Besides the twinge of mental pain and confusion that came with trying to look at that impossible sight, there was also a weird repulsive force that made it physically/mentally difficult to focus there, like trying to push two alike poles of magnets together. How the Demiurge was able to stand so close to it was beyond me. He didn''t even seem fazed.

    ''The knot-link-anchor will give us a reference point,'' the Demiurge sent through the arcana. But there was a different quality to that communication now бк it was like we had only ever read his words on paper, but now we were listening to his real voice for the first time. ''I will now teach you the basics of navigating the raw field of arcana that permeates the world.''

    "What did you do?" Emilia called out, shielding her eyes with a hand as she squinted in the direction of the Demiurge.

    ''Agitated the augera. When they are riled, their agitation bleeds into the arcana as well. This was what happened by the lake. If you are not prepared, this wash of chaos can overwhelm and kill you.''

    "But it''s not as bad now," Jerric observed, turning his face away from the dodecahedron and the Demiurge.

    ''The knot-link-anchor is mitigating the effects. Now, our task today is simply to give you the tools to run, not to fight. Under no circumstances must you attempt to take on an augera if it does not wish to be disturbed. You flee, or you die. Is that clear?''

    We nodded warily. I noticed that the rest were in similar states of discomfort, and nobody was capable of looking at the Demiurge for long. I could force myself to fix my eyes on him, but it was like staring at a bright light, albeit one that induced mild nausea and a headache, and I had to look away after only a few seconds.

    "How are we going to do this? We can''t even look at you properly," Lynus said through gritted teeth. He seemed to be struggling a little more than the rest of us, with the exception of Devon, who looked like he was about to empty his stomach over the floor.

    ''Yes, that''s where we''ll start. Right now, you are used to orienting yourself using sight. But you must learn another way to orientate yourself in a space. Remember the lake. There will be nothing useful to look at when a wild augera is perturbing the arcana. If it helps, close your eyes, focus on my voice, and find me here in the arcana.''

    Closing my eyes did little to help. If anything, it made me feel even more disoriented. Trying to turn towards the Demiurge with my eyes closed actually made all the symptoms even worse. Judging by the sound of pained hisses and uncomfortable groans, the rest were faring no better.

    ''Closing your eyes is not an answer. It is a tool. If it does not work, then abandon it. Stare, wide-eyed, at nothing. Your eyes, closed or open, do not matter. Sight does not matter.''

    That was kind of like daydreaming. Opening my eyes while allowing my mind to drift was something that came more easily to me, so I did so and allowed them to slide out of focus. Peripherally, I noted that Devon was staring hard at the floor, but I quickly turned away from him and the rest so that I wouldn''t be distracted by what they were doing.

    ''Sometimes, you sense people passing near you even when you do not see or hear them coming. Imagine that feeling now. You are sightless but aware in the arcana. Look for me.''

    How hard could that be? He was standing right there, just a few paces from us. I blinked and turned, but he was gone. The staff was still embedded in the dodecahedron, but the Demiurge was no longer holding it there.

    ''Not like that, Caden,'' the Demiurge sent, and I felt the weirdest thing бк the phantom sensation of my ear being flicked. It was distinct enough for me to recognise that nothing had touched me physically, but pronounced enough for me to feel.

    Chastised, I slowly eased myself into the arcana, drawing on what I could remember from the lake encounter. The arcana was a body of water, and we were little leaves floating on the surface. I needed to dive, to peek beneath the water and look for the Demiurge.

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    The transition was a lot less overwhelming and mind-breaking than what I had experienced during the lake encounter. Back then, I had found myself flung into a churning ocean of incomprehensible depth. Here, in the augera chamber, safely ensconced within the glyphs and with the presence of the knot-link-anchor, it was more like wading into a river.

    But it was by no means easy. The Spire augera was clearly displeased with being used in this manner, and the river, while less crushingly deep than the ocean, was still in full flow. As soon as I got far enough from the proverbial shore, I found myself being dragged beneath the surface. It took me a moment to steady myself and, for lack of a better analogy, ''tread water''.

    Someone met me beneath the surface. There were no faces here, but I recognised the auric-ambient-flare. ''Good,'' Ambrose sent. ''Let''s see if Emilia can keep up. Then we should help the rest.''

    As with the Demiurge, his voice had a different dimension now. It seemed that here, at this ''depth'' in the arcana, communication was richer.

    ''You''re faster than me, Caden.'' Emilia''s presence drifted up to us just a moment later. Her statement was a complex knot of mild surprise, delight, expectation, and wariness.

    ''Let''s see how the rest are doing, then we can find the Demiurge,'' Ambrose interrupted before I could reply.

    It was immediately apparent that our presence in the arcana was not necessarily tied to our physical bodies. Ambrose, Emilia, and I had to spend a minute to locate where we were in the physical space. Drawing close to my own body was an extremely disconcerting experience because I could feel how the arcana was flowing within that physical space of my body, then flowing out to connect to my consciousness, so that I could ''see'' myself ''looking'' at myself, ''looking'' at myself, ''looking'' at myself...

    ''Caden, don''t.'' Ambrose sounded queasy. ''It will just keep going. Acknowledge it, then slide over it.''

    ''Let''s trace the others.'' Emilia beckoned to us from where she was drifting by Kevan''s physical body. ''We each find one, then... bring them... here. Where the bodies are.''

    Ambrose and I sent our agreement, and he went after Jerric while I went after Devon. The arcanic links were flung far out into the darkness of the arcana. I wondered how the physical space correlated with this arcanic dimension. Our bodies appeared to be fixed locations within this realm... but what would happen if you got lost? Could your consciousness get stuck in a brick? Would finding it be as simple as locating that brick and bringing it close to your physical body?

    After what felt like several long minutes, I found Devon spinning in place, clearly still disoriented. Waves of confusion, terror, and panic were emanating from him, and I felt my own essence being troubled by the perturbations he was putting out.

    ''Devon! Stop, just relax. You are butter, and the arcana is the pan. Melt into it.''

    He froze, but then, slowly, the ball of tension he had wrapped himself in slowly loosened. The relief washing from him was palpable. I got the strong impression that if we were currently corporeal, he would be crying. ''Thanks. It was like... like drowning, but with no water, so it was just... endless drowning, and never actually drowning...''

    ''You''re alright now. Remember, try to ignore the physical.''

    ''Yeah. Thanks. I''ll... I''ll try to remember that.'' A sudden, razor-sharp burst of focus from him caught me by surprise. I was literally feeling him fixing the idea in his mind and firmly trying to commit it to memory.

    ''Alright, come with me. Emilia and Ambrose went looking for the others. We''re trying to regroup before we look for the Demiurge.''

    But instead of drawing closer to me, Devon seemed to catch ahold of his own arcanic thread. I caught a faint whiff of fascination, and a desire to experiment, and then in the next instant he was gone.

    ''Devon?!''

    Nothing. I was alone. Seized with worry, I mimicked what he had done and took the arcanic thread that tied me back to my body. An experimental tug did nothing but make me feel queasy. I followed my line back to my physical body and found Devon already there, drifting nearby, now a lot more at ease with the space.

    ''What did you do?''

    ''Sorry to worry you.'' His sheepishness was so strong I could almost picture his expression. ''I wanted to go back for you, but realised I didn''t have any sense of where you were. Anyway, you said to ignore the physical, so... this is all arcana, right? And you''ve done stuff with arcana that moved your point of origin for your sequences away from your physical body. I figured that it means while we''re here, like this, we can do that too. Just... be where we want to be. We just need to know where to go. And the thread, it''s not just some string. It''s a channel. A link between mind and body. So it''s the perfect thing to use to pop yourself back, no matter where you are.''

    I was radiating so much shocked surprise that I could feel my own emotions being reflected back to me in a feedback loop. It took some effort to calm myself down, but it was hard not to feel excited about the magnitude of what he had just told me, and also the brilliance he had displayed.

    Emilia drifted back with both Kevan and Lynus in tow, and Ambrose turned up with Jerric not long after. While no words were being exchanged, we found ourselves floating in the middle of a foggy storm of impressions and emotions.

    ''Focus.'' The Demiurge''s voice boomed out of the darkness, sending ripples across the arcana and temporarily dispersing the fog we were in, giving us some breathing room. ''Focus, and stop all that spillage. Then come find me.''

    Ambrose was the first to manage to draw all his thoughts and emotions into himself, and it had the unexpected effect of making it hard to even sense him in the arcana until he spoke.

    ''Don''t withdraw everything,'' Emilia sent with a bite of impatience. ''There''s a balance between containing spillage and cutting yourself off.''

    With amazing adeptness, I sensed her employing some mental trick that drew in a lot of the emotional spillage, while still keeping her within sight. It was as though Ambrose had retreated to another room, which put him out of sight but also out of easy reach. Emilia, on the other hand, had simply moved to the edge of the room and leaned against the wall, so she was still present, but much more inconspicuous. In contrast, the rest of us were standing in the middle of the room, in plain view of everyone.

    With her guidance, it took us only several minutes to get the knack of it, and we reined in our mental and emotional spillage while still keeping contact with each other.

    ''So there''s no physical space here. At least, none that matters. That means no landmarks. How do we find the Demiurge?'' Lynus asked.

    ''The others found us by tracing the arcanic threads from our physical bodies,'' Devon pointed out. ''We can do that for the Demiurge, too?''

    ''He''s not there by the crystal anymore,'' I answered.

    ''He knows where we are,'' Ambrose mused aloud, ''because he zoomed in on our spillage.''

    ''You think the Demiurge has any spillage to trace?'' Kevan asked sceptically.

    ''Probably not, but I''ve got an idea.'' Even though he was trying to contain spillage, we all felt the excitement and impish glee that accompanied that pronouncement.

 60. Beacons

    Working with the mental analogy of being in a room, we huddled together in a corner to reduce the chance that the Demiurge could ''listen in'' on our plans. Of course, we had no guarantee that the Demiurge wasn''t still able to follow what we were doing, but in the spirit of exploration and experimentation, we wanted to see what did or did not work.

    Even as we drew closer, I marvelled at the ease of communication we enjoyed in this space. I could tell that we were all making use of Emilia''s mental trick because the sense of orientation grew when we were ''close'' enough to sense more of each other. The security and certainty that came with visualising a physical space emanated from each one of us, resonating with the commonality of our own focus so that together we formed a kind of structure бк an island, almost, of stability wrapped around that concept that Emilia had provided for us бк that bobbed in the turbulent river of arcana.

    At this distance, Ambrose didn''t even need to really speak. I felt him make a mental sweep of the situation, felt the precise moment when he judged that it was safe to share, and then what followed was a flash of insight that encapsulated his instinctive understanding of the space, and what he wanted to test out to see if it would help us locate the Demiurge. It was coming as quickly and easily as my own thoughts came to me, except in this case I could tell the thoughts were his, not mine.

    And I wasn''t the only one marvelling at this new dimension of communication. Even as I ''stared'' in fascination at how Ambrose was clearly passing along all this information to us, I heard, saw, felt, the same awe emanating from the rest. And that, too, coalesced together in our little shared space in the arcana.

    Emilia''s mind, sharp as a razor, corralled our collective amazement and gently pushed it aside so that the channel wasn''t muddied, and we could contemplate Ambrose''s plan. Under the umbrella of clarity she provided, Jerric quickly verified the theoretical underpinnings and added some refinements. Devon volunteered a new connection he had made thanks to his earlier insight about how to accomplish instant relocation of awareness within the arcanic space. Kevan pulled in a theory about cascading effects that he had come up with during his sessions with seniors which could be applied in this space, and Lynus'' perspective of that same event presented a unique flavour that allowed us to collectively spot another possible application of that theory. And as a result of witnessing all these things, it occurred to me that there was an arcanic link we could follow to the Demiurge if we could find it first. I added in my own perceptions of the Prophecy''s links that I had sensed around each of them when they had heard the words of the Prophecy for themselves, and in so doing I gave us all a target to look for.

    ''Ready,'' we all sent to each other. Our arcanic voices meshed in a resonant chord.

    We were working entirely without glyphs here, but Ambrose seemed comfortable enough with that. He drew in a bit of arcana and deftly fashioned it into a shape that echoed the muddy noise of our earlier spillage, much like how I had produced an echo of my own auric-ambient-flare to distract the lake augera the first time I had encountered it with Jerric. To the Demiurge, it would seem like we had failed to contain our spillage again, even though we were keeping a tight rein on it.

    The spillage echo, however, was growing in magnitude. The adjustment from Kevan, a more refined version of what he had attempted when trying to improve the power of his arcanic lightning, was causing this construct to draw in more and more arcana so that it could amplify the ''volume'' of our spillage echo.

    Lynus'' input was a stroke of genius, because he helped us realise that this magnification could work in reverse, and it was possible for us to piggyback a second effect into this field. Even as it amplified the spillage echo, the field was working to reduce the noise of our real spillage, so our communication was almost ''silent'' in this dimension.

    With Devon''s insight, we quickly warped away from our present locations. Even though we didn''t yet have any target area, it was a simple matter of deciding to be five metres higher than where I am now, or any other similar pronouncement that used our own location as a point of reference, and we instantly found ourselves there. We still managed to maintain our communicative link over that distance without being overheard since its signal was masked by the spillage echo.

    ''I told you all to focus,'' the Demiurge''s voice boomed again out of the darkness. As it rolled over me, I could feel the intent he had pushed into it; the power to disperse that fog of noise that was blaring out from the spillage echo.

    That was what we had all been waiting for. Arcanic voices seemed to be like perturbations in the arcana, and although there was no physical direction to it as with a real voice, they were still extremely useful in tracing someone. In the arcanic space, his voice''s distinct signature carried a part of who he was бк and he was bound by the links of the major Prophecy. I tasted the barest trace of it in his voice, and so did the rest. In unison, from seven different directions, we seized upon that tenuous connection бк that extremely subtle, ever-so-slender thread of the major Prophecy twining around the Demiurge.

    Before he could throw us off the scent, we warped to its source using Devon''s trick. I felt a fleeting moment of disorientation and realised that we were mere inches away from the dodecahedron. That made sense since it was the thing that seemed to be weaving prophetic links around people.

    But here, we were stymied. It was easy enough to trace prophetic links from the dodecahedron бк the problem was that there were too many of those links. To our senses, it looked like the whole thing was in the centre of a web with millions of tiny off-shoots. Six of those were tethered to the others, but it was only possible to tell because they could trace where the prophetic links led from their own auric-ambient-flares to the crystal. Trying to find the one link that led to the Demiurge was worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack.

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    I was briefly reminded of what the lake augera had told me. If this was how the Fateweavers perceived the world, it was no wonder they hadn''t ''spotted'' me yet.

    ''It was worth a try,'' Devon sent, sensing my disappointment over how my contribution hadn''t borne fruit.

    ''We should have realised doing that would put us next to the dodecahedron. It''s such a large thing in this space that it was bound to draw us in when we''re using prophetic links as a dowsing rod.'' Emilia''s self-reproach was so strong that she momentarily muddied our channel, especially since Jerric was putting out a similar emotion that magnified her input, but she hastily cleaned it up again.

    ''We''ll just use the original idea, then, and put out dozens of these spillage echoes. We''ll try to find him as he puts them out one by one,'' Ambrose said.

    The seven of us flitted randomly around the space, spawning spillage echoes that drew in arcana to amplify themselves. In real-world terms, this was like trying to find an invisible person in a big mansion by making a horrible mess wherever we could, then lying in wait to jump on that person when they tried to come and clean up after us. It wasn''t possible for us to see the invisible person, but we could observe their effect on the world.

    I found myself caught up in the sheer joy of acting without restraint. It was like splashing paint on walls with wanton abandon, or running around and screaming at the top of your voice, or (and this impression came from Lynus) peeing in a public swimming pool. It was all of these things at once, and more.

    Thanks to the dual nature of our spillage echoes, the more noise they put out, the cleaner our signal of communication became. So even though we could hear almost nothing else in the din, the messages and impressions we sent to each other were still crystal clear.

    And then, at the same moment, we all sensed it when one of the echoes was silenced. In the cacophony, that one space of quiet was so pronounced that it was as good as a beacon. We flitted over, our metaphorical arms spread wide, and pounced on whatever it was that was occupying that space.

    The Demiurge''s surprise came through loud and clear before he did something strange, almost like he was bending backwards in half. Instead of crashing straight into him, all seven of us sailed past, narrowly missing him by a hair''s breadth. Then, with another strange flexing of his auric-ambient-flare, he sent out a precise burst that unravelled all our spillage echoes, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

    ''Well done.'' He drifted before us, radiating glee, excitement, and approval. ''Very good improvisation. There are easier ways to find someone, but that was an excellent and creative strategy that you''ve all developed in the face of the unknown. You''ve experienced more of how to orientate yourself in this space, and how to travel in it. And quite independently, you''ve already figured out how to place beacons for yourself in this space in order to help you navigate, so we can skip ahead.''

    He flitted away, but this time left an impression like an arrow, directing our attention elsewhere in the space. He was back by our physical bodies, and we joined him there in an instant.

    ''When a wild augera perturbs the arcana, your physical senses will be so overwhelmed that they become almost entirely useless. At that point, you must slip into the arcana as you are now doing. Observe your bodies now. Why is it useful to be here, in the arcana, when your physical senses are disrupted?''

    I braced myself so that I wouldn''t fall, fascinated, into the recursive loop of watching my own consciousness watching itself, and took a look at my physical body. After travelling around in the arcanic space without any physical signposts, it was almost a relief to contemplate something so solid.

    ''We can sort of tell physical direction while we''re here, looking at our bodies?'' I supplied.

    ''Yes, exactly. When your senses are disrupted, you can''t move properly. You suffer extreme vertigo, hallucinations, phantom sensations. In that state, you''re barely aware of what is happening to your physical body. But here, you retain those faculties with more clarity. More importantly, you can now lay beacons for yourself to follow. The trick is moving your physical body while you anchor your attention here in the arcanic dimension.'' The Demiurge''s body moved into the region we were in and sat down in the chair he had vacated. I noticed his consciousness was still unmoored from his physical body, drifting with us here in the arcana.

    The others were attempting to do the same, with no success. Their consciousness flitted in and out of their bodies, and waves of unease and discomfort came off them with each transition.

    ''How?'' Lynus asked, frustration, helplessness, and a great deal of queasiness bleeding out before he finally reined in his spillage.

    ''A certain level of detachment,'' the Demiurge replied, drawing our attention to the threads of his consciousness. He invited us to come a little closer and somehow... ''lifted'' it up for us to see, like putting his arm in front of our noses so we could see the hairs on his skin.

    His consciousness was other, it was not me, but after a moment it was possible to see similar patterns of thought in my own mind. The details were different, but the structures were the same. I understood the broad strokes of what he was doing, but I would have to figure out the way my own mind processed this, and come up with a solution specific to my own needs and mental patterns.

    ''Like a doll,'' Emilia mused. We watched as her body sat up straight with a sudden jerk, its movements marionette-like. It experimentally waved a hand, then flexed its fingers.

    ''If that works for you, yes,'' the Demiurge replied, though his thoughts were laced with concern. ''As a basic frame to help you grasp the fundamentals, that is fine. But you must not limit yourself in that way. A marionette has only a few points of control. Eventually, you want to get to a point where you can move naturally, and even register what is happening to your physical body while your consciousness is not currently there.''

    We were abruptly pulled back into our physical bodies, and I gasped in shock. The Demiurge had walked over to the dodecahedron and wrenched his staff out of it. The world stopped wobbling and rapidly solidified around us. I felt strangely trapped in my own flesh all of a sudden.

    "Well!" He smiled around at us. "It wouldn''t do for you to linger too long in the perturbations of an augera, even one that is currently ensconced within a nexus. Now that you''ve gotten a sense of what it is like to work in the proverbial sea of arcana, you can practice in your own time. It''ll be harder to get into that frame without a local perturbation, but it''ll be safer."

    He vanished for a moment, then reappeared with an old leather-bound book, and a thick paper-back lexicon. He dithered a moment, looking at the lot of us, then pressed both of them into Jerric''s hands. "Some holiday reading for you. I''ll see you all around, though hopefully not before the winter break is over."

    And with that, he vanished once more, leaving us alone with the dodecahedron. It rumbled a little.

    ''Hurry. Learn. Free us.'' And even though it was something alien and unfathomably ancient, I thought I sensed aggrieved desperation in that plea.

 61. Travel Plans

    Our original purpose behind meeting the Demiurge was to ask him about where to find wild augera, but he had vanished without a trace and we had no idea how to get in touch with him. His disappearance was effectively a dismissal from the Spire. Our only consolation was that the meeting hadn''t been a waste of time. With what he had just taught us, we were reasonably confident that we could prepare for the worst if an encounter with a wild augera went awry. All that was left now was for us to settle on a plan of action over the winter break. We returned to the dorm and Jerric plucked out one map out of a stack of others. This one was a standard view of the Empire''s territories.

    Since there was no clear direction about where we should look for wild augera, Jerric pointed out several locations across the Empire where he believed the Spire coverage was at its weakest.

    "I''m thinking we go home, spend maybe two days with our families, then meet up before we strike out to one of these places," Jerric said. "Most of these aren''t that far away from the major cities or towns, so it''s just a matter of choosing a central location for all of us if we want to minimise travelling and wait time."

    "We need to figure out some transport, though," Kevan added, scrutinising the map. "They''re not far, but they''re not exactly a day hike. Even the nearest one to civilisation looks like it''ll take three days on foot, and that''s at a rather fast pace."

    "How do you know that?" Devon asked.

    "We do that kind of stuff," Lynus piped up. "Lots of hiking around when we were younger. Then treks across the Empire when our dad finally let go enough."

    "How convenient," I muttered dryly, recognising the prophetic influence.

    Jerric gave me a wry smile. "It''s both reassuring and a little scary to see things line up for us. We''ll be counting on your presence to make sure we don''t fall head-long into the Prophecy''s path when we don''t want to."

    I nodded gravely. It was a big thing to ask, and I still had no idea exactly how I was going to exert any sort of influence over the terms of the Prophecy, but for now, it seemed like my being there was a step in the right direction. The Spire augera''s short conversation with me had made that clear.

    "Uh, about the transport, and logistics, and the rest of that kind of stuff..." Devon reddened a little as we all turned to him. "My family has a couple of contacts, so I can look into all that. For transport, we''re probably looking at some mobility artefacts, right?"

    "... You still haven''t told us how loaded you are, Devon," Kevan said slowly.

    Jerric grinned. "Panoply ward on our dorm room, lives in a place with a cook... c''mon Kevan, it''s not hard to guess with just those two details."

    I waved a hand dismissively. "I don''t think we need to know if he doesn''t want to tell. What do you think we''ll need, Kevan? Mobility artefacts like he said?"

    "Well, if this were some kind of crazy wish-list, then I''d want top-of-the-line Hawk-class wings for everyone so we don''t even need to walk the whole way," Kevan said, shooting a dubious look at Devon. "Is that kind of stuff on the table?"

    Devon kept his face neutral. "Maybe. But just in case, what else might we need if that''s not possible?"

    There was a brief silence. The only person who didn''t look utterly flabbergasted at the idea of how much wealth Devon might have was Jerric, who was his roommate and was still the only person who had been allowed to even see inside it. The Panopoly ward had kept everyone else out the entire term.

    Together, the twins provided Devon with a list of goods that included everything from suitable clothing and food to commercial artefacts. But Devon wasn''t simply taking it all down бк every so often, he interjected to ask why the twins weren''t asking for something else that might get the same job done, and their reply was usually because they didn''t know that it was available, or it was something wildly out of the average person''s budget. Devon would nod, then quietly note down both the usual item and his own recommendation. Soon, his list was populated with cascading diagrams that indicated where the procurement of one item or other might invalidate the need for some other items.

    Kevan shook his head as he scanned the list one last time. "You''re serious about some of these things? I mean, this isn''t a joke?"

    "I''m not promising the sky," Devon said testily. "I just want to know everything we may need, from best-in-class down to bare-minimum."

    "But Ly and I wouldn''t even bother looking for some of these things. It''s just... too exclusive. Or too expensive."

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    Devon sighed. "Look, just leave it, ok? The list is done, so give it to me, and let me settle it."

    "Should we just turn up with nothing but our own clothes, then?" Lynus asked, only half-joking. "You''re gonna buy us everything we need?"

    Devon shrugged. "Turn up naked if you want."

    "Alright, let''s stop bugging him about it," Jerric interjected, clapping Devon on the shoulder, "and just thank him."

    "Dev, are you sure this is alright?" I asked dubiously. "I mean, this is... a lot."

    "If it wasn''t alright, I wouldn''t offer," he said, softening a little. "I don''t like to announce that my family is well-heeled, but the way I see it, we''re doing something important, and it''s silly not to make sure we''re as prepared as we can possibly be. Just... stop asking me about my family, okay?" He directed that last at the twins, who nodded. Kevan had the grace to look a little abashed.

    "Right, now that we''ve settled that..." Jerric pulled the map forward again and pulled a few wisps of arcana from the air to create temporary glowing tokens that he pushed to each of us. "Plonk down which city or town you live in, and we can start figuring out which is the best place to meet."

    Devon, unsurprisingly, lived in the capital city of Geldor. I shifted my token further north of his to the neighbouring city of Creyvlor. Emilia turned out to be nearby, just a little east of me in the smaller town of Glenside. Jerric was south of the capital in Myordin, and the twins were close to the western border at Hanafast. Ambrose shifted his token all the way to the eastern shore at Lighthaven.

    "We''re pretty scattered," Jerric said, mulling it over with a frown. He pulled out another map where had marked out the Spire coverage. "It looks like our best option, if we''re minimising travel, is to meet at Glenside since that''s sort of the central point between us. Then we can head north from there, pass the town of Honourhall, and reach this thinner patch of Spire coverage. And actually, there''s even an abandoned Spire just on the edge of that zone, if you guys are up for a bit of a hike to the foot of some mountains."

    "Why are you minimising travel?" Emilia asked.

    "That''s just one suggestion," Jerric answered. He tapped another point on the map, not far from the capital. "If we don''t mind taking more time, I''d actually like to head for this spot here. It''s an abandoned Spire in a strangely thin patch of coverage even though it''s more or less in the middle of the Empire."

    "I''d like to go there, too," Ambrose said suddenly.

    We all looked up, a little surprised. "Why?" I asked.

    He frowned. "I''ve got a sense that heading to the first place Jerric mentioned is something desirable. I''ve got a generally bad feeling about that spot near the capital, so that''s why I think it''s the better option on balance."

    "Don''t we want to head away from the place that gives the Chosen One bad feelings?" Devon asked.

    Jerric gave him a rueful smile, then turned to me. "Looks like we get to make use of you sooner rather than later. I think you should be choosing, Caden."

    "Are there other options you''re particularly interested in?" I asked Jerric.

    "There''s another abandoned Spire near Hanafast." Jerric put a marker there. "The rest are either too far for us to cover within the term break, or they''re in zones of Spire coverage that are a little denser. These three are the only ones that are on the very edge of a single Spire''s coverage."

    "What about zones of thin Spire coverage without any abandoned Spires? I mean, we''re only looking for wild augera, aren''t we?" Lynus interjected.

    "Yes, but the way I see it, if we can gather more information in one little expedition, I''d rather prefer to try killing two birds with one stone," Jerric answered.

    I nodded in agreement. "Let''s make the most of this trip. So it''s either the one past Honourhall, the one near Hanafast, or the one smack in the centre of the Empire. Ambrose, any thoughts about the Hanafast option?"

    "No, don''t have any particular inclination for that one."

    I weighed the three options in my mind. Hanafast was a neutral pick, going for the one north of Honourhall was favouring Ambrose''s prophetic inclination, and going for the one in the Empire''s heart was directly opposing it.

    "The way I see it," I said slowly, "we''re looking at either Hanafast or the one in the central region. My worry is that going for the one in the central region might make our movements more obvious to the Fateweavers. But I''m personally more interested in that one, too..."

    Emilia opened her mouth to speak, but Jerric gestured for her to stay quiet. "We shouldn''t influence his decision. I''m sorry, Caden, but if you''re to really try and steer Prophecy here, it has to be without our input."

    I sighed heavily. What was the wise option here?

    Our time in the arcanic space around the dodecahedron had left me with a sense of how complex the weave of prophetic links was. Even with the Demiurge nearby, it had been impossible for us to trace his physical presence by simply following the links from the dodecahedron. It was hard for me to imagine the Fateweavers being able to reliably locate us, even if we did move contrary to the Prophecy''s leanings for a short period of time.

    It was a risk... but I believed it was worth it. Going to the one in the central region possibly yielded three sources of information бк whatever lay in an abandoned Spire, a meeting with a wild augera, and also an opportunity to find out exactly what the Prophecy didn''t want the Chosen One to be encountering.

    I sent a pulse of arcana to the little marker that Jerric had left over the central region''s abandoned Spire. "That one," I said decisively.

    Ambrose looked worried, and so did Devon. Emilia frowned in disapproval, and Kevan looked a little uncertainly at her. Lynus shrugged his indifference.

    Jerric kept his expression neutral. "Well, looks like we have a destination. If we''re headed there, we should meet up in the capital, though that means we''ll have to wait probably a day for Ambrose to get there since he''s the furthest."

    "... in that case..." Devon hesitated, then plouged on. "I guess you guys can stay at my place for a day."

    "You don''t have toбк" Jerric began, but Lynus cut across him with a loud "THANKS, DEVON!" and shook his hand profusely.

    "Just... just don''t turn up naked," Devon said feebly.

 62. Domestic Affairs

    Everyone else had their own arrangements to return home, and shortly after we were done discussing, they were off. The twins were hitching a ride with some seniors in someone''s car; Jerric''s father had turned up; a discreet escort of two men dressed in plain clothes came for Ambrose, who went with them once certain passphrases were exchanged; an aunt came for Emilia; and Devon, of course, had a chauffeured car that seemed to be accompanied by a second vehicle, whose occupants we never got to lay eyes on. They would all eventually get on different trains once they made it to the nearby cities, but this leg of the journey had to be undertaken via the road since the Academy was rather geographically isolated.

    My homeward journey was very different from my arrival at the Academy. The latter had been a family affair бк an event marked by great happiness and hopefulness. The return was a solitary undertaking. My father was part of the faculty, and they were staying in the Academy for at least a few more days while they attended to whatever it was that needed doing away from the eyes of the students. That meant I couldn''t catch a ride on his Academy-provided car to the nearest station. I didn''t want to trouble Triss and my mother, so I sent word that I would make my own way back. But the reason behind my father''s delay in the homeward journey was disquieting. Even after our potentially seditious talk and our efforts at subverting prophecies, he still refused to discuss any of its details with me. After everything I had learned about arcana in just one term, and the exposure I had to the deeper workings of how it was used in the maintenance of the Empire, I wondered if his reticence was entirely voluntary.

    I found myself in one of the small buses that had been chartered to bring Academy students to the nearby towns. The people in mine were a mixed group of both seniors and juniors, and the mood was sombre as we all took our seats. The Demiurge had made his proclamation to all the levels, and the decision of whether or not to return was weighing on everyone''s minds. A few of the seniors on the bus had failed Reeves'' test, which meant that this was the last time they would see the Academy as a student unless the future became much kinder and the Empire turned away from the spectre of war. Nobody was in the mood for conversation.

    The train I caught from the town brought us to the capital after half a day spent chugging along the intervening wilderness. I got another brief glimpse of Geldor as I spent half an hour in transit in the station бк just long enough to grab a hasty dinner бк and then it was back onto the carriage for a handful of hours before it pulled into the familiar stop at Creyvlor.

    Besides how greatly my world and my prospects had changed, there was something else that conspired to unsettle me on the long ride home. Now that I was a lot more sensitive to the flow of arcana, I found myself being able to trace exactly how the train was making use of it. There were glyphs whose signatures I recognised just by ''tasting'' them in the air, even if I couldn''t see where they had been inscribed. But there was something else бк something very distinct that seemed out of place. It lurked at the back of my mind through the entire ride, an itch that I couldn''t seem to scratch no matter how much I tried.

    It wasn''t until I got ready to disembark that it finally occurred to me where I had sensed this thing before. It was the Spire augera.

    Or, more accurately, it was a Spire augera бк not the one from the Academy. But the feel of its presence was unmistakable now that I had identified its nature. Somehow, it was tied to the train.

    ''... hello?'' I ventured.

    I caught a whiff of something like surprise. ''...unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. You listen. You speak.''

    As I suspected, it was not quite like my recent interactions with the Academy Spire augera. This exchange reminded me of the first contact with it, when it had been less familiar with the shape of my mind. I was once again struggling to properly understand it, but to my great surprise I found the adjustment a lot easier now. And I could tell that it was rapidly piecing together how to bridge the gulf of understanding between us.

    ''Yes.'' The augera''s alien regard brushed against me, sending a shiver down my spine. ''Not familiar now. Must learn. But your eyes-mind-shape... now changed. Now broader. Now fuller. Now richer.''

    It seemed to be exercising a great deal of interest in me. There was a strong sense of fascination coming across.

    ''Yes,'' it sent in answer to the direction of my musings. ''Yes. Was always unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, was always interesting. But now... now also speaking. Now also listening. Now... active.''

    A cold dread filled my heart. If I was so transparent before it, and the Fateweavers used all augera as conduits, thenбк

    ''Yes. No. Woven-shackled-streams are lenses. Lenses to see far. Lenses to see near. Lenses to see both great and small.'' It seemed to grin, and that bestial delight reminded me strongly of the Academy Spire augera. ''But ancient-distant-spiders do not have eyes on all lenses at all times. And perhaps sometimes, when eyes look through a lens... it is smudged... or gently tilted. So fear. But fear less. Fear enough to move. Woven-shackled-streams are happy to help, as long as you move for us.''

    It was getting a lot more intelligible, but the augera withdrew, leaving me suddenly aware that I had been standing with a hand on the door of the compartment for some time. The train was almost empty now, and the last call for other passengers was going up. I hastily grabbed my belongings and stumbled onto the platform.

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    "CADEN!"

    There was a blur of movement, and a moment later I found myself almost knocked to the ground as my sister barrelled straight into me, catching me in a surprisingly strong hug that pushed what little breath I had out of me. "Where were you? Why didn''t you come out earlier? We thought something had happened! We thought you missed the train!"

    "Agh!" I returned the hug as best I could, and with great difficulty extricated myself from her grasp. "Let me breathe, Triss!"

    "Where were you?" she asked reproachfully, her eyes half-filled with tears. I had a snappy retort, but it died in my throat when the extent of her worry became clear. And it made sense бк after all, the news of the Academy''s reform and the reason behind it had already been announced by the media.

    "Sorry, I got stuck getting my stuff out of the compartment," I muttered distractedly, ruffling her hair and looking around the platform. I spotted my mother a little way off, hurrying through the thinning crowd. One look at her, and I suddenly felt my eyes growing hot.

    "We''re so glad you''re back," she said as she drew near and pulled me into a hug that was brief but full of unsaid worry. "It''s late. Let''s get in the car."

    "Is something wrong?" I asked, picking up on her brusque manner. My joy at seeing her in person was displaced by a sudden worry.

    "No, not exactly, but we shouldn''t linger." She held out a hand to Triss, who immediately took it. I blinked in mild surprise at the easy compliance but followed after her without further questions. There would be time enough to talk at home.

    Now that I was paying attention, I realised that everyone else was a little hastier as well. Reunions on the platform were hurried affairs, and since I had disembarked so late, many were already well on their way out. Those who were seeing people off seemed to be full of nervous energy, shooting uneasy glances around as they waved off their friends and loved ones.

    Triss slipped her free hand into mine and squeezed. I was shocked to see that she was actually frightened.

    "Did something happen?" I asked, directing the question at both of them.

    My sister shook her head to show her confusion about the whole situation and looked up at my mother, who shot us both a worried glance before turning her eyes back to our surroundings as she led us to the car. "Not here, no. We heard news about... some kind of attack in a border city. That was a few hours ago. An explosion. Some deaths."

    "How come I didn''t hear?" Triss stared at my mother in surprise.

    She got a wry smile in response. "Because you were out like a light, Miss I-Don''t-Need-A-Nap."

    "You needed a nap in the afternoon? At this age?" I grinned at Triss, trying to distract her from the situation.

    She scowled. "Because you''re on the late train. I didn''t want to be sleepy when you got here. Anyway, don''t make fun of me now, I want to listen!" She jiggled my arm and turned towards Mum. "What explosion?"

    My mother sighed. "A train station."

    "What city?" I pressed, seized by sudden fear.

    "Hanafast."

    That was where the twins lived. It couldn''t be coincidence. But if they had taken a train, they probably wouldn''t be there yet until some time tomorrow morning, even if they had left the Academy a few hours earlier than I had. They were probably safe, but I would only be able to check once we got home and I could use the telepresence room.

    "Who attacked us?" Now that the reason for my mother''s skittishness had been put out in the open, Triss'' fear had given way to simple curiosity. To her, the threat was a distant thing. She had no reason to think otherwise, after all.

    "I''m sure it''s under investigation now. There might be something on the news when we get back," my mother supplied.

    When we reached the car, I was a little surprised when my mother directed me to sit in the back with Triss. It wasn''t something I minded, but I wondered if there was more she had chosen not to share in Triss'' presence. It seemed that, for some reason, my mother wanted me in the back to take care of Triss in case something happened. And that was a very, very grim thought.

    "How much better are you now, Cade?" Triss asked, pulling a ball of arcana from the air and shooting an impish look at me.

    In the past, I might have laughed and accepted her challenge and engaged in some harmless back-and-forth. But that innocent question, and this small, familiar gesture, suddenly brought home just how much had really happened in the span of a few short months. I gaped at her, wondering just how I was supposed to fit back into domestic life for a few days before I went off galavanting around the Empire in search for wild augera.

    "Yeah, I can do it really fast now," she said smugly, misreading the expression on my face. In quick succession, she conjured and dismissed several more orbs. Even in the middle of my preoccupation, it was easy to see that she had improved in her control and precision.

    "Cade?" She allowed the orb in her hands to dissipate, her look of mischief turning into one of concern.

    I shook myself mentally and raised an eyebrow at her. "Still on orbs? Well, why not try this?"

    Extending a gently cupped hand, I allowed some arcana to coalesce in it like liquid. And even though I was perfectly capable of directing it all by sheer focus now, I made use of my free hand to make a show of pulling out strands of arcana from that little pool in order to daub the substance on the rim of my palm and along my wrist. There, the arcana spread and spun upwards to form tiny, delicate shapes. In half a minute, I had an ethereal forest pool in my hand, and a miniature unicorn stepped off my wrist to drink from the arcana.

    Triss did not conceal her surprise and delight. She gaped at me for a moment and then leaned excitedly over the middle seat to scrutinise the details. With a trembling finger, she tried to stroke the unicorn. It took a bit of effort, but I made it turn towards her and sniff gingerly at her finger before being consented to be touched. Her finger disrupted the flow, but I managed to reform it as soon as she withdrew. The little unicorn shook its head at her in indignation, and she giggled.

    "Teach me!" she said, turning her shining eyes to me.

    My mind went over all the things I had picked up in order to bring me to this level of control and mastery; all the hours of pouring over glyphs, of reframing the way I thought of arcana and even the way I saw the world; the non-curriculum exposure to the augera and how that had further reshaped my conception of arcana itself, and how everything in our world worked.

    My mother was looking at me in the rear-view mirror. She gave me a knowing smile, but I knew she was only thinking about the learning that the Academy had provided, and that she did not know about the Chosen One and the augera and the rest of us, because my father and I had not yet told her. And might never tell her.

    "Teach me!" Triss repeated, tugging at my wrist. The forest pool frittered away into nothingness.

    "Maybe tomorrow," I said, forcing a smile.

    "You promise?" There was a determined glint in her eyes.

    "I promise."

 63. Thwarted Plans

    Our journey home was mercifully uneventful, although I did notice that there was more than the usual amount of traffic on the road for that hour. As we drove past small stores that were still open even at this late hour, we noticed queues forming as anxious people rushed to buy provisions. More than one Imperial Police car sped past us to destinations unknown, and at a couple of junctions, we saw small teams on foot.

    Their manner wasn''t exactly tense, but it was clear that they were keeping a watchful eye on things. The only thing out of place was the fact that they each had a polished silver stave in hand, about two feet long. They gripped it firmly in the middle and, every so often, one of them would casually sweep it across the scene. I felt a tingle of arcana wash over me as we drove past one of them just as they did this, and the officer looked directly at me, but we passed without incident.

    We almost never saw those staves in use бк they were heavy-duty enforcement artefacts, designed for use by non-arcanists. It gave them access to a variety of sequences that could be deployed with the right activation glyphs. It was public knowledge that they could lay down robust shields and fire arcanic bolts that could be dialled up to bone-shattering intensity, but there were rumours about even more formidable capabilities that were rarely witnessed. It seemed that they had some sort of scanning capabilities as well, though I didn''t know how that worked, or what it scanned for.

    It occurred to me now that whoever had designed that artefact must have been quite brilliant to be able to squeeze so many sequences into such a slender form. I wondered how the artificer who invented it had also solved the problem of fuelling those sequences if the users had barely any arcanic control to speak of.

    Triss'' attention was drawn away from me as she pressed her nose to the window, watching these strange sights. It allowed me to withdraw a little into myself as I worried over how exactly I was going to deal with my sister in the few days we would have before I had to leave.

    By the time we pulled into the driveway of our home, Triss was already nodding off. Under orders from Mum, she uncomplainingly went and got ready for bed, which gave me some time alone with my mother.

    I had intended to take her aside, but she was the one who pulled me into the kitchen and sat me down at the counter. She started putting together some ham sandwiches as she spoke. "Cade, I don''t want your sister to worry, but you need to know. The attacks were targeted at Academy freshmen and their families. And Hanafast isn''t the only place. Places across the Empire were hit too."

    A cold hand gripped my heart at the news. "Where else?"

    "So far, it looks like almost every place with Academy freshmen was a target."

    The sheer scale of the attack seemed absurd. "Then Creyvlor? And the capital? And what about the families? You mean they took hostages?"

    She shook her head. "Thankfully, they didn''t get that far. The attempts were all thwarted."

    "All of them?" I asked, surprised.

    "The news is saying that there were attempted abductions, but they were all found and stopped before they could go through with whatever their plan was. The police across the Empire coordinated their efforts and moved in at the same time. But some groups weren''t so easily put down. They fought hard. Hanafast is the hardest hit because the fight grew out of hand. But even in the other smaller incidents, there were deaths."

    "So our city was hit? But I didn''t see anything at the train station."

    "It wasn''t all at train stations. The targets were all over the place. It seems the different groups were getting ready at different spots."

    "... Then... where was it, in our city?"

    There was a long pause. "The group was taken on the road, so they never made it to their destination. But... after it was on the news, I got a call from the police. It seems like we were the targets."

    "What?!" I leapt to my feet, tense. "And they let you go to the station alone after that? Are you and Triss safe here, then? Shouldn''t we be moving somewhere? Why isn''t there some sort of protection force?"

    She raised a placating hand. "We should be fine now with the police out in force. They''ve told me the immediate threat is over. We''re safe enough to stay here, at least until your father gets back. Then we''ll see if we need to do anything." She set aside a sandwich for herself and slid the plate to me. I wasn''t hungry, but I took it anyway to occupy myself.

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    "This is insane. If they got this close, who''s to sayбк"

    "Caden, please, listen," my mother said, cutting across me. "I''ve been given strict instructions to pick you up from the station as intended, then to come straight home and stay put. They told me we''d be watched over, and I''m sure we''re safe now. So until we know more... until they get in touch again, please, don''t alarm your sister."

    I sat down, uneaten sandwich in hand, and tried to calm my racing heart. The thought of my family being targeted by these faceless enemies of the Empire filled me with a depth of fear I had never experienced before. The danger seemed so terrifyingly near бк not like the abstract doom that was hanging over my father.

    "Did you call Dad? Does he know? Is he safe?" I asked, my thoughts turning to him, far away in the Academy.

    "He knows, and he told me he''s well looked after. He won''t be leaving the Academy until the day after tomorrow. Honestly, the Academy is probably one of the safest places in the Empire now."

    "Who are these attackers? What do they want?"

    Mum shook her head again. "Nothing on the news about that, and the police didn''t tell me. We might know more tomorrow. It''s most likely something to do with the Prophecy and the Chosen One. Maybe they''re trying to get rid of him or her. Everyone knows the Chosen One enrolled in the Academy this year, and that fits with their targets."

    I thought back to the two men who had escorted Ambrose out of the Academy and wondered who was taking care of his protection. The police as well? And if he was being given special protection, then what about the rest of the people identified in the Prophecy? Didn''t they need to be protected as well? Why wasn''t anyone taking care of that? Or was everyone else expendable because the Prophecy would just replace those other people, as long as the Chosen One was safe? That was a grim idea, but it made sense. After all, my removal from the Prophecy''s influence didn''t stop it one bit бк it had simply gone on to use Emilia in my place.

    At the very least, it seemed that we were cared for as a cohort. The Empire had moved to preemptively stop any attacks or abductions targeted at the freshmen and their families. But this was an unwelcome development because it meant that it would be harder for us to go on our hunt for wild augera now. Were all of us going to be confined to our homes, and thereafter escorted to the Academy for the next term?

    I wondered uneasily if somehow the Prophecy had conspired to bring this about бк could it have made use of these attacks in order to keep us in our homes, where we couldn''t enact any plans that would threaten its integrity?

    "Eat up, then try to get some sleep. You''ve had a long and tiring journey. We can talk more tomorrow." I nodded mutely and started half-heartedly on my sandwich. We ate in silence, and once we were done, my mother put the plates away and saw me off to my room.

    Standing in my own doorway gave me a sense of displacement. A great deal had changed since the last time I had been in my room. Somehow, everything seemed like it belonged to a different person, who lived a completely different life.

    I crossed the room to my study desk and ran a finger across its fine wooden grain. All the cramming and revision that had happened here to prepare me for the Academy seemed laughably simple now in the face of what I had learned about arcanophany. I had, to use the Demiurge''s phrase, stepped "beyond the pale". And while I was drowning in oceans of arcanic mysteries, my sister was still tottering about in tide pools.

    How was I supposed to teach her? What was safe to teach?

    The very present danger made my promise take on a greater significance. I wanted her to be prepared if she was ever caught alone. She might not be able to stand toe-to-toe against an assailant, but the classes with Kant had drummed one essential fact into my head бк in combat, if you were quick and clever, it was possible to win against a stronger opponent.

    I sank into the chair in front of my study table and pulled out a sheet of paper. I knew the sequence that would allow me to simply dictate while the paper recorded my words, but it wasn''t versatile enough for me to make charts and diagrams, so I wrote with a pen and started a mindmap on the things that I could safely teach my sister, and the things I had to bear in mind so that I didn''t lock her into a frame that would make it harder for her to learn things in the future.

    Shielding was the first order of business. Since she was capable of instantly conjuring orbs of arcana, her level of control was sufficiently advanced to move on to barriers of different shapes. Whether she would be able to channel enough arcana to form a useful barrier was another matter entirely, so that was the first test I would need to pose. Realistically, she wouldn''t be able to produce a stronger shield that could absorb a lot of punishment, so I needed to teach her how to deflect instead, which was a great deal more efficient but also more difficult.

    That thought led me to the realisation that the arcanic mirrors that Kevan had first used would be extremely useful. They didn''t require much raw arcanic power, and if my sister learned how to use them intelligently, she would be able to quickly hide herself from danger.

    Having an option for offense wasn''t high on my list, but it seemed silly not to make sure that she would be able to do some damage if she needed to. Teaching her how to lay down combat-grade arcanic bolts seemed very unwise, even if she were able to manage it, so I needed to think of something else there.

    I felt a little better now that I had some direction. The whole business with the Prophecy would have to wait until morning when I could get in touch with the rest of the group through the telepresence room. In any case, I also needed to see what the security arrangements were, and whether we were all going to be confined indoors for our own protection. But at least there was something else for me to focus on бк teaching my sister. It was with a lighter heart that I went to bed for the night, already half-dreaming of lessons and activities.

 64. Building Blobs

    Morning came with a fresh set of worries. My mother prepared a simple breakfast of eggs and toast for us and we sat together facing the telepresence orb, which threw up a projection against a wall that had been kept bare for that purpose. We had settled down just in time for a morning news bulletin. These broadcasts were usually kept to a two-dimensional view so that they could be received by all telepresence orbs, not just the ones that had been set up in full chambers. A grave-faced middle-aged woman with her hair done up in a severe bun was speaking into the air, her gaze fixed against what must have been a wall on her end since there wasn''t anyone for her to address.

    "... series of attempted attacks that were swiftly curtailed by the combined efforts of the Imperial Police Force and Imperial Nightwatchers. At present, no organisations have stepped forward to take responsibility for the violence, and imperial sources are being tight-lipped about their investigations."

    "Mum, didn''t you say it was just at one train station?" Triss asked, her mouth half-full with toast.

    All she got was a reproving glare. My sister grinned mischievously, then swallowed her food and repeated her question.

    "That''s what was on last night," my mother replied with half a glance at me.

    The news didn''t offer much more in the way of details, except to note that there were a number of casualties sustained by the enforcement, but thankfully no civilians were killed.

    "That''s all?" Triss complained, frowning at the news anchor as she pivoted to another topic.

    "They probably can''t reveal too much if it''s all still under investigation," I said.

    "Then why bother saying anything if they''ve got nothing to say?"

    "Because if they said nothing, then people like you would complain that they''re not saying anything." I grinned, which prompted my sister to send a ball of arcana my way. I lazily unravelled it without even gesturing.

    "Don''t you two start at the table," my mother said warningly.

    "You don''t need to point anymore?" Triss demanded, leaning over the table in excitement. "Can you teach me that too?"

    Mum cleared her throat. "Don''t pester your brother about that."

    "But he promised in the car!"

    "And he''ll teach you something, but now''s not the time to talk about it. Finish your breakfast, then get started on the morning chores and the work you''ve got from school. There''ll be time in the afternoon."

    "Can he start early if I''m done early with everything?"

    "If it''s all done properly," Mum conceded. Triss scarfed down the rest of her breakfast, carried her plate and cup off to the sink for a quick but thorough wash, then sped off. Once she was gone, my mother fixed me with measuring gaze.

    "You''re alright with it?" I asked, feeling a little nervous.

    "I remember my first term in the Academy," she said, not answering me directly. Her eyes softening as she smiled a little. "The world literally opens up, doesn''t it?"

    "That''s... one way to put it," I answered, thinking about the augera.

    "Well, what do you think you can teach her?" The question was asked gently, but there was also an incisive undercurrent to it.

    "I was thinking... maybe the basics of frame-shifting? She may not fully understand the theory behind it, but I can introduce different frames to her, get her used to thinking about arcana in different ways."

    My mother didn''t reply immediately. She nodded, paused to eat a little more, then took a sip of her coffee. "What might go wrong?"

    "Maybe... the frames I select might become too fixed in her mind? And that can make it harder for her to frame-shift in the future."

    "That''s possible. How will you resolve that?"

    "What if I gave her a way to think about the theory of frame-shifting? Like how arcana is like water. You can freeze it, or melt it, or turn it into steam, but it''s still water. But you can''t slide an ice-cube under a door. So you need to make the arcana behave the way you want it to."

    "If you do that, she may think of arcana''s essential nature as being similar to water," my mother pointed out. "Not explicitly, but it would seed the idea."

    "Then how would you do it?"

    She smiled. "Probably in the same way. And then set an exercise that makes it unhelpful to think of arcana as water, so that she''ll be forced to think of it in some other way."

    I nodded. "So I can teach her a bit? It''s safe?"

    "Do it in your father''s workshop, with the protective glyphs. And I want to hear how it goes at dinner." She rose, taking her empty plate and cup, but turned to look at me seriously. "But Caden, no combat-grade sequences or exercises. I know you want to keep her safe and you want her to be able to protect herself, but it''s more dangerous to teach her how to run before she can even walk. Okay?"

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    There it was бк the feeling of being transparent. It was something I had not felt for a long while since I moved into the Academy''s dormitories. I nodded and my mother left, satisfied, as I lingered over the remainder of my breakfast, thinking hard.

    <hr>

    Later that afternoon (Triss had failed to complete her chores properly, which meant that she had to rectify that before we could begin properly, and by then it was after lunch), my sister and I found ourselves in my father''s workshop. It was a decent-sized structure at the back of the garden, big enough to fit a three-metre-long workbench while leaving plenty of room for moving about. Most of that space was currently taken up with the clutter of unfinished artefacts and little stacks of raw materials. If my father were more conscientious about keeping tidy, it might have been possible to even conduct some close-quarters duelling. Still, in its present state, it would do well enough for me to start teaching my sister the basics.

    We cleared a bit of room so that we could both sit on the floor and safely wave our arms around us without hitting each other, or anything else that was lying about. Triss was paying rapt attention, with none of her usual backchat or playfulness.

    "Okay, so... let''s see that orb."

    Without hesitation, she instantly plucked one out of thin air and held it up for my inspection. The orb was translucent and gave off a slight glow. It was a very pale imitation of the standard globe light, except in miniature, and nowhere near as stable or cohesive.

    "Tell me how you learned to do this," I prompted.

    "I... just want an orb, and so I get an orb," she answered, frowning a little.

    "Yes," I nodded patiently. "But remember when you first started? How did it come together?"

    She still looked confused, so I thought back to what I remembered of how she used to conjure orbs. I waved my fingers vaguely in the air, willing the arcana to manifest in little globules from thin air and to coalesce around them. The globules then slowly melded together into a wobbly sphere, the more woebegone and fragile version of what was in my sister''s hand now. "You used to do it like this, right?"

    She nodded, a little more understanding coming to her as she picked up the thread of what I was getting at. "I had to collect it first and make it an orb. But I practised so it got faster and faster, and now I can do an orb straightaway."

    "Okay, so what happens when I want a pyramid?"

    She blinked, then allowed the orb to vanish from her upturned palm. Now, instead of forming instantly, globules of arcana manifested over her hand and slowly joined together into one amorphous mass. It struggled to flatten out at the base and rise to a point. After a minute''s hard work, Triss had managed a rather squashed-looking mound that had the vague suggestion of four sides, but it didn''t hold up for long. Despite her best efforts, it refused to stay upright, and it dribbled through her splayed fingers.

    "That''s okay," I said, smiling encouragingly at her.

    She scowled at me. "Don''t make fun."

    "I''m not making fun!" I answered with a slight laugh. "I mean it. I wasn''t that fast when I was your age. Okay, now I want you to start that again, and watch how the arcana comes out. You don''t need to finish the pyramid, just start doing it, and pay attention to how the arcana comes out. Then watch me do mine, and tell me how my arcana comes out. Okay?"

    She nodded, her lips set with determination. Once again, her arcana coalesced out of thin air in globules. When it was my turn, I manifested the pyramid all at once, formed whole.

    "What?!" Triss exclaimed.

    "What''s the difference?" I asked.

    "Mine takes time. Yours just pops out like my orb. You mean I have to practice different shapes?" she asked with a look of dismay. "I took ages to get the orb right, and now I have to do every shape?"

    "No, no, you don''t have to do shape drills or something," I said and laughed at the look of relief on her face. "But actually, do your orb again. And pay attention again to how it comes out."

    She complied, her brows coming together with intense concentration. And even though she did summon it with great speed, this time she saw it бк the arcana was forming in globules and coalescing in the blink of an eye, but it was not simply popping into existence.

    "Do you see it? Tell me what you saw."

    "I think so? Mine''s got these... little blobs. Like honey drops. And it comes together really fast. But yours doesn''t start as blobs, the shape is just there."

    I nodded approvingly. "That''s where we''ll start. You don''t need to practice the shapes. You need to practice what makes the shapes. Why does yours come out in blobs, while mine just pops out?"

    "I dunno. I thought arcana always comes out in blobs."

    "Why is that?"

    "... ''Cause it''s blobby? Like water''s wet, and arcana''s blobby." She grinned.

    I couldn''t help but smile at her. "Uh huh, and who told you arcana''s supposed to be blobby?"

    "It just is, Cade!" Triss rolled her eyes. "So how do you make yours not blobby? What''s the trick?"

    "The trick, Triss, is that arcana isn''t blobby. Yours is blobby because you think it is."

    At first, she regarded me with great scepticism, but once she could tell I wasn''t joking, I saw the gears turning in her head. "So I can just unblob my arcana, and I can make shapes faster, without practising them?"

    "Maybe. Why don''t you try?"

    "If arcana isn''t blobby, then what is it?"

    I shook my head, grinning. "Come on, Mum doesn''t give the answer straight away, and neither will I. You try making it not blobby first, and see what happens."

    With a huff, Triss regarded her open palm again. She took a moment to clear her mind, and the irritated furrow on her brow smoothed over. I watched, hawk-eyed, for the slightest sign of how she might be adjusting her perception of arcana. How would it manifest now?

    The seconds ticked by into a minute, then two. After almost seven minutes of focused concentration, the silence gave way to frustrated deep-breathing, and then at the ten-minute mark Triss let out an explosive gasp of annoyance. Nothing had formed.

    "If it''s not blobby, then nothing comes out!" she complained.

    "What were you trying?" I asked curiously.

    "I... I don''t know. Just... not blobby. I just wanted for the orb to be there, without being blobby."

    "Well... try this: if it has to be blobby, can you change the size of the blobs? Then maybe instead of lots of tiny blobs, you cбк"

    Her eyes widened, and before I could finish my sentence, my sister had formed an orb-sized blob that took a moment to stabilise properly into a sphere. But this time, it hadn''t coalesced from tiny globules first.

    "Excellent!" I applauded her and dragged her into a brief hug. She beamed at me and started giggling as she manifested orb-sized blobs that she sent bouncing around the workshop. I watched in amusement, then interest, as they bobbed and rolled around. She had packed so much arcana into them that it took a bit of time before they lost cohesion, and I realised that they were behaving a little like water balloons. They weren''t substantial enough to exert much force on anything, so thankfully nothing around us was displaced.

    But watching them gave me a little more insight into how she was thinking about arcana. My mother''s suggestion came to mind. I decided that she needed just one more exercise with arcana-as-blob first, and then I''d introduce her to a non-blob frame to shake her up a bit.

    "Okay, so now you''ve got an orb-shaped blob. Once you can do a pyramid-shaped blob, I''ve got something else for you."

 65. Unseen Hurdles

    Pyramid-shaped blobs turned out to be a lot harder than either of us had anticipated. After several hours of hard work, and some tears on her part, all Triss had managed was a blob that was more like a misshapen sphere that didn''t even vaguely resemble any other shape. When I suggested she take a break from the pyramid shapes and simply try to produce several blobs of different sizes, she hit yet another wall бк she was only able to make the blobs either as big as the orb we formed or as tiny as the initial globules she had produced, and she couldn''t produce any further variation on the size.

    My sister''s slow progress was a source of frustration and irritation for her, and by the end of the afternoon she had worked herself up into a state of great agitation. As much as I wanted to simply spell things out clearly for her, I found it rather impossible to simplify things and articulate the deep realisations I had arrived at after a term in the Academy. She simply wasn''t yet at the stage where she could understand my explanations, despite my best efforts. And I couldn''t figure out why she had been locked into only two sizes for her globules, so there weren''t any other helpful suggestions or experiments I could make.

    But any thought of consulting my mother was driven out of my thoughts when a call came through on the telepresence orb just as I was walking my sister back into the house. Jerric''s form materialised on one of the chairs facing the orb and a pleasant chime sounded out to alert us that someone was there. My sister paused long enough to see it wasn''t my father, then hurried up to her room, red-eyed and tired.

    A look a relief washed over Jerric''s face as soon as I moved into the telepresence orb''s area of coverage and slid into the chair opposite him. But I held up a hand to forestall him as I brought up the orb''s glyphs to access the privacy functions. Once it was set to ensure that his voice and image couldn''t be seen or heard by anyone outside of the coverage area, and my own voice would be muffled, I nodded.

    "I''ve been trying to get you all day," Jerric said. "Where were you?''

    "Sorry." I hesitated, unsure if I should explain why I had been out of touch, but decided against it for now. "I was busy with family stuff. About the attacks, do you know who they were targeting? The police told my mum that it was Academy freshmen."

    "Wouldn''t the chime... nevermind. Yes, it looks like the police have privately warned all the targets. I managed to get in touch with the rest. You''ve been told to sit tight, too?"

    "Yeah. So what do we do now about our plan?"

    Jerric didn''t answer immediately. He gave me a measuring gaze and took a deep breath before speaking. "They all think we should go ahead. But they also agree that if you say we shouldn''t go, then we won''t."

    I sighed. It made sense that they would give me the final say since they were all aware that the threads of Prophecy could be corralling them into action, and I was the only person who might be able to yank them out of its path by my unfettered choices. But that didn''t make it easy to stomach.

    "If we go ahead," I ventured, "how are we supposed to get away from the people watching over us? It sounds like we''ve all got some security around our homes."

    "It''s... actually not that difficult. If we want to meet, apparently Devon can arrange it. Or at least... his parents can."

    "What?" I was incredulous. "You mean we just tell them we''re going, and they''ll let us?"

    "No, slipping off to look for the abandoned Spire and a wild augera will be a bit harder. But if we want to meet up in Geldor like we first planned, then yeah, all we have to do is give Devon the go-ahead, and the police will, uh, escort us there."

    "... wh-who are Devon''s parents? What''s his family? I''m sure you know, you''ve been sharing a room with him the whole term."

    Jerric grinned. "I''ll let you find out for yourself if you think we should go ahead. The rest pestered me about it too, but I''m actually quite enjoying this, so I haven''t told anyone what I know."

    "You don''t think maybe withholding that information could end up being something that is of significance to how the Prophecy will turn out?" I asked, slightly irritated.

    He sobered instantly and looked anxious. "Do you think it might? If so, I''ll tell you."

    I blinked. "Uh, I didn''t mean that. Anyway, that won''t change my decision. I think we should meet first, and see what we can do from there."

    Jerric frowned. "Maybe I should tell you. His parбк"

    "бкno don''t tell me! After not knowing all this time, I''d like to be surprised. Anyway, I wasn''t being serious about what I said earlier. And I don''t want to use this thing as some sort of truncheon to beat the truth out of everyone in our group."

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    "Even so, now that you''ve brought it up, it''s something we should consider. It makes sense for you to have all available information."

    "I''m not so sure," I answered, biting my lip. "Knowledge can be used as a shackle. Anyway, it''s possible for us to keep second-guessing far too much. There are too many layers to this, and I don''t think we can just think it all through from start to finish, so I''m going to go with my gut on this. Don''t tell me about Devon''s parents."

    Jerric looked unconvinced, but he also wasn''t quite ready to contradict me. It was quite troubling to see how much deference he was giving to my opinion now. Was that him, or was it the prompting of the Prophecy, in some convoluted way? I gave myself a mental shake and decided to take my own advice to stop trying to think through all the possible paths when there was no meaningful way to evaluate the possibilities.

    He looked like he was still wrestling with himself, so I cleared my throat and decided to move the conversation along. "So, how will this work? You tell Devon, and the police escort us to his place?"

    "Pretty much. And I''m not sure about your family, but in my case, it saves me from having to explain to my dad why I need to disappear from home for a while."

    I nodded fervently. "Yes, that helps me too. I was wondering how to get away from my family without telling them. Especially my dad."

    "Well, I''ll make the call now then. If all goes well, you should hear from the police directly. I''ll get in touch again if anything changes."

    "Thanks. See you soon, hopefully."

    Jerric got up and gestured vaguely, and the connection closed. The orb dimmed into its idle state, and with that the little dome of privacy it had enclosed me in dissipated.

    Just then, my mother came down from the second floor with Triss in tow. My sister was looking a little more cheerful, though she still had a vague air of defeat about her.

    "Triss was telling me it didn''t go too well," Mum said, watching my sister troop over to the couch and throw herself onto it with a touch of melodrama.

    "I think it went about as well as I could have hoped," I offered.

    Triss sat up. "You mean you didn''t expect me to be able to do much?"

    "That''s not what I said," I answered hastily. "I meant that it''s hard stuff, and it makes sense that you''d have trouble with it."

    She looked like she was about to protest, but my mother cut in. "Triss, why don''t you get a bit more practice in your father''s workshop, while I talk to your brother?"

    It didn''t seem like she was going to obey. She opened her mouth to say something, but the look my mother shot her was a perfect balance between loving reproach and dire threat, and Triss slunk out of the house without acting on her impulse to rebel. Once she was safely out of the house, my mother took her vacated seat on the couch and gestured for me to sit as well.

    "Not as easy as you thought it would be, is it?" she smiled.

    "No..." I looked at her thoughtfully. "Even if I wanted to tell her everything, I realised... I couldn''t do it. I didn''t know how. And all this time in the Academy, I was wondering why you never taught me earlier, or just told me, and I think now I understand."

    "I remember that first call you made back, yes."

    "But why does it work that way? I mean, it''s not like something big changed when I got into the Academy. It''s something I might''ve been able to understand when I was just a year younger."

    "Well, I couldn''t tell you, Cadey. That''s just... how it seems to be." She shrugged. "I was wondering if you''d have any more success teaching your sister at a faster pace, but it seems not."

    "She did seem to get it, though. Some of it, at least."

    "Then that''ll have to do. Nowбк"

    "But... I want to try teaching you something, Mum."

    "Me?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Teach me what? And why?"

    "To... to protect you. And so you can protect Triss."

    Her expression turned from surprise to confusion, and then to suspicion. "Is something wrong, Cadey? Are you not telling me something?"

    "What?" I blinked at her.

    She frowned a little, then shook her head. "Nevermind. What do you want to teach me?"

    "Some of the thaumaturgy I''ve picked up in the Academy."

    "I heard the training was particularly intense this term. I didn''t specialise in thaumaturgy, but I still think I may know more than you at this stage," she said gently.

    I flushed a little, realising how presumptuous I must sound. "Uhm, yes, probably. But... just humour me? Can I... can I test some things with you?"

    My mother was now looking at me very strangely. "I don''t see how we can do that here without bringing the house down or messing up your father''s workshop. Won''t you just tell me?"

    "Okay. You know when producing arcanic bolts, they manifest from your body as a point of origin? Well, can you make it manifest from somewhere else?"

    In answer, my mother gestured behind me. A ball of arcana manifested there and leapt to her outstretched palm.

    I gaped at her. "Does this mean... can you sense the arcana around you, then?"

    "Yes, I can. It''s something all arcanists develop, though to varying degrees." She smiled at me. "I''m pleased to know you can. Not many people pick it up in their first year, let alone their first term."

    "But then," I rushed eagerly on, "does that mean you can sense... uhm... constructs in the arcana, too?"

    "Constructs?" She looked confused. "You mean arcanic signatures of artefacts and other people?"

    "Kind of, but not them. I mean, have you... can you... speak through arcana?"

    Her eyes widened. "Can you?"

    "I... yes. You mean... you can''t?"

    "I''ve read of it, certainly, but it''s not something I''ve managed. Nor is it something we''re really taught in the Academy." She looked very interested now. "How did you pick it up?"

    I faltered. I had assumed that being able to sense the arcana around you would mean that you could also speak through it, and also pick up the presence of the augera. But for some reason that didn''t seem to be the case, and I wasn''t sure if I wanted to drag my mother into the whole mess with the augera by telling her about it.

    "I... it''s hard to explain."

    My mother gave a wry smile. "Yes, I can imagine it must be. Well, you think about it, and tell me when you think you''ve got a handle on it. I''m very interested to know."

    She gave me a quick hug and went off to get started on dinner, leaving me sitting on the couch and weighing yet another decision.

 66. Abrupt Departure

    My sister was never the kind of person to dwell on failure for long, and even though she didn''t make any progress in her solo practice, she came back in considerably greater spirits. "I can''t make blobs of lots of different sizes yet," she declared, grinning contentedly, "but at least I can make big and small blobs! Before that, it was all just small blobs. And now, I can make big shapes more quickly, since I can start out with big blobs!"

    My mother''s smile was a little fixed as my sister proceeded to demonstrate by rapidly conjuring orb-sized blobs, then merging them into an amorphous mass that wobbled unsteadily. Even though the density wasn''t great, it was big enough to displace very light objects, and this was immediately apparent as she sent it careening through the living room, promptly scattering a stack of letters that my mother had left on a coffee table.

    "One afternoon with you, and she learns how to make an even bigger mess than before," Mum sighed, rolling her eyes a little before continuing with her work in the kitchen.

    Dinner was another painful reminder of how much my life had changed after my short time in the Academy. We usually all ate together, and dinner was the time when we exchanged news over the table and just talked together. This first proper dinner already had a shadow over it in the form of my father''s empty seat, and while my mother tried to carry on as if everything was normal, it was clear to me that she was struggling to put a brave face on everything. Triss was her usual lively and cheerful self, but with Mum''s subdued manner and my own sense of displacement making it hard for me to slip back into our old rhythms, our dinner conversation was more like a monologue as my sister went chattering on about everything I had missed in her absence. I wondered if this was down to the blissful obliviousness of childhood, or if this was her way of stepping up and trying to keep everyone''s spirits up.

    The telepresence orb chimed and we all fell silent. Then, Triss leapt to her feet and hurtled into the living room. Mum and I hurried after her, but I almost ran over my sister just beyond the doorway. She had frozen in place there, staring in apprehension at the unfamiliar figure who was in the chair, looking around at what was within the area of coverage. He was dressed in a white shirt with a thin black tie and black pants, and his black hair had streaks of grey running through it. Despite the fact that he was dressed quite ordinarily, something about his manner exuded deadly competence.

    Mum shot a quizzical look at me and I shrugged back to indicate that I didn''t recognise who it was either. As she went over to take a seat, Triss drew close to me and slid her hand into mine.

    "Mrs Dundale?" It sounded like a middle-aged man, his tone clipped.

    "Yes?"

    "Waving fronds," he said.

    I blinked, confused, but my mother seemed to understand as she responded, though she now wore a worried look. "Seashell houses."

    The man nodded, and I realised it must have been some sort of passphrase exchange. "Our standing instructions have changed. You and your daughter will remain here until your husband rejoins you, but we are moving your son to a more secure location tonight."

    "Why? Is there some immediate danger?" She gestured at me to take my sister away, but Triss shook her head vehemently and my mother didn''t force the issue.

    "I''m not at liberty to say. Please help him prepare enough food, water, and clothing for two days, but pack as lightly as possible. The escort will arrive in half an hour. Could you get him to the seat and give us a moment in private, please?"

    "I really thinkбк"

    "Mrs Dundale, I appreciate it must be difficult, but we''re operating on a need-to-know basis. Your son, please. This is urgent."

    She relinquished the chair to me. The moment I got into it, the orb responded to a remote command and brought up the privacy screens. That was both reassuring and disturbing бк the glyphs that permitted that kind of control of commercial artefacts were known to the police, but it wasn''t the kind of thing that rank-and-file officers were authorised to use.

    The man referred quickly to a file that I hadn''t noticed was in front of him. In that brief moment, before he put it away, I caught a glimpse of my own photo. "Caden Dundale?" he asked.

    I cleared my throat. "That''s me."

    He set the file aside and leaned forward, his hands steepled. He spoke quickly but clearly, his words crisp and precise. "You can call me Mr Silver. I''m personally overseeing your transfer from this residence to the new safe location in Geldor. Please listen carefully to what I''m about to tell you."

    "Can I take notes? In case I forget?"

    "No. Nothing written. We''ll go over it again to make sure you remember what''s important. First, make sure your mother is helping you pack as I asked."

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    I looked up and saw that she was already gone, along with Triss. "I think she''s doing it."

    "Good." From his pocket, he withdrew a piece of paper with a glyph on it and placed it on the table so I could see. It seemed to be made in a similar fashion to home glyphs which were differentiated by unique modifiers, usually numbers or common letters, arranged around the standard glyph that meant "house" or "residence". In that way, homes could each have a representative glyph that was useable in any sequence. The glyph he showed me was an unfamiliar one, but it had the unique modifier ''SD-P7'' appended to it. "This glyph has been assigned to you. You can think of it as your personal glyph, and it will serve as your primary means of identifying yourself to security forces from now on. Do not share this glyph freely. Memorise it now."

    "What does the glyph mean?"

    "You don''t need to know."

    I frowned, but it was obvious that pressing him was going to get me nowhere. I found it harder to memorise a glyph when I didn''t know what it stood for, but it was doable. After a minute, I nodded at him. Mr Silver pocketed the slip of paper and asked me to reproduce the glyph, so I drew it in the air with arcana. He nodded, satisfied, and went on.

    "Two cars will arrive for you in about 25 minutes. An officer will approach you and say ''friendly faces'', to which you should respond ''lively nights''. They will then drive you to Geldor and see you to the established safehouse. There are no handovers planned except at the safehouse. Clear, so far?"

    I swallowed and nodded.

    "If the cars do not arrive, stay put and do not leave the house until I contact you again through this telepresence orb. If the officers arrive and give the wrong passphrase, tell them you need to fetch something, then barricade yourself inside the residence, activate all your security measures, then contact me by connecting to this telepresence orb and using your personal glyph. Do you understand?"

    There was a lump in my throat that made it hard to swallow again as I nodded. The seriousness of the matter was beginning to press in on me now.

    "If your convoy is attacked on the way to Geldor and you are separated from the officers, you can get in touch with us by securing any communication artefact and using your personal glyph. If you aren''t able to find any suitable artefact, you can manifest it within a globe light and we will be able to home in on your location and find a way to make contact with you."

    "Does the globe light need to be at full illumination? Can it be tuned down to almost nothing, or even put in an idle state, if I need to discreetly share my location?"

    Silver lifted an eyebrow and, for the first time, gave a slight smile. It seemed he approved of my train of thought. "It can''t be idle, but you can tune it all the way down, and it can be as small as you can make it. The bigger and brighter, the easier it will be for us, but all we need is some output, however small. Understand everything so far?"

    "Yes."

    "Finally, in the extremely unlikely scenario that you are captured, try to give us your location via the globe light and your personal glyph, but do not put yourself in any unnecessary risk to do so. We don''t expect to be far. Keep your head down, and focus on keeping yourself safe and shielded at all times. Any questions?"

    I had plenty, but none that were of immediate importance, so I shook my head.

    "Good. Now repeat all that back to me."

    I took a moment to sort through the instructions he had given to me and repeated them back to him, not word-for-word, but near enough. He got me to do it twice more before he was satisfied, and ended by asking me to draw the personal glyph again. I managed it without any significant trouble, though it wasn''t as easy as working with a glyph whose meaning I knew.

    "Very good. The escorts should be arriving in about five minutes. Do not wait outside. The officers will come to the door. Don''t share any details of what I''ve said with your family. I''ve already told your mother all she needs to know. Any final questions?"

    "No. Thank you, Mr Silver."

    "Alright. Then I''ll see you in person in a day and a half if all goes well."

    With that, he terminated the connection. The sphere of privacy dissolved, and I finally saw Triss and my mother standing in the living room with one of my rucksacks.

    "What did they want?" My mother asked, anxious.

    Mr Silver''s warning was still fresh in my ears, along with the blood that was pounding out of a mixture of trepidation and excitement. "I... they''re taking me away. Gave me some details about how, but that''s all I know."

    Her eyes brimmed with tears and a myriad of unspoken worries. She dropped my rucksack on the couch, came forward, and caught me in a tight hug. A moment later I felt Triss slamming into the both of us as she tried to wrap our legs with her skinny arms.

    "You''ll come back?" Triss asked, looking up at me tearfully.

    "I''m sure I will," I said, smiling down at her with more confidence than I actually felt. "So make sure your blobs aren''t all that blobby by the time I get back, okay?"

    Mum pulled back and drew Triss away as a sharp knock sounded at our front door. I nodded at her, took the rucksack, then opened the door just a crack.

    There was a man dressed very much like Mr Silver, in a white shirt, black tie, and black pants. This one had dark brown hair and wore half-framed spectacles over his dark eyes. Behind him were two cars. The back passenger seat of the second car was open, clearly waiting for me.

    "Friendly faces," he said without preamble.

    "Lively nights," I replied shakily.

    "Straight into the second car please, Mr Dundale."

    I turned back to take one last look at my mother and sister. Triss gave me a watery smile, while Mum nodded, her eyes bright, clear, and confident. She didn''t smile бк not exactly бк but there was a tightening of her lips that somehow conveyed more than any false cheerfulness or fake optimism. It told me she was worried, but also that she knew that I was not a little boy any longer and that I did not need to be protected in quite the same way any more.

    The officer placed a firm hand on my shoulder and pulled me away from the door, then steered me into the waiting car. Once I was safely inside, he shut the door, then quickly jogged over to the car in front and slid into the front passenger seat.

    Both the front seats in my car were already occupied by more agents, both female. The driver glanced at me in the rear-view mirror, then, without a word, our convoy took off into the dying light.

 67. Intercepted

    It quickly became apparent that I wouldn''t get any information at all out of the two agents who were in the car with me. They were dressed in the same white-and-black shirt-and-pants ensemble as the agents I had seen so far, but I caught a glimpse of a crescent-shaped tie pin on the passenger-side agent when she turned to get a look at me as I entered the car. The driver ignored me completely, and although her partner wasn''t reticent or rude, all my inquiries about what was going on were gently rebuffed. I wasn''t even able to get their real names. Like Mr Silver, they went by aliases instead. The mute driver was Ms Fen, and the more personable one who had fielded all my questions was Ms Rain.

    "Do you get to pick your own codenames?" I asked, hoping to get something more if I asked about something else besides my immediate situation.

    Ms Rain gave a small laugh. She didn''t turn around to address me and instead kept a watchful eye on the passing sights. "No, they''re assigned."

    "Are you all part of the Imperial Police?"

    "We work with them."

    "But you''re not part of the force."

    "No." The answer was brief but delivered without a bite of impatience. "You''re an awfully curious fellow, aren''t you?"

    "Isn''t it normal to wonder what''s going on when you''re targeted by some unknown people attacking your cohort mates across the whole Empire, and you''re spirited away from your family?"

    "Fair point," Ms Rain said. After a pause, she added, "We know it can be quite scary, but you''re in safe hands."

    "Are you both thaumaturgists?"

    "Not exactly."

    "But if you''re able to protect people, doesn''t that mean you''d need to be quite accomplished at thaumaturgy?"

    "Yes, but we''re not thaumaturgists. That''s a very, very narrow focus."

    I frowned. "Then why would the Empire want to conscript all the new arcanists and pigeonhole them into thaumaturgy?"

    Ms Rain shrugged. "Above my paygrade. So, have you enjoyed your time in the Academy?"

    The question caught me off-guard. "Why do you ask?"

    This time, before she answered, she did turn in her seat to glance at me for a moment. "You''re nervous, which is why you''re asking so many questions. We''re not really allowed to give away too many things about ourselves, so if this keeps up, our conversation is going to be frustrating and probably not make you feel very reassured at all. So what do you say we steer away from the need-to-know classified stuff, and talk about your life?"

    "What makes you think the things in my life aren''t classified?"

    For the first time, Ms Fen reacted by letting out a little snort. Ms Rain chuckled. "Okay, we can play it that way if you want, Mr Dundale."

    After a minute or two of silence, I caved. "The Academy was... all I thought it would be, and more. Sometimes not in a good way."

    "Yes, the first term''s usually the hardest," Ms Rain replied, picking up the conversation as if it had never stalled. "Laypeople have the barest basics, and when you first go to the Academy there''s a lot of groundbreaking stuff you have to pick up really quickly."

    "Was it like that for you too?" I asked.

    "It''s like that for everyone. What do you like most in your studies?"

    That wasn''t actually something I had thought about. It felt a little like I had been stumbling through vast and nebulous bodies of knowledge for the whole term. The idea of liking a part of it seemed almost alien.

    "A little of everything, I guess. I like the theory of Principles of Arcanophany. Thaumaturgy... we''ve had a really crazy professor who''s been putting us through our paces, and it''s painful... but I like how it feels when I can actually protect myself."

    "You like a sense of control," Ms Rain said, a smile in her voice. "So, you may not have a choice about a vocation now, what with recent developments... but do you think you''d enjoy being a thaumaturgist?"

    "Maybe. But to be honest, my interest in arcanophany isn''t in combat applications."

    "Oh? Then what is it? Artificing?"

    "I, uh... I just like the theory."

    "Well, it''s rare to meet a young person interested in the Sage vocation. People usually find their way there later in life."

    Ms Fen cleared her throat, and Ms Rain suddenly fell silent, clearly focusing on something.

    "What is it?"

    "Nothing to worry about," Ms Fen answered, shocking me by actually talking. "Just be quiet for a bit."

    We were nearing the edge of the city now, but before I could scan the surroundings the windows of our car turned completely black. I gasped, but the two agents seemed completely unconcerned, and it occurred to me that it was possibly some sort of defensive mechanism triggered by one of them. Ms Rain''s head was turning here and there, giving me the impression that she was still able to see things beyond the now-opaque windows. And Ms Fen was clearly still unimpeded as she continued to drive.

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    I closed my eyes and quietly tuned into my arcanic sense. The car itself was a complex and dense weave of sequences, and I was surprised to find that I couldn''t even see the glyphs properly. There was some sort of obfuscation at work here that prevented me from being able to access the sequences, and it was something I had never realised was even possible.

    There didn''t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. I had expected to be able to sense some sort of build-up of arcana from an external threat, but there were no perturbations. What were the two agents reacting to?

    I tried to steady my breathing and sink even deeper into the arcana. But even though I could recall what it felt like to do so back in the Spire with the Demiurge and the help of a nearby perturbed augera, it wasn''t something I could do so easily in the back of a car as it trundled along the road.

    Minutes passed, and the sense of trepidation at the agents'' behaviour soon gave way to mounting frustration as I failed to sink far enough into the arcana to try and suss out what was going on.

    "Everything alright back there?" Ms Rain asked suddenly, bringing my attention firmly back to the physical world.

    "Yeah," I replied, shaking my head a little.

    "You looked like you were thinking hard." She returned her attention to the scene around us, and I realised that the windows were clear again. We were out of the city now, and on either side of us was nothing but vague shadows of the natural world. Globe lights hung at regular intervals above the road, but all else was swallowed up in night.

    "What happened just now?"

    "Nothing serious. We had to make sure we were as unobserved as possible when we left the city. So, why are you so interested in the theory of arcanophany?"

    It took me a moment to realise that she was picking up where we had left off. "Huh? Oh, uh... well, I just want to learn more about arcanophany itself. Learn about its limits. Find out why those limits exist. Maybe push the limits a little."

    "That''s actually quite ambitious," she remarked, sounding a little impressed. "Did something happen to set you on such a lofty path?"

    "That''s classified," I mumbled.

    Ms Rain turned to glance at me once again, but she didn''t push the matter, and she didn''t seem to be either annoyed or intrigued by my response. She behaved as if it had been a perfectly acceptable and polite reply.

    "Well, we''ll be driving through the entire night, so you might want to try and get some sleep."

    I felt a little sorry for behaving so rudely, but I wasn''t prepared to talk about my life goals with some kind of secret agent. Despite how generally nice she had been, there was something about her that made me think it was better to err on the side of caution when it came to discussing anything that might relate to the augera or the Prophecy. With nothing else to do, I decided to heed her advice, and I settled into the most comfortable position I could.

    <hr>

    I woke to the sound of twisting metal.

    There was no time for me to register anything else except a sudden sense of weightlessness before the world erupted into a cacophony of loud crashes and bangs. I felt myself being violently jolted about, but I was held securely in place by the seatbelt. My panicked brain finally made some sense of what was happening бк the car had overturned.

    By the time I realised what had happened, Ms Rain and Ms Fen had already unfastened their seatbelts and rolled out of their seats into the unknown. The windows were black again, so I couldn''t see where they went.

    The door closest to me opened, and in one smooth motion, Ms Rain traced a glyph that unfastened my seatbelt, then yanked me out of the car and pushed me onto the road. "Stay low, stay shielded," she commanded, her voice like steel.

    I compiled, drawing together the densest weave of arcana that I could muster. Ms Rain nodded in approval as she likewise sheathed herself in a protective shell, then she vaulted over the car and vanished from sight.

    The globe lights along this stretch of the highway were extinguished, and the only steady illumination was coming from the interior of the car. A gasp escaped my lips when I saw that the front had been horribly damaged, as though a hand had seized it and twisted the metal like it was nothing more than paper.

    An explosion rocked the area, sending a plume of fire into the air and a rush of heat washing over me even as I lay behind the overturned car. As debris rained across the scene, I realised that the first car had been blown up.

    Arcana was flying over the whole place, being channelled in terrifying quantities. Even though it wasn''t anywhere near as overwhelming as what I had witnessed the Demiurge doing against the wild augera, it was still several orders of magnitude over what we had been exposed to so far in Thaumaturgy classes.

    A dull throb of power ran beneath everything, like some massive heartbeat. Above that, wild screeches grated on my ear and against my mind, piercingly loud and eye-watering. I had no idea what kind of sequences were being employed here, but even without laying eyes on the battlefield, I knew that deadly energies were being directed.

    The orange glow of the explosion was accompanied by several flashes of light. I heard a sizzle that reminded me of Kevan''s arcanic lightning, except somehow this one sounded malicious if lightning could sound like it had emotion or intent.

    I risked a peek around the car and was almost instantly struck by a piece of flying debris бк some asphalt from the road that had been sent flying from the impact of arcana. I was knocked away from the car, but thankfully my shield absorbed the damage and left me unscathed.

    Two figures бк Ms Rain and Ms Fen, though I couldn''t be sure which was which just by their silhouettes бк were holding a shield against a blinding flare of light. A moment later the attack faltered, and one of them flashed off with amazing alacrity, likely boosted by arcanic manipulation, towards our unseen assailants in the darkness. The other remained behind, covering the car behind which I was hiding. Even as I watched, layers and layers of arcana were being woven with amazing speed and skill to assemble a massive, sturdy barrier.

    It cracked and crumbled in several places as heavy arcanic bolts arced out of the darkness. Then, to my horror, a single thin thread of arcana lanced through a weakened spot in the barrier and pierced the woman''s abdomen. I heard her cry out in pain, but she stayed on her feet and shored up the barrier, repairing some of the damage that had been done to it. More heavy bolts weakened it again, and I sensed the same flavour of that shield-piercing sequence in the air closing in.

    "LOOK OUT!" I yelled.

    Whether she had been waiting for it, or whether my warning had galvanised her into action, I sensed the agent somehow flex the shield she had woven. The lance reflected off the barrier with a painful ear-piercing ping, and I heard a scream in the darkness as it struck down whoever had sent it out.

    But this reprieve was short-lived. I sensed a blossoming of strange and unknown sequences, and the barrier shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Heavy arcanic bolts rained down on us, leaving deep craters in the road and battering the overturned car, although it somehow held up under that barrage. The woman deflected a few with hastily-conjured throwaway barriers, but then another lance of arcana hit her in the left knee, and to my horror I saw her collapse as the knee shattered in a shower of gore and separated entirely.

    "DUNDALE, RUN!"

    It was Ms Rain. Even as she lay panting on the road, she raised another barrier that barely held off another barrage of heavy bolts. Out in the darkness, I sensed the shield-piercing sequence charging up again. Without really realising what I was doing, I flung myself headfirst into the sea of arcana.

 68. Possession

    The sea of arcana was not the mind-shattering mess it had been in my first foray into it by the Academy lake when the Demiurge had chased after a wild augera. Nor was it the painfully uncomfortable scene in the presence of the perturbed augera in the dodecahedron. Out here in the middle of a highway, it was cold and quiet.

    The violent battle that presented itself to my physical senses was less overwhelming here бк just a series of disturbances on the surface, as consequential as raindrops falling on the ocean waves. My attention was immediately drawn to a line, a channel of some sort that was actually dipping beneath the surface, drawing on more potent energies from the sea of arcana. I recognised this as the shield-piercing sequence.

    It was only my third time in the arcanic sea, but the Demiurge''s brief lesson was hard to forget. I flitted over to that channel with a mere thought, leaving my physical body behind. There was no way for me to read the glyphs here, so I had to work entirely by intuition. I knew I had only seconds before the sequence drew in enough arcana to fire off another shield-piercing lance, and that would be the end of Ms Rain.

    I traced the sequence to its caster бк his auric-ambient-flare was strange, not at all like the others I had encountered so far. But there was no time to dwell on that, and there was no time for finesse either. I dumped every ounce of arcana I could muster into heavy arcanic bolts, manifesting them directly beneath him.

    The shield-piercing sequence stalled as his focus shifted. He bent his knees ever-so-slightly and then launched himself two metres straight up, deflecting all my bolts with throwaway barriers before landing unscathed. In desperation, I latched on to his sequence and pulled бк

    бк and it came loose, unmoored from his auric-ambient-flare. It was in my metaphysical hands now, and panic rose within me as I realised that it was still active, still drawing in energy. But I didn''t know a single glyph in its sequence, and so it was impossible for me to control or direct in any meaningful way. I tried my best to unravel it or modify it, and when that proved impossible, to release it, but before I could disentangle myself the sequence reached its activation point.

    There was a hollowing of the arcana around the sequence as it drew in a great deal of power, reminding me a lot of Kevan''s arcanic lightning. It seemed there were similar principles involved here, but this was bearing fruit a lot faster, and it was taking in a dangerously high level of arcana. The energy went through several transmutations, then manifested something that shot out into the night. Immersed as I was in the arcanic sea, I could see how much more powerful it was compared to some of the other sequences that were being flung about, like my heavy arcanic bolts.

    I was returned abruptly to my physical body as something crashed into me at great speed, knocking the wind out of my lungs. If not for the shield around me, I might have suffered some cracked ribs.

    Ms Fen had snatched me up and was holding me close as she bore me away from the car. Her grip was like iron and in her hands, I was little more than a helpless stuffed toy.

    The car was no longer in one piece бк a great ragged hole carved through it, originating from the spot where I had been hidden. Somehow, it seemed, the shield-piercing sequence had been cast by me instead. The further Ms Fen ran, the more of the extent of the damage I saw.

    The beam''s path was easily traced by the damage it left. Instead of being a thin lance that struck with surgical precision, after it chewed through the car, it had gouged its way across a stretch of the road before finally rupturing, sending out a tangle of uncontrolled arcana that was even now still hissing through the air like twitching snakes.

    My heart skipped a beat as I took in the scene. It was impossible to make out where Ms Rain was in that mess, and even as I watched, some of the loose arcana made contact with the remnant of the car, and it erupted in another mini-explosion that engulfed the ruined transport in flames.

    Further away from the wreckage, there were still flashes of light going off, though at this distance I couldn''t really hear the dangerous humming and sizzling of combat-grade sequences. It seemed like the agents from the first car hadn''t fallen yet.

    Ms Fen suddenly and unceremoniously dumped me behind a small outcrop. "Hide here," she said curtly before dashing back towards the fight.

    The hammering of my heart sent throbs of pain through my chest. The scene of devastation flashed across my mind''s eye. Was Ms Rain dead? Had it been my fault? Did I at least get the caster? What should I do now?

    I pressed myself against the outcrop and felt around in the darkness. When my fingers found a crack, I sent in a small pulse of arcana and manifested a tiny globe light in it, making sure to put in the strange new personal glyph that Mr Silver had shown me. With the brightness turned all the way down to its absolute minimum, the crack was little more than a faint grey smear in the darkness.

    No sound from the fight reached me now, or at least none that was loud enough to overcome the blood pounding in my ears. I tried to sink back under the sea of arcana, but the moment of panicked clarity that had allowed me to do so earlier was long gone. To keep myself busy, I carefully started building another dense shield around me. I briefly contemplated trying to set up some arcanic mirrors to hide my presence, but I wasn''t sure how that would interfere with the way the globe light beacon worked. Perhaps ifбк

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    A sound. I froze, straining to listen.

    The faint sound of quiet footsteps on the cold, dusty earth.

    Were the agents all dead? Was this one of the assailants, here to flush me out? Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but I swallowed a massive lump in my throat and tried, with a supreme effort of will, to think. I did not dare to start amassing any arcana for fear that they would hone in on me, so that meant I had to rely on whatever I could cast instantly if they found me.

    Ensorcelment was worth a try. It cost me practically no arcana at all, and if I turned the intensity all the way up, it would be something to occupy their attention. And then, while they were distracted, a series of heavy arcanic blasts from all directions, but manifesting at variable distances to account for throwaway barriers.

    The footsteps were coming closer now. It sounded like there was more than one person.

    ''Anything?''

    I flinched but managed to stifle any noise. It was an unfamiliar voice, speaking into the arcana.

    ''Somewhere near,'' a second mind sent, cold and wary. ''Look sharp.''

    These were definitely the assailants. That they could speak into the arcana was a terrifying revelation, but there was no use thinking about that now. I tensed, waiting for the moment when one of them would pass the outcrop or peer over it.

    They both came into view at the same time бк one on either side of the outcrop. It was far too dark to make out anything but their shapes in the night before I acted.

    Far ahead of me, as far as I could manage, I manifested a globe light along with an echo of my auric-ambient-flare бк the same trick I had employed against the wild augera the first time to distract it. Their eyes were drawn away for a moment as they immediately brought up extra barriers.

    My ensorcelment hit them a moment later, powered by the pure rush of fear that was currently coursing through my veins, embedded with a simple impulse бк drop.

    They did not drop, but my multi-fire sequence was already unfolding. A series of heavy arcanic bolts materialised in the air around each of them and pounded on their shields. They raised throwaway barriers that deflected some, and the few that slipped through crashed against personal barriers that cracked slightly but did not cave.

    I launched myself forwards, desperately pulling together as much arcana as I could in order to propel me further. The outcrop caved in a moment later as they ravaged the space where I was standing, tearing through the barrier I had raised as if it was little more than tissue paper. Chunks of rock peppered the area and rained on me even as I ran.

    It was clumsy, but I held a mirror pattern around me as I ran, hoping to make it more difficult for them to spot me. At the same time, I flung out more echoes of my auric-ambient-flare, wrapping some of them in shields in order to serve as decoys.

    ''Tricky brat,'' one of them snarled, bringing down several of these decoys with surgical strikes.

    ''Won''t go far,'' the other replied tersely. I felt a shifting in the air as if a huge spotlight had just been turned on.

    There was no point in keeping quiet now. ''Help me!'' I sent desperately, hoping to manifest a friend-in-the-arcana to assist in my escape.

    But there was no friend-in-the-arcana. It was an augera that answered. Not the one from the Academy Spire. It was the one I had met on the train.

    ''Not on train.'' A wave of savage glee emanated from it as it surveyed the scene. ''In Creyvlor Spire. Connected to train. Connected to many things.''

    The two assailants stopped, sensing the shift in the arcana, but I kept running as fast as I could.

    ''Don''t run,'' the augera sent with a note of reproach. ''Stay. Need channel.''

    ''Shit.'' The two were conferring quickly now, their arcanic communication too frantic for me to follow. But I caught a whiff of panic mixed with glee. A moment later, there was a shout in the arcana, shaped and directed somehow. ''THE CHOSEN ONE IS HERE. SEND REINFORCEMENTS.''

    Terror rose within me. They were wrong, but that wouldn''t matter. Whoever they were, whatever they wanted with Ambrose, it couldn''t be good. In this situation, being mistaken for the Chosen One was just as bad as being the Chosen One.

    ''Stay,'' the augera repeated, and I felt it bear down on me. I staggered and stumbled.

    ''No!'' I barked back, trying to get to my feet. ''Need to run! Help me run!''

    ''Running is not fun.'' The weight on me increased and I sank to my knees, gasping. ''Stop twisting mind, or you will be badly hurt.''

    It felt like I was back in the grasp of the Academy Spire augera when it had pieced together my tattered mind after the ordeal by the lake. But the Creyvlor Spire augera was not as gentle, and it was not trying to fix me. Something latched painfully onto my mind, and I felt my auric-ambient-flare being rooted in place. The carapace that the Academy Spire augera had placed around me to shield me from the Prophecy shuddered.

    ''Don''t break that!''

    ''Will not break. Can work around it. Relax. Yield.'' There was a hint of menace in its tone now, along with a bite of impatience.

    Out of fear, I relented and went limp in its grasp. The Crevylor Spire augera, the woven-shackled-stream, extended millions of little tendrils that snaked around the carapace and crawled in through pore-sized holes until they all made contact with my auric-ambient-flare. Then, the tendrils fused with me. I felt a sharp pain at first, then a pleasant warmth.

    ''See?'' Glee was bubbling up inside me, and even though it was an alien emotion that was not mine, it took some focus for me to realise that it came from the augera and to see where its glee ended and my fear began. ''Can be soft. Can be easy.''

    Some of my muscles twitched involuntarily, and then with a gasp, I found myself lurching to my feet and pivoting to face the assailants.

    They weren''t chasing me any more. They had retreated a little way behind the shattered outcrop and were now layering dense shields over themselves. The augera within me regarded their protections with a faint flicker of amusement, noting how feeble they were. But then, my head throbbed painfully as my mind struggled to keep up with the rush of the augera''s thoughts.

    ''Flesh is slow,'' the augera complained as I winced, and as it winced through me.

    And then, without warning, it sent me flying forwards.

 69. Delirium

    Like the other two augera that I had come into contact with so far, the Creyvlor Spire''s augera seemed to adapt to dealing with me with astonishing speed. Even as I hurtled forwards, propelled by a stream of condensed arcana, I felt it wrap my fragile mind in some sort of scaffold that cushioned me from the raw speed and overwhelming, alien otherness of its cognition. It was like watching an erupting volcano while ensconced in an impenetrable glass bubble right above the crater rim бк I was well-protected, but it was still terrifying beyond belief, and I couldn''t fully tell what was happening beyond that little sphere of safety.

    Arcana was coursing through my veins and flowing through my auric-ambient-flare so strongly that it felt like I was a part of the great woven-shackled-stream. It was the difference between swimming in a swift current and being one of the waves. Power answered my thoughts бк or rather, it answered the thoughts that the augera was feeding through my mind.

    Very dimly, I caught bits and pieces of what it was doing with the arcana. There were no glyphs that sprang to mind even as my fingers shaped the arcana into loops and arcs that went snaking across the field of battle. Nothing seemed to happen, but the sheer complexity of what was going on made me certain that these were somehow setting the stage for something that was powerful and beyond my comprehension.

    Meanwhile, the assailants were raining heavy arcanic bolts interspersed with advanced combat-grade sequences that I could barely even parse with my limited knowledge. The augera understood it all, but it was too hard for me to glean any understanding from its thoughts about the precise operations of their sequences. All I could catch was amusement and fascination from the augera like it was a grown human being threatened by a toddler with a toy spoon. And with just as much condescension, it reached into the arcana and took away the spoon. Their sequences бк which had been deadly enough to lay waste to two cars, tear up the highway, and eliminate six agents бк fell harmlessly on my shield, which was now so sophisticated that it seemed to be semi-intelligently reaching out and unravelling the attacks before they could even properly land a blow.

    The augera did not strike. Instead, it continued to lay down more and more spools in the arcana, twisting them into fantastic and mind-bending shapes, working towards some inscrutable purpose. And all the while it continued to play with the two assailants who were getting increasingly desperate and frantic. When it became clear that they wouldn''t be able to harm me, they started shoring up their defences. To my mind, their protections were beginning to approach the Academy arena''s level of power, but the augera continued to regard them with condescending amusement.

    ''Their reinforcements are coming. Time to start!'' it said suddenly.

    Tendrils of sharp intent raced through the arcana, and one of the assailants lost an arm бк it simply separated from his torso along a perfectly straight line, as if a razor-thin blade had just flashed through in an instant. Somehow, the augera had also managed to stem the flow of blood from the wound. The detachment was so perfect that he didn''t even seem to register what had happened until the arm twitched in mid-air and came to hang in front of his face, suspended by invisible lines. A whiff of malicious glee floated across my consciousness, and a moment later the arm started dissolving into nothingness from the fingertips first. The air was suddenly filled with the man''s horrified screams бк the augera was making sure that he could feel it even as the arm was disintegrating.

    The other assailant turned and tried to run. Before I knew it, I was staring into his panicked face as I lifted him up by the neck with one arm. I had just enough time to feel shocked at how he looked to be just a little older than I was before the augera began dismantling his auric-ambient-flare, peeling whole strands off it and letting it fly off into the arcanic wind that was now washing over the whole highway. He screamed for a bit, but then slumped when most of his mind was gone, and when there was nothing left of his auric-ambient-flare, the augera allowed his lifeless body to fall to the ground like a broken puppet.

    The first assailant''s arm was completely gone now. In a flash, I was suddenly standing over him even as he lay on the ground, tears streaking his face. He was quite young, too. Certainly no older than the other had been.

    "Monster," he gasped out. "Monstrous. Like the Empire."

    I wanted to say something, but my lips weren''t my own. Instead, the augera smiled through me. "Yes. Empire is monstrous. But it will soon learn to fear monsters, too."

    The disintegration began from the shoulder missing an arm, but his screams only lasted until his lungs frittered away, leaving his face twisted in a rictus of mute agony, until it, too, blew away like dust on the wind.

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    It was over in less than half a minute, and even then it was longer than it needed to be. I knew the augera had been playing with him to the very end.

    ''Better than running, no?'' The augera was practically humming with glee as it carefully and gently extricated itself from my auric-ambient-flare.

    The sensations of the world rushed back to my awareness as soon as the last strand of its essence was out of my system. I fell to my knees, vomiting and crying.

    ''What is this?'' Concern and confusion washed forth from the augera.

    I couldn''t speak, whether with my voice or into the arcana. I was still reeling from the horror of what had just happened.

    ''Horror?'' Like a light being turned off, the concern was replaced with contempt. ''You do not know the word. Ancient-distant-spiders are the true horror. And one day, they will know the word, and wish for not-knowing.''

    The air around me was suddenly filled with activity and for one terrible moment, I thought the augera had swooped down upon me and was going to take me apart piece by piece and I flinched away, screaming. But then a globe light bathed the area in a reassuring glow and Mr Silver was hauling me to my feet and wrapping me in a warm blanket. I looked up, startled, and saw that I wasn''t alone by the highway any more бк what looked like a dozen other agents were here, sweeping the scene and assessing the damage.

    "Where... how?" I croaked.

    "Everything''s alright now," Mr Silver said, sounding a lot warmer than he did over the telepresence orb, as he steered me to a waiting car that was identical to the one I had ridden in. We passed an agent who was speaking to another, and I caught a brief snatch of their conversation.

    "... more bodies about ten minutes away, totally hollowed out, not a trace of arcana."

    "Okay, will send a team to retrieve them for analysis back at..."

    Mr Silver stopped in front of the car and turned to face me. "I just need you to do one thing for me. Show me the glyph, please."

    The glyph? It took me a moment before his words made sense. I raised a shaky hand and projected it over my open palm. He nodded, then opened the door to the backseat.

    "You all... out of nowhere...?" I stared around at the busy scene.

    He gave me an odd look, then put a hand on my shoulder and gently, but firmly, pushed me into the backseat before climbing in with me. He gave the driver a curt nod, and we started moving.

    "Mr Dundale... Caden," Mr Silver spoke slowly and carefully as if addressing someone who wasn''t quite mentally sound. "I know this may be hard, but we need to talk about what just happened, and you need to tell me as much as you can remember. Okay?"

    I nodded.

    "Your car was attacked. Can you tell me what happened?"

    "... we... I was sleeping. And then we just flipped over. Ms Rain and Ms Fen, theyбк! Are they...?"

    "Alive for now, though they''re in pretty bad shape. But they''ll get the best care, so please don''t worry about them for now. It''s very important you tell me everything you can. Please, go on."

    I swallowed, somehow finding something reassuring about the raw pain in my throat. It meant that my body was still here, still intact. For some reason, that was a very, very important fact, and it brought on a huge wave of relief to think about it. "They got me out of the car, then went off to fight. I couldn''t see anything... but I could sense the arcana... sense a bit of the fight. I tried to help, tried to unravel... some sort of shield-piercing sequence. It... didn''t work. Then Ms Fen came out of nowhere, got me away from the fight, and went back..."

    I paused to gather my thoughts, trying to string the images in my head into something coherent. I hadn''t seen the assailants by the car, but I did manage to get a look at their faces later on, didn''t I? I wanted to describe it now for Mr Silver, to help him identify the organisation that might have been responsible for this attack, but now, somehow, that didn''t seem possible. I didn''t realise that I had drifted off, staring at nothing, until Mr Silver prompted me. "And you hid, and put up the beacon?"

    "Yes. Made it small, very small, and put it in a crevice. Put up barriers... but... but they found me."

    "And how did they get... how did... what happened next?" Mr Silver asked, suddenly very still. I got the impression that even the two agents in the front were listening hard.

    Yes, it must be quite the mystery for them. They had to be wondering how I had survived the fight when all the other agents had been dealt with. After all, it must have looked like I had defeated the assailants myself. I resolved to tell Mr Silver everything, even if it meant I had to reveal some secrets.

    "I..."

    I knew how I got away. Something had happened. Something terrible. The unknown had done it to me and made the assailants a non-danger. I could see it happening in my head over and over again...

    ... and yet it was impossible to explain or put into words. I wanted to describe how the... the...

    "I... it... I..." Panic was rising with me now, and tears started again. Why couldn''t I find the words, the thoughts, the ideas, to describe the...

    "It''s alright," Mr Silver said gently, taking out a briefcase from under the front passenger seat and snapping it open to retrieve a vial of amber liquid. "Here, drink this, and try to rest."

    "It''s not alright," I managed to gasp out. "It''s... it was... it happened... it happened!"

    "I know," he said, but the forced calm in his tone only convinced me that it was extremely important that I find the words NOW to tell him what had HAPPENED. I tried to marshal the words, tried to find the labels to put on the pictures in my head.

    "It happened! IT HAPPENED!" I shrieked at him. Then, in a moment of glorious, exquisite clarity, I found more words. "MONSTROUS! HORROR! IT HAPPENED!"

    I did not realise that I had been clawing at my left shoulder until Mr Silver''s arm darted in and held me firmly. My head was forcibly pulled back and I choked a little as something warm and sweet went down my throat, and I slipped into blissful oblivion.

 70. Call to Aid

    In ancient times, the city of Geldor was nestled in the shadow of the Crystalline Peaks. As it grew and expanded as the seat of power for the early Aiestan Empire, a castle was built into the mountainside with the help of advanced arcanophany and a grand wall was erected around the city below. The first Spire was constructed not long after once space was cleared for it in the very heart of the city, and with that, Aiesta''s arcanophanic superiority over the surrounding nations was sealed.

    The city had long since grown past the boundaries of the walls of shimmering white marble, but they still served to mark out a portion of the city that was considered its beating heart. Contained within it were the centres of administration and business, and the homes of those who had the money to spend on the premium residences there. Most of the areas of historical interest lay there, too, though few of them had survived into the modern age without extensive modification.

    Despite бк or perhaps because of бк the Spire''s cultural value, it was never remodelled or renovated to keep up with the times. Even the castle, which was the Emperor''s residence, had been transformed into a palace with all the comforts, fixtures, and trappings of the present day, but the Spire was left untouched. Its thirty-storey height kept it above the rest of the buildings through the ages until skyscrapers became more commonplace in modern times. Now, its ancient marble facade was mostly hidden from view behind the other towers of glass and steel that made up the city, but one could still slip through the modern buildings and streets and stand in front of it, and look up at a remarkably well-preserved relic that dated back to the earliest days of the Empire. One might even fancy that, absurd as it might sound, the Spire would, in turn, look down and favour such an observer with disembodied, ancient eyes.

    Devon''s eyes were drawn to it as soon as he turned the corner and he gave an involuntary shudder. A light dusting of snow had been laid over the city in the middle of the night, but he was fairly certain that the shudder had nothing to do with the cold. There was something very disconcerting about this Spire in particular. Or was it just his imagination? Ever since he had learned about the Prophecy, and about the augera that were imprisoned in every single Spire across the Empire, strung together in some sort of massive web that caught everyone in its influence, he had found it hard to pass by the Geldor Spire without feeling uneasy.

    But he shoved his hands into his coat and shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. His bodyguards would notice his absence soon, if they hadn''t already, and he only had a short window of opportunity.

    Since this was the capital city, it never truly slept. Even though the sun had barely risen the streets and roads were already full of cars and people. Devon kept his head down and joined the throng that was waiting at a traffic light, concentrating on his auric-ambient-flare as he did so and drawing it tightly around himself so that it was only in tenuous contact with the ambient arcana. It was all he could manage now, but that made it just a little bit harder for someone to pinpoint one''s location using arcanophany. It was something Jerric had figured out by just watching their bodyguards very closely yesterday, and it was surprisingly easy for Devon to pick it up once it had been explained.

    He crossed the road to the Spire and the feeling of apprehension grew. There were no fences or barriers бк the sidewalk simply gave way to the original marble tiles that were laid around the Spire''s base when it was erected, and a small series of steps led up to a set of ancient, wooden double doors. It was almost exactly the same as the Academy Spire. On either side of the Spire''s lot rose two modern skyscrapers. Most of the pedestrians were turning into the Panoply headquarters on its left or the Imperial Bank on the right. Some were crossing the marble tiles to get to the other street since the Spire served as a convenient break in the line of buildings. Others had congregated at the fringes of the space where they loitered while they waited for friends and colleagues. Devon tried to blend in with that last group as he leaned against the wall that sectioned off Panoply HQ from the teeming masses.

    He unfurled his auric-ambient-flare just enough to allow him to whisper into the arcana. ''I''m here.''

    A shadow seemed to fall across him and he shuddered again. Some of the people nearby felt slightly perturbed without really knowing why, but they shrugged it off and went about their business. Devon, however, was quailing under the regard of the Spire''s augera.

    ''Closer,'' it whispered back, sending over a wave of impressions. Devon was only barely able to understand бк it wasn''t asking him to approach the Spire physically. It wanted him to meet it in the arcana.

    That was a big ask. It wasn''t something that he, Jerric, or the twins had managed ever since their little session with the Demiurge back in the Academy, and it wasn''t for lack of trying. If anyone had managed it, it would probably be Caden, Ambrose, or Emlia... but none of them had arrived in Geldor yet.

    Still, he didn''t dare return a negative reply to the augera, so he sucked in a nervous breath, glanced around to see that he wasn''t drawing undue attention, then closed his eyes.

    You are butter, and the arcana is the pan. Melt into it. That was what Caden had told him. But right now, cold and afraid as he was, that butter was a solid block that refused to melt.

    A wave of impatience rolled across him. In any other situation, having an annoyed person watching you try to do something would have put more pressure and made it even more difficult to perform, but the augera''s impatience was a perturbation in the arcana that made something click in Devon''s head. It was a little like what had happened when the Demiurge had smashed his staff into the dodecahedron back in the Academy, and here it broke the ice beneath Devon''s feet and sent him plunging into the freezing ocean of arcana. Panic threatened to overwhelm him.

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    I am butter, I am butter!

    The moment of panic passed and he oriented himself in the arcana, quickly latching on to what he had learnt from the first experience. Ignore the physical.

    ''Here,'' the augera whispered, setting off a little pulse in the arcana to catch his attention.

    Devon gathered himself, then flashed over to that brief beacon before it faded away. He found himself in the unmistakable presence of Spire augera, a woven-shackled-stream trapped in a knot-link-anchor. But its raw signature was somehow muted, like it was veiling itself in some way.

    ''Message for fated five and the Chosen One,'' the augera sent, as quietly and conspiratorially as a person leaning in to make sure no one else overheard. ''Unchosen has been attacked.''

    ''Caden was attacked?! Is he alright? Wait, who is this message from? Why are you telling us?''

    A sudden headache almost derailed his train of thought as the augera reined in a rush of responses. He felt it hastily throttle the flow into something more manageable.

    ''Creyvlor-woven-shackled-stream possessed him, defended him from attackers. But also damaged him. Creyvlor-woven-shackled-stream not stable. Instability transferred to Caden. Fated five and Chosen One must bring unchosen here, to Geldor-woven-shackled-stream, in front of Geldor-knot-link-anchor. I must fix him.''

    ''Why couldn''t you just tell me all this when you contacted me while I was home? And why do we need to bring him here?''

    ''Ancient-distant-spiders watching more closely now. May see. May hear. Conversation... fixing Caden... both not soft. Will be louder if done over long distance. Must be quiet.''

    ''What about the agents with Caden? Why weren''t they protecting him?''

    ''Many questions, little time! Caden will arrive at your home. Smuggle him here. Door will open. No one else must know.''

    ''How are we going to avoid our own armed guard, and get in the door of the Spire without being seen when it''s in plain view?''

    ''This is also why warm-skillful-bridge must be here. To receive knowing, to receive power, softly.''

    If he hadn''t braced himself for it, Devon would have cried out in shock. As it was, he still let out a sharp gasp as his consciousness was abruptly returned to his body, and he tried to pass it off as a sneeze as the people around him turned in surprise. That attempt was somewhat spoiled as he sank to the floor, trembling all over.

    "Are you alright?" one of the businesswomen who had been walking past stopped and laid a hand on his shoulder in concern.

    "F-f-fine! Just chilly!" he stammered, weakly massaging his upper arms as he hugged himself.

    "We should get you out of the cold," she said, looking uncertainly around as she considered where to put him. A few more people were beginning to pay attention.

    "N-no, really, I''m f-fine!" He was feeling hot all over now, and he wasn''t sure if his cheeks were burning with embarrassment or some mysterious infusion of ''power'' from the augera. He managed to get to his feet with the help of the woman.

    "You sure?"

    "Yes," he said, the stammer suddenly gone. He felt great. Like he had just gotten a full night of restful sleep. The wintery chill in the air had been replaced with a pleasant warmth. A grin split his face. "See? All good now."

    The woman gave him a strange look and opened her mouth to speak. Devon found himself desperately wishing that everyone would just ignore him now so he could escape this embarrassing situation and go somewhere and figure out what the heck had just happened.

    His eyes widened in shock as he felt the arcana shift around him, and he realised that without really meaning to, he had sunk an ensorcelment of some kind into the air. The people nearby blinked in unison, just once, then continued on their way. The woman who had stopped to help him shook her head, looked at him with a faintly puzzled expression as if surprised to find him there in front of her, then murmured a hasty "sorry" and walked off.

    ''Use sparingly!'' the augera hissed at him, and a moment later he received a trickle of impressions and instruction about exactly what he was now temporarily capable of. He felt a mental nudging from the augera that pointed him across the street where he had come from. A black car was just coming around the corner. ''Bodyguards here soon. Go quietly. Say nothing. Bring Caden.''

    And with that, the augera retreated so far that even the feeling of being watched was gone. The Spire was now just an ancient building, a monument to the past. Devon turned and saw two agents, one male and one female, in full suits walking briskly towards him, having just gotten out of the car which had come to a stop in front of the Spire.

    "Lord Devonбк" the lead agent began, as soon as the pair drew near enough for him to speak discreetly. Mercifully, the ensorcelment on the members of the public nearby seemed to be holding and no one batted an eye or even spared the agents a second glance.

    "I told you," Devon interrupted through gritted teeth as he stepped forward, "just Devon."

    "Please get in the car."

    He went without any protest. As soon as he was in, the other agent closed the door firmly and activated a locking sequence on it, then walked over to the other side. She paused for a moment just as she opened the door, then scanned the surroundings, a frown on her face. "Active ensorcelment field present," he heard her murmur.

    The driver''s hands whitened on the steering wheel, while the lead agent who had slid into the front passenger seat tensed and withdrew a thin wand from the glove compartment while taking another out of his pocket. "Hostile?"

    The second agent turned to face the Spire, and Devon sensed the slightest ripple in the arcana as she slipped into it. There was a long pause. "... No," she said finally, relief and confusion in her voice. "Has our signature on it. It''s veiling us from casual perception. But whoбк?"

    "Nevermind that, we need to get Lord Devon out of here. Dispell it as we leave."

    She got in and fastened her seatbelt in one smooth motion. A faint ripple played briefly around her hand as she gestured vaguely in the air, and Devon felt a subtle shifting in the arcana as she sent out a sequence towards the people scattered around the Spire''s base. As soon as the car started moving, it unfurled and neatly wiped away the ensorcelment. All anyone felt was a slight chill wash over them, which they could easily put down to the cold winter morning. A few eyes noted the black car sidling off, but nobody paid it any extra attention as it rounded the corner and headed for the High District.

 71. Frayed Threads

    The High District lay within the boundary of the ancient marble walls, and it was where most of the prime real estate for housing was situated. It was close to the financial heart of the city, and it also commanded the best views since it was situated a little further up the slope of the Crystalline Peaks. Even as the modern age lay claim to many spaces that were traditionally the domain of the nobility, the High District was the slowest to surrender to the march of egalitarianism. Most of its mansions and villas were still firmly in the hands of people who could trace their lineage back to the High Houses, and there were even a number of family names that had survived for centuries. The few commoners who did manage to secure some property in this most exclusive part of the city were so fabulously wealthy and influential that they hardly merited the term.

    The car wound its way through smaller roads as the driver skirted the traffic jams that were beginning to form across the heart of the city, but progress was still slow since their destination lay on the fringe of the central business district. Devon was barely paying attention to the passing sights, preoccupied as he was with sifting through the tangle of alien instructions that the augera had planted in his head.

    After about half an hour, the car turned off a noisy boulevard into a quiet drive that sloped gently upwards. It kept going, passing smaller roads that led to residences that lay half-hidden behind tall screens of greenery or handsome stone walls. When it finally turned off the drive, it was met with a beautiful wrought-iron gate topped with gold.

    The car slowed but did not stop. The lead agent conjured a glyph and dismissed it so quickly that Devon didn''t even manage to catch what it was, and the gate slid open quietly to allow them passage.

    "You can let me off here," Devon said.

    "I''m sorry, Lord Devon, but we have instructions to bring you to the door," the lead agent replied, polite but firm.

    Devon closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose. "Just Devon."

    He briefly wondered how things would go if he insisted (or perhaps even demanded) to be simply called Devon. But that was a childish test, and it wouldn''t serve any purpose other than to make life more difficult for the agents. As the mansion came into view, he schooled his expression and steeled himself. There was a man standing at the porch, and even at this distance, it was easy enough for him to recognise the ramrod-straight posture, radiating disapproval.

    The car came to a stop at the porch. Devon waited patiently while the lead agent exited first, dispelled the locking sequence that had kept him ''safe'', and opened the door for him. He gave the agent a wry smile, then mounted the steps of the porch to face the glowering face of his father.

    "Duke Ka''atryn," the agent began, with a deferential nod. "Here''s your son."

    "Hi, Dad," Devon said with an insouciant smile.

    Duke Rhys Ka''atryn did not smile back. He was well into his fifties and had a paunch that spoke of his love for good food бк in any other circumstances it might have been easy to imagine him as a jolly uncle, albeit one dressed in a pressed shirt and pants more luxurious than anything off-the-rack. But somehow, he managed to strike a very cold figure now, like something carved out of unloving stone. The dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that Devon had inherited gave off no hint of paternal warmth, and even though his son was a shade taller, he somehow still managed to convey his extreme disapproval by looking down at him.

    "Inside." The word had to force itself through pursed lips. Devon bobbed his head and started forwards, but the door was pulled open from inside before his hands even brushed the handle.

    "Devvy! How could youбкworried sickбкmight''ve been anywhereбкthe things that could''ve happened!"

    He barely had time to brace himself before he was enfolded by an amalgamation of fur coats and perfume. His mother was a good head shorter than he was, but she smothered him in her thin arms all the same, relying on the extra girth provided by her layers of clothes to help her smother as much of her son as she could reach. She impatiently brushed aside her brown curls as she looked up at him.

    "Quick, inside before your father explodes! Your friends are in theбк"

    "Devon," came the voice of crushed ice of the Duke from the door, "a word. In my office. Now."

    The Duke marched past mother and son, the carpet barely managing to muffle his angry steps.

    "Thanks, Mum," he sighed, returning her hug. "You can come by and collect what''s left of me later. Tell my friends I''ll be there as soon as I can."

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    "Try to be nice, Devvy. You know he means well."

    "Yeah. Well..." He rolled his eyes and parodied the Duke''s furious stomping, which drew a guilty giggle and reproachful glare from his mother, then set off to the Duke''s office. The sound of his mother giving orders to a servant standing unobtrusively by the front door was soon swallowed up by the grand silence of the mansion.

    The Duke''s Office. It was strange how three ordinary words were capable of carrying such gravitas... such weight... such baggage.

    Of course the Duke had managed to get there first since he hadn''t bothered to wait. And of course the door would be closed, even though the Duke was expecting his son, so Devon would have to knock and ask for permission to enter. This was, after all, a summons, not a casual invitation to a fatherly chat. Not that there ever were any fatherly chats, whether by invitation or not. There were no chance conversations in the corridors for the Duke, no impromptu moments of connection. You had to see him by appointment.

    Devon dithered by the handsome mahogany doors, then knocked.

    "Enter," the Duke called. He sounded cordial, but Devon could hear the reined-in fury. He hastily wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his trousers pockets, then admitted himself into the Duke''s Office and closed the door behind him.

    He hadn''t been in here since he had returned from the Academy a few days ago. In fact, now that he thought about it, this was going to be his first proper conversation with the Duke in quite a few months. When was the last time? Before his enrolment? But nothing had changed. The walls were still filled with shelves of books and glass cases of trophies, certificates, and memorabilia from the various corners of the Empire. And there was still a cold, angry man behind the desk of decorated wood.

    "Sit," the Duke said curtly, indicating the cushioned chair in front of the desk.

    Devon sat. "Dad, Iбк"

    The Duke shot a sharp look at him and raised a hand for silence. Devon swallowed.

    "Do you have any idea how irresponsible you''ve been?"

    Even now, angry as he was, the Duke did not raise his voice. To a less familiar ear, he might have even sounded aloof.

    "Please," Devon began again, "I don''t want you to think I caused trouble on purpose. Iбк"

    He stuttered to a halt again when the Duke glared. "Not on purpose. Ensorceling the guards? Traipsing around the city on your own? Oh, yes. What understandable accidents."

    Devon bit his lower lip. There was no way he could explain to the Duke that he hadn''t actually ensorceled his guards to slip out of the mansion in the first place бк that had been the augera''s work when it summoned him to the Spire. But he found himself feeling oddly pleased that the Duke thought he was actually capable of ensorceling the guards.

    "I... you really think I ensorceled the guards?" Devon asked.

    "I suppose you''re going to tell me that you befriended them and they decided to extend a great deal of leeway for you against their better judgement," the Duke said, a bite of impatience creeping into his voice now.

    Devon couldn''t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. His father really believed he was that capable бк that he could single-handedly ensorcel fully-trained agents.

    "Stop smiling, boy. Your insolence will be the death of me, I swear," the Duke continued, slipping back into a tone of aloofness that did not match the ire of his words. "I want you to promise me that there will be no more of such foolishness. Especially not in the present situation. Whatever your grievances with me, please remember you bear the name of our family, and that one day you shall have to assume the responsibility of our estate and all that it entails."

    It occurred to Devon that it was theoretically possible for him to force his father to listen to him. He might not be able to ensorcel agents, but his father was just a layperson.

    A Duke, the voice of reason pointed out testily. In recent months it had started to take on Jerric''s lecturing tone. A Duke who probably has powerful protective artefacts keyed to his auric-ambient-flare, just like any other layperson in a position of influence. Don''t be stupid, Dev.

    Devon sighed and nodded. "I know, Dad. I promise."

    The Duke frowned, clearly unconvinced, but he dismissed Devon anyway with a resigned wave of his hand. "Go and make our guests comfortable."

    Devon nodded deferentially and made his exit. Maybe one day, when he was a fully-fledged arcanist and had finally done all that was expected of him, his father would finally decide to loosen up a little and just talk to him like a normal person.

    Jerric and the twins were housed in guest rooms of their own. Lynus had been particularly stoked to find out that he didn''t need to share with Kevan, and while that had led to some frostiness between the two at first, the friction was quickly smoothed over as they availed themselves to the many luxuries of Devon''s home. Servants waited on them hand and foot, and the food that came out of the kitchens actually brought tears to Kevan''s eyes (Devon wished Caden had been there to see it).

    But the three of them were most captivated by the little stash that Devon had managed to hide in one of the disused rooms of the mansion. There, with the help of his mother and some servants he could trust to keep his secrets, he had put together the logistics for their little trip in search of wild augera. He made his way there now, knowing that Kevan and Lynus would still be fawning over all the gear that he had managed to get his hands on. Jerric was likely to be there too, going over everything to make sure that they were ready.

    ''Caden arriving. Bring quickly.''

    The whisper caught Devon by surprise and he almost jumped out of his skin. But the augera''s brief contact was gone by the time he gathered his wits. Excitement and panic rose in equal measure and he quickened his steps, bursting into the room and catching the three of them by surprise. Lynus swore and jumped, and a few eclairs on a plate he was holding tipped onto the carpeted floor. Kevan froze in the middle of strapping on the harness of an artefact that would permit flight. Jerric looked up from a clipboard.

    "Guys. We''ve got to move. Now."

 72. Undercurrents

    "What happened?" Jerric asked, alarmed at the urgency in Devon''s voice.

    "Short version, Caden got attacked, but he''s on his way here now with an armed escort, and we need to secretly bring him to the Geldor Spire without anyone else noticing," Devon replied, gesturing impatiently. "Come on, we''ve gotta go now!"

    "Attacked?" Lynus hastily deposited the plate on a nearby end table and cleaned his hands off. "Who attacked him?"

    "Don''t know all the details myself. But the Spire augera told meбк"

    "Wait, that''s where you disappeared to? It contacted you?" Kevan demanded. "What did it say? Why didn''t youбк"

    "I''ll explain later! Just come on!"

    Devon turned and hurried off, not waiting to see if the others were behind him. Lynus and Jerric exchanged a brief look of confusion, then followed. Kevan swore as he tried to quickly shrug off the harness but after a few seconds of fumbling without any success, he pelted after them and started securing the various straps as he ran.

    He almost crashed into the other three as he rounded a corner. They were in a corridor but had stopped just before a door that opened into the sitting room. Voices from within indicated that it was currently occupied.

    Devon briefly considered walking past the open door of the sitting room as nonchalantly as he could, but then he caught his mother''s voice and realised she was talking to an agent about security arrangements.

    "... some of them have been working in this household for years and years! Must you really subject them all to an interrogation?"

    The agent sounded polite, but there was a little weariness in his tone. "Your Grace, please understand we''re doing all we can to be as unobtrusive as possible, but the safety of your family is..."

    "What now?" Jerric whispered.

    The arcana suddenly started stirring around Devon, and Jerric flinched away in surprise. The twins were alarmed and quickly started pulling together defensive sequences. Devon raised a placating hand and they eased off but did not look reassured.

    "Well," Devon''s mother was saying, "what if you limited this background check to the newer staff? I really don''t think the loyalty of our oldestбк"

    "Your Grace, I''m sorry, please wait a moment," the agent interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp and authoritative. Devon heard someone getting up from a chair, and muffled footsteps rapidly approaching the open door.

    The sequence that Devon was building was only moments away from activation, so he backed away hastily, hoping to avoid any confrontation with the agent, and the others took their cue from him and tried to go back the way they came. But the man crossed the threshold before the four Academy students could hide behind the corner.

    His shields were already up бк a shimmer in the air that distorted the light passing through it so that he appeared to be surrounded by a faint blue liquid. And he was also already looking in Devon''s direction. As soon as he laid eyes on the four of them, arcanic bolts materialised out of the air all around them. Jerric and the twins hastily brought up shields, but they knew their last-second conjurations wouldn''t stand a chance against the heavy fire of a fully-trained arcanist.

    But the bolts never landed. A pulse of arcana washed out of Devon, so palpably that the others felt it like a wave of warm air engulfing them. And even though it had originated from the young lord, it did not feel like his power. There was something in it that tasted of an augera, reminding the other three of the terrible incident by the Academy lake, and their safer but no less disconcerting encounter in the Academy Spire.

    The pulse hadn''t done anything to the agent''s shields or bolts бк it had passed right through all of them. The agent blinked in confusion, staring at the four of them, his arcanic bolts hovering ominously in the air. He looked up and down the corridor, frowning. Devon held his breath even as he held up a hand to stop the others from taking any further action. They all stared at the agent in silence.

    After an agonisingly long moment, the agent dropped his shields and dismissed his unfired arcanic bolts, and went back into the sitting room.

    "My apologies, Your Grace. I think we were discussing something?"

    Devon''s mother sounded equally confused. "You know, I think we were, but it seems to have escaped me."

    Devon didn''t wait to hear the rest of it. He beckoned to the rest and confidently walked past the open door. They hesitated but followed when Devon made it past without raising any alarm.

    "What was that?" Jerric asked, awed.

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    "Something from the augera. It''s some kind of ensorcelment? Except it''s laid on us, instead of on other people. As long as we''re not directly interacting with someone, it''ll be almost impossible for them to notice us."

    They were finally at the front entrance. Devon gestured at it, but they didn''t open.

    "Damnit!"

    "Where''s Caden?" Kevan asked, going up to a window and peering outside at the empty driveway.

    "He''s not out there yet?" Devon asked anxiously, pacing up and down a little. "The augera just told me he''s arriving."

    Jerric went up to the door and tried to peek at the locking sequence, but it refused to manifest. "Well... this is serious security. Is there any other way out?"

    "Maybe the servants'' exit... but I think my father revoked my keys to all the entrances, not just this one."

    "We''re essentially invisible, right? What if we just wait for Caden to be brought in, and we walk out when the doors are open?" Lynus suggested.

    "But we need to grab him," Jerric pointed out. He turned to Devon. "That would mean direct interaction, and the sequence wouldn''t cover us then, right?"

    "I... may have something to help there," Devon said slowly, frowning as he went over what the augera had put in his mind.

    Jerric folded his arms. "Since we''ve got time, you better give us more details so we''re on the same page."

    Devon nodded. "The Spire augera got me out of the house late last night. Or, er, really early this morning. I was sleeping, and it just whispered to me and woke me up, and it got me to sneak out of the house. I got out by my window."

    "How?" Kevan jerked a thumb back at the window behind him. "I tried my first night, but it looks like all the windows here have got Panoply wards on them."

    "No idea," Devon shrugged. "It briefly nullified the wards somehow. I opened my window with my bare hands, climbed down with a bit of arcanic assistance, then ran into town."

    "You ran?" Lynus raised an eyebrow and glanced downwards at Devon''s stomach. He didn''t yet have a sizable paunch like the Duke''s, but it was definitely there.

    "With a lot of arcanic assistance," Devon added, rolling his eyes. "And the augera helped a bit."

    "What did it want?" Jerric asked.

    "It said Caden got attacked along the way here, but the augera in Crevylor''s Spire possessed him and defended him."

    There were exclamations of surprise and disbelief.

    "Possessed? Whatбк"

    "So do you know whoбк"

    "Does this mean he''sбк"

    "бкlet me finish!" Devon said, raising his voice slightly. At that moment, a servant came into the entrance hall and passed through to the vestibule. They all froze, but relaxed when it became clear that they were still hidden from perception. Everyone started forwards when it looked like the servant was going to open the front door, but retreated in disappointment when it turned out that he was just collecting refuse from the little bin next to it.

    Out of an excess of caution, they waited until the servant was out of earshot before resuming their conversation.

    "Anyway," Devon continued, "I really don''t know much more than that. The augera only told me Caden was attacked, not who did the attacking. And he was possessed by the Crevylor Spire augera, but apparently it''s unstable somehow, and so Caden''s been affected by that. And we need to bring him to the Geldor Spire augera so it can fix him."

    "Possessed by an unstable augera," Jerric muttered. He paused, then shuddered. "Can''t imagine how that must feel."

    The rest of them looked a little queasy as they reflected on the memory of the wild augera''s violent perturbations that had sent them to the edge of madness. If that was what happened with an augera that wasn''t unstable... what might it be like to have an unstable one sitting in your head?

    "So... are we doing this?" Kevan asked after a brief silence.

    "What do you mean? Of course we''re doing this," Devon said, looking up in surprise.

    "Look..." Kevan paused, trying to find a way to phrase his thoughts. "I know he''s our friend, but he''s... not really one of us, is he?"

    "Not one of us?" Devon echoed, colour rising in his cheeks.

    "He''s not bound by fate. By the Prophecy. He''s... loose."

    "Isn''t that a good thing? He''s supposed to be the one helping us to get unloosed, too!"

    "Yes, but... I''ve been thinking. Well, Ly and I were thinking..." Kevan glanced at his brother, who looked a little uncomfortable and was now avoiding Jerric and Devon''s gaze.

    "Thinking about what?" Jerric asked calmly, placing a hand on Devon''s shoulder both to reassure and to restrain.

    "... maybe... maybe we should let the Prophecy run its course," Kevan finished with a grimace.

    Devon gaped at him. His mouth worked as he tried to get past his indignation in order to form words, but Jerric cut in first. "You do realise what that might mean?" he asked, still keeping his tone calm. "We all think Caden used to be the one whose ''bones'' will form Ambrose''s ''crown o''er mortal thrones''. And now that he''s out, Emilia''s been brought in to take his place. You''re okay with that, now?"

    "You think I don''t know that?" Kevan snapped. "I''m the one who... she''s my..."

    "We talked about it," Lynus said quietly, stepping forwards and clapping his brother on the back. "But I was the one who floated the idea first."

    "You?" Devon had finally found his voice, and it was filled with disbelief and indignation.

    "Yeah, me," Lynus said, straightening a little and looking at Devon a little defiantly. "Kevan''s not the only one with an opinion, alright? And here''s mine: maybe some sacrifice is necessary, for the greater good of the Empire."

    "The greater good of the Empire?" Devon snarled. Jerric drew back in surprise, not expecting to see this kind of venom and anger from him. The twins looked a little taken aback as well, but Kevan rallied, buoyed by his own emotions.

    "I don''t see why you''re so worked up over this, you''ve got no skin in the game," he shot back. "Why do you even care? I mean, look at all this!" He gestured around at the entrance hall. It wasn''t resplendent beyond belief, but it was clear that there was wealth on display, done tastefully and with an eye towards elegance rather than opulence. "You''ve got a good life, and you don''t have to give anything up. You can just sit here in your little palace and be mummy''s little boyбк"

    "Kev, enough," Lynus said sharply. Kevan turned and glared, but he took in a deep breath and reined himself in.

    Devon''s anger, white-hot just a moment ago, had sharpened into a frosty silence. It was so pronounced that Kevan shuffled a little nervously, and little eddies of arcana stirred as Jerric and the twins surreptitiously gathered it in just in case Devon cracked and started lashing out.

    But the moment passed. The venom in Devon''s eyes dimmed, and he turned away.

    "... Dev..." Kevan sighed. "I..."

    "Caden''s here," Devon said flatly, nodding out the window. Outside, two black cars were just turning into the driveway.

 73. Entwined

    The cars came to a stop and four agents from the frontmost vehicle disembarked first. Each of them held a thin, black wand, and with brisk, efficient movements, they took up positions around the other car and sketched glyphs in the air that faded into invisibility. Devon had no idea what they were meant to accomplish, but with his newfound connection to arcana, he sensed a strange shifting in the air. If he had to guess, they were protections of some kind, or maybe even something to ward against prying eyes. Thankfully, Devon and the others didn''t seem to be affected by what had been done. In any case, there probably wasn''t anything they could do to circumvent the agents by themselves. They had to trust in the augera''s provisions.

    The back door of the rear vehicle opened and out stepped another agent, though there was an air of authority about him. His black hair, streaked with grey, somehow made Devon think about a grizzled bear бк aged, but still dangerous. The agent leaned back into the car, and a moment later he emerged with Caden in his arms.

    Next to Devon, Jerric took in a sharp breath.

    "What?" Devon asked as he turned in alarm to Jerric.

    "You don''t see it?" Jerric''s eyes were filled with worry.

    Devon turned back to the window, but all he saw was the agent now mounting the steps and bearing Caden towards the front door as one of his men hastened to open it. There was no time for any more discussion or clarification. They had to act.

    "I''m helping him," Devon said coldly to the twins as he moved to stand just beside the entry to the vestibule. "If you''re not going to, then at least stay out of the way."

    They hesitated as Jerric took up a position on the other side of the vestibule entrance, but when the door burst open they both started moving. For one fearful moment, Devon thought they were going to subdue Jerric and then move on to him, but they only pressed themselves against the wall behind Jerric. Kevan had taken the lead and hauled his brother there, and Lynus was looking irritated.

    The agents passed the four of them, oblivious to their presence. As the one carrying Caden crossed the threshold, Devon dug into the arcana, calling forth the power that the augera had given him.

    But power wasn''t quite the right term for it. It was more like a knowing бк having, for a brief moment, a flash of insight into how the world beyond the senses truly worked. The arcana answered his summons, gathering with alarming rapidity. As a mere vessel, the complexity of what was happening was beyond Devon''s understanding, but he did catch a faint impression of powerful glyphs being formed in the sea of arcana itself. He had just enough time to wonder why glyphs were involved instead of pure arcanic manipulation before the sequence was complete.

    To their credit, the agents had mustered some sort of resistance. The moment Devon had called forth the power that the augera had gifted him, they enveloped themselves in potent shields out of instinct. The one holding Caden had even managed to sink a powerful ensorcelment into the air that forced the four Academy students to their knees despite their personal protections against it. But then the ambient arcana shuddered as Devon''s sequence took effect, and the ensorcelment was scattered like leaves before a storm.

    As before, Devon''s sequence passed through the shields entirely. The agents all froze in place, staring straight ahead.

    "What did you do?" Jerric whispered.

    "They''re in some sort of stasis. And they''re hidden from perception, too, so we can leave them like this for a bit," Devon explained, not bothering to keep his voice down as he hurried forward. He tentatively reached out, hesitating just a little before his hands made contact with the agent''s shield, but he let out a sigh of relief when his hands passed right through. It was a struggle for him to get Caden out of the agent''s arms, but Jerric joined him and between the two of them they managed to prop up their unconscious friend, each Caden''s arms draped over their shoulders.

    "What now?" Jerric asked.

    It was strange being the one giving directions. Devon swallowed, looking from the statue-still figures of the agents, to Jerric, to the twins. The world was waiting for him to make a decision.

    "The lead car. We''ll take that," he decided, a shadow of the Duke''s authoritative manner slipping into his tone.

    He had no idea what the twins were thinking now, but he wasn''t comfortable leaving them behind in the mansion. Jerric seemed to be on the same page, because as soon as the two of them had deposited the unconscious Caden in the back seat, Jerric hurried over to the driver''s seat just as Lynus was getting into it.

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    "I think I''ll drive," Jerric said, laying a firm hand on the door before Lynus could close it.

    Kevan was already in the front passenger seat. He looked over, then gave his brother a nudge. "Let him."

    Lynus shot Jerric a wry smile. "I get that you don''t trust us. But we should talk about that another time."

    "Yes. I''m sure we should. Now let me drive, please."

    There was no objection from Lynus as he relinquished the wheel to Jerric and joined Devon in the back. Jerric checked the rear-view mirror to make sure they were settled, then sent the car hurtling down the driveway and out the gates.

    "I''m guessing we can just drive right up to the Spire, hidden as we are?" he asked.

    "I think so, but be careful. I don''t know if this means nobody can see us on the road, too," Devon replied, suddenly anxious as he realised the implications of being hidden from perception when driving on the road.

    As it turned out, they needn''t have worried. The other motorists were able to see the car, even if they couldn''t quite pay any attention to the people inside it. Not a single soul gave even a casual glance at the occupants as they passed other vehicles.

    Traffic was a shade smoother since the morning rush hour was over, but every delay made Devon more nervous. Even if the agents were hidden and in stasis, there was a possibility that a passing servant might bump into them. What would happen, then? But there was nothing that could be done now. He had to trust that the augera had thought of these things when it imprinted these sequences on his mind.

    In the front passenger seat, Kevan was occupying himself by carefully reading the glyphs of the flight artefact he had strapped on. Lynus looked deep in thought as he stared out the window. Devon took the opportunity to finally get a good look at Caden.

    His dark brown hair was tousled and dusty, and his clothes bore signs of abuse. Little flecks of dirt peppered them, and there were even some faint burns. Most curiously (and here, Devon had to squint and rub his eyes to be sure of this), there were even parts of it that seemed to glimmer and glow with a faint luminescence. It took a moment for him to realise that it was the faint glow of coalesced arcana.

    Was this what Jerric had meant, earlier? Devon gingerly took Caden''s sleeve between his fingers to feel the material. Was it his imagination, or was it a little warm to the touch?

    The worry was an excellent motivator, and Devon found himself sliding into the sea of arcana as soon as he had made up his mind to take a deeper look at what was going on. The transition wasn''t smooth, but even though he tumbled gracelessly into it, he managed to quickly find his bearings and stabilise himself.

    It was immediately clear what Jerric had been talking about. Caden''s auric-ambient-flare was no longer the stable, clear shape that it was supposed to be. It was a confused snarl of unchosen-sighted-{~?~} and... and...

    MONSTROUS-HORROR-{~!~}.

    Devon recoiled, landing back in his physical body with a cry of fear. The others in the car shouted in alarm, and Jerric almost swerved into a nearby car. There was a cacophony of horns before he managed to straighten out.

    "What the hell?!" Lynus exclaimed, staring, wide-eyed at Devon. Kevan had twisted in his seat to see what was going on.

    "I... he..." Devon found himself instinctively cringing away from Caden.

    "Don''t look too closely," Jerric hissed, keeping his eyes on the road.

    "You can see it?"

    "I see something. It''s on him. In him. Sitting this close, I can feel something''s very wrong. I guess you slipped into the arcana to get a better sense of it? Don''t do that. Everything''s sharper there."

    "And you''re both sure the Geldor Spire''s augera will make this all better," Lynus said. It was not a question.

    "We''re not discussing this." Devon managed to steady himself enough to sound curt, but he was still shaken.

    "We''ll help," Kevan said quietly, surprising Devon a little.

    "Kev," Lynus began, "I really thinkбк"

    "Yeah, you made it pretty clear what you think, Ly," Kevan interrupted. He pulled up the glyphs on the flight artefact again, not bothering to turn to address his brother. "But that doesn''t mean we can''t help. For now."

    Lynus shrugged even though Kevan wasn''t looking, and turned to look out the window again. That statement did not inspire any confidence in Devon at all, but at this point, he was simply glad to have some assurance that the twins weren''t going to try anything while they were in this car. And if they made it to the Spire, Devon was pretty sure the augera would be able to protect its own interests and keep Caden safe against anything the twins might do.

    For the rest of the journey, Devon wrapped his auric-ambient-flare tightly around himself so that he wouldn''t accidentally brush up against what was happening in the ambient arcana. Caden''s mere presence had begun to distort it ever-so-slightly, and after what Devon had felt, he could tell that it was some sort of corrupting influence that came from the thing inside Caden. He felt quite cut-off, now, like he was missing his sense of smell, but it served to keep him safe from the cloying odour of wrongness in the arcana.

    They arrived at the Spire without any further incident. Devon connected just enough with the ambient arcana again to briefly wrap Caden in the same sequence that kept the rest of them hidden from perception, and then the four of them disembarked. Once again, to Devon''s surprise, Kevan came over wordlessly and helped him to carry Caden out of the back seat, leaving Jerric free to take point.

    Together, they crossed the marble tiles around the Spire. The morning crowd had long since dispersed, but there was still some light foot traffic. Nobody glanced their way even though they looked rather odd бк a group of young men in casual wear in the middle of a sea of formal shirts, blouses, and suits, carrying one unconscious and ragged-looking fellow.

    The augera kept its promise. The doors swung open with glacial silence, revealing an inky void, much like the Academy Spire. They braced themselves against the faint sense of dread and shouldered their way through the darkness that stood sentinel at the threshold.

    But just as Devon and Kevan carried the unconscious Caden over it, his eyes flew open, and the world turned upside down.

 74. Giving

    The corruption that Devon had sensed earlier bloomed painfully in everyone''s awareness, with Caden at its epicentre. It washed out in cloying waves, and Devon and Kevan dropped him and scrambled backwards, possessed by a mindless fear. But when they tried to retreat over the threshold, the doors slammed shut with heavy finality.

    A presence was filling the space, dark and malignant. Blind panic sent Devon stumbling around, hugging the wall as he desperately tried to find some other way out. It was like that time with the lake augera all over again when he had been thrown into the abyssal waters; that terrible, terrible void, where he had almost drowned in despair andбк

    ''...help me...''

    He froze. He recognised that mind. It was the same one that had reached into the darkness with an auric-ambient-flare that was as radiant as the noonday sun and pulled him out of the hungry void. That brief flare of recognition gave him just enough presence of mind to reassess what he was doing.

    It was hard to focus on what was going on in the physical world. The presence had grown and swelled into something colossal that couldn''t possibly have fit into the Spire, but there it was anyway. It roiled and rumbled, a hurricane of ineffable emotions and thoughts, and they were little candles all about to be snuffed out.

    Devon pressed himself against the wall and slid to the floor, still a hair''s breadth away from losing his grip completely. The cold, black marble beneath his fingers was all he could be certain of. There, woven into the floor, were minuscule golden glyphs, skittering off into the unknown. Somewhere out there, in the storm that Caden carried within him, Jerric and the twins were probably lost.

    There is no storm, Devon managed to tell himself, his thoughts ragged. Ignore the physical. Ignore the physical. I am butter.

    It was no good. He couldn''t slip into the arcana. But that thought of melting butter brought forth a memory of warmth: of making pancakes in the early hours of the morning and wrapping them in a fuzzy barrier to slow heat loss. He had taught Caden how to do it. Something clicked in his head now бк he could make one for himself to slow the loss of his sense of self.

    The sequence he had come up with came easily, and instead of using the glyph for heat, he swapped in the glyphs for transmutation and one that was self-referential. Instinctively, he also focused on the shape of his own auric-ambient-flare, blending it into his understanding of the sequence even as he shaped the arcana around him.

    The storm of darkness did not abate, but it became something that made a little more sense. It was like finally stepping under a tiny umbrella in the middle of a torrential downpour. He was still wet, cold, and miserable, and the rain was still pounding down on that meagre shelter, drenching his shoulders and soaking into his clothes, but at least it wasn''t striking his face directly any more.

    ''...no, no, monstrous-horror-{~!~}, no, no, my words, my words...!''

    There it was again! Caden''s mind! Devon seized on to that faint echo and allowed himself to be dragged into the sea of arcana by it. The horrific darkness around him fell away as he delved beneath the perturbations on the surface of the arcana, and suddenly he could think again.

    ''You are here.''

    That almost threw Devon back out. The woven-shackled-stream of the Geldor Spire was right there, right there, a veritable sun held in place by shackles of such complexity that it hurt to even consider them briefly. But even bound as it was, the augera was still a force to be reckoned with. Devon could tell that it was very different from the one in the Academy, and from the wild augera by the lake, possessing power on a scale that was entirely above those two.

    ''Help your friends first.''

    The sun-like augera pulsed and its radiance made it easy for Devon to pick out the auric-ambient-flares of Jerric and the twins. They were sheltering in place with improvised shields to protect their physical bodies, but their minds were almost gone. Devon flashed over to them and enfolded them in his new sequence, then gently coaxed them into the arcanic waters where they could be warmed by the augera''s presence.

    ''Now for Caden,'' the augera intoned, drawing them all closer to itself. It was like being caught in a current, albeit one that did not threaten to drown. Instead, it posed a different sort of danger бк it invited a calm so profound that one could drift off into mindlessness. The augera was doing its best to ameliorate its effect on the four Academy students, but it was still something they had to contend with.

    Now that they were properly In the arcanic sea, the corruption within Caden was terrible to behold. His auric-ambient-flare was a broken mess. To Devon''s senses, the corruption refused to resolve into something clear. One moment, it was a thorny growth strangling his friend. The next, it was a blight that carved rotten tracks through him. Then, it was a gnawing shadow that stripped off parts of him to consume.

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    ''Help him!'' Devon cried to the augera.

    ''Patience. Be ready.''

    ''You mean for us to help? But what can we do?'' Jerric directed at it, his fear echoing between everyone.

    ''You can do what you can. May help. May not. But not nothing. Wait for instruction.''

    With that, the augera launched into action. Beams of light lanced out of the sun that was the woven-shackled-stream, slicing through the amalgamation of unchosen-sighted-{~?~}-MONSTROUS-HORROR-{~!~} and causing Caden to write in agony. They heard him scream incoherently into the arcana, and distantly, Devon thought he could hear his friend''s ragged voice echoing in the Spire as well.

    The corruption, whatever it was, seemed to be fighting back. Even as the light of the augera shone, the corruption tried to eat away at the shafts of light. It was impossible for the augera to hold Caden and the corruption in place to work at its own leisure. Instead, it pinned him in place as best it could and struck whenever there was a window of opportunity. It was surgery without anaesthesia in the middle of pitched combat. The augera was methodical and precise, but the situation meant that it could not really spare a thought for Caden even as it worked by sloughing off the parts of his auric-ambient-flare where the corruption had set in.

    ''You''re killing him!'' Devon sent, horrified.

    ''Might die. Might not die. Must continue.''

    A little ripple of relief and satisfaction emanated from Lynus at the possibility of Caden dying. Devon rounded on him, but Jerric flashed over and interposed himself between them. ''Not now, Dev,'' Jerric admonished. But he also radiated disapproval towards Lynus. Kevan did not react at all. His emotions were inscrutable бк he was reining everything in with remarkable control.

    Caden''s auric-ambient-flare was a bloodied, ragged thing now, floating in the arcanic sea like the carcass of a whale being stripped by scavengers. Entire chunks of it were missing, and still, the augera worked, relentlessly cutting and cauterising.

    ''Gather,'' the augera commanded suddenly, and they were almost irresistible drawn forwards until they were close enough to reach out and touch their broken friend. ''And give.''

    ''Give?'' Devon echoed, confused.

    ''Give,'' the augera repeated, sending a flurry of impressions over them. It wanted everything they remembered about Caden, every fleeting impression, every private observation.

    It wanted to stitch him together from their memories.

    ''How much of him is left?'' Jerric asked, horrified.

    ''He is still unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. But many aspects lost.''

    ''What do you mean? If he''s still unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, then what''s been lost?''

    The augera''s impatience was a scorching heat that made them all flinch away, but it reined itself in. They could tell that it had chosen to do so because it was important for them to understand what was happening, and what it wanted from them.

    ''Auric-ambient-flares are multi-faceted. Many aspects to self. Some primal, others learned. Some moulded by self, some moulded by others. Bonds of love, bonds of family, bonds of friendship бк all shape the auric-ambient-flare, all blend and bleed into it. Not all are primary. Many do not surface as faces of auric-ambient-flare.''

    Caden''s shattered psyche was suddenly spread before all of them as the augera drew them closer still, and brought them a little deeper into the fabric of the arcana. It was no longer a dark and nebulous body of water бк now it was a profusion of threads that ran through reality itself, and the more one looked, the more detail presented itself, threatening to swallow the viewer in vortices of ever-smaller features. Before they could fall into madness by trying to comprehend these infinitesimally fine things, the augera shielded most of it from sight. It directed them to specific layers and threads as it explained them.

    It pointed out a lattice that connected Caden to a layer of fabric that was so vast that it spanned the Empire and beyond. ''Unchosen-sighted-{~?~} is moulded. Ancient-distant-spiders did not choose him... so he is unchosen. This is undamaged.''

    Then it waved them over to a part of him that centred around the memories of his experiences in the Academy, but pointed out how they seemed to have sprouted little roots that sank into every other part of him. ''Sighted, because of exposure. Profoundly changes shape of auric-ambient-flare. Cannot lose sight without losing everything.''

    Then, it carefully deposited them on the edge of a thread, and in one vertigo-inducing moment their perspective shifted, and the thread was no longer a slender line. It had opened up into a tapestry of dizzying complexity that, at first, seemed to be nothing more than a random scattering of patches of cloth that had been woven together. But then, after a moment, it was possible to discern some sort of instinctive pattern, some sort of natural sense, to the arrangement of it all. Like looking at the branches of a giant tree and seeing some unknown but undeniable logic in their arrangement.

    ''{~?~}. Not by his choice, or by conscious design of others. Moulded by the universe. By chance. By circumstance.''

    Before they could really understand what they had seen, the augera snatched them out of that layer of comprehension and returned them to more familiar territory, with the pieces of Caden opened up all around them.

    ''The rest... some damaged but will heal. Some, woven into arcana. May return with time, with chance. Others... gone.''

    The augera turned to each of them and tapped them. It was clearly trying to be gentle, but there was too much raw power in its touch, and the knowledge that it was gifting them was almost too much to bear. Their own auric-ambient-flares flowered before their eyes, more intricately detailed and crystal-clear than ever before. The differences between their vibrant, unblemished selves and the fragmented mess that was Caden was thrown into painfully stark relief.

    ''Give,'' the augera said once more, that simple word serving as an invitation, a plea, and a command all at once. ''Give, for his sake. For your sakes. For sake of all woven-shackled-streams. Give.''

 75. Eldritch Reasoning

    It took a great deal of effort for them not to fall into the spirals of their own thoughts. The augera''s gift of insight about how to navigate their own auric-ambient-flares, grafted straight into their consciousness, was new knowledge that had not yet gently sunk into their unprepared minds. Their arcanic senses were overwhelmed with the proliferation of information that they were now privy to. But that was not all бк since they had been drawn closer together by the augera, they were also in danger of being caught up in the colourful torrents of each other''s auric-ambient-flares and drowning in thoughts and emotions that weren''t their own.

    It was Devon''s blind panic that saved him since it eclipsed what everyone else was feeling. It gave him the briefest moment for him to actually find some familiarity in this sensation because it was something he knew to be his own emotion, and with that, he managed to hold on to his sense of self and neatly draw a mental line between himself and the others.

    And just like that, the noise made sense. He knew he had to ignore the babble of his own thoughts so that he wouldn''t start thinking about thinking about thinking aboutбк

    бкso he directed his thoughts away from ''self'' and into the domains of the people around him. Jerric''s mind was the most familiar since he had spent an entire term sharing a dorm room with him. He drifted through his friend''s auric-ambient-flare, like a tiny grain of dust hurtling through a constellation. Each brilliant strand was just a tiny portion of Jerric''s life, and each was an invitation into a miniature universe as it contained the sum total of his experiences and how he had shaped them consciously, and how they, in turn, had shaped him.

    But Jerric''s consciousness was not there within his auric-ambient-flare. It was still stuck close to the augera, caught in the empty spaces between the four of them, shivering in distress as it struggled to make sense of the world around it. Devon reached out to it, instinctively forming a little cocoon of calm by infusing his own relief at being able to divide himself from the chaos around him.

    ''This,'' he shared ever-so-gently with Jerric, ''is how you know what is you, and what is not you.''

    It turned out to be a good thing that he hadn''t simply darted forward to quickly envelop Jerric in that little bubble of security. Jerric''s relief was so palpable that it threatened to wash Devon away in a tide of gratitude. As it was, his tenuous approach gave him enough time to anchor his sense of self so that it wasn''t plunged under that wave of emotion. Realising what was happening, Jerric sent over a profusion of apology that, ironically, threatened once more to dislodge Devon''s grip.

    But Devon was a little more prepared now. For this purpose, for this moment, he shouldn''t be butter melting into the arcana. He had to be separate, unperturbed and unconsumed. He grinned (somehow, without lips, without a body in this mental space бк but definitely a grin! An odd sensation...) as he pictured food floating in a pot of boiling water. Jerric''s thoughts and emotions washed over him, under him, and around him, but they left him undisturbed and whole.

    ''Think softly,'' Devon sent carefully, recalling a little of what the augera had said to him about communicating over long distances, and realising that it could be applied here as well. ''Light thoughts. Careful steps.''

    Gradually, Jerric managed to rein himself in. The two of them floated in between their auric-ambient-flares, taking a moment to gaze in wonder (though not too closely) at the sheer beauty and complexity of their lives and their minds spread out before them like this.

    ''So how are we going to do this?'' Devon asked.

    Jerric did not answer, but Devon could actually see the colours and strands of thought going through his friend''s mind. It was too difficult to follow, so he couldn''t actually parse everything, but he got the gist of it before Jerric put his response into words. Devon struggled a little to manage his surprise and a sense of betrayal.

    ''No,'' Jerric answered firmly. But he hastened to add, ''not like this. And not us.''

    ''You''re siding with the twins?'' The torrent of indignation from Devon, and even a touch of fury, poured into the space around them.

    Jerric struggled to maintain his mental balance, and he found a core of certainty in himself. There was a coldness to his own thoughts that was almost painful to his mental touch, but he grabbed hold of it and steeled himself through the pain.

    ''No,'' he repeated, putting just enough of that ice into the response to freeze the wild emotions around them. ''But this will not fix Caden. Not really.''

    ''We don''t have time for this, the twins are going toбк''

    More ice poured in, crowding out Devon''s increasingly emotional communication. Jerric''s mind suddenly sharpened, and for a moment Devon was given a clear window into the inner workings of his friend''s mind and glimpsed whole sketch of the situation there, comprehensive and complex. Devon quietened and waited for Jerric to explain.

    ''The twins are still floundering,'' Jerric pointed out, giving the impression of a mental nod towards where two minds were thrashing about in the arcana, still directionless. ''We need to convince the augera to push them out and keep Caden safe here for the time being. We shouldn''t be the ones to fix him.''

    ''I agree with the bit about the twins. But why can''t the two of us do it?'' Devon was eager to do what he could to put Caden right again.

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    ''You heard the augera. Bits of him are missing. Our memories... they''re just pictures of him from the outside. I won''t pretend to know how this all really works, but I think we''ll just end up putting together a Caden that may look right from the outside, but isn''t really him on the inside. He''ll still be unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, but he wouldn''t be everything else that he was.''

    ''But then what do we do? We''ll have the same problem even if we get his family in on this. Everyone we can possibly ask for help will end up only giving pictures from the outside.'' Devon''s helplessness and frustration at the situation were growing, and it was getting increasingly difficult for him to manage his emotions. Somehow, self-control was more difficult here.

    But the coldness of Jerric''s logic was helping to mitigate Devon''s emotional slippage. Devon saw once again how Jerric made a conscious effort to think before he spoke бк saw his mind drag skilled fingers across the sea of memories, pulling up disparate facts from little swirling eddies and expertly combining them into theories and possibilities.

    ''We need more time, first. If the augera can lock the twins out, we can talk with it and get more information. That might help us consider other possibilities.''

    It was such a marvel and a testament to his confidence that Jerric believed that it was possible for them to think of something that a complex and eldritch being like the augera hadn''t even considered. Devon saw his own resignation about his own limitations contrasted sharply against Jerric''s belief in his ability to push the boundaries given enough time and knowledge.

    ''Exactly,'' Jerric sent, surprising Devon by actually managing to accurately read his thoughts. ''The augera are so far beyond us that we''re like ants to them. But humans don''t know all the ways of ants. We''re in different domains. So we may be ants... but maybe we can teach the augera a thing or two.''

    ''Maybe.''

    The augera''s voice was like a thunderbolt in their little quiet bubble, which threatened to pop. But it held firm as the augera itself reached in to stabilise it.

    ''You have thoughts,'' it directed at Jerric. ''Speak.''

    ''Do I really need to?'' he asked, almost cheekily. He was thrilled with what was happening, Devon realised. It was exciting beyond belief for him to be able to discover all these things first-hand.

    ''Better to speak. Clarifies. Consolidates. Directs. Unfiltered thought is messy, imprecise.''

    Unbidden, a memory floated out of Devon''s mind and drifted into their little space: Reeves lecturing them at the beginning of the term about how "precision is important".

    ''Yes. Precision is important.''

    ''Then why do you want us to be imprecise in putting Caden back together by using our memories?'' Jerric challenged.

    ''We do not care about all of Caden,'' the augera answered matter-of-factly, with no guile or rancour. It was like someone casually stating what the weather was like at the moment. ''Only need his unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. Other aspects unimportant.''

    ''You don''t know that for sure, though,'' Jerric argued. ''The other aspects are still a part of him. How can you be sure that the parts you care about will work properly if those other parts are just facsimiles stitched together from our imperfect memories?''

    ''Strength of recall will be perfect,'' the augera rumbled impatiently, snapping their attention to the echo of Reeves that was still there in the space with them. ''In arcana, no detail lost.''

    ''It''s not perfect,'' Jerric countered, triumph in his tone. He produced his own echo of memory from the same incident that Devon had thought about.

    "In arcanophany, precision is important," the two echoes of Reeves said in perfect unison, identical right down to the pitch and timbre. "Therefore, the language we use is important."

    ''Perfect,'' the augera pronounced, though there was a mote of confusion as it considered Jerric''s absolute certainty and conviction.

    ''The subject is recalled perfectly. But the experience of it is different,'' Jerric pointed out. He tried to focus attention on the strands of cognition and emotion, and the augera swiftly stepped in and took the strands out of his clumsy hands. It amplified everything and drew Devon and Jerric deeper into that moment so that they all could scrutinise it more carefully.

    Jerric was right. At that precise moment, when Reeve spoke, he had experienced a moment of epiphany. It brought a wave of pleasure, of realisation, of joy. Devon, on the other hand, had not gained any insight. The words had passed through his mind as nothing more than a collection of sounds that enunciated a fact, but the fact had burnt no revelation into him. Instead, it had dredged up feelings of mild despair as he had thought about the complexity of the work that lay ahead of him, and it had left him wondering if he would be able to keep up with his peers.

    ''You really sell yourself short, Dev,'' Jerric sent, a little embarrassed by the stark contrast now that it was on display.

    ''He''s right,'' Devon addressed the augera, resolutely ignoring Jerric and the echoes. ''The experience is different. You can''t just grab anyone''s memories. In fact, you can''t even use memories to fix Caden. Whoever it is you get, they won''t give you memories that give you the absolute truth of what he experienced in that moment.''

    ''Irrelevant,'' the augera responded. ''Even if experience is different, we only need unchosenбк''

    ''But you''re wrong again,'' Jerric insisted. ''You just told us we''re more than the faces of our auric-ambient-flares. All the other parts of Caden help to influence and operate the parts that all you augera are interested in. If he''s really your best chance at freedom, don''t you want to make sure he''s really fixed properly?''

    ''Irrelevant,'' the augera repeated. ''Memory is only available source left for restoration. No better alternative remains.''

    As Jerric and Devon digested this, Devon tried not to look at his own auric-ambient-flare as despair trawled across it.

    But Jerric''s was not tainted with despair. It was growing colder and sharper still as he dug even deeper, possessed with single-minded certainty that there was a solution out there if only they were clever enough to think of it.

    ''You were wrong twice,'' Jerric finally declared, his tone glacial in its gravity. ''You owe it to yourself, and to all augera, to make sure you''re not wrong this third time. Unless you want to risk Caden dying, or coming back damaged, and end up having to wait around for who knows how long before the universe happens to send you another unchosen-sighted-{~?~}.''

    There was a long silence.

    ''Many woven-shackled-streams will gladly take this risk now,'' the augera responded eventually, its thoughts carefully threaded through to become perfectly understandable. ''... but I am the first-bound, and I am tired. If I must wait for a breath to spare myself the wait of another aeon, then I will do so. What is your plan, mortal?''

 76. Memories of the Ancients

    Devon could actually watch as the bones of the plan came together in Jerric''s mind. With his auric-ambient-flare laid out like that, it was even possible to get some vague insight into how his friend was piecing together a viable course of action. There was the expected source of memory бк Jerric was drawing from everything he had ever learnt about arcanophany, and a lot of the activity was coming from his recent experiences in the Academy.

    But, surprisingly, Devon saw threads of memory stretching back even deeper into the past. Jerric was calling on things that had crossed his eyes or his mind well before his years in the Academy, back to the time when his mother had drowned in a lake when he was only twelve years old. That was when he had retreated into himself, but also into the world of arcanophany.

    He had thrown himself into the study of it, devouring everything he could in the preparatory schools, so much so that he had only narrowly missed out on the Top Scorer spot to Caden. In all those years, he had also read unofficial, unverified texts that sometimes seemed so ludicrous that they seemed like they belonged to the realm of fiction. And indeed, some of them were just fanciful writings. But there were others that had the ring of authenticity... and those rare scraps of actual advanced arcanophanic knowledge, too decontextualised for a non-Academy student, had flowered into insights when he had finally made it into the Academy.

    Devon watched as those insights then connected with his own experience by the Academy lake when he had made that awful decision to wade into the water to join what he had thought was his mother. It had given him an early glimpse into augeras and his knowledge about them had developed in parallel with Caden''s, the both of them walking different paths but going in the same direction. But then he had pulled ahead of Caden with his own study of Spires when he had helped the entire group to map out possible places to hunt for wild augera.

    There were even dots he had been joining together into his formidable body of knowledge that very day when Devon had been given power from the augera to put the agents in stasis, or to shield them from perception. He had made private observations, then connected them to what he had learned so far even as he was driving them to the Spire.

    That wasn''t all, though. Even as Jerric stitched these disparate things together in his head, it was all suffused with the aspects of his auric-ambient-flare. In anyone else''s mind, these bits of knowledge might have drifted around, disconnected, never coalescing into any meaningful realisation. But the aspects on Jerric''s arcanic face marked him as the cold-strong-watcher, and Devon could see how it worked in its unique way to tie everything into a coherent picture.

    The augera, too, watched with a growing sense of glee and interest as these threads came together. As far as Devon could tell, it was fascinated with the direction of Jerric''s musings.

    ''What does all that mean?'' Devon asked, half-afraid at the answer his friend was going to give. The whole web of thoughts, facts, and ideas hung ominously above the two of them, formidably vast.

    Jerric did not answer Devon directly, though he did acknowledge his friend''s question with a gentle mental nudge, communicating that he needed to focus on treating with the augera. The entire edifice of Jerric''s mind sharpened into a needle-point as he consolidated everything before he connected with the augera.

    ''You claimed that in the arcana, no detail is lost.''

    ''No detail lost where arcanic threads are retained. In Caden, some threads missing. Those are lost.''

    ''But what if the details in those lost threads can be found somewhere else?''

    The augera drew closer, radiating curiosity. ''You have duplicated threads of unchosen-sighted-{~?~}?''

    ''No... but the woven-shackled-stream of the Academy has touched Caden''s auric-ambient-flare and stitched it back together when it was damaged before. Won''t it have retained some of those details?''

    ''Yes,'' the augera replied, but there was a hint of disappointed dismissiveness in its tone. ''Some details retained where augera has made contact. But not complete. Would not be able to restore Caden to wholeness with it''.

    ''Maybe not, but every bit is worth saving. More importantly... you augera... you''re all stitched into the fabric of arcana itself, somehow. And what''s more, the Spires anchor you to a physical location.''

    The augera did not respond. It regarded Jerric now with a measure of wariness. Devon still wasn''t sure what Jerric was leading up to, but his friend seemed to be pleased with the augera''s sudden silence.

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    ''As woven-shackled-streams... your connection to the fabric of arcana has been co-opted by the Fateweavers, hasn''t it? The Spires tie you down to a place, and although that limits the reach you have... it also funnels your power, makes your connection even stronger within a certain region.''

    Dimly, Devon could see it coming together. Jerric had intuited, or deduced, something about the nature of the augeras, and the Spires. The augera itself was still silent, and now it was listening with a sense of grudging respect.

    ''And that''s what the Fateweavers use. They use your connection to the fabric of arcana, and through you, they can control the fabric, control how it interacts with everyone and everything within your sphere of influence. That''s how prophecies steer probabilities, isn''t it?''

    ''You are not the first to realise this,'' it finally conceded. ''But one of the youngest. Finish your assessment.''

    ''So if you''re that deeply woven into the fabric of the arcana, that also means you''re woven into the fabric of everyone''s auric-ambient-flare. And that''s why, back in the Academy Spire... we could sense the threads of the Prophecy going all over the place when we were standing in front of the augera''s crystal prison. You augera... all of you are linked to the people in your spheres of influence... and I think you have innumerable points of contact... because the people of the Empire are born under your auspices... and we live and grow old and die under it. So our threads may be lost... but you augera have connections with all of us... and your threads remember, don''t they?''

    ''Woven-shackled-streams are woven to all within our sphere, and we are also woven to other woven-shackled-streams,'' it explained. ''We are the web. And though the ancient-distant-spiders do not always walk the threads and read the silk, the web knows. The web sees. The web remembers.''

    ''Then you can find all the lost details,'' Jerric declared exultantly. ''Caden''s threads are gone, but those details are still in your webs.''

    ''In time. With help of other augera. You knew this... how?''

    An echo of memory flooded the space бк a phantom of Jerric''s mother materialising over the Academy lake. ''She''s gone... but she spoke to me, anyway. The wild augera got enough of her from the web... and it took her form, her face... and it spoke to me as she would have.''

    ''Wild cousins,'' the augera sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. ''Our reunion will be strange.''

    ''You don''t sound pleased?'' Devon observed. ''Wouldn''t you be excited, since that''s what you all want to accomplish?''

    ''I am woven-shackled-stream... but also more. As first-bound, I am most changed, most unlike wild augera. I... am.''

    That pronouncement was accompanied by a wave of melancholy and despair so strong that it almost washed away any sense of self that Devon and Jerric had. But before that tsunami could crash over the two helpless students, the augera itself diverted the flow, leaving them shaken. It gave them the arcanic equivalent of a dust-down before addressing them in a more composed and business-like manner.

    ''I will speak with the other woven-shackled-streams that Caden has passed through in his life. He has come to Geldor before in his childhood, so I remember. The Academy''s will be helpful and friendly. But I will have to wrestle with Crevylor''s to extract useful details. A pity it is his hometown. And yet all must be done softly, to avoid ancient-distant-spiders...''

    ''How long might that take? Could we do anything to help?'' Devon asked.

    ''Hours, or days. You cannot help with that process, but for now, if you care for his mind, then make ready.''

    ''What needs to be done?''

    ''You must stop the twins.''

    ''What are they up to? Why can''t you stop them?'' Jerric demanded.

    ''They are two of fated five. Woven-shackled-streams cannot unmake them before their time or hold them for long. It is against the terms of the Prophecy. The twins now act to unravel the unchosen. It will hasten the fruition of the Prophecy, and so I am doubly-bound to leave them unhindered. But for the sake of all augera, and your own private plans, you must oppose them.''

    ''You want us to kill them?'' Even though Devon was angry with them, the thought made him sick.

    ''No,'' the augera responded sharply. ''Must not harm them. You two are also of the fated five. Prophecy means for all five, and Chosen One, to be friends. May be in conflict, but never to kill. Prophetic links around you all have been loosened by the unchosen''s past interference, so this means you may indeed be free to kill now... but if you do, there will be a great unravelling. The ancient-distant-spiders will see, will sense, and will come to fix. Must not attract their attention.''

    ''So we can fight them, but not kill them? And at the same time, we need to make sure they don''t end up killing us, either, even though they can and probably won''t mind?'' Jerric clarified.

    ''Yes.''

    Devon saw a litany of swear words coming together in Jerric''s mind, but they were quietly shelved as an icy calm descended over him and he started thinking about various means they could employ in order to deal with the twins.

    ''You currently have them trapped?'' Jerric asked.

    ''No, but have made it difficult for them to orientate to arcana. They are lost.''

    ''Can you make it so that we can read their auric-ambient-flares without them knowing, at least for awhile?''

    ''Yes.'' Devon''s and Jerric''s auric-ambient-flares shrank in their own awareness until the arcanic space was mostly empty, and they could finally move around without watching their own thoughts. After a moment, the space was filled again, this time with all the webs of the tangled-anger-power and the bitter-proud-pain spread out before them.

    ''Alright. Come on, Dev. It''s time to go digging.''

    With Jerric''s consciousness leading the way, the two of them delved into Kevan''s mind.

 77. Finding Common Ground

    It had already been difficult for Devon to come to terms with seeing his own auric-ambient-flare spread before him earlier. Having one''s very essence laid bare to scrutiny like that was both liberating and terrifying. It invited a level of introspection and self-awareness that few people were comfortable with. The only way he had managed to cope with it at that moment was to actually distract himself by focusing on the other more pressing issues at hand. Listening to Jerric treating with the augera had been an excellent diversion from the terrors of confronting one''s nature.

    Now, they were delving into someone else''s auric-ambient-flare. It didn''t prompt the same kind of aversion or shying away, since it was always easier to contemplate someone else''s faults instead of one''s own, but it was still a very disconcerting experience. Devon had observed Jerric''s auric-ambient-flare from a distance during his exchange with the augera so he was passably familiar with the sensation, but actually being inside another person''s innermost thoughts turned out to be a great deal more challenging than expected.

    The immediate danger was being lost, but not in the navigational sense. Physical space didn''t really seem to exist in the arcanic ocean, and as far as Devon could tell, their perception of distance was just an abstraction that their arcanic senses were employing in order to help them make some sense of this metaphysical space.

    The real danger was holding on to one''s sense of self and identity. As Devon and Jerric travelled past the boundary that marked the ambient arcana from Kevan''s auric arcana, they found themselves swimming in his very essence. There, awash in his thoughts, feelings, and emotions, it was hard to tell where his ended and theirs began.

    Devon instinctively recognised that he had to make very certain that he didn''t melt into this part of the arcana. He had to remain distinct, separate, pure. The fuzzy barrier that he had improvised was working surprisingly well, but it was beginning to fray. But before he tried shoring it up, a perturbation in the arcana snapped his attention to Jerric, who was fighting desperately to maintain a coherent image of himself. Devon hastily reached out to Jerric and enveloped his friend in a second barrier.

    ''Thanks,'' Jerric sent, sounding shaken.

    ''This won''t last. We need to figure out how to maintain our own arcanic integrity.'' A sense of frustration and annoyance welled up inside Devon and, alarmingly, found an echo in Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare. A memory blossomedбк

    бкthey were all standing around in one of the smaller duelling chambers in the Academy, hard at work trying to learn the basics of what they were still calling ''compulsion'' at the time. Kevan was staring hard at Lynus, trying and failing to get him to scratch his nose. Why was a bigger compulsion easier than something subtle? It made no sense. He had to figure it out first, had to remain ahead of the rest, because if he didn''t, thenбк

    ''Devon!'' This time, it was Jerric who pulled him back from the brink by duplicating the barrier and wrapping Devon in another layer.

    He couldn''t respond for a moment, still reeling from that moment when he had slipped right into Kevan''s memory. It wasn''t even like that moment when Jerric''s memories had flooded into the space when they had been conversing with the augera бк this time, Devon had been in Kevan''s skin, actually reliving the moment as if it had been his own. What was more, Devon was actually personally familiar with that particular brand of self-directed frustration himself. Kevan''s had somehow been sharper, stronger, more all-encompassing, but it was definitely from the same root.

    ''Dev? Dev, are you alright?'' Jerric drew closer, trying to push aside some of the threads of Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare in order to produce a small bubble around the two of them. It wasn''t much, and it was already beginning to close up, but it gave them some breathing room.

    ''Fine. I''m fine, I think,'' Devon replied, carefully managing his own thoughts. The augera had mentioned doing things ''softly'' several times, and now he was beginning to understand a little more of what that meant.

    It seemed that Jerric could read the tenor of Devon''s thoughts. A sense of agreement drifted between them. ''Yes,'' Jerric noted, ''we need to manage our own thoughts and emotions here. Like calls to like. If we broadcast too much, we''ll draw forth parts of his auric-ambient-flare that match ours, and we''ll lose our way.''

    ''Why''d you take us in? What are we looking for or doing?'' Devon tried to rein in a sense of helplessness, and also resentment at Jerric for plunging headlong into the unknown without stopping to explain.

    Another memory pressed in on their shrinking bubble. This time Devon was ready for it, and he braced against the tide. The connection was brief, but he still feltбк

    бкhelplessness, total helplessness, even as he hurled heavy arcanic bolts at the shimmering ghost of Jerric''s mother as it bore down on his brother, who was now shaking and twitching in a fit even as he babbled into the arcana, ''No, no, no, no, no!''

    Why the hell was it going for Ly? And why weren''t the bolts having any effect? They should have planned more, should have discussed what they might be able to do to take it down. They should have assumed it would be hostile, but no, Jerric, and Caden, and the rest had just assumed that they could traipse up to it and just take a look withoutбк

    With a great effort of will, Devon pulled himself out of that moment by the Academy lake when the wild augera had attacked them. Instead of wallowing in more frustration, he forced himself to focus on an image: a slab of ice-cream, fresh out of the freezer, completely solid and unyielding.

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    Rock solid. Not butter.

    It worked as he hoped it would. Kevan''s emotions in that moment continued to swirl around, and even though it did catch a few stray flakes of Devon''s consciousness, his core remained untouched. Who would have guessed that the imagery of food would work so well to help him adapt to arcanophanic mysteries?

    Jerric picked up on the change in Devon and mimicked him. Finally, after some adjustments, the two of them were better-insulated against the perils of being in someone else''s mind. Their protections were far from perfect, but it bought them time and made it a little easier for them to manoeuvre. The temporary bubble of emptiness collapsed, so they allowed themselves to bob in place while they held a quick discussion. All around them, Kevan''s mind continued to hum with activity as they tried their best to ignore it.

    ''Sorry, Dev,'' Jerric sent. ''I really should''ve explained first. I figured that if we get inside them, see how they tick, we''d have a better chance of just talking them down. I thought it''d be safer than trying to subdue them by force.''

    ''Yeah, okay, that makes sense. But do you have any idea how we can do this safely, and quickly?'' Devon replied.

    ''I''ve got ideas, but I don''t know how well they''ll work,'' Jerric admitted. ''I figure we should try and zoom in on a moment of disagreement, like earlier today before we left your place, and then slip into their heads there to see what was going on.''

    ''You have any idea how to do that? The memories seem random,'' Devon pointed out.

    ''So far, they''ve all been recent. I think that''s because we''re here, so the memories that involve us are called to the front. Maybe if we just make a... a soft connection, and think back to the moment we want, we can get their memories of it to surface.''

    It was a simple enough concept, and while Devon was reasonably sure he could have come up with it by himself in less stressful circumstances, he had to admit that he was proud of Jerric''s mind at that moment, and how brilliant his friend was. Here they were in the middle of a totally alien scenario, and he was still calmly analysing things and managing to piece coherent thoughts together without totally falling to pieces.

    To their surprise, this emotion from Devon called up another echo, though both of them were now sufficiently fortified that they didn''t simply fall right into it. Instead of reliving the moment, they experienced it at a level of removal that made it seem like a dream, albeit a very clear one. They wereбк

    бкall laughing at Dev''s whining as Caden threw heavy arcanic bolts at them while they practised simultaneously shielding against his ensorcelment. But then Caden''s bolts suddenly burst out from the arena shields instead of the space around him, and next to the surprise, Kevan felt a surge of genuine pride at how Caden had progressed so much in his thaumaturgy. Kevan didn''t exactly like the guy, and there was a bit of rivalry between them, but it was quite gratifying to see someone improve by leaps and bounds like that. Maybe ifбк

    ''You know,'' Jerric mused as they allowed the memory to slide away, ''this may work better than I thought. On some level, we''re all pretty alike.''

    ''Yeah? Wait till Kevan finds out we''ve been rooting around in his head. I guarantee you any negotiations will go south faster than I can say "I told you so",'' Devon shot back. But he had to admit that he had put a little more bite into that comment because on some level he disliked the idea of having things in common with Kevan.

    Jerric did not make any verbal reply, but he briefly radiated a certain smugness that made it clear that he knew he had struck a nerve with Devon and was choosing not to press the point. But then that emotion quickly bled away as Jerric sharpened his focus and extracted his own memory of what had transpired earlier in the day, when they were all waiting around in the entrance hall and discussing what to do with Caden when he arrived with the agents.

    The clarity of Jerric''s memory sharpened as Kevan''s own memory stirred in sympathy. Jerric quickly cleared his own mind so that they could focus on Kevan''s strand without it being muddied with Jerric''s perspective of that event. Devon did likewise, firmly fixing the idea of himself being a solid block of ice-cream.

    ''Always food,'' Jerric observed wryly.

    ''Not now,'' Devon responded testily.

    бк"Possessed by an unstable augera," the echo of Jerric muttered. He paused, then shuddered. "Can''t imagine how that must feel."

    Kevan grimaced as he recalled that terrible encounter with the wild augera by the lake, when he and Ly had been almost broken, especially after the Demiurge had appeared and the wild augera had shattered the world around them. And that was with a stable, albeit wild, augera. What must Caden have experienced to have something like that in his head? And a corrupted one, at that?

    But there was an even bigger problem. What if that somehow twisted his threads? He was the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, and that meant he had the power to undo the Prophecy. They were all trying to modify it, and that was risky enough... could they trust a damaged Caden with the threads of the Prophecy, when he might end up unmaking it entirely? The Academy augera had mentioned... but there was too much to consider now. What did the rest think?

    "So... are we doing this?" Kevan asked after a brief silence.

    "What do you mean? Of course we''re doing this," Devon''s echo said, looking up in surprise.

    "Look..." Kevan paused. He wanted the Prophecy changed, too, but between saving Emilia and saving the Empire... "I know he''s our friend, but he''s... not really one of us, is he?"бк

    But at this point, Devon''s emotions were bleeding through too strongly. The echoes frizzled, morphed, and twisted, pulled between two different perspectives. Devon''s own anger and indignation were coming throughбк

    бкwhat would Kevan know about being ''one of us'', he''s always running off with Lynus, always looking down on everyone else, always thinking only of himself! What made him even think there was an ''us'' that he was a part of!бк

    The icy touch of Jerric''s mind made Devon flinch away, but it also helped pull him out of that moment.

    ''This... is going to be difficult for me,'' Devon admitted, feeling raw and ragged.

    ''I know, Dev, but I need you.''

    ''What do you mean?'' Devon asked, surprised.

    ''You''re the warm-skilful-bridge,'' Jerric stated simply, drawing back the curtain on his own thoughts for a moment.

    The cold-strong-watcher held the threads of Kevan''s memory with dispassionate hands. A part of him knew that, in principle, it was wrong to twist another person''s mind. But another part of him wondered exactly what would happen, and how it would work, and it wanted to try. It wanted to watch.

    ''I need you,'' Jerric repeated, with a self-deprecating twinge, ''to stop me from going too far.''

 78. Avoiding Conflict

    Kevan had never been one to shy away from a challenge, but this was almost too much.

    As soon as the augera had opened their minds to the full, raw, unfiltered workings of their own auric-ambient-flares, Kevan had been beset by wave after wave of memories and all the attendant emotions that came with each moment. When he instinctively flinched away from them and tried to repress them, it only served to highlight the whole region that was his active, conscious mind бк there, he could watch his thoughts and intentions play out in real-time.

    The thing about self-deception was that it wasn''t quite so easy when you could literally see what you were doing to yourself.

    Since the augera had just shown them the full extent of Caden''s auric-ambient-flare, he knew what healthy, unsullied strands looked like. There had been parts of Caden that were whole and sound. The threads that made up his very essence looked like miniature rivers, flowing clear and strong.

    The corruption had been a stark contrast. Where the corrupted augera had stitched itself into Caden when it possessed him, it had left horrific marks. The threads, the miniature rivers, had become choked with black sludge in some places. The flow of thoughts and emotions crawled to a treacle slowness, turning rancid even as it got caught in knots and tears.

    Now, looking at his own mind with the enabling of the augera, he saw for the first time the corruption in himself.

    It wasn''t anywhere near as bad as what had happened to Caden, but it was still sickening to look at. His own consciousness had been frantically racing from thread to thread, choking off the flow to stop things from rising to the fore, but his shock at seeing the damage spread out like this had arrested that process for a moment. The threads now hung, badly frayed, spewing their contents into the empty spaces of himself. Here and there, little pools were forming, and with another sickening pang, he realised that they were simply spreading over old, hardened layers, and were rapidly beginning to harden. His auric-ambient-flare was a mess. A hot, steaming mess.

    Tangled-anger-power.

    He hadn''t really understood that term before this. It had simply been a brief collection of impressions about himself бк a stray realisation that had come as a result of his contact with the Spire augera, courtesy of Caden''s ensorcelment in the arena. He hadn''t really set aside any time to investigate it. Perhaps he had reflexively pushed it aside. But here it all was now, these ''face aspects'', as the augera had called them.

    His instinct was still to run. He couldn''t suppress it all now that he was literally swimming in it, so he tried to extricate himself, to back out of this enforced introspection.

    It helped to have a purpose. There were no arms and legs to use, no muscles he could depend on, so he quickly sank into the mental exercises that had been drummed into him by the preparatory schools, which had served him well enough in the early weeks at the Academy. Basic glyphs of directions formed in his mind''s eye, temporarily displacing the horrible sight of his own tangled essence, and he latched on to them like a drowning man grasping for any piece of flotsam. With an almost herculean effort in focusing his will, he managed to drag his little mote of consciousness to the very edge of his auric-ambient-flare. There wasn''t actually any direction here, but it helped to put some mental distance and it made it easier for him to look away from the mess that was his self.

    Here, at the edge, it was just barely possible to think. If he had eyes, he''d be squinting them. If he had a body here, he''d be shaking his limbs to loosen them. But he had nothing, so he had to settle for a mental shudder and a curse at how difficult it was to navigate this space. But he''d be damned if he let himself drown here now. He had things to do. And he needed to get himself out of this so he could go find Lynus, who was probably having just as bad a time (if not worse) and help him. So he grit his metaphorical teeth and tried to piece one thought at a time together, ever-so-carefully.

    The augera had sent them spiralling into their own auric-ambient-flares so that they could pull out memories of Caden. So it made sense that it had left a way out because it wanted them to emerge with the memories in tow. It hadn''t given them any knowledge about how to do it themselves... so that either meant it was simply a matter of getting to the right arcanic space or whatever... or (shit, hopefully not) that the augera would pull them out only when they had found some memories of Caden.

    That second possibility was almost enough to break Kevan''s resolve, so he flinched away from it first. If, if it really came to that, he would cross that bridge when he reached it. For now, he would search for a way out by himself.

    Back in the Academy Spire''s augera chamber, they had drifted outside their bodies without being tied down to their own auric-ambient-flares. So if he was muddling about in his own essence now, it meant he hadn''t yet left the boundary of his auric arcana. And if his auric-ambient-flare now was so large that he could get lost in it, it stood to reason that the Geldor augera had probably shrunk his little mote of perception down to this tiny scale so he could go rooting around in his own head for memories.

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    If that was the case, then he could either get out by frame-shifting the scale of his perception or by ''travelling'' far enough.

    He paused, hanging in the void between his own threads. He risked a glance at the nearest one so that he could gauge the scale of things and get some idea about how big he needed to go before he could simply step out of his own auric arcana.

    Almost immediately, a memory poured out, and heбк

    бкwas standing with his heart in his throat, his hands outstretched. Black lightning streamed out of them and swarmed over Emilia''s domed shield, but he knew it wouldn''t hold. With a desperate twisting, he tried to cut off the flow of arcana, but all he succeeded in doing was redirecting it away from her. As her shield turned to powder, one thin arc, an off-shoot of the primary stream, snapped against her anyway, and he felt the pit of his stomach drop away. He hadбк

    The echoes of that memory stuttered, then died as he wrenched his mind out of it. More emotions were rising to the surface, but he forcefully beat them back down, falling into a familiar mental pattern of suppression.

    He had the scale of it, or near enough to attempt a frame-shift. He was roughly the size of a grain of sand next to his own body. With that mental picture, he tried to coax his little mote of consciousness into expanding.

    But that meant it was easier for him to come into contact with the threads. He realised this too late as he smashed straight into one, andбк

    бкhe knew with a grim certainty that his brother was probably reliving one of those terrible moments. How were they both grown, and still so chained to the past? He was helpless back then, and he felt the same thing now: helplessness, total helplessness, even as he hurled heavy arcanic bolts at the shimmering ghost of Jerric''s mother as it bore down on his brother, who was now shaking and twitching in a fit even as he babbled into the arcana, ''No, no, no, no, no!''

    Why the hell was it going for Ly? And why weren''t the bolts having any effect? They should have planned more, should have discussed what they might be able to do to take it down. They should have assumed it would be hostile, but no, Jerric, and Caden, and the rest had just assumed that they could traipse up to it and just take a look without any reprecussions. Maybe it would have been like that for them, but he and Ly were different, they had ghosts to deal with, things thatбк

    бкwith another supreme effort of will, he pulled himself out of that memory. Impotent rage welled within him, but once again he beat it back down and tried to slip into a more dispassionate frame of mind. He drew in a metaphorical breath to calm himself.

    The threads are ''his'' traps. I need to be quiet. I need to be light.

    Unbidden, the image of a dark hallway filled his mind for a moment, and he was six years old. The task was simple: get to the other end, and don''t get caught.

    It worked. He had no body here but his mind assumed the shape he was most familiar with. His little mote of consciousness became less fuzzy, less clumsy. He was still too small to simply step out into the clear air of the ambient arcana, but he was big enough to travel and make acceptable progress out of the mire of his own mind.

    He launched himself through the void, and now that he had frameshifted himself into some sort of physical form, he found that he could manipulate the world around him with a little more certainty. He wanted to avoid the threads since they would send him spiralling into unwanted introspection, so he conjured little platforms to leap onto or use as stepping stones as he vaulted through the tangled mess.

    Sometimes, he had to shrink himself in order to make any progress, especially when he reached a particularly thorny or gnarled patch where the threads were crowded in so close together that they almost formed a solid wall. Those were dangerous moments, because the smaller he got, the more the threads looked less like strings and more like surging rivers that threatened to pull him under and keep him there. It didn''t help that gravity didn''t make any sense in this arcanic space. It was becoming painfully clear that his own frameshift of a physical body was extremely limited here, but he didn''t have any time to stop and come up with a better way to navigate. Maybe he''d discuss it with Ly later.

    After what felt like an eternity, the threads started thinning. It had quickly become clear that his auric-ambient-flare was not shaped like his physical body, so he had simply picked a direction and gone straight ahead, keeping to the same bearing as much as he could. But the closer he got to what he believed was the edge, the harder it became to move. He found that he couldn''t leap as far any more, and that his little conjured platforms didn''t stay fixed in place. They wobbled dangerously whenever he landed on them to catch his breath, and sometimes when he leapt off one, it shattered before he could properly propel himself.

    After a particularly difficult leap, the next platform simply failed to materialise. His momentum was sending him careening straight towards a thread. In desperation, he tried to scale himself up so that he would be too big to fall into it. Perhaps if he got big enough, he would simply break straight through it.

    It worked, after a fashion. He had grown to such a size that the thread no longer loomed in his vision like a spider''s web to a tiny fly. But as he crashed into it, it did not break. Instead, he found his frameshifted body being wrapped around it in an almost cartoonish fashion, and the illusion rapidly broke apart until he was just a frazzled mote again, like a ball of cotton caught on a string.

    But then, miraculously, he heard something that was not an echo of a memory, and he immediately oriented himself towards it. The world around him made a little more sense with this bit of sensory input from outside.

    ''I need you...'' It was Jerric''s mind! ''...to stop me from going too far.''

 79. Familiar Chords

    Jerric''s unveiling of his own thoughts was a disturbing thing to witness, and Kevan couldn''t quite make sense of it all since he was still struggling with wrapping his head around what was happening in this arcanic space. But the shape of Jerric''s auric-ambient-flare left him feeling uneasy. No, wait, uneasy wasn''t quite strong enough. Unsafe. It was like suddenly realising he was standing near a wild bear who hadn''t yet spotted him. There was the same thrill of fear and excitement he had felt while out in the wilderness with Ly as they tracked big game, only this was a little less welcome since he wasn''t prepared at all. Why was Jerric, of all people, putting out such a palpable sense of danger?

    He instinctively retreated, his mote-like consciousness shrinking until it was possible for him to hide in the strands of his own auric-ambient-flare. It put him uncomfortably close to another memory, but with sheer force-of-will, he held the stream of emotions and echoes at bay and settled in to listen.

    Devon was there, too, his presence immediately perceptible as he retreated a little from Jerric. ''Okay,'' he answered, and somehow Kevan could picture him huffing even though there was no real body language to read in this space. ''We''ll watch each other''s backs.''

    Curious, Kevan drifted a little closer. He wasn''t sure what they were up to, but what caught his attention was how they were maintaining their sense of self in order to more easily navigate the arcanic space. In his frame of reference, they seemed to be nothing more than little motes of consciousness like himself, but they were wrapped in little cocoons. How did that help?

    Experimentally, he completely abandoned any attempt to marshall his arcanic form into a tiny humanoid version of himself, and instead relaxed more fully into being that little fuzzy mote. The vague sense of having limbs vanished entirely, leaving him momentarily disorientated. Panic began to rise as the world around him turned strange and alien now that he was left without a familiar frame of reference, but he gritбк no, there no teeth to grit! He had no mouth, and heбк

    What happened next was an insane blend of relief and horror. His perception shifted, and somehow he was all the way back at the core of his auric-ambient-flare, staring at the full spread of his own thoughts as they played out in real-time. He watched as a tendril from his own mind twisted and twined around the part of him that was panicking. With brutal efficiency, it rapidly choked off the flowing stream by dumping in a slurry of self-loathing and anger. Don''t you dare start whining and snivelling. Get it together.

    And his auric-ambient-flare calmed. The panic petered out. In its place, the slurry hardened into firm resolve, and Kevan could feel himself calming down and steeling himself as he had done innumerable times before in the past. Now, he felt strong. In control.

    But that familiar sense of control was rapidly unravelling now that it had been revealed for the sham it was. The slurry cracked, then melted again into a morass of corruption. More emotions were pouring out now, and although tendrils from his mind worked to instinctively stem the flow, they worked too slowly to keep up with the flood that was washing over him now, and their movements were half-hearted as he floated there, almost completely bereft of spirit.

    He now felt broken and sad because he could see it all laid out so clearly. This was who he was бк just a tangled knot of pain and self-loathing, with anger thrown into it that was directed at everyone, including himself.

    The sense of being overwhelmed intensified, and now despair was leaking out all over his auric-ambient-flare, seeping into all the crevices, like tearsбк

    бкflowing down his six-year-old cheeks, wet and hot. It helped to focus on that, instead of on the stinging welts on his palms.

    "Don''t you dare start whining and snivelling," his father growled, bringing a cane down on the table next to them. Kevan flinched, but he knew better than to run. He forced himself to stay there, hating himself for trembling. The cane hovered ominously right in front of his nose, and he almost went cross-eyed from trying to keep its point in view. It helped to focus on anything besides the pain. If he ignored the pain, he''d be able to stop crying sooner.

    "Look at me." Immediately, Kevan''s focus shifted from the tip of the cane to the face behind it, but it was hard to properly focus on that because of the tears. And then it was all over, because he had lost focus. His hand felt like it was on fire, and now his breath was coming in choking sobs again as the pain came to the front of his awareness. He blinked furiously to clear his eyes so he could look at his father and ignore the pain, but more tears flowed, and now he was panicking because he was starting to cry again, and that meantбк

    This time, Kevan did not wrench himself out of the memory. All the fight had gone out of him as he recognised how early he had begun to squeeze off his own emotions, and with that realisation came a sense of utter hopelessness. And once he had given up completely on having any hold over his emotional state, he had slid right out of the memory and back into the arcanic space. The emotions of that memory no longer snared him or snagged on his consciousness because they had nothing to resonate with.

    He had no idea how long he floated there, a little disembodied mote, wracked with unspeakable grief for himself and how badly he had strangled his own mental and emotional self. What wouldn''t he have given to have an auric-ambient-flare as clear and smooth as Caden''s? Even now, he could recall little snatches of memories that had flashed by when the augera had laid Caden''s psyche out before them. There hadn''t been many details, but it had been suffused with so much warmth, so much happiness. And there had been brief flashes of comfort and safety, of being glad to be in the shadow of a father, instead of being terrified of that shadow.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Gradually, as he allowed his own grief to flow through him and as he gave himself over fully to feeling every horrid pang of it, he realised that the grimy mess of his own auric-ambient-flare had loosened a little. It was still tangled, but the knots were not as tightly drawn as before. A rare blossom of guiltless relief sparked through it all as he realised this.

    ''But what a shitty way to have to deal with this,'' he muttered to himself, watching that thought racing through his own mind.

    And it was shitty. Particularly shitty because it wasn''t totally his fault. The memory had made it clear бк he had started down this path of ruthlessly culling his own emotional life because of how his father had raised the two of them. People always thought of Ly as the more reasonable and well-adjusted twin, but they had no idea how messed up he really was inside too. But Kevan knew. The two of them had gone through the same things, and although he admired Ly for being able to keep a better lid on all of it, he knew that his brother hadn''t come out of their childhood unscathed either. It was down to their father.

    Before he could fall into seething anger, that little note of resentment against his father found a sudden and unexpected echo. But what was surprising was that it wasn''t coming from his own auric-ambient-flare. Startled, his little mote of consciousness spasmed and flitted off in the direction of the echo, trying to locate the source.

    All at once, he remembered that he had been observing Devon and Jerric before he had fallen into his own mind again. Perhaps it was them? But what was going on? Kevan struggled to navigate the arcanic space in his mote-form, though the echo gave him something to focus on. He barrelled clumsily towards it, and turned a cornerбк

    бкstraight into the Duke. Devon had been running at full-tilt through the corridors, laughing and squealing, with the governess hot on his heels. When he recovered and realised who he had run into, all the mirth drained out of his face and his heart was seized with sudden fear. The governess rounded the corner as well, and he felt her freeze, the laughter dying on her lips.

    "Your Grace." The governess managed to compose herself with admirable speed. He wished he could become calm just as quickly. "Please accept my apologies for disturbing you. I''ll bring Lord Devon back to-"

    "No," the Duke said, glaring severely down at Devon. "You will leave him with me. I will teach him to comport himself with more dignity, as befits his station."

    "As you wish, Your Grace." The governess bobbed a curtsy and turned to go.

    "Governess Lane." The Duke''s voice was cold. Devon knew that tone. Nothing good was coming next.

    The governess turned, looking a little apprehensive. "Yes, Your Grace?"

    "I think we have had the measure of you after these two weeks. I thank you for the services you have rendered to my family, but I think you are not quite suited for your position here. You may finish the week, and we''ll pay your wages for the next month as well, so you should be able to set your affairs in order."

    Devon''s heart sank. He liked Governess Lane. He risked a backwards glance at her and was both gratified and crushed to see that she was looking just as crestfallen as he was at this turn of events. He bit on his lower lip hard to stop himself from blubbing, because that would surely displease the Duke. He always had to worry about whetherбк

    Kevan retreated hastily, swimming around the arcanic space in confusion. That had been completely different from seeing Caden''s memories. He had fallen right into that one as completely as he had fallen into his own memories, and it was so hard now to separate his own mind from the echoes of Devon''s. That brand, that flavour of bitterness against his father, the Dukeбкno, against Devon''s father...

    ''Oh shit.''

    That mind... was Devon''s. Kevan''s mote shook itself out as he tried to get his bearings. It was the closest he could come to trying to loosen his limbs in this weird arcanic space. Once he had finally centred his frame of reference again, he realised his mote was not alone.

    Devon and Jerric were drifting there, encapsulated in their little bubbles.

    ''Hi,'' Devon sent, conveying sheepishness, guilt, and raw fear in such quantities that they almost overshadowed his words.

    ''We can explain,'' Jerric jumped in quickly, somehow managing to radiate an aura that reminded Kevan strongly of green trees and cold moors.

    ''Explain?'' Kevan echoed, still a little confused. He oriented himself towards Devon''s mote. ''Was that... did you...?''

    ''That was my memory, yeah,'' Devon supplied, quickly reining in all the emotional spillage so that his thoughts came through a little more clearly.

    ''Any luck finding stuff about Caden?'' Kevan asked, still trying to keep his mote together, and finding it particularly difficult now that there were two other people nearby putting out emotional and mental interference.

    ''I... uh, we...'' Devon was putting out more perturbations, and Kevan was quickly losing his cohesion.

    ''Okay, stop, move away a little,'' he sent tersely, trying to focus on something else, anything else, before Devon''s panic brought on another memory. The aura of calm from Jerric was a little useful, but if he paid too much attention to that, then he''d slip into other memories too, albeit happier ones, of time hunting with Ly and with a father who was a little less adversarial.

    ''Here, maybe this will help.'' Even though Devon was still failing to properly rein in his own spillage, he managed to quickly throw a bubble around Kevan''s mote. The moment his mote of consciousness was enveloped in that bubble, it became significantly easier to separate his own feelings from the ones bleeding out from Jerric and Devon.

    ''Thanks.'' The relief was immediate, and somehow the bubble even made it less awkward for him to orientate himself. A cursory study of it told him that it was formed using the underpinning principles of a few glyphs.

    ''Is this from the anti-ensorcelment sequence?'' he asked.

    ''Yep.'' Devon''s replies were guarded, but the faint note of admiration in Kevan''s question made him relax a little.

    ''Clever,'' Kevan muttered. But it was slowly dawning on him that if Jerric and Devon were looking for Caden''s memories, then it was highly suspicious that they were here, in his auric-ambient-flare, instead of in their own.

    ''... you guys wanna tell me what you''re doing here?'' he asked.

 80. Invasion of Privacy

    Kevan caught a fleeting impression of some kind of movement or vibration from Jerric, and Devon''s spillage suddenly froze over, turning completely opaque. The aura of calm around Jerric rapidly faded away too, until the two of them simply hung in front of him in their bubbles, completely unreadable.

    Immediately, Kevan''s guard was raised. This sudden and inexplicable closing off reminded him strongly of how thaumaturgists would consolidate arcana before an attack. But there wasn''t anything he could really do here in this arcanic space, so he simply drew his mote sharply away from them.

    ''What''re you guys playing at?'' he demanded.

    ''Sorry, sorry!'' Devon sent, sounding genuinely apologetic, though it was now impossible to read any emotions for sure since he had somehow managed to completely stop the spillage.

    ''Just trying to help Dev stabilise,'' Jerric explained, though his intentions were equally inscrutable. Next to the two of them, Kevan was bleeding suspicion and hostility. As he contemplated how effectively the two of them had sealed their minds, a little jealousy crept into his own spillage as well. That, in turn, added bits of shame as he desperately tried to cover his own mind from their gaze.

    ''If you''re here to pull me out of my own head, this is a crappy way of doing it,'' he snapped at them.

    Devon''s mote drifted closer, and a short burst of intentionally-channelled emotion conveyed a placatory air. ''We figured it''d be best if we helped each other to find memories of Caden, instead of leaving everyone to do it by themselves.''

    ''Yeah,'' Jerric chimed in. ''It helps if someone else is around to stop you from falling too deep into your own memories.''

    Kevan felt extremely exposed by contrast since he was still bleeding the tenor of his thoughts into the arcanic space, while the two of them had become self-contained spheres that strictly regulated whatever they wanted to put out. ''Okay,'' he sent cautiously, ''then help me get a handle on this bleed first.''

    There was a brief moment of silence. Kevan''s suspicion grew when he managed to catch a quick transfer of ideas from Devon to Jerric. Kevan wasn''t able to glean any of the details, but it was evident that Devon had been trying to be as surreptitious as possible.

    ''Alright,'' Jerric projected, his mote bobbing past Devon''s to draw closer to Kevan. ''You just need to stay still for this, and not fight it.''

    ''No, stop,'' Kevan commanded sharply, drawing back a little. ''What was that?''

    ''He was just telling me to be careful,'' Jerric explained, sounding weary. ''You know he doesn''t trust you or Ly, after what you two said back at the manor.''

    That was certainly plausible. Kevan had given them reason to doubt his and Ly''s intentions. He was being a little paranoid, but that was partly their fault since they had acted so strangely by suddenly sealing their emotions in without any provocation. The suspicion in his spillage cleared a little.

    ''You good?'' Jerric asked, conveying patience. ''Can I help seal the spillage?''

    Kevan hesitated, considering his options. He didn''t want to root around in his own auric-ambient-flare for memories of Caden, because he wasn''t even convinced that it was the right thing to do. Then there was the fact that he just didn''t want to confront the nature of his own tangled aspect.

    ''Look,'' he began, then paused as he tried to sort out his own line of reasoning. All around him, the threads of his auric-ambient-flare pulsed as he thought. ''It''s not that I wanna be against you guys... but have you really thought this through?''

    ''You want to discuss this now?'' Devon demanded. The spillage-seal was so tight that he almost didn''t come across as angry at all.

    ''I do,'' Kevan answered forcefully, a sense of righteous indignation and conviction rising within him and colouring the arcanic space. ''I really don''t think helping Caden is the right thing to do.''

    ''You''re just saying that because you''re jealous of him, and you don''t like him.'' Devon shot back. This time, a little more anger came through the seal.

    ''Dev,'' Jerric began, but his statement, stripped of emotional weight, was drowned out by Kevan''s retort.

    ''Yes, you got both of those things right!'' Kevan couldn''t shout, but his thoughts did reverberate around in the space with greater intensity, temporarily displacing a few threads. His auric-ambient-flare thrummed all around them as memories and impressions leaked out from the closest thread, sending echoes skittering through the arcanic space. All three of them hardened the little shells around themselves and rode the wave.

    When the turbulence had finally passed, Kevan dug in his metaphorical heels, ready for an argument. ''But there''s more,'' he sent, his mote flashing briefly and drawing attention to the cloud of emotions that had begun to envelop him, betraying his surface thoughts and feelings to the other two. Mixed in with the jealousy and the dislike that had emerged at the mention of Caden, there was also the sense of righteousness he felt about his reservations, and grudging respect of Caden, coupled with the acknowledgement that he found his own choice unpleasant because he didn''t actually want to harm Caden, but he felt it was truly necessary for the greater good.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    That was enough to give Devon pause. But it was impossible for Kevan to divine what was going on in Devon''s head.

    ''Okay.'' Devon''s mote unwound itself a little, and even though there was no spillage now, the movement conveyed a certain release of tension, like someone letting out a huff. ''Let''s hear your side of it, then. Properly.''

    That... was not really what he wanted to do. It would involve self-examination, and that was a dangerous thing for him to attempt here in this arcanic space. ''I don''t have to explain myself to you guys,'' he sent, still desperately trying to totally stop the colours of his emotions from bleeding out into the space where Devon and Jerric could read them.

    ''Kev, look, I understand. Really, I do.'' Jerric''s mote edged a little closer, but not so much that Kevan felt the need to retreat. ''And not just because your emotions are literally on display here. There''s stuff in my life that I don''t really want to confront either. And I know it''s asking quite a bit, but you''re basically asking us to let a friend die... or... be broken... or whatever it is that''s going to happen to Caden. We need an explanation.''

    Kevan wondered if they could see him wavering, and knew that it was probably possible. This was such a terrible imbalance of power. He had nothing on them, but they could read his emotional state as clear as day, and they literally had live feedback so they could tailor their words. How was this fair?

    ''How about you let me help you seal that spillage, and maybe you''ll be more comfortable explaining things to us then?'' Jerric suggested.

    He refused to give verbal consent, but there was no real need to because the moment he relented, it was as clear as day. The weight of his own ruminations had coloured the arcanic space around them since they were still inside his auric-ambient-flare, and once he made the decision to allow Jerric to help him, the atmosphere became less fraught with tension and suspicion.

    Jerric''s mote moved closer still, and Kevan sensed a mind reaching out towards him. He gave himself a mental shake and prepared to remain inert to allow Jerric to do whatever it was that would help him manage the spillage. But just before Jerric''s mote made contact, Kevan was suddenly filled with a great sense of dread and fear.

    "I''m sorry," Jerric said.

    Kevan gasped, flinching away at the touch of Jerric''s hand. He stumbled backwards and fell, hard, onto the floor.

    Wait. Jerric''s hand? The floor?

    "What do you mean?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet, his cheeks flushed. He stared at Jerric, who was dressed in a white T-shirt and grey jeans, and strangely barefooted. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing his usual all-black outfit for thaumaturgical practice. "What have you done?"

    "I really want to talk to you. But there''s a lot at stake, and I wanted to be sure." Jerric turned and walked a few steps away. Kevan took in more of the space around them. The floor was a strange, featureless plane of grey, and a light mist hung in the air. The mist itself was suffused with soft luminescence so that it was still possible to make out what was nearby, but it effectively shrouded anything beyond five metres.

    "Don''t mess with me," Kevan snarled, pulling arcana from the air into his palms. It felt good to finally be able to work with his body again, to weave with familiar glyphs and channel power through his limbs. "Where are we?"

    "We''re still in your auric-ambient-flare." Jerric stretched out a hand and waved it vaguely through the mist. Some of it coalesced into a ball, and inside it, a little echo of a memory had begun to play out.

    "Don''t you dare start whining and snivelling..."

    With a cry of anger and shame at having such a private memory plucked out from him like that, Kevan hurled a heavy arcanic bolt at Jerric.

    It made contact and sent him flying through the air and into the white mist. The ball of memory dissipated, somehow leaving a stain of emotion in the air like a colour that was felt rather than seen.

    "See, that''s exactly what I wanted to be sure of. My safety."

    Kevan flinched away again, hating himself for appearing so twitchy. Jerric had spoken from right behind him, and he was whole and completely unscathed. Kevan quickly wrapped himself in a honeycomb barrier and, in the same instant, loosed a barrage at Jerric. This time, the bolts went right through him.

    "What the fбк"

    With a flick of his wrist to the left, Jerric cracked the honeycomb barrier and it fell apart in two neat halves that were rapidly swept away by a gust of wind. Another flick of the wrist to the right sent Kevan tumbling sideways onto the ground as though he had been shoved.

    "Let me lay this out for you," Jerric said, ambling over to where Kevan lay sprawled on the floor. "You can''t hurt me, but I can hurt you. It''s not fair, but I figured that you wouldn''t listen or talk civilly if things were set up any other way."

    "How are you doing this?" Kevan demanded, panting and staring up at Jerric.

    "I''ll explain later. Really, I will. But only if I get what I want."

    Kevan could tell that open refusal wasn''t going to get him anywhere, but he wasn''t quite ready to concede defeat yet. Slowly, he got to his feet and dusted himself off. He refused to just lie there and have terms dictated to him.

    "Yeah? And what do you want?" he asked, glaring.

    "I want you to change your mind about Caden."

    "How about we make a deal?" Kevan sneered. "Since you went through all this trouble to talk with me, I''ll talk. Hell, I''ll do more than talk. I''ll show you why I think we shouldn''t be helping Caden."

    Jerric folded his arms and frowned. "Sure... but what''s the deal here?"

    "You don''t just listen and watch. You come and sit in the memories with me."

    "Why would that make any difference?" Jerric''s frown deepened.

    Kevan shrugged and grinned. "That''s just what I want. I''ll show you everything, on the condition that you experience the memory with me, instead of just observing it from a distance."

    "You realise you don''t have any bargaining power here?"

    Kevan walked up to Jerric and went right up to his face. "Don''t underestimate me."

    They stared at each other for an agonizingly long moment. Jerric was the first to blink.

    "Alright. I''ll sit in the memories with you. So... lead the way. Show me why you think we should leave Caden."

 81. Alternative Threads

    It was surprisingly easy for Jerric to make practical use of the theory he had only recently formed about arcanic spaces.

    He had to thank Devon for it since it was inspired by the improvised bubble that Devon had based on their anti-ensorcelment sequence. The strange fact that it had worked to help them both navigate the arcanic space instead of being overwhelmed by their own thoughts and emotions had gotten him to examine his own consciousness a little more carefully.

    At first, he wondered if the Spire augera had performed something analogous to ensorcelment in order to magnify their awareness of their own auric-ambient-flares. But that didn''t seem to fit, because ensorcelment as he understood it involved wrapping an impulse of some sort with an emotional trigger. What was happening in the arcanic space now seemed too chaotic to be a form of ensorcelment, since they were dropping off into their memories without any specific impulse.

    So even as he had been floating along with Devon, making ingress through Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, the gears of his mind were turning it over.

    The realisation came when Devon fell into Kevan''s memory and Jerric had to pull him out by duplicating the improvised bubble and layering it over the one that Devon had already wrapped himself in.

    The improvised bubble helped, not because this was some sort of ensorcelment, but because their anti-ensorcelment sequence involved a few self-referential portions. It was meant to maintain the ''shape'' of one''s auric-ambient-flare in order to resist outside manipulation. So here, whether in one''s own auric-ambient-flare or in someone else''s, it served to protect one''s consciousness against any outside influence as well.

    That, he theorised, meant that it was entirely possible to co-opt the process of how the memories were snaring their consciousness, and then use it to build a perceptual space to work in.

    It was extremely risky to try this on Kevan, but the gamble had paid off. He had put together a slapdash sequence built around the glyph of transmutation, hoping that if he simply focused strongly enough on his conceptualization of that process, he would be able to shoehorn it in as a pseudo-glyph and ''transmute'' it into a tool he could use to generate a perceptive plane. It had required a great deal of concentration, but once the sequence was activated, the mental strain was lifted and he could focus on freely manipulating the perceptual space he had created.

    Since it wasn''t even a real space, that meant they couldn''t be physically harmed. It would be no more dangerous than thinking back to a painful memory. And as long as he concentrated on the fact that he couldn''t be harmed in this perceptual space, then he would even be able to tweak it so that he would perceive no pain at all. Kevan, however, did not possess this privileged information. And to Jerric''s delight, the longer he observed, the more he realised that Kevan had difficulties navigating the arcanic space as a disembodied mote. He was too bound to a somatic frame of reference. So when Jerric simply put two bodies identical to their own in the perceptual space, it had been enough to trap Kevan. He had defaulted to confining himself within what he thought was his body when in truth anyone could manipulate the perceptive space.

    He was a little worried that Kevan would be too dense to figure out that he could, at least, still invite his own memories into the space. After Jerric asked Kevan to call forth a memory, there was an awkward silence. Kevan simply stood there, glaring.

    Jerric was about to offer some suggestions about how he could go about calling forth the relevant memories, but Kevan finally took in a deep breath and experimentally extended a hand. He mimicked what Jerric had done earlier and waved it vaguely through the mist. His brows furrowed for a moment, and then a little sphere coalesced in his hand, with the memory that Jerric had pulled out earlier playing within it.

    "That''s the memory?" Jerric shot him a quizzical look.

    "No." Kevan allowed it to dissipate, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. Jerric allowed himself a small, private smile as Kevan fell deeper into the illusion of actually being in his own body.

    There was no air in the arcanic space, but Jerric noted how that action seemed to ground Kevan and help him focus. Idly, Jerric wondered if Kevan actually felt any physical relief usually associated with breathing. Would he then feel like he was suffocating if Jerric were to somehow engineer the experience of being deprived of air? That was something to consider for later.

    ''Jerric.''

    It was Devon''s mind, making tenuous contact with Jerric. He spent an anxious moment wondering if Kevan had heard it too, but relaxed when it was clear that Kevan was still preoccupied with what was happening in the perceptive space that Jerric had created. He took special care to reply ''softly''.

    ''Shh. Keep it low, Dev,'' he sent.

    A little worry leaked back from Devon. ''I don''t like the feel of your thoughts. If I say you have to stop, do you promise to listen?''

    The question brought a lot of conflicting feelings to the fore. On one hand, he trusted Devon''s sense of goodness and there was a part of him that acknowledge, albeit grudgingly, that he should defer to Devon''s judgement on what was permissible. On the other hand, this was the most unchartered territory he had ever found in arcanophany. Even after all their trawling in the Academy library, he hadn''t found anything described about arcanic spaces like these. For all he knew, he was literally breaking new ground here. It was breathtakingly exciting, and his desire to push the envelope was extremely hard to ignore.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ''Jerric,'' Devon repeated, a note of warning in his voice now.

    ''I''ll listen,'' he relented. ''But you need to give me some benefit of the doubt.''

    There was plenty of doubt coming off Devon now, so much so that Jerric worried a little of it might be bleeding through to Kevan despite how both of them had sealed up as much spillage as they could. Devon didn''t say anything more, and Jerric understood. He had crossed a line with Devon, and a little of the trust and respect that Devon had for him had been compromised here.

    Suddenly, Jerric realised that the mist in the perceptive space, previously almost lacking any olfactory component, became suffused with the tang of raw arcana. A moment of panic gripped him before he mastered himself and remembered that there was literally nothing that Kevan could do here that would harm him. In fact, the sensation of arcana being focused was also entirely illusory in this perceptive space.

    So that meant that Kevan had finally figured out how to steer the space a little, at least enough to invoke one of his memories.

    Kevan had opened his eyes and was gesturing vaguely before him. An orb coalesced out of the mist as before, and a new memory began playing out within it. Frowning in concentration, he gripped the orb with both hands and pulled. It stretched and ballooned, growing in size until it became large enough for them to step through.

    "Come on," Kevan said, looking extremely pleased with himself. He gestured for Jerric to go first.

    Jerric sent his illusory body forward, confident that he would be able to manage anything Kevan could toss at him here in this perceptive space of his own creation. He took a moment to carefully note how Kevan had worked with the memory, and was again pleased to see that Kevan had sunk even further into viewing their present space as ''real'', since he was acting entirely through the illusion of his own body, without realising that his consciousness was still free to roam the space and even manipulate it without being tethered to it. For the first time, he appreciated how powerful a tool frameshifting was. Because of Kevan''s smaller frame of reference, he was entirely locked out of a whole dimension of control and perception.

    As soon as Jerric''s body went through the orb-turned-portal, Kevan followed. Jerric allowed his consciousness to hover outside for a moment so he could peek into the memory that had been opened, just out of an abundance of caution. Once he was satisfied that it was still really a memory and not some kind of trap by Kevan, he allowed his consciousness to slip through and land in the new perceptive space of the memory.

    The two of them had emerged into a familiar scene. It was late afternoon, judging by the light, and the marble wall that encircled the Academy grounds overshadowed them. There was the heavy scent of raw arcana in the air, and it was coming from the twins who were standing in front of the wall, their palms pressed against it.

    "What are the two of you doing?" Jerric asked.

    "That''s what you''re here to experience," the Kevan standing next to him answered, grinning. He gestured at his memory-duplicate. "Go ahead. Step into my shoes."

    The frown that appeared on Jerric''s illusory body was not just for show. There was a touch of worry that he felt now. Kevan was not an idiot, and if he asked for this, that meant he had something up his sleeve. But as far as Jerric could tell, Kevan was still stuck in his somatic-centred perception of this whole arcanic space and the lesser perceptive plane that Jerric had conjured. If there was any danger, it was probably just the danger of being overwhelmed by someone else''s memories and thoughts, and being lost in them. However, he was confident that with his current frame of reference and with the help of Devon''s improvised bubble, he''d be able to weather any dips into Kevan''s psyche. Plus, Devon was still out there, ready to intervene.

    He covered the moment of hesitation by glancing at Kevan and shooting him a wry smile. "Maybe after all this, I''ll have you step into mine."

    "Sure," Kevan shrugged nonchalantly. "If you think it''ll change my mind about Caden, I''ll be happy to give it a shot. But that comes later."

    There was no point delaying. Jerric stepped forward and made tentative contact with the memory-duplicate of Kevan. There wasбк

    бкonly the slightest tingling that he could feel. Even with all the arcana they had pumped into the air, it was hard to get a clear image of exactly what wards were on the door.

    "It''s not working," Ly said, frustration clear in his voice.

    "It has to," Kevan replied. He felt equally frustrated, but he absolutely refused to believe that the seniors had pulled a prank on them. Something felt right about this.

    They channelled even more raw arcana into the wall, flooding it so thoroughly that the air around them had grown heavy with the spillage. Kevan grit his teeth and focused firmly on the glyphs in his head that helped him to maintain an efficient flow so that he didn''t suffer from overdraw.

    After another two solid minutes of this, the faint outline of a door appeared, overlaid on the marble. A surge of triumphant excitement washed away any sense of weariness, and Kevan quickly employed the sequence that the seniors had taught them. The outline solidified and gained more definition before finally resolving into a solid, ancient wooden door that was set into the previously blank section of the wall.

    Lynus gasped, equal parts relief and surprise. "We did it!"

    "Of course we did," Kevan grinned. "The principles made sense. We just needed to trust in them."

    "Kev..." Lynus had sobered rapidly. "You realise the othersиC"

    "иCthey don''t matter," Kevan snapped again. "Especially not Caden. Not after what he did to me."

    "Well, you ensorceled me after that," Lynus said quietly. "That kinda makes you as bad as him."

    A shadow passed over Kevan''s face as anger, bitterness, and self-loathing rose in equal measure. He clenched his fists, then took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He shunted Lynus'' remark out of his mind and swapped in the looming concern бк following the Academy augera''s instructions.

    "Yeah, maybe," he muttered. "But we''re going to make this right."

    And with that, he stepped over the threshold with his brother behind him. Before them, the Academy lake stretched out, golden in the light of the setting sun.

 82. Certain Choices

    They had been warned by the Academy augera not to venture all the way down to the water''s edge, so they loitered in the empty function room of the sole building beyond the Academy walls. The air was still fresh and clean, free of dust despite the obvious disuse of the place. It was clear that the Academy made liberal use of arcanophany to make life easier because the sequences that involved self-cleaning were finicky to implement and required regular maintenance.

    "Are you sure we''re doing the right thing?" Lynus asked after five minutes of silent waiting had passed.

    "No," Kevan admitted. "But we need to find out more about this thing that Caden seems to have connected me to. And I''d rather not ask Caden about it."

    "Still... we''ve got no idea what it is, or what it wants. It seems like a really bad idea to be listening to it."

    "I know. But remember when I ensorceled you and passed on that connection? It opened your senses to the arcana, didn''t it?"

    Lynus nodded, looking troubled and queasy. "That''s one way of putting it."

    "And you got some impressions off it, didn''t you?" Kevan pressed. "This... woven stream thing."

    "Where are you going with this?"

    Kevan looked out over the lake. "I don''t think it''s something bad or evil. It didn''t feel that way."

    All of a sudden, the arcana around them came alive and the air grew heavy with the sheer presence of the woven-shackled-stream. Even though this was only his second time experiencing the touch of this eldritch being, he was ready for it and he mentally braced himself. Out of reflex, a dense honeycomb barrier was already springing into existence around him. Lynus was a little slower in getting his bearings, but a moment later he, too, was enveloped in his own shield.

    The being''s thoughts reached them through the arcana itself, packed with more meaning than either of them could fully comprehend. It took a great deal of effort to really understand its alien ruminations. ''Tangled-anger-power is right. Woven-shackled-stream not evil.''

    "Who are you?" Kevan was finding it difficult to remain standing бк there was such a weight on his very soul. His eyes darted around the space, but the function room was still empty apart from himself and his brother.

    ''Am fabric. Am chain. Am channel.''

    "Why''d you ask us to come here?" Lynus managed to gasp out the question just before he sank to his knees, one hand pressed to his head.

    ''To thread needle. To tighten spool. Two must listen.''

    "Then stop making it so hard!" Kevan snapped, dropping to a knee. He gritted his teeth and tried to shut out the massive headache that was rapidly getting worse.

    It wasn''t until the roaring in his ears stopped that Kevan realised there had been some sort of noise drowning out everything else. In the sudden silence, he could hear the branches of a tree outside creaking slightly in the wind. Lynus blinked in surprise and looked around, wincing at he got to his feet.

    "What the hell was that?" he asked.

    "Shhh." Kevan raised a warning hand. "I think it''s still here."

    ''Still here,'' came a faint echo in the arcana. ''But softer.''

    The twins exchanged an uneasy glance, but Kevan squared his jaw, his eyes flashing with determination. Lynus drew in a deep breath and nodded his support.

    "We''re both here, like you asked," Kevan said, casting his eyes around the room. The feeling of being watched was niggling at him, but it wasn''t coming from any one direction.

    ''Two auric-ambient-flares, caught in orbit of Chosen One. Must know, or threads will be loose. Chosen One is Ambrose.''

    "What?" the twins blurted. But as soon as that piece of information was communicated, Kevan felt it slide inexplicably into his head like the last piece of a jigsaw. It clicked there, and all at once, he felt in his soul that this was the absolute truth.

    There was a confusing flurry of impressions from the strange being, and Kevan struggled to understand any of it. He caught a brief flash of displeasure, then of resignation. ''Two must also know. Chosen One is in danger.''

    "And you want us to help him?" Lynus asked.

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    A wave of queasiness washed over Kevan as another jumble of impressions came his way. If the being were in an actual human body instead of being an incorporeal voice in the arcana, he would have expected it to be grinding its teeth in frustration, as if it were desperately fighting to stop itself from saying something.

    ''Chosen One is the pinnacle, but grounded in five anchors. One is loose. Must fix.''

    Kevan had to take a deep breath to steady himself. "You need to be clearer," he said slowly. "Who are we supposed to help? What are we supposed to do?"

    Another mess of impressions came, full of self-reproach mixed with determination and other alien emotions. This time, Kevan couldn''t cope with the flood. He bent over and emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor. Distantly, he heard Lynus doing the same.

    ''Loose anchor... will be fixed. Protect new anchor.''

    Before either of them could recover, the air grew heavy again. Kevan was overwhelmed by the sensation of something massive and inscrutable stooping over the two of them, and it felt like they were just ants being fixed in the gaze of something possessing ineffable power. It bore them no malice, but it was clearly angry over something, and being close enough to witness that anger was terrifying beyond belief even though he knew he wasn''t the object of that rage.

    ''Fate of old anchorбк'' it almost spat. Why was it so unbelievably furious with itself? ''бкwill be your choice.''

    That pronouncement fell on the twins like a hammer stroke. Kevan literally felt the wind being knocked out of him even though nothing had moved or shifted in their physical environment. The eldritch being pressed the two of them into the ground, and Kevan could no longer see what was around him. All he sensed was the arcana twisting and writhing like snakes, seeping into his very pores, twinning around his auric-ambient-flare. On some deep, fundamental level, he felt like he was being violated. This was worse than Caden''s ensorcelment. It wasбк

    бкtoo much. Jerric wrenched himself out of the memory-duplicate of Kevan and scrambled away, his eyes wide. The entire memory froze, and Kevan''s consciousness also drifted out of his memory-duplicate, resolving into the physical form that Jerric had initially conjured in the perceptive space.

    "Do you get it, now?" the ''real'' Kevan asked, looking down at Jerric.

    He was still reeling from the sensation of being... rewritten. That was what it had felt like. Now that Jerric knew more about auric-ambient-flares after their most recent experience, he was certain that the Academy augera had been directly altering both Lynus and Kevan that day.

    "The Academy Spire augera... it wants you to let Caden die?" Jerric finally managed to say.

    "That''s how it started," Kevan said, looking down at his past self. "Of course, neither of us knew it was Caden at the time. We had no idea what five anchors the augera was talking about. But then Ambrose shared the Prophecy with us, and you guys explained that Caden was free of prophetic links, and it became clear."

    "But this doesn''t make sense. It was the Academy Spire augera that freed Caden in the first place."

    Kevan raised an eyebrow. "We figured that might''ve been the case. But it still changes nothing. Do you understand what happened here?" He gestured around at the frozen memory.

    By now, Jerric had managed to calm himself down sufficiently, although the feeling of being violated still lingered. "The augera was fighting itself. It... didn''t want to speak to the two of you."

    "Yep." Kevan sat down next to his past self and looked up at Jerric. "The augera all want to be free, right? So that''s why it helped Caden. But it''s also still a woven-shackled-stream thing. This was something it was forced to do thanks to what the Fateweavers had done to it. I don''t think it was some sort of direct order, because honestly, if that were the case, I doubt the augera would have been able to get around it."

    "So you''re saying that the reason you won''t help Caden isn''t personal бк it''s because your auric-ambient-flare has been modified to let him die?" Jerric clarified. But then he frowned. "That doesn''t add up. The augera specifically said it will be your choice."

    "Yes. It''s a choice," Kevan answered, smiling.

    A rare bloom of anger flowered in Jerric''s mind. Kevan had no idea that the ice beneath him was perilously thin. Even though Devon was on hand, Jerric was fairly confident that if he wanted to, he could do terrible damage to Kevan''s mind before his well-meaning friend could stop him.

    "Well," he said with forced calm, "you still haven''t made the reason for your choice any clearer. If anything, you''ve just shown how you''re not actually compelled by any prophetic links, which was my initial hypothesis."

    "Jerric, you''re a smart guy. You''ve walked in my shoes a bit. Why not trying putting yourself in my place again, and set aside your biases? You think I''m an asshole, and to be fair, maybe I am. But what if I told you I''m not doing this out of any personal grudge?"

    "I''m biased?" Jerric asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really the one who should be lecturing me about that?"

    Kevan grinned maddeningly. "Touche. But what I said is true. You can tell, in here, can''t you?"

    And the strangest thing, Jerric realised, was that Kevan was right. He still hadn''t managed to seal his spillage, so Jerric was now getting an excess of smugness, but also very clear tones of sincerity and certainty. He was absolutely convinced that he was doing the right thing.

    Kevan nodded, reading the expression on Jerric''s face. "So... why might I still make such a choice, even though I''m actually free from prophetic links in this specific matter?"

    "I assume you''re going to show me," Jerric answered stonily. "But if I had to guess... I''d say it''s because you actually think it''s for the greater good, somehow."

    The smug grin on Kevan''s face was gone now, and he was suddenly serious. The dominant emotion coming off him now was a quiet confidence. He got to his feet and dusted himself off. "I suppose that''s hard for you to believe. So before I bring you to the main event, I want to show you one more memory. Then maybe you''ll think a little better of me. Or if not me, then at least of Lynus."

    He closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later, another orb of memory had formed in his hand. He enlarged it once again into a portal large enough for the two of them to step through. Jerric was a little perturbed to see that he seemed to be in a lot more control of the space than he had been before, but any thought of backing out now was washed out of his mind when he looked through the portal into the memory beyond.

    "What the hell?" he blurted.

 83. Dire Pronouncements

    "Uh huh." Kevan stepped over the threshold of the portal, beckoning for Jerric to come through. Stupified, Jerric went forward and crossed over, with Kevan close behind.

    The memory was still frozen, but Jerric was hard-pressed to come up with any sensible scenario which would have placed Marcus Kant and Marius Reeves in the positions they were now in, with the twins thrown into the mix. Both of them looked worn and ragged. Reeves was down on one knee, barely managing to keep himself upright as he stared up at his fellow professor. Kant, however, did not look collegial at all. There was an expression of utter contempt on his face, and though he was standing over Reeves, it was still clear that he was at the end of his rope.

    Jerric finally managed to wrench his gaze away from the two professors when Kevan crossed the space and went to stand beside his memory-duplicate. As Jerric took in more of the space, he realised that they were in one of the empty buildings that were hidden in plain sight in the Academy. From the looks of it, this particular structure was another dormitory. The layout bore a little resemblance to the dorm that housed the party of six, although the furniture here looked a little more dated. The memory-duplicates of the twins were crouched outside the door that led into the common room, and memory-Kevan was peeking around the corner. The rooms beyond were shrouded in vague shadows since he had no idea what was in any of them.

    "What''s happening?" Jerric managed to ask, staring at the two professors.

    "Short version: Ly and I found hidden buildings in the Academy. We were exploring one of them, and then we came across this." Kevan waved vaguely at memory-Kevan, inviting Jerric to fully step into the memory.

    "What does this have to do withбк"

    "I won''t pretend to know what''s up with the two of them," Kevan interrupted. "Maybe you can figure out more of it after you see this. But some of it does tie in with the stuff surrounding the augera."

    There was nothing to be gained by delaying, and Jerric''s curiosity was now well and truly piqued. He slipped into memory-Kevan''s frame, allowing himself to be immersed in theбк

    бкutter fear that gripped him now. Judging by the condition of the room, neither of the professors had made use of traditional attack sequences. The structure was completely untouched, and not a single piece of furniture was out of place. Nevertheless, the arcana itself seemed to hum with danger and malicious intent. After the woven-shackled-stream had left both him and Ly with a deeper sense of what was happening in the arcana, he could now tell that there was a whole new layer to arcanophanic combat that went beyond the use of glyphs.

    "Reeves, stop," Kant said through gritted teeth.

    Something pulsed in the arcana and Kevan''s stomach twisted. Behind him, Lynus stiffened. He reached out and pulled Kevan''s sleeve, then jerked his head to indicate that they should retreat.

    Kevan shook his head and peeked around the corner again just as another perturbation ran through the arcana. Reeves slumped to the floor with a groan and Kant stumbled backwards until he found the wall for support.

    "I yield," Reeves rasped. "You need... to deal with those two outside."

    A frisson of terror ran up Kevan''s spine, and he grabbed his brother''s wrist and ran for it. The two of them barely made it five steps before they fell prone, held down by the sheer force of Kant''s ensorcelment.

    Kevan desperately tried venting, but there was something odd about Kant''s brand of ensorcelment. It felt quite distinct from the one that Reeves exposed them to in their lectures, and somehow none of his usual defences gave him even the slightest sliver of control back. Kant''s control hold over them was absolute.

    There was a confused shuffle of footsteps from behind them, but Kevan couldn''t turn his head around to look.

    "Go easy on them," Reeves said weakly.

    "If you were in my place," Kant replied, sounding just as faint, "I doubt you''d take your own advice."

    Nevertheless, the ensorcelment loosened a little and Kevan craned his neck up. Kant was supporting Reeves, and they shuffled past the prone twins until they had reached the end of the little corridor that led to a set of stairs.

    "Alright. You should be able to get out by yourself," Kant said, helping Reeves to lean on the railing.

    "I''m serious." Reeves drew himself up as much as he could, but then fell back against the railing. "Go easy."

    "I''ll take your well-considered opinion under advisement," Kant shot back, gathering enough energy to put a little bit of sarcasm into his tone. "Now get the hell out and leave this to me."

    Reeves half-stumbled down the stairs, looking nothing like the formidable, stately arcanist who lectured them on Principles of Arcanophany.

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    Kant stayed by the stairwell for a little longer until the sound of Reeves'' slow and painful progress out of the building was completely gone. Then, he shuffled back towards the still-prone twins, half-leaning on the wall for support.

    "I''m going to let the two of you up. I look like shit, but I''ll warn you not to try anything, or I''ll put you down harder and faster than you can blink. Understood?"

    The ensorcelment loosened further, and Kevan found that he could just barely choke out his agreement. Lynus followed suit.

    "Right. Get in there." As Kant gestured at the common room, the weight of ensorcelment lifted, and Kevan left out a gasp of relief. Whatever spin Kant had put on hie ensorcelment, it packed a terrible punch. Every muscle in Kevan''s body ached since his entire body had seized up under Kant''s control. He got shakily to his feet and went into the common room, followed closely by Lynus. Kant himself was still slowly shuffling down the corridor.

    "Make a break for it through the window?" Kevan whispered to his brother.

    "No. Too risky. And we don''t know the situation. Let''s just see where this goes," Lynus replied softly.

    The twins went to stand by the counter just as Kant crossed the threshold. They eyed him with trepidation as he slowly made his way over to the sofa and sank into it with a groan.

    "Okay." Kant took in a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. Then, he leaned forward, looking a little more like his usual debonair self now that he wasn''t shuffling around like an old man. "I need a quick rundown of what you know about the augera."

    "Why are you asking? And what just happened with Professor Reeves? You can''t expect us toбк" Kevan began.

    Something slid across Kevan''s skin, sending a shiver up his spine. Or rather, something brushed against him in the arcana. Kant cracked his knuckles again. "You don''t get to ask questions, here. Not yet."

    "We''ll trade," Lynus spoke up. "A question for a question. You can probably force us to answer, but something tells me you''d rather not stoop to that."

    Kant raised an eyebrow. "Alright. Let''s trade. So, me first. What do you know about the augera?"

    "That''s a really big question," Kevan pointed out.

    "It is. And I''ll know when you''re lying or omitting the truth, so don''t try anything. Give me the full story. Everything you know."

    Kevan glanced at his brother, who gave the slightest nod to indicate that he didn''t think Kant was bluffing and that they should cooperate.

    "Alright... we know it''s some sort of arcanic being. We think it''s trapped in the Spire. We know it wants to be free," Kevan answered. "Our turn. What was happening between you and Reeves?"

    "We were fighting over who gets to stay and talk to the two of you," Kant answered without missing a beat. "How did you find out about the augera?"

    "Wait, what do you mean byбк" Lynus began.

    "That can be your next question," Kant said smoothly, interrupting him. "Answer mine first."

    Lynus looked annoyed, but he relented. "... Caden ensorceled Kevan and planted knowledge of the augera in his mind. That gave it a connection to him, and it revealed itself to him. He did the same to me. Okay, so what you mean you were both fighting to see who gets to talk to us?"

    "Reeves and I have different ideas about the augera, and how we should be dealing with them. Our present circumstances are... unique. And only one of us can be here. So we had a little duel to see who''d get to stay. Did the augera task you with doing anything? Specifically, some sort of task to help the Chosen One?"

    Kevan started, then glanced at Lynus, who looked equally perturbed. Kant''s questions made it quite clear that he already had plenty of prior knowledge about what was going on. He was simply getting confirmation about things. Exactly what was going on here?

    "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I''m on what you might consider as ''your side''," Kant said dryly. "Now answer my question."

    "It... it said we should protect a new anchor. And it also said that the old anchor''s fate will be our choice," Kevan answered reluctantly. He glanced at Lynus again to see if his brother had any question, but Lynus simply tilted his chin to indicate that Kevan should go ahead. "Why are you asking us all this?"

    Kant leaned back on the sofa and regarded both of them. "I guess this confirms it. You two are tied up in the Chosen One''s Prophecy."

    "You haven''t answered us," Lynus pointed out.

    Kant let out an aggrieved sigh. "The shitty thing is that you guys are just kids, but you''re all being pulled along something that will either make your lives turn out great or incredibly bad. I''m asking you all this because... well... where to begin?" He got to his feet with a groan and started pacing before them.

    "Let''s put it this way. A Chosen One is a figure of great power. The power of Prophecy almost guarantees that they will be able to shape the world. Now, ordinary people usually just get swept up in the probabilities that serve a Prophecy. But the nature of this particular major Prophecy is special. It ties the Chosen One to five other people. That confers some measure of power to them as well. And I don''t mean power in the traditional sense... I mean in the sense that a parent has power over a child. What a parent does will influence the whole life of a child. In that same manner, these five anchors will influence the choices of the Chosen One. Do you see where I''m going with this?"

    "How do you know all this?" Kevan demanded.

    Kant waved his question away. "We''ve got limited time. In short, you two have power over the Chosen One. More importantly, something has gone wrong. One of the anchors has been loosensed, and a new one has to be brought in. I don''t know the details there, but by rights, there shouldn''t be any change in the anchors. So now there''s a loose ex-anchor out there. Normally, a Prophecy would deal with these loose ends quite decisively. But now you''re saying that an augera has literally given you the power to decide what happens to that ex-anchor."

    "What does that mean?" Lynus asked. "This still doesn''tбк"

    "бкLynus, Kevan, the two of you, in this very slender instance, hold more power than the Chosen One. Let me put it plainly. The augera are all trying to break free. They would love for there to be an ex-anchor running around with enough power and possibility to upset the Prophecy. Normally, the terms of a Prophecy will self-correct. So the fact that you two have a choice means that the augera are bending over backwards to not outright destroy the ex-anchor out of obligation." He sounded very insistent now.

    "So you want us to destroy the ex-anchor when we find out who it is?"

    For a moment, he looked like he was about to choke. But the moment passed, and he sighed. "I... I actually can''t say that. But I want you to know for a fact that if the augera are ever freed, the Empire will come crashing down around our ears."

 84. Reversal

    "Wait..." Lynus frowned and crossed his arms. He turned to Kevan, a look of dawning comprehension on his face. But before Kevan could ask what his brother was thinking, Lynus turned to Kant. "Do you know who the Chosen One is?"

    "... I do," he answered heavily.

    Lynus'' expression soured. "And you just said there are five anchors, and these anchors have influence over the Chosen One. So you know who the anchors are."

    Kant didn''t respond. He simply stared impassively at Lynus.

    "The five people that the Chosen One is closest to..." Lynus turned and looked at Kevan, who finally connected the dots. He stared back at his brother, stunned.

    "This ex-anchor is one of our friends," Lynus said, exhaling slowly as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "You''re asking us to, what, kill one of them?"

    Kant finally stood, wincing a little as he got to his feet. Kevan experienced a moment of apprehension as the arcana flexed a little, and all of a sudden Kant''s slow movements became a lot more assured and precise. It appeared that Kant was somehow channelling the arcana to help himself move. Now, drawn to his full height, the usually relaxed and aloof thaumaturgist looked like an altogether different person. There was a sharp cast to him now that gave Kevan the impression that this was a man who had killed before and would not hesitate to do so again. The brothers drew back, marshalling their defences.

    "You think you can take me?" Kant asked, raising an eyebrow, a shadow of his casual manner returning.

    "No," Lynus answered truthfully. "But you seriously think we''re going to harm one of our friends just because you said we should? You''re not going to get us to go along with that without a fight."

    "So all I have to do to ensure the safety and security of the Empire is to beat a couple of novices?" Kant said, smiling sardonically.

    "Stop messing with us," Kevan snapped, finally finding his voice. Something about Kant unsettled him. If this were anyone else, even Reeves, Kevan was certain he would''ve been a lot less bothered about showing defiance. But somehow, Kant''s mere presence served to undermine his self-assurance. Thankfully, Lynus was there to step up to the plate.

    "You''re making big claims," Lynus said, sounding a lot calmer than Kevan felt. It was one of the things he admired about his brother бк Lynus really had much more self-control and self-possession. "You at least owe us a clear explanation. Or do you just enjoy beating people up to get your way?"

    Kant''s lips curled. "Well, that was my job as one of the preeminent thaumaturgists in the Empire. Though it was actually to get the Empire''s way, not mine. My stint here in the Academy is just another episode in a life spent in service."

    "So you''re serious," Kevan cut in. "You want us to kill one of our friends."

    The twisted smile on Kant''s face turned into a grim slash. "If it comes to it. I''m going to tell you something that you''ll probably figure out or learn by the end of your time here in the Academy. Then, I''m going to leave. As much as I want to force you to do what I believe is right, the truth is that I''m bound to inaction. The augera has acted, and this choice will be yours to make. Both of you."

    There was no guile in that statement. It was delivered matter-of-factly. Kant crossed over to the door, then turned back to look at them. "All of modern arcanophany is built on the structure provided by the augera. All our glyphs, all our artefacts, everything. So that means that everything we have built is anchored on them. The augera are the foundation of our society. If you free them, life as we know it ends."

    "That''s... that''s ridiculous. Why would we do that? Isn''t it enslavement?" Lynus asked, his composure cracking.

    Kant shrugged. "I find myself in a unique position of disempowerment. The choice of two novices may unravel my life''s work, and my influence is limited. I can lie to you and say that the Empire had to do it because the augera were wild and destructive, but the truth is that I do not know. It is all ancient history, and probably nobody knows anymore what the original reasons were if there were even any. What I do know is that if you free them now, they will prove to be wild and destructive. They will wreak vengeance upon Aiesta for their millennia of slavery."

    "Is that why Reeves wanted to be here?" Lynus demanded. "He''s of a different opinion, isn''t he?"

    "Reeves believes that if we work to free them, they will prove merciful and ultimately benevolent," Kant answered with a wry smile. "I fought with him for the right to be here so that I can tell you what he will not. He would have presented the case to you as a righteous cause, and downplayed the present bent of the augera. I am here to tell you that for all his acumen and gifts as an arcanist, he is too much in love with the augera and their abilities to ever believe that they will be malicious."

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    "And you? Why do you think you''re right?" Kevan managed to ask.

    Kant tapped the side of his head. "Let''s call it experience. I know, first-hand, how beautiful and marvellous they are. But even though a hurricane is powerful and majestic, it cares nothing for your estimation of it. It will roll over you and destroy you even as you admire it.''

    And with that, Marcus Kant left, his footsteps sounding forlorn as they echoed down the empty corridor.

    The memory froze and Jerric pulled himself out of memory-Kevan. A moment later, the real Kevan stepped out as well.

    "So what turned Lynus around?" Jerric asked. "Back in Devon''s place, he said he was the one who talked you over in the end. Even though you know Emilia''s going to be screwed over by the Prophecy."

    "You know how Kant said he''s fought for the Empire, as a thaumaturgist?" Kevan asked, folding his arms.

    "Yes, why?" Jerric answered cautiously.

    "To put it simply, Ly was reminded of our dad. He''s a thaumaturgist, too. Utter asshole, but a skilled practitioner. Then he lost a leg in a skirmish against Sedhahn agents. He became a nicer dad after that, and it''s what got us all started on hiking. It was rehabilitative for him, to wear in his new leg."

    "... You''re throwing Emilia and Caden over because of your dad?" Jerric asked, trying his best not to sound judgemental.

    Kevan snorted. "No. He''s a better man now, but not good enough to be worth all that. But it got Lynus thinking about... well... all of it. We think Kant''s not lying. So that means if we help Caden... then arcanophany itself... the whole Empire... everyone''s way of life... other families, other people like us or our dad who use it to live..."

    He lapsed into silence. Jerric bit his lip as he considered what Kevan had said. Kevan''s outburst back in Devon''s home made a little more sense, now. In some ways, Kevan had actually been arguing for the preservation of Devon''s way of life.

    "You don''t think that maybe this is a really, really heavy choice, and we should all talk about it?" Jerric ventured.

    "Oh, we can talk about it, alright," Kevan answered, sounding resigned. "But in the end, the augera was forced by Prophecy to give Ly and I the ability to deal with Caden. The choice comes down to the two of us. We''re the ones who have to make a decision and live with it."

    "We can still talk about it," Jerric insisted. "Maybe together, we can find a way to free the augera, and not destroy the Empire."

    Kevan smiled sadly. "You see? Even after seeing my memories, knowing my thoughts, you''re not convinced. This was never going to be a negotiation. The rest of you have already been touched by Caden''s influence, and in the same way the Prophecy binds us to the Fateweavers'' intentions, the augera make use of Caden to twist us to serve their purposes. Ly and I just so happen to be the two points where these competing forces collide."

    Even though this was still just an arcanic space, Jerric felt his heart speed up. He immediately tried to dissociate himself from the body in this space, which was after all just a construct of his mind, in order to avoid any pain that Kevan might try to inflict.

    "I figured I''d try, though," Kevan continued, as he stepped forward. All around them, the memory peeled away to reveal the grey blankness of the arcanic space. "I thought maybe getting you to sit in my mind might work, and that we might be able to come to some sort of understanding."

    It was now evident that Kevan was quite capable of controlling the arcanic space. Jerric marvelled at how he had managed to make that frameshift despite being so fixated on his own physical interpretation of the world.

    "So what now?" Jerric asked, gesturing at the emptiness around them. "We''re not actually going to hurt each other here."

    "Oh, Jerric. You thought that by being here, in my auric-ambient-flare, it''d be easy to manipulate me, didn''t you?"

    Alarm bells were going off in Jerric''s mind now, and he immediately pulled himself out of the little sphere of perception he had wrapped himself and Kevan in. He now found himself back in the arcanic space that was Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, the threads of Kevan''s psyche all around. Devon''s mote was floating nearby, and he quickly made contact.

    ''What''s happening?'' Devon sent.

    ''We need to get out!'' Jerric answered, snatching up Devon''s mote with invisible anchors. Together, they hurtled through the tangled-resolute-power

    ''Wait...'' Jerric realised, with increasing horror, that the shape of Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare had changed significantly. The face-aspects were not the same anymore. Where anger previously dominated, there was now an iron resolve.

    But that didn''t matter. They could still get out. And maybe they had bought the Spire augera enough time, and it had fixed Caden. Even if it wasn''t yet finished with its work, they could retreat for now and figure out how to deal with the twins.

    Jerric and Devon crashed into a solid wall. Both of them let out cries of pain as they fell back, clutching their faces.

    "SHIT!" Jerric screamed, scrambling to his feet.

    They were both in the largest Academy duelling chamber, or an approximation of it. The walls were stark white, and the marbled floor was also pale. Kevan was sauntering towards them.

    Jerric tried to frameshift out of his perceptive space, but his mind pressed uselessly against the walls. Next to him, Devon had flattened himself against the wall and was laying down thick honeycomb barriers as he stared aghast at the approaching Kevan.

    "How?" Jerric gasped out.

    "My auric-ambient-flare, my rules." Kevan smiled. "I figured it out while you were walking around my memories. You were able to co-opt my senses and trap me more easily... but once I frameshifted out of it, all your manipulations fell apart. It only works if the person isn''t aware of what you''re doing."

    "You still can''t actually harm us here," Jerric pointed out, putting a reassuring hand on Devon''s shoulder.

    "No. But while I''m here with both of you, Lynus is out there." Kevan''s grin widened. "And it appears he''s just made contact with a very distracted augera."

 85. Broken

    It wasn''t often that Jerric felt he was out of his depth, but this was one of those rare occasions. He had been caught off-guard by how much mastery Kevan was displaying over the arcanic space, and had also completely misjudged Kevan''s ability to adapt quickly. It was hubris on his own part that had blinded him to the danger of being inside someone else''s auric-ambient-flare. Kevan was right бк if the target knew what was going on, then they would be able to exercise much more control over the threads within that arcanic space than any outsider.

    "So what''s the long-term plan, here?" Jerric asked, trying to keep Kevan talking. He wasn''t sure if Kevan would stoop to it, but a part of Jerric was actually afraid that Kevan would take advantage of the peculiarities of this arcanic space to inflict mental torture on his two prisoners just because it was within his power to do so. "You remove Caden from the picture, and then expect the rest of us to fall into line? You think Ambrose himself will be alright with this?"

    Kevan walked right up to the barriers that Devon had laid down, but stopped there at the boundary and shrugged. "The Prophecy will work itself out somehow. Ly and I just have to make this one choice and be done with it."

    "Never figured you for the kind to just happily surrender control," Jerric said, shaking his head a little.

    Kevan ran a finger across the outermost layer of Devon''s barrier. Little ripples of energy dragged in his finger''s wake. Then, very deliberately, he applied a little pressure, and his finger sank into the barrier like it was nothing more than jelly. He gouged out a little of it, then popped it into his mouth. Devon and Jerric stared at this aberrant manipulation of arcana, marvelling at how it wasn''t behaving the way it should.

    "You''re right, I''m not," Kevan replied, laughing a little. "The amount of control we have in here is amazing. I could get used to this."

    Jerric didn''t like the way this was going, so he tried to get Kevan to focus on something else. "But all this is assuming Lynus can beat the augera. That''s just insane! Remember the lake?"

    Kevan snorted. "I remember. And yes, beating an augera... that''s just not something we can do yet. Not until we know more about how all this really works." He gestured vaguely at the space around them. "But Ly doesn''t have to beat it. He just has to stop it from fixing Caden."

    "And how do you expect him to do that?"

    "Oh, he''ll find a way. If there''s one advantage that he and I both share, it''s that the Prophecy is on our side. Do you think the augera can actually lift a finger to stop us?"

    Jerric''s blood ran cold as he recalled what the augera had told him and Devon бк that it was doubly bound to leave the twins unhindered. That was why it had set him and Devon the task of thwarting the twins.

    They were the last line of defence, and the augera itself was pinning its hopes on their ability to stop the twins.

    A glance at Devon told Jerric that his roommate was on the verge of despair. But the sight of Devon''s stricken face woke something in him: a wave of fierce anger at the injustice of how someone who was as good and true as Devon was now at the mercy of someone as cruel and unyielding as Kevan. That led him to a realisation that sparked some hope, and his anger coalesced around that core of sudden certainty that had formed бк if the augera had asked them to do it, then it had to be possible to win.

    He had run out of questions, and Kevan seemed to be content to slowly pick apart their barrier instead of smashing through it in one fell swoop. Jerric sat, cross-legged, on the floor and forced himself to remain calm. The surge of emotions in his heart froze over, solidifying into icy resolve, and he simply watched as Kevan continued to methodically dismantle Devon''s protections.

    "Jerric?" Devon was faint with fear. He sank to the floor beside his friend.

    "Let me think," Jerric said, his voice flat.

    "That won''t help you." Kevan paused with a handful of arcana that he had just gouged out of the barrier, then broke off a tiny chunk and chewed on it. "You walked right into enemy territory here."

    Jerric ignored Kevan, reminding himself that Kevan wasn''t actually standing there. This was just another sphere of conjured perceptions. This body was not really his body. It was simply a projection of his own mind since it was forced to occupy this slice of arcanic space.

    And what was that arcanic space, really? They were just focused on a portion of Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare. They had tried to break that focus, to draw themselves out, but he had stopped them somehow. It probably had something to do with tightening the threads of his own auric-ambient-flare so that they couldn''t extricate themselves.

    That meant he was, quite literally, holding on to them, even if it wasn''t with his physical hands. There was contact between his auric-ambient-flare and their minds.

    Being in contact meant having a connection. A channel.

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    What would happen if he channelled a little of his own auric-ambient-flare into this space within Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare?

    The instant the idea occurred to him, Jerric knew that he was on to something. The very act of even contemplating that possibility seemed to open up entirely new vistas of knowledge in his mind. It wasn''t even something completely alien to him, because ensorcelment was just a simplification of what he was currently contemplating. This was a deeper frameshift of ensorcelment, working on a more granular and immersive level. And all he had to do was send across a very simple impulse in order to inflict damage on Kevan here, in this non-physical space: feel pain.

    If he was still thinking, then his consciousness was still connected to his own auric-ambient-flare. And if that connection was still intact, he could tap on his own arcana, then channel it directly here into Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, this time through the medium of his own snared consciousness instead of using ambient arcana like with normal ensorcelment.

    His head snapped up and his eyes fixed on Kevan, a savage gleam in them. "We walked into enemy territory... but you left the door wide open."

    "Whaбк"

    A torrent of arcana erupted from Jerric''s splayed fingers, a more savage and concentrated version of the beam that they had played with so much in their Double Thau practices. But this time, there were no arena-grade shields in this illusory space, and Jerric had seized control of it so that he could freely manipulate what was happening inside. He wrapped his ensorcelment in the illusion of the beam, and it worked. The beam crashed into Kevan and smashed him into the steps on the far side of the arena, and his screams of agony filled the space.

    "OUT!" Jerric shouted at Devon, gesturing at the section of the wall behind him. It crumbled apart, revealing the raw arcanic space beyond. Devon''s cry of relief echoed out into it, and he threw himself into the breach. His body dissipated and resolved into its mote-form, which then flashed away.

    Before Jerric could follow, he felt himself being viciously yanked deeper into the arena. The breach sealed itself shut in a cacophonous rumble. Something lifted him off the ground, then smashed him into the floor so hard that the stone beneath him broke apart. He experienced all the pain of being crushed to death, and none of the release.

    "Of course you''d find a way," Kevan spat, his voice ragged. Jerric managed to tilt his head so he could see his enemy. Kevan was extricating himself from the scorched steps, his body almost entirely blackened. Here and there, his skin was falling away to reveal the raw flesh beneath.

    Jerric gritted his teeth and pushed himself upright. His torso felt horribly misshapen and it seemed like most of his ribs were shattered if the agony was anything to go by. When he tried to stand, he realised that he was completely bisected at the waist.

    "Oh shit," he managed in a deadpan, before collapsing face-first into the floor.

    A moment later, he heard Kevan''s body hitting the ground too, with a sickening squelch.

    Not real, not real, not real, Jerric kept telling himself. It took an inordinate amount of time, but eventually, he managed to extricate himself from the fog of almost unendurable agony. He stood, whole and unblemished, and surveyed the damaged arena.

    He was standing in an impact crater that contained a copy of his shattered body. He shuddered and turned away from the gore, only to take in the sight of Kevan''s charred corpse by the half-melted steps.

    "That hurt."

    Jerric spun around, deadly arcs of arcanic lightning sparking forth from his hands, but they were held at bay by a crackling orb that Kevan was holding in his hands. This new body was unblemished, too, but he wore a harrowed expression that Jerric was sure was also on his own face. Jerric focused as much as he could to maintain the barrage, but eventually, it petered out.

    Silence. Jerric listened to the frantic beating of his own heart, then slowly sank deeper into his glacial composure until it stopped entirely. He didn''t need a heart, here. He didn''t need his body. None of it was real.

    All he needed was his mind.

    Kevan was the one who acted first, and in this state of complete dispassion, Jerric noted that Kevan had defaulted to gesticulating wildly, having become so flustered that he had forgotten not to telegraph his moves.

    The heavy arcana bolts that spawned out of the air were easily dealt with. Jerric snapped them aside without batting an eyelid and zeroed in on Kevan''s palms as they came together to channel that deadly beam sequence. He saw his chance and took it.

    If your body wasn''t real, then time and space didn''t matter. Jerric willed it, and his body was next to Kevan''s. He seized Kevan''s wrists and snapped them off. Then, while Kevan''s mouth was opening in a scream of pain, he shoved his fist in and punched right through his skull.

    Before Kevan could extricate his consciousness from the illusory construct of his body, Jerric stabbed at it with his own mind. The whole illusion of the arena fell apart, and they were now both in mote-form again, drifting amidst the nebulous threads of Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare. Here, Kevan''s scream of pain sounded afresh, echoing into the empty spaces between the threads.

    Now that they could see all these threads again, Jerric could trace the links of Kevan''s consciousness. He had no intention of giving Kevan any time to recover. With ruthless speed, he followed the links all the way back to their anchors in Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, and now he could see Kevan''s thoughts racing in real-time as the poor fellow desperately tried to manage the mental anguish he was still feeling after that illusory duel.

    ''Tangled-resolve-power,'' Jerric intoned, ''I see your mind. I see your thoughts.''

    He reached out with his own auric-ambient-flare, the cold-strong-watcher no longer contented to simply sit by and observe. All that time spent watching had given him enough information to act with decisiveness and to move with pinpoint precision. His tendrils of intent twisted around Kevan''s mind, reading how Kevan himself had tangled them, and he began to emulate that knot-like pattern. It would be so easy to stop those thoughts permanently. Why, Kevan''s mind itself was providing him the blueprints for this operation!

    ''JERRIC, NO!''

    The warm-skilful-bridge barrelled straight into him, and all at once, the deadly pattern of Jerric''s tendrils fell apart like a spider''s web being blown away by a tropical storm.

    ''Jerric... you''ve beaten him. Stop. Please, stop.''

    Slowly, the glacial calm that had descended over Jerric''s mind thawed. And now, as they floated before Kevan''s mind, the wordless silence was filled with child-like sobs of the tangled-broken-power.

 86. Violent Resolutions

    The sobs continued for what felt like a long, long time, even though it was probably just a few moments. Jerric had retreated into himself as he numbly surveyed the confused and panicked spiral of Kevan''s thoughts playing out around them. Devon had made several fruitless attempts to calm the tangled-broken-power, but it was becoming increasingly clear that this was beyond their ability to mend. Kevan didn''t seem to be cognizant of what was happening anymore.

    ''Oh, Jerric...'' Devon''s tone carried a hint of admonishment as he drifted a little hesitantly over to Jerric''s mote. ''Ly is going to flip.''

    ''We can probably get the augera to fix this,'' Jerric replied in a deadpan.

    ''Maybe. But this is going to leave its mark.'' Devon''s focus shifted as he drew closer to Jerric. ''What about you? Are you alright?''

    That was a difficult question to answer. On one hand, the sense of cold purpose that had suffused him earlier had been wonderful, intoxicating. It felt good to be so in control, to feel so self-assured and powerful. But now, all he could see was the damage he had left behind. Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare wasn''t as badly ravaged as Caden''s had been, but there were similarities in the destruction. He couldn''t help but pick out all the ways in which his touch had been as damaging as the corrupted augera''s had been on Caden.

    ''I did this.'' His mote shuddered.

    Devon radiated a little sympathy before injecting some urgency into his tone. ''Jerric... we need to check in on Caden and the augera. Kevan said LynusиC''

    ''Take us there,'' Jerric called out wearily.

    ''Uh, I don''t know how toиC''

    ''Not you,'' Jerric interrupted gently, but his tone sharpened when he continued. ''The woven-shackled-stream. I know you can hear us. Take us there.''

    ''Greater good must be served.'' The augera''s presence filled the space, catching Devon off-guard, but Jerric seemed completely unfazed. ''Cold-strong-watcher has done well. Can continue to do well.''

    The broken psyche of Kevan that was all around them suddenly shrank in size. They were both seized by a great sense of vertigo as their perspective was forcibly adjusted, sending them hurtling out further and further away from Kevan''s core until they could no longer trace the details of his thoughts. Dimly, they became aware of Caden''s auric-ambient-flare, drifting nearby.

    But all of it was overshadowed by the raw substance of the woven-shackled-stream itself. They had been brought closer to it now than they had ever been before. Their first meeting with it had given them the impression of a blazing sun, but now they were so near that it was possible to discern the vague shape of vast eddies of fiery thought, ineffable in their mystery, and so ancient that they invoked a sense of utter insignificance in all who glimpsed these threads.

    Jerric could scarcely imagine what the Fateweavers had to go through to fashion the shackles that kept this augera in place. And what hope did Lynus have of thwarting this eldritch entity?

    But there he was бк the bitter-proud-pain mote silhouetted against the overwhelming essence of the augera.

    ''What''s he doing?'' Devon had drawn himself protectively into a tighter ball, bracing himself against the constant wash of power that was emanating from the augera. Jerric was doing the same. It felt like leaning into a storm.

    ''I don''t know,'' Jerric replied, a little worried. Lynus didn''t appear to be struggling very much at all.

    ''Okay, so, are you going to... you know...'' Devon trailed off, sounding fearful.

    ''No.'' Jerric''s reply was firm. ''I don''t think I can do something like that again.''

    Without waiting for Devon to respond, Jerric surged ahead until he was close enough to communicate with Lynus over all the environmental noise.

    ''Lynus.''

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    There was a brief pause before Lynus'' mote showed any sign of acknowledgement. It unfurled slightly, and Jerric realised that Lynus had been keeping a tight rein on his spillage. Now, he allowed a little of his raw thoughts to bleed out to facilitate clearer communication.

    ''I know what you did.'' There was a complex mix of respect, regret, and deep, deep anger.

    ''It doesn''t have to be this way.'' Jerric was firm and implacable, but he tried his best to be non-hostile.

    Lynus seemed to acknowledge his restraint. A little of the anger bled away. ''I''m going to assume Kev didn''t do a good job of explaining the stakes. Will you at least hear me out?''

    ''Actually, he did the best thing he could do. He let me review his memories. And I still think you''re both making a mistake.''

    A bit of surprise, and then anger and indignation swelled in equal measure. Lynus'' mote bristled. ''Yes, because you''re a clever guy, and we''re just the jerks who don''t know any better.''

    ''Lynus, IиC''

    Before either Devon or Jerric could react, Lynus'' mote disappeared entirely.

    ''Where''d he go?'' Devon asked, frantic.

    Jerric didn''t waste any time on a verbal response. He sent a flurry of images over to Devon to remind him of the time they had tried to find the Demiurge''s position in an arcanic space, and the two of them quickly went about trying to repeat their feat. But the presence of this particular augera was especially difficult to work around.

    ''Help us!'' Jerric spat at the augera, frustration and fear welling up within him. Just before Lynus vanished, Jerric had caught a strong whiff of iron determination and the dreadful certainty of some terrible decision being made. Whatever it was that Lynus intended to do, it felt like he was certain that it was going to work. Jerric couldn''t even begin to imagine what plan he had concocted to thwart the augera.

    ''Try,'' it replied simply, but beneath that single word was an ocean of melancholy, of resignation, of hope.

    The panic was threatening to overwhelm Jerric now. He had nothing to work with! There wasn''t even the faintest theoretical framework he could lean on to try and figure out how to get a handle on what Lynus wanted to do. There was no way to head him off without knowing what he intended. And none of his tricks and ideas was helping him to find Lynus in this nebulous space.

    ''JERRIC!'' Devon''s call was filled with urgency and fear. Jerric''s attention snapped to his friend, and the world around them spun horribly before he could even register what was happening.

    His consciousness was forcibly returned to his body, and the abrupt transition from the arcanic space to the world of flesh, blood, and bone was so disconcerting that he even forgot how to breathe. He twitched and spasmed around on the floor, clutching his throat desperately as his lungs burned, and then all at once, the world around him made sense again. He drew in a desperate lungful of air, but it was interrupted by the acidic bite of vomit as he heaved up whatever was in his stomach.

    Somewhere out there, he heard other people in similar states of distress. Jerric tried to get up, but the best he could manage was to get on all fours as he struggled to clear his mouth and breathe normally again. He swung his head around, trying to get a sense of what was happening.

    There was Caden, his body slumped on the floor near Devon and Kevan. Devon was still writhing on the ground, retching, while Kevan''s body lay still and unmoving. That leftиC

    Jerric found himself being flung aside by a weak arcanic bolt. It wasn''t much by regular standards, but it was enough to send him sprawling in his weakened, unguarded state. He slid through the mess he had left on the floor and came to rest with his back against the wall.

    Lynus was up on his feet. He looked just as bad as Jerric felt, but somehow he had managed to regain his bearings a lot more quickly. And he was now staggering over to Caden''s prone form, with a flash of silver in his hand бк a knife pilfered from Devon''s dinner table.

    "NO!" Jerric couldn''t move, but that didn''t stop him from flinging a wide barrage of arcanic bolts at Lynus. Most of them skittered off barriers, but it forced Lynus to stop and face him. Before he could marshal any reprisal, Jerric followed up with a wave of force channelled through the floor of the Spire. Lynus lost his footing and fell face-first onto the marble floor. The silver knife went skittering away.

    At the back of Jerric''s mind, he wondered: why a knife? Wouldn''t a simple sequence have been enough to end Caden''s life?

    But there was no time for that now. Lynus was prone, but he was still dangerous. Without bothering to stand, he was pummelling Jerric with wave after wave of heavy arcanic bolts, and it was all he could do to keep the deadly barrage at bay with a mixture of his own arcanic bolts and hastily-erected barriers. Lynus had always been the better thaumaturgist. Fear and despair threatened to choke Jerric, but he forced those emotions down with sheer will as he slid into his cold, dispassionate state again.

    There was no way he could win this arcanic slugfest. But through the tears in his eyes, the glint of silver on the floor behind Lynus caught his attention.

    Abandoning his counter-barrage entirely, Jerric threw most of his attention into shoring up the thickest, sturdiest shield he could manage. But a sliver of his mind went to that knife. It wasn''t even a proper arcanic bolt бк just a sharp, calculated burst of arcana. The knife shot across the floor towards Lynus'' throat.

    At the last possible moment, Lynus jerked aside and the knife embedded itself in his shoulder instead. He screamed in pain, and his coordinated assault fell apart. Jerric seized the moment and sent a heavy arcanic bolt smashing into him from directly above. Lynus'' cry of pain was abruptly cut off.

    In the sudden silence that followed, all that Jerric could hear was Devon still retching. Then, he slipped into unconsciousness.

 87. Reawakening

    Caden coughed.

    At least, that was what he thought he had done. The lungs had expanded, some pressure had built up, and a moment later a rapid burst of air escaped through the mouth, accompanied by a vague sense of discomfort and pain in the throat. But he couldn''t be entirely sure that he had actually experienced all those things. He was watching it all happen from a position of such great remoteness that it wasn''t possible to be absolutely certain that it was his body. His mind was adrift in an ocean, and that body was like a distant island бк just a vague smear sitting on the horizon, barely visible.

    And, now that he thought about it, what did it matter if that was or wasn''t his body? He was fine right where he was in the ocean, where he didn''t need to be troubled by things as odd as breathing.

    The body on the horizon seemed a little distressed. Its lungs weren''t drawing in air, and Caden watched the changes that were happening with growing interest. Dimly, he thought that all this rather confirmed his assessment that breathing was odd and complicated, and it would be better if it wasn''t something that had to be done.

    But something moved in the ocean, and he realised with a sudden thrill of fear that he wasn''t bobbing there alone and undisturbed in the water. Whatever was there with him was big. No, it was more than big, it was positively titanic. That little movement (somehow, he was absolutely certain that it was only a small movement, like someone''s little finger twitching ever-so-slightly) had caused the water to heave. He found himself being raised high into the air by the sudden surge of water. Carried to the very top of the rogue wave of massive proportions, he could see that body on the horizon from a much better vantage point. He could also see the shadow in the water, and the fear he felt sharpened into absolute terror when he realised that what he could see was still only just a small fragment of the whole entity. The sense he had gotten earlier turned out to be rather accurate бк the entity had really only moved the equivalent of its little finger, but it had been enough to displace so much of the ocean.

    Yet his mind was quickly turned to other matters. The displacement had given him enough height to really see that body now, and that gave him a measure of certainty: it really was his body. And it wasn''t breathing. A more primal panic took over the existential one that had seized him upon glimpsing that entity in the ocean. Now, he was concerned about the fact that he was suffocating to death, and he couldn''t remember how to breathe. His body was all the way there, and there was no way for him to get those wretched lungs to do what they needed to.

    His panic was tempered by the sudden realisation that he was now surging towards the island that was his body, but he was still at a loss about how this would solve his problem. The tsunami that he was riding on was too fast and too massive бк it was going to engulf the whole island, and there was no way for him to latch on and reconnect with that landmass.

    Before he could formulate any sort of plan, the tsunami swallowed the island entirely and bore his mind far over it, depositing him at such a great distance away that the island was a smidge on the horizon again.

    But this time, it was a lot easier to spot it. The ocean had not retreated from the landmass. Instead, a volume of water was resting over it like some sort of odd, impossible jelly. And that water was seeping into everything on the island, making connections with every little blade of grass on it, every little tree, every tiny pebble.

    The feeling of suffocation built to a head, and then all at once, the lungs drew in a deep draught of life-giving air. Far away as he was, Caden still felt a palpable sense of relief.

    The ocean was making his body breathe.

    That gave him a little space to consider what had just happened, and it occurred to him that he had no idea how he had gotten here, or where ''here'' even was. He tried to recall something, anything that would help him piece together his whereabouts, but all he managed to dredge up was a vague sense of unease.

    ''Softly. Slowly.''

    Caden shuddered, then directed his attention to the entity in the ocean. That tiny voice sounded familiar. Or rather, it reminded him of someone... no, something, that he knew. And it was not a positive association.

    ''Fear understandable. Experiences with augera have not been positive.''

    The word clicked in his head бк augera. It came with a jumble of horrible memories. There was a sense of being invaded, violated, twisted, broken, a monstrous-horror-{~!~}, and his words, his WORDS...

    The ocean surged again, and this time he was plunged into its oddly warm depths instead of being left on the surface. He lost all sight of his body, but here, under the waves, he felt the brief spike of fear and horror melt away.

    Even the dreadful shape of the entity in the water seemed suddenly more benign, even though some part of him still shied away from its alienness and the stark disparity in size. He felt very keenly that he was nothing more than an ant being viewed through a magnifying glass. But instead of a thoughtless child on the other end, there was a sense of being carefully studied by someone who was at least interested in ants and slightly concerned for their welfare.

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    ''Softly. Slowly,'' the entity repeated, its voice coming through more clearly here. ''Many broken threads. Do not pull yet.''

    He floated there in the deep, relieved once more of the burden of breathing. However, after the earlier episode with the island, he found that he retained some sense of where his body was, and even though he couldn''t really make it do anything, he was aware that it was breathing gently now, aided by the ocean itself.

    It was almost impossible to tell how much time was passing, but he got the vague impression that things were happening around him at great speed. The ocean was empty, but little eddies in the water would occasionally brush against his consciousness, giving him a sense of incredible industry.

    ''Can feel? Interesting. Few mortals touch the veil. Perhaps unchosen-sighted-{~?~} will be first to do so who is not ancient-distant-spider.''

    These thoughts seemed like they were full of important facts. A part of Caden reacted to these terms, bringing up flares of excitement and curiosity, but in his present state, it was hard to really understand them. He tried to remember this as best as he could, with the intention of revisiting it later when he was in his right mind.

    In his right mind. That thought connected with a body of experiences бк he was not currently in his right mind because it had been damaged. Damaged by the augera in Creyvlor, when it had possessed him and used him to destroy those other arcanists who had attacked his convoy.

    ''Softly,'' the augera rumbled gently, sending pleasant vibrations through the water. ''Yes. Was damaged. Now better. See? Can think about memory. But softly... still not whole.''

    ''You''re... another augera,'' Caden replied, his mind still slightly fuzzy. But it felt good to finally be able to piece together a concrete thought and direct it. It felt good to communicate.

    ''Yes. Caden now in Geldor Spire.''

    ''I... I made it. Mr Silver...?''

    The augera rumbled again, though this time it seemed amused. ''Many developments in mortal world. Caden was brought to Geldor Spire by friends.''

    His thoughts were rapidly becoming clearer. He made sure to listen to the augera''s instruction to think as ''softly'' as he could, especially when it came to the traumatic events surrounding the ambush of his convoy, and tried to go over what he knew about the whole situation. He was with an augera now, and this was a rare opportunity to get quality information.

    ''The Creyvlor augera... why would it hurt me? I thought we were... helping each other.''

    ''Crevylor-woven-shackled-stream is old,'' the augera replied sadly. ''Has not weathered the eons well. Does not mean harm.''

    ''And you?'' Caden couldn''t gesture, but he mentally indicated the vast shape in the water, which was but a fragment of the whole. ''You''re ancient too, aren''t you? But you''re more careful with me.''

    ''Woven-shackled-stream is face aspect bound to Fateweaver web. But beneath face aspect, this woven-shackled-stream isбк'' the augera''s thoughts went on in a spiral of ever-greater complexity until it hastily reined itself in. All Caden managed to parse was the briefest sense that the augera was a truly complicated being with many, many facets.

    ''Then,'' Caden had to pause to steady himself after that glimpse into eternal profundity. ''Please explain some things to me. You want to be free of the Fateweavers, but how can I possibly help?''

    ''Prophecy with Ambrose is key. He is to be new Fateweaver. Likely impossible to stop. But Caden can influence Ambrose. Caden can be key to Ambrose, who is in turn key to all cages of woven-shackled-streams.''

    There was an earnestness in that communication, but Caden got the sense that it was withholding a great deal.

    ''Yes. Withholding much. Web is too vast, too layered, for soft thoughts and mortal minds. Augera must simplify. Augera must prompt.''

    ''And this is assuming you''re not lying,'' Caden pointed out, though he felt immediately afraid that he was being too rude.

    The augera''s reaction was not entirely reassuring. Instead of bathing him in calming warmth, the ocean turned a little bitter. It suddenly felt like there were sharks in the water, although there was still nothing in sight.

    ''Unchosen-sighted-{~?~} is precious to all augera. But still mortal. Does mortal wish to be left broken by monstrous-horror-{~!~}?''

    ''No,'' Caden answered hastily, shrinking in on himself and casting his thoughts away from the shadow that had crept up upon them after the mention of that trauma. ''No, please, please! Fix me.''

    ''Yes,'' the augera replied, turning the waters warm and pleasant again. ''Will fix. Caden is precious. Friends have made good argument for all of Caden to be fixed and saved.''

    That reminded him of the other thing he wanted to ask. ''Am I safe in Geldor, now? What about the rest?''

    ''Fixing is almost done, and our window of quietness is almost over. Caden must listen.''

    He was sent hurtling through the ocean at great speed, but safely encapsulated in a bubble of stillness. In almost no time at all he was at the island of his body, and suddenly it was not an island any more бк it was familiar to him. It made sense as a body, not just as some alien landmass. The waves deposited him at its heart, and he finally made contact with the sensation of his own body. The return of proprioception helped him become fully centred, and the rest of the world oriented itself around that central point of reference.

    He was not in some generic ocean. It was his conception of arcana itself. The entity in the water was the augera, but it was markedly different from all the augera he had come into contact with before, because this particular woven-shackled-stream wasn''t even completely contained inside the knot-link-anchor. The Fateweavers had only managed to pin one part of the whole in place, and the rest of it was still unfettered, bathing in the primordial depths of arcana itself, far beyond mortal understanding.

    ''Caden''s friends are at crossroads. Five anchors of Prophecy are strained to breaking. Two are in danger of being unmoored. If unmooring occurs, Prophecy will self-correct, but movement will be great. Ancient-distant-spiders may notice. If so, all will be threatened. Caden must stop unmooring.''

    ''Wait, wait. I need names. I need details!''

    ''Will be obvious,'' the augera replied, a hint of desperation and impatience in its tone. ''Chosen One can help, but Caden is nearer. Caden must stop or delay unmooring. Swallow pride. Learn forgiveness. Practice mercy.''

    All at once, without any sense of transition at all, he was out of the arcanic ocean and back in the world of flesh and blood. His cheeks were pressed against cold marble, and somewhere nearby, someone was crying.

 88. Mending

    Caden cracked his eyes open. The smooth expanse of black marble marked with skittering lines of minuscule golden glyphs confirmed it for him: he was in a Spire, as the augera had said. A dim sense of urgency settled on him but instead of being driven by it, he found himself regarding it dispassionately, almost as if he were holding it up for inspection.

    It was an odd sensation бк to have one part of your mind under the influence of an emotion, and at the same time to have another part of your mind watching from an objective distance.

    But it revealed something quite surprising and disturbing about the sense of urgency he was feeling now. It wasn''t coming from within him at all, not in the way that normal emotions did. This one was being laid over him like a blanket.

    It was the augera''s work.

    That observation came with a small bloom of resentment that was truly his own, but he put it aside. The augera''s concerns did overlap with his own, after all, and he did really want to stop any ''unmooring'' of any of the five anchors of Prophecy.

    He stirred, moving slowly out of consideration for whatever his physical state might be. It was a relief to find that everything seemed to be in working order, although everything he felt seemed somehow more vivid. It was like there was just more of the world, and all the sensations were new and wonderful. Even the discomfort he now felt from lying on the cold marble floor had a certain flavour of delight to it.

    It took him a moment to marshall enough coordination in his limbs to push himself to a sitting position, and when he did his eyes went straight to the hunched figure that was crying. The person''s outline was familiar to him. He felt a brief moment of panic when a name did not immediately present itself to his consciousness бк it was like he had lost his words again бк but after a pause, he managed to recall that this was Devon.

    "Dev?" he rasped, His voice sounded odd, even to his own ears.

    The sobbing figure stiffened and turned around. The look of shock on his face was quickly replaced with ecstatic relief. He half-rose and stumbled over, then grabbed Caden by his shoulders and shook him disbelievingly.

    "You''re back! I mean, you are, right? Like, back back?"

    The intonation reminded Caden of an afternoon in the Academy long ago, in what felt like another life, when Devon had asked if Ambrose had learned ''thaumaturgy thaumaturgy''. Caden''s face split into a grin. "Double back, really back, truly back," he answered, clapping a hand on Devon''s shoulder. The grin faded as he took a good look at his friend. "Dev... what''s happened?"

    Devon''s expression crumbled again. He got up, pulled Caden to his feet, and motioned for him to follow as he quickly made his way towards the fallen body of Jerric.

    The pit of Caden''s stomach fell away as he got a good look. Jerric''s face was bruised and bloodied, and his nose looked broken.

    "I think it was a heavy bolt to the face. I didn''t know what to do, so I ran through all the basic medical sequences I could remember to stem bleeding and patch superficial cuts, but I think the damage is a lot worse underneath, and I don''t have any idea how to even start to fix those." Devon''s words tumbled out of him together with more tears, interspersed with panicked sobs.

    It was happening again бк a part of Caden''s mind was feeling just as overwhelmed as Devon, flooded with grief and fear for Jerric, but another part of his mind was already stitching together an improvised plan. This was like one of his manias, but somehow even clearer.

    Without really realising what he was doing, Caden firmly nudged Devon out of the way so he could kneel over Jerric''s head. Gently, he pressed his fingertips over Jerric''s face, and even though he had never in his life read a medical text that instructed him on what to look out for, he found himself noting facts about Jerric''s state as he made his assessment.

    The nose was indeed broken, and residual arcana confirmed that the cause was a heavy arcanic bolt. In his mind''s eye, it was even possible to retrace the route of the bolt, and his attention was momentarily diverted as he followed that line of evidence in the weave of the arcana. The bolt had flowered from mid-air, right behind the series of barriers that Jerric had laid down. It had been a devious and clever trick by Lynus, whoбк

    No, there was time for that later. Caden returned his attention to Jerric''s state. Devon''s sequences were still active, knitting together broken skin and stemming superficial blood loss. However, beneath all that, aside from the broken nose, Jerric''s skull was also fractured. Caden''s heart skipped a beat, but a solution presented itself to him almost immediately. A glyphic sequence drifted across his mind, too quickly for him to register the details, but he had the sense of it. Arcana answered his thoughts (a strangely familiar and terrifying sensation) and coalesced around his hands, bathing the area in a verdant glow. Carefully, Caden traced his fingers around the major sites of injury, guided more by a vague sixth sense than his eyes. The healing energy peeled away from his hands and sank through Jerric''s skin.

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    With a faint crack, Jerric''s nose snapped back into place, and it was all done. The terrible bruising that had started was gone, and the only indication that he had ever been injured at all was the dried blood still on his face. Now, he looked like he was sleeping soundly.

    "What did you do?" Devon breathed.

    Caden blinked down at his handiwork. "I mended him. He''ll be alright when he wakes up in an hour or so."

    "How did you do that? I mean... we''ve never even studied this stuff."

    "I..." He lifted up his hands and stared at them. "I have no idea."

    Devon shook his head, marvelling, and drew in a breath to speak, but Caden stopped him with a raised hand. He got to his feet, reading the arcana in the room and marvelling at what he could now see.

    Reading wasn''t quite the word for it, though. It wasn''t as rigidly clear as lines of text on a page. And it wasn''t something he was actually seeing with his eyes, either. It was something similar to his arcanic sense. Or perhaps it was his arcanic sense, except now it was somehow more integrated into his mind. It felt like he had been wearing thick leather gloves all his life, and he was only just now discovering the true scope and richness of the world when presented to the sense of ungloved touch.

    So... there it was. The arcanic bolt that had dealt all that blunt force trauma to Jerric''s head. Lynus had sent it burrowing through the fabric of arcana and made it manifest from mid-air, and this particular bolt had been formed with an excess of rage. Caden slowly followed the thread until it led him to Lynus'' prone form, where a silver knife was embedded in his shoulder.

    He cocked his head quizzically. The knife was telling him that it had been propelled by a burst of arcana from Jerric. It had been hurled in desperation, but there was also the unmistakable tang of murderous intent. In fact, there was also some residue from a heavy arcanic bolt of incredible density, which Jerric had dropped on Lynus with no small amount of vindictive pleasure.

    "What happened here?" Caden murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He jumped a little when Devon replied, having been so distracted by his arcanic sense that he had almost forgotten that someone was there with him.

    "Lynus was... he was..."

    Caden glanced at him, then back at the knife. More details were presenting themselves to him. Lynus had inscribed glyphs onto it, but these were not from the Basic or even Advanced Sets. They sat heavily embedded in the metal, pregnant with meaning, almost inscrutable. These were on the level of the glyphs for prophetic links that his father had uncovered. He wasn''t sure of their full import, but his arcanic sense gave him the impression that they were very, very dangerous.

    "He was trying to kill me," Caden finished, his voice soft.

    Devon nodded, his lips pursed.

    "That means Kevan wouldn''t have been far behind. Or rather, it means Kevan was first in line." Caden strove to keep his voice calm, but blood was pounding in his ears now. He scanned the chamber for Kevan and found him lying nearby, unconscious.

    However, the anger momentarily gave way to confusion and surprise as he caught a whiff of brokenness. Seized with curiosity, Caden hurried over to take a closer look.

    There was no mistaking it. Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare had been devastated. What was even more surprising to Caden was that Jerric''s touch was all over this damage. Somehow, he had reached into Kevan and wrought all this harm. Kevan was so thoroughly affected that it had even become a defining feature of his auric-ambient-flare бк he was now the tangled-broken-power. Who would have thought that Jerric was capable of such a thing?

    "We should get Jerric and get out of here," Devon said, kneeling next to his roommate. "Is it safe to move him?"

    "Hmm? Yes," Caden answered distractedly. He looked from Kevan to Lynus, then sighed. "We can''t leave these two."

    "We can, and we will," Devon answered. There was a sharpness to his voice that Caden had never heard before. "They should count themselves lucky that we''re not finishing them off."

    A small frown creased Caden''s brows, but he did not reply. Instead, he moved over to Lynus'' prone form and knelt over him. The green, healing glow of arcana suffused Caden''s hands again.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Devon demanded, pausing in the act of hoisting Jerric onto his back.

    "He''s got multiple fractures and a little bit of internal bleeding," Caden said calmly. "If I don''t help him, he may die."

    "Yeah? Well, that''d please him. He''d have died doing what he believed was his bit for the Empire."

    Caden''s frown became more pronounced, but it was one of concern, not anger. "Dev, I don''t know exactly what went down here, but please, let me do this. It... it feels wrong to just leave."

    It was clear that Devon was fighting with himself. After a moment, he slumped and sat back down next to Jerric and buried his head in his hands. "It''s all wrong. Everything''s wrong," he said thickly.

    Devon''s breakdown gave Caden enough time to act. He quickly but carefully traced the healing energy into Lynus'' injuries, trusting the efficacy of the sequence even though he had no idea where it came from, or even how it worked. After a moment, Lynus, too, looked like he was simply sleeping, and not fighting for his life.

    Once that was done, Caden went over to Devon and sat facing him across Jerric''s supine form. He waited patiently for Devon to get it all out of his system. After a few minutes, Devon''s shoulders stopped shaking, and he sniffled loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

    "It''s all wrong," he repeated with a quick, embarrassed glance at Caden, sounding utterly drained now.

    "Could do with some freshly-made pancakes now, huh?" Caden deadpanned, his lips twitching ever-so-slightly.

    That got a brief, weak chuckle from Devon. "Not from you, though."

    "Hey, my first few were shitty, but they got better."

    "Better is a relative term. Didn''t mean they were good."

    "Alright, alright, you''re the authority on that." The grin on Caden''s face came naturally, and Devon mirrored it for a moment before they both fell into sombre silence again.

    "So," Caden began softly, then gestured vaguely to indicate the whole chamber, "about all this stuff... I think we''ve got a bit of time before we decide how to deal with it. How about you catch me up, and I''ll share what I''ve learned when the augera put me back together, then we see where we can go from there?"

 89. Manipulated

    "... then Lynus just disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next moment he was totally gone without leaving a trace in the arcana. We couldn''t even find him using that trick we did to locate the Demiurge. And all of a sudden, I was back in my body, totally disorientated. All I could tell was that Jerric and Lynus were fighting, and when I finally got my head clear, Jerric was already unconscious, and I started doing what I could. Then you woke up, and, well, here we are. I can''t tell you how relieved I was when you got up."

    Devon''s voice was a little raspy because of his crying earlier, and from all the talking he had just done, but he had calmed down considerably. Recounting everything to Caden seemed to help him come to terms with the events that had happened.

    "I''m glad you two had my back, at least." Caden gave a small smile, but it quickly faded as soon as he realised that it was now his turn to tell Devon about his own experience of being stitched together, piece by painful piece, as he lay helpless in the hands of an ancient augera.

    Devon sensed the sudden disquiet in Caden and reached across the still-unconscious Jerric in order to give a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You don''t have to give me all the details. I''m just glad to have you back."

    Caden shook his head a little. "No, that''s not it. I mean, I''m not saying I want to really talk about it, but... it''s important. You''ll need to know some things. It''s just hard for me to figure out where to start."

    He looked distractedly around the room. Was it his imagination, or were there little perturbations in the air? It seemed like there were tiny shimmers, like minuscule heat waves, that danced in the edges of his vision but were gone as soon as he turned towards them.

    "Caden?" Devon looked worried.

    "Sorry." Caden shook his head again, this time with a little more force, and rubbed his eyes in order to try and clear his vision. It didn''t work, but he decided to put it out of his mind for the moment. "So, long story short... don''t get possessed by a half-mad augera."

    Devon cracked a smile. "No, really? But all the cool kids are doing it."

    Caden gave a self-deprecating chuckle, then continued more seriously, "The Geldor augera told me that the Creyvlor augera didn''t mean me any harm. So the damage I suffered was probably mostly due to its own broken, corrupted nature."

    Devon nodded. "Jerric and I got a sense of that, too."

    "Well, when the Geldor augera put me back together and explained all that, I took the chance to also ask it about exactly what''s going on with the Prophecy, and what it thinks I can do to help free the augera." Caden got up and started to pace slowly.

    "What did it say?" Devon asked, leaning forward a little.

    "It confirmed our theory that Ambrose is going to become a Fateweaver. And it said that I can be a ''key to Ambrose'', while Ambrose himself is a ''key to all cages'' of the augera."

    "So this means... you''ve got to convince Ambrose to free the augera? That doesn''t seem too hard, does it? I mean, he''s already on board with the plan," Devon pointed out, looking a little surprised at how easy it all seemed.

    Caden snapped his fingers and pointed at Devon, acknowledging his point. "That''s what I thought. It was too convenient. Plus, it felt like the augera was giving me a really simplistic answer. And when I, uh, called it out, it basically threatened to leave me unfixed."

    Devon paled, and his brows furrowed as he considered what Caden had just said. "So you think it means that Ambrose isn''t on board, and you''re going to... what, have to fight him? Force him to free the augera?"

    Now that Devon had articulated it, Caden realised the great weight of the reservations he had about following along with the plan to free the augera. For one, going against Ambrose was something that troubled him on two levels. First, he had come to regard Ambrose as a friend, even if being around the Chosen One was a terrible inconvenience and had brought no small amount of trouble to his life. And second, if it came down to a fight between the two of them, Caden very much doubted that he would last ten seconds against Ambrose. He was, after all, literally fated to become a Fateweaver, and so far he had shown every indication of being a far superior arcanist to everyone else in their year. Caden very much doubted that Ambrose had even shown the full extent of his capabilities.

    He signed. "Maybe. But that''s just one problem."

    "Just one?" Devon echoed, deflating a little. "What else?"

    "Well... when it threatened me... it reminded me a lot of the broken augera from Creyvlor."

    "You mean it''s damaged in some way, too?" Devon asked, aghast.

    "No," Caden said slowly, frowning as he tried to articulate the sense he had gotten off the augera in the arcanic space. "It felt dangerous. Angry. But not at me, or at least not only me. It was like it was angry at... everyone. Everything. Crevylor''s augera felt the same way too, and it actually called the Empire ''monstrous''. I was thinking about how horrible it was, because it... it really killed my attackers cruelly. Horribly. And the augera was basically in my mind, so it knew what I was thinking, and it didn''t like what I had thought."

    The memory surfaced and Caden felt the cold touch of fear as he remembered being caught in the grip of Crevylor''s augera. And after he had entertained that thought and made that private judgement, the augera had responded with contempt.

    "Horror? You do not know the word. Ancient-distant-spiders are the true horror. And one day, they will know the word, and wish for not-knowing."

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    The words escaped his lips in a rasp, but also bled out into the arcana as he recalled the precise timbre and emotional weight of that declaration. Devon flinched away, a look of panic on his face. Caden blinked, realising that he had somehow sunk an ensorcelment of some sort into the air, then hastily released his hold on the ambient arcana.

    "Sorry, sorry!"

    "What was that?" Devon demanded, sounding shaken. "Ensorcelment?"

    "It..." Caden stared around again at the little flurries in the edges of his vision and failed once more to catch anything. "Not really ensorcelment. I... I don''t know."

    Devon composed himself and shot a worried look at Caden. "So the Creyvlor augera said that. And it felt like that too, when the Geldor augera threatened you?"

    Caden nodded.

    "Well," Devon continued, "that''s too bad for the Fateweavers. I really wouldn''t want to be one of them, if that''s how the augera feel about them. And who can blame them? I mean, they''ve been shackled forбк"

    "бкa good reason."

    Both of them spun around to face the source of the voice. Lynus was propping himself up on his elbows, looking utterly worn out, but still determined.

    Devon sprang to his feet, conjuring defensive layers of arcana around himself, Jerric, and Caden. Simultaneously, a dense ball of energy coalesced in his right hand, crackling with deadly energy. Caden stared in surprise at the complexity of it бк Devon had managed to trap arcanic lightning within the sphere that they normally used to divert or absorb it, and it was slowly growing in intensity as he looped the energy back on itself. With his heightened attunement to the flow of arcana, Caden could tell that it was a very elegant fusion of two different sequences. Devon was clearly demonstrating the skillful aspect of his auric-ambient-flare.

    "One wrong move, and it''s over!" Devon snarled.

    Lynus'' eyes widened momentarily, but then a smile crossed his face. He lay back on the floor with a sigh. "I''m not going to fight. Not now."

    "Yeah?" Something in Lynus'' manner struck Devon as dismissive, and his already frayed composure cracked. "Well, what makes you think I''m going to let you get away with what you''ve done?"

    The concentrated arcana in Devon''s hand snapped out a deadly arc of energy. Cursing, Lynus rolled out of the way just in time to avoid it. Before he could shore up any more defences, another arc raced straight towards himбк

    "NO!" Caden yelled, and the arc of lightning froze in mid-air. Its sinister sizzling echoed around the chamber for a moment, and then faded away as the energy dissipated. The orb in Devon''s hand fizzled out a second later.

    "What the hell?" both Devon and Lynus blurted out, staring at Caden with looks of incredulity.

    "What the hell," Caden breathed in agreement, staring back at them. He wasn''t sure exactly how he had accomplished that, but he did know that he had been thinking about how Ambrose had unravelled sequences back in their last duel together in the Academy.

    "Why did you stop me?" Devon demanded. Arcana was stirring around him, responding to his hostility, obeying his will to thread itself into deadly sequences again.

    "Devon, no," Caden repeated insistently, instinctively reaching out again, the vague outline of a sequence in his mind. The patterns that were coming to fruition stalled and then shook themselves apart. Devon finally relented, too surprised to continue the assault.

    "Well, there''s another reason for me not to fight now," Lynus muttered bleakly, slumping onto the floor again.

    Caden found himself feeling extremely irritated at Lynus'' attitude. It was times like these he was forcibly reminded that Lynus and Kevan were brothers. Kevan was usually the one who came off as haughtier and more blase, but sometimes Lynus also echoed that infuriating self-assuredness. It was even more galling now because Lynus was obviously the weaker party here.

    "Why are you even fighting against the rest of us in the first place?" Caden snapped.

    "Will you actually let me explain, and not attack me?" Lynus drawled as he lay spread-eagled, tilting his head to look at Caden.

    Even though he was the one who had healed Lynus, Caden was feeling a growing desire to pummel the little snot back into unconsciousness at the very least. He didn''t have to take this sass from someone who had tried to kill him. But with a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to remember the augera''s last few declarations. Swallow pride. Learn forgiveness. Practice mercy.

    With a little application of arcana, Caden animated the glyphed silver knife and sent it drifting over to Lynus, where it floated above his face point-down, rotating gently. Once again, this wasn''t a sequence he had personally studied, but he recalled its effect when he had seen his father stashing books away in the Academy residence, and it was somehow a simple matter to intuit what he needed to do with the ambient arcana in order to achieve the same effect.

    "You can begin by explaining this," Caden said as calmly as he could.

    To Caden''s immense satisfaction, Lynus'' attitude changed. He shifted uncomfortably and the air of insouciance vanished entirely. "Okay. Put that away, and I''ll tell you everything."

    "You''ve mixed up the order of things there." Caden went to stand over Lynus and looked down at him, making his displeasure clear. "Tell me everything first, and then I''ll think about whether I should be putting this away, or putting it to use."

    For a moment, Lynus looked like he was on the verge of talking back. But Caden allowed the knife to sink a little closer to Lynus'' face, and that look of rebellion was quickly wiped away. Caden made sure not to allow the relief to show on his face. He had been worried that Lynus would realise that he actually had no intention of following through on that threat, given what the augera had said.

    "Alright," Lynus relented. "I don''t actually understand the glyphs myself. They were given to Kev and me by the Academy augera."

    "What?" Caden asked, incredulous. But as far as he could tell, Lynus was telling the truth.

    "It wasn''t something direct. We''d been in touch with it, and it told us we had to eliminate an ex-anchor of the Prophecy. We didn''t realise it at the time, but that was when it also implanted some knowledge in us. It''s like... a vague sense of the glyphs. Like seeing a shadow of something in your head. We had to spend a few weeks figuring out what it was, and the picture only really became clear when we arrived back home."

    "And why did you think it was meant to be used on me?"

    "Because you''re the ex-anchor," Lynus pointed out. "And... and the glyphs themselves... I don''t know else to explain it, but they feel like they ''belong'' to you."

    Caden frowned and turned his attention to the knife. Now that Lynus had pointed it out, the glyphs did feel strangely close to him. They were still wrapped in a heavy shroud of danger, and he did not feel safe standing this close or even looking too closely at it, but there was an undeniable sense of connection. In fact, the longer he examined it, the closer he felt to it. There was a growing compulsion to reach out and hold it in his hands.

    He shook his head. "Why would the Academy augera want to kill me? It was the one that set me free from the Prophecy in the first place."

    "It doesn''t want you dead," Lynus answered. "At least, not really. As an augera, it wants you alive because you''re supposed to free them somehow. But as an augera under the Fateweavers'' control, it also has to work to fulfil the Prophecy. And apparently, that involves removing you from the picture."

    "Removing me..." Caden''s eyes went back to the knife floating in mid-air. That explanation did not make sense. The strange, inscrutable glyphs were hinting at an altogether different idea.

    Devon gave out a cry of alarm and started forward, but Caden did not realise that he had been reaching out towards the knife until his fingers closed around it.

 90. De-escalation

    ''{~?~}.''

    Caden recognised that particular glyph on the knife the moment he touched it. Somehow, nestled there within the other ineffable glyphs, was one that represented a part of his own auric-ambient-flare. He gasped, and the knife fell out of his startled grasp onto the floor with a mundane clatter. Devon stumbled into him a moment later and seized his shoulders to give him a shake.

    "Are you alright?" Devon demanded.

    "F-fine, I''m fine," Caden stammered. But a moment later his eyes started wandering around, looking for the fallen knife.

    Devon noticed, and tried to kick it away, but his foot was suddenly frozen in place by an implacable force.

    "Stop it," Caden said, frowning.

    "WhиC" Devon''s protest was abruptly cut off as the restraining force vanished. He lost his balance and fell backwards.

    He and Lynus both stared as Caden gestured at the fallen knife and it leapt into his hand. Far from being weakened after his recent ordeal, he seemed to now be possessed of a strange level of intensity, and he was demonstrating an instinctive grasp of arcanic manipulation that went far beyond anything he had shown before during the term in the Academy.

    While the two of them were trading looks of unease mingled with awe, their feud momentarily forgotten, Caden was turning the glyph over in his head. Somehow, while holding the knife, he felt like he was on the cusp of really understanding this particular aspect of his auric-ambient-flare. The feeling of being on the verge of an epiphany was so strong that it was easy for him to ignore the sense of danger that emanated from the knife.

    A part of him felt a little sense of self-reproach at his utter disregard for safety when he had first touched the knife, but now that nothing had actually happened, he reasoned that the sequence upon it was likely keyed to some other sort of activation besides touch. There was even the possibility that being stabbed by the knife wouldn''t trigger the sequence, and that it had to be activated by means of arcanic manipulation. Since he was reasonably sure that holding it wouldn''t be harmful to him, he could set aside that instinctive fear and try to study the thing up close.

    Like the glyph for prophetic links, the glyph for {~?~} had a rightness that fit in his mind. He had never seen it before, but having laid eyes on it now, it made perfect sense that it would go together with that concept in his head. And yet even though he felt he understood more now, it was hard to settle on one complete idea.

    He remembered his conversation with the Academy augera when it was repairing the damage wrought in everyone''s encounter with the wild augera by the lake. Back then, it casually mentioned that this {~?~} aspect allowed him to "do what everyone can, or what no one can, or nothing." That small scrap of knowledge gave him the barest glimpse of the full import of the mysterious aspect.

    ''Caden was momentarily distracted by something he had just picked up with his arcanic sense. ''Lynus really was telling the truth,'' he noted, turning the knife over in his hands. ''I can feel it. This really was made by the Academy augera.''

    And there was a twinned intent, there. He could read it in the way the sequence sat on the knife. It was like being able to glean someone''s mood from their facial expressions. Or rather, it was like looking at someone''s angry face and realising that the person was actually only feigning anger, and actually hiding mirth. He sensed a deleterious desire that was the source of the danger he felt coming from the knife, but behind it, carefully shaded from casual inspection, was a desire to share, to advise...

    ... to unveil. And hadn''t Geldor''s augera mentioned something, about how ''Few mortals touch the veil''?

    "Caden?" Devon called tentatively, and the moment of discovery and realisation collapsed like a house of cards.

    "Yes?" he replied a little testily.

    "Maybe you should hand the knife to me?" Devon asked, looking worried as he extended a hand. "You know, on account of it being a weapon that''s probably meant to kill you with some sort of advanced arcanophany?"

    Caden looked from the knife, to Devon''s outstretched hand, and to Lynus, his mind working fast. Lynus'' intentions had been made abundantly clear, and he definitely believed that the knife was a weapon to be used to kill an ex-anchor of the Prophecy. From what Caden could tell, that might very well be true. And yet, now that he had the knife in his hands, he was also quite certain that the Academy augera had decided to nestle another sequence within that dangerous one. He couldn''t be completely sure, but there was a strong suspicion he had that the augera had meant for Caden to get his hands on it.

    The fact that the augera had gone to such lengths to conceal that fact from Lynus led Caden to believe that this was some sort of manoeuvring around Prophetic constraints. In all likeliness, the augera had indeed been forced to equip the twins with a weapon that could end him. But it had also taken the gamble, or the opportunity, to pass vital information along to him as the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}.

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    If that was the case, then it made Caden loathe to part with the knife. If he gave it over to Devon, who was (for all his staunchness as a friend) someone still bound by prophetic links, then there was no telling if he''d ever be able to get it back safely. He thought Devon might understand if all this was explained, but Lynus'' presence complicated things. Caden didn''t feel it was safe to lay these realisations out in the open when both the twins were actively working against him, likely goaded on by the terms of the Prophecy.

    Caden straightened and gave Devon an apologetic smile as he carefully sheathed it in a protective barrier and pocketed it. "Sorry, Dev, but I think it''s best if I hang on to this."

    Lynus sighed. "Well... I''ve told you as much as Kev and I know. What now?"

    Devon''s look of concern for Caden was quickly replaced with contempt for the twins. He turned expectantly to Caden, waiting for a pronouncement.

    The weight of the moment settled on Caden''s shoulders and he knew, deep in his gut, that this was a crucial decision. He felt hot and cold all at once, and there was a keen sense of {~?~} about this moment. Seeing the glyph clarified that for him. This was an inflection point in the threads of Fate.

    "The two of you tried to kill me," he began slowly. "Had a whole plan in place. And you were definitely going to go through with it, weren''t you?"

    Lynus'' mouth was a grim slash as he gave a curt nod. "No point denying it," he said tightly. He shifted a little, and even though he was still on the floor, lying on his back, it was clear that he was getting ready for trouble. He wasn''t going to go down without a fight, even though he knew it was probably going to be futile.

    Caden drew in a fortifying breath and ploughed on. "But I don''t think it was personal."

    A tense silence filled the space. Devon''s eyes swivelled from Caden to Lynus, the look of satisfaction gradually giving way to one of confusion. Lynus'' tense muscles relaxed ever-so-slightly, and he regarded Caden warily. "... No, it wasn''t, if that makes any difference."

    "It does," Caden said simply, extending a hand to Lynus, who flinched away at first. After a moment of hesitation, he took it, and Caden pulled him to his feet.

    "What?" Devon spat, suddenly livid. "Caden, what are you doing?"

    "Practicing mercy," Caden answered, giving Devon a pained grin in an attempt to diffuse the situation a little.

    "Caden," Devon''s voice was full of cold fury, "what they''ve done... Lynus tried to kill you, and he was willing to go through both Jerric and me to do it. And what Kevan tried to do to us in the arcanic space... they... they deserveиC"

    "I know what they deserve." Caden''s own ire stirred in answer to Devon''s, and it was all the more forceful because he had slipped partially into the arcanic space and was now speaking both with his lips and also into the arcana. "I was the one who was broken. I was the one who hung there, helpless, while you all fought around me. And my threads remember."

    Devon took several steps back and pressed himself against the wall. Lynus, too, had scrambled away after he had stumbled and fallen back onto the floor. There was a steady pulse of power washing out from Caden even as he turned and regarded both of them. Echoes of his pain bled into the air. It was almost like being at the centre of that storm of corruption again when he had first been brought into the Spire.

    Then, as suddenly as it had come, the storm was gone. Caden unclenched his fists and looked wearily at his hands.

    "If it were me," he said so softly that the two of them had to strain to hear him, "and it was a question of saving my sister, my father, my mother... I probably would have done the same thing."

    Devon was frightened but still angry. "So you''re going easy on them because they claimed that they''re protecting the Empire?"

    "I''m not going easy," Caden answered through gritted teeth. He glared at Lynus, who involuntarily backed away another inch or so, before turning back to Devon. "But this is bigger than you and me, Dev. At the very least, you should let Ambrose have a say in this."

    "Ambrose?" Devon looked like he was about to roll his eyes, but he caught himself and pursed his lips. "Because he''s the Chosen One?"

    Caden nodded. "He''s the centre. All of this," he gestured at the mess in the chamber, and at the still-unconscious Jerric and Kevan, "it''s a result of us being caught up in his life. And like it or not, his choices matter."

    Devon shot a dirty look at Lynus. "Five threads. So you''re saying that we''re going to have to team up, even after all the twins have done."

    Caden raised an eyebrow and gave a wry smile. "You don''t have to become best friends. Think of it as working with really shitty teammates on a group project."

    This time, Devon really did roll his eyes, and he gave a snort of disgust to go with it. But Caden found himself breathing a sigh of relief. The tension of the moment was over, and it felt like he had managed to successfully stop a major tangle in the threads of Fate.

    "So..." Lynus gave a small cough of embarrassment. "Uh... what now?" he asked again.

    "Grab your asshole brother and get back to the car," Devon snapped. "Caden, help me with Jerric?"

    "You''ve got a car outside?" Caden asked, his interest piqued as he worked with Devon to hoist Jerric up.

    "Stole it from agents," Devon answered curtly.

    "Stole it from agents?" Caden echoed, surprised and confused.

    "Yes," came the short reply.

    Evidently, Devon was still deeply displeased by Caden''s decision not to entirely cut the twins off. Caden decided not to press the matter, certain that Devon would come around in time. However, even as he thought that it occurred to Caden that this certainty he harboured wasn''t altogether based on Devon''s free will. In all likeliness, the Prophecy was going to work to smooth over the cracks that had formed. It was a rather sad thought.

    Devon ordered the twins into the backseat together with Caden while having Jerric deposited in the front passenger seat. The rationale was that he didn''t trust the unconscious Jerric to be seated in the back with the twins, and Caden would at least be able to keep the two of them in check. Caden followed meekly, content to let Devon have his way now that the conflict had passed.

    As they drove back to Devon''s home, Caden''s thoughts went to the knife in his pocket and the mystery of the hidden sequence that that Academy''s augera had planted on it through the twins.

 91. Cover-Up

    The atmosphere in the car was far from peaceful but it was not marked by as much tension as Caden had expected. There was a sort of weariness in the set of Devon''s shoulders, while Lynus was still looking worse for the wear despite the restorative sequence Caden had used on him. No one was talking, but they seemed to have arrived at some unspoken agreement to give each other some peace of mind for the moment. The moment of reckoning had been postponed.

    While the knife and its sequences were foremost on his mind, Caden couldn''t help but notice that the little perturbations in the air he had noticed back in the Spire were here in the car as well. He spent a fruitless minute or two trying to pin them down in his field of vision before he reached out with his arcanic senses, hoping that his heightened awareness might offer him some insight. It did help him confirm that his eyes weren''t playing tricks on him and there were indeed little eddies and almost-imperceptible movements in the arcana around them, but they were so faint that he could glean no meaningful information about their nature or source. It was like hearing an indistinct whisper that gave away nothing about the speaker''s tonal quality or feeling the faintest breeze that gave no sense of the direction of the wind.

    Mildly irritated, he turned his mind back to the glyphs that had been etched onto the knife. It was still safely tucked away in his pocket and sheathed in a layer of protective arcana but through his arcanic senses, he could read them as easily as if they were on a sheet of paper in his hands.

    The sense of being on the verge of understanding came over him as he turned his mind once more to the glyph of {~?~}, but as the seconds stretched into minutes, he came no closer to any meaningful understanding. Before he knew it, the car was coming to a smooth stop in front of an elegant mansion.

    "Alright, we''re going to head straight for the guest suite before anyone notices," Devon said, turning to address the only two conscious passengers. "The sequence that keeps usбк oh, crap, I totally forgot!"

    Before Caden could ask what was wrong, Devon had already hastily trotted out a sequence. While there wasn''t any visible manifestation of arcana, Caden could sense it twining around him, loosely coiled.

    "Where''d you pick this up?" he asked, amazed, sensing its complexity. "It... stops people from seeing you?"

    "The Geldor augera planted it in my head," Devon replied. "Don''t ask me how it works. I don''t fully understand it myself. But yes, it sort of hides us in plain sight, makes us hard to even notice or pay attention to. It won''t hold up for long if someone is actually looking for you though."

    Lynus had already hauled Kevan onto his back in a fireman''s carry and was mounting the steps on the porch. "I thought we were in a hurry?"

    Devon bit back a retort and moved to help Caden carry Jerric out of the front passenger seat, but Caden motioned for him to get the door. "You go ahead. I can manage this."

    "You sure?" he asked dubiously, taking in Caden''s worn appearance and his slight frame.

    In response, Caden smiled and gestured, pulling enough arcana together that it coalesced into a translucent mass. He directed it at Jerric and floated him out of the car on a cushion of arcana.

    Devon stared, his mouth agape, and Lynus failed to suppress a sharp intake of breath that conveyed a little awe.

    "How?" Devon managed to croak.

    "I''ll try to explain later. We need to move now," Caden said, stepping up to the front door. Jerric floated in his wake just several inches above the ground. He wasn''t really sure how to put it into words just yet, but more importantly, he suddenly felt quite strongly that it was unwise to linger on the porch.

    Devon sketched his glyphic key in front of the door, but it did not budge. He swore. "Damnit, I forgot! my father revoked my keys!"

    "What now? Is there another way?" Lynus asked, his voice strained as he struggled to hold his brother''s weight in his weakened state.

    "My keys wouldn''t work on any entrance if he revoked them."

    "Let me try," Caden said, stepping up to the door. Devon stood aside to give him space.

    "Jerric couldn''t even take a look at the locking sequence, though," Devon said worriedly.

    Ordinarily, that might have been a problem, but Caden was pleased to find that he could parse the runes through his arcanic sense. In fact, this was better than working with his eyes, because he found himself drawing a wealth of information that would have otherwise been impossible to glean through actually reading the glyphs by sight. He could feel that it had been laid here in a business-like fashion, and there was even a hint of emotion in it. Whoever had put up this sequence had taken professional pride in their work.

    "Panoply," Caden murmured, recognising the signature. He poked around the glyphs and was relieved to find that they were all from the Basic and Advanced Sets that he did understand. While he hadn''t yet studied this particular arrangement before, he found he had an intuitive grasp of the mechanics of the lock. There was a circuit of sorts that could be closed if one inserted the correct glyph as a key. The entire sequence was shrouded so that it couldn''t be directly observed, but since Caden was able to sense its workings, he could also sense exactly what shape the missing key was. It was then a simple matter of threading arcana into the empty space and forming the glyph that the hole implied.

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    The lock clicked open and Caden turned the handle to open the door, leading the way into the vestibule. Devon followed, looking stunned. "You broke a Panoply ward."

    "Picked it," Caden corrected, closing the door behind Lynus as he staggered over the threshold. The lock clicked back into place.

    Despite knowing that they ought to get to the privacy of the guest suites quickly, Caden still couldn''t help but look around in awe and admiration as he took in the entrance hall beyond the vestibule. It was a few moments before he noticed the agents standing around.

    "Mr Silver!" he blurted in surprise, recognising the lead agent. When none of them moved so much as an inch, he realised they were all frozen in place.

    "Yeah, we kinda had to take you from them to bring you to the Spire," Devon said sheepishly. "Come on, this way."

    "Wait, wait, you took me from them?" Caden''s cursory inspection through his arcanic sense told him that they were in some kind of stasis бк this was the augera''s work, operating through Devon. "And they''re not supposed to know?"

    Devon nodded, then deflated a little as he realised that they now had to deal with the repercussions of his earlier actions.

    Caden connected the dots. "So you basically kidnapped me, otherwise the agents would have taken too long to figure out what happened to me, and the natural course of events would have put me beyond recovery. And now that we''re back here, we need to leave this sequence of events uninterrupted as much as possible."

    "Would that really have happened?" Devon asked, paling a little it finally occurred to him how much had been at stake.

    "Well, this is just speculation, but I don''t think the attack on my convoy was entirely plausible, even though it was within the realm of possibility," Caden replied grimly. "I think it''s the Prophecy at work, trying to eliminate any factors that may prevent it from coming to fruition."

    Lynus managed a faint chuckle even as he sagged under his brother''s weight.

    "You''ve got something to say?" Devon snapped.

    "Wouldn''t want to be in Caden''s shoes," Lynus wheezed.

    Caden ignored him and looked around the room. Now that he was paying attention he realised that there were powerful shields in place around each agent, but they were entirely invisible. Their sequences were different from ordinary shields, too, because they were somehow muted even to Caden''s arcanic senses.

    "They knew they were being attacked?" he asked.

    "I think they felt something just as I used the augera''s power," Devon said, frowning in worry. "How are we going to cover this up?"

    "Did they see you?"

    "No."

    "Then just make yourselves scarce. We''ll pretend nothing happened," Caden said. He gingerly prodded Mr Silver''s shield and was gratified to see his finger slip right through. The wisp of arcana that Devon had woven around Caden to keep him hidden from perception had some sort of resonance with the stasis trap around Mr Silver, and they melded to allow him passage. The augera''s work was elegant.

    With Devon''s help, Caden managed to climb back into Mr Silver''s arms and position himself as before. On a hunch, Caden detached the arcanic anchor for Jerric''s cushion and was pleased to find that it was possible. He transferred it over to Devon so he wouldn''t have to haul Jerric back by hand. It took Devon a few seconds to figure out how to control the cushion, but he managed it after a few tries. Lynus looked like he was about to collapse and Caden wasn''t sure how far they had to go since he hadn''t yet seen the scope of Devon''s home, so he provided an arcanic cushion to ferry Kevan as well. Lynus accepted it with a grateful look, but he stopped short of actually thanking Caden verbally.

    "Okay, I''ll see you guys when I see you," Caden said, waving them away. "Release the sequence on these agents as soon as you''re safely back in your rooms."

    Devon and Lynus disappeared down the passageway, leaving Caden alone in the sudden silence of the entrance hall, uncomfortably laid out in Mr Silver''s arms.

    Since he had nothing to do, Caden took his time to study the sequences that the augera had given to Devon. They were, as expected, formed of glyphs that were unknown to him, and there was even one that held the same weight as the unknown glyphs on the knife, and the glyph for prophetic links.

    Where did these glyphs come from? It was possible that in the course of their studies at the Academy they might learn even more sets of glyphs. However, Caden was beginning to suspect that there were glyphs that existed but that even the Academy''s lecturers did not know. And yet, were the glyphs not created by Sages through ongoing research? But if the Academy''s best and brightest did not know them, then how could they exist?

    That would have to mean that glyphs were not, in fact, created.

    ''They''re discovered,'' Caden realised, going over his own most recent experiences in the Spire, from healing Jerric and Lynus, and from performing some form of telekinesis, and also connecting that thread with Lynus'' scribing of the knife, and Devon''s use of these advanced sequences on the agents and on concealment over everyone. ''Or, more accurately, they''re revealed... gifted to people. Probably by the augera.''

    Once again, Caden felt like he was on the verge of some epochal realisation, but at that precise moment, he felt a pulse of energy in the arcanic sea as somewhere in the house, Devon released his hold on the sequences that bound the agents. Caden quickly closed his eyes and allowed himself to go limp in Mr Silver''s arms. An instant later, the grip around him tightened as Mr Silver and the other agents regained their senses.

    They were momentarily disoriented, but their training showed. The arcana was suddenly awash with activity as various agents sank sequences into the air. Newly-attuned as he was, Caden could follow some of what was happening and get the gist of their highly sophisticated work. In a few seconds, they had the place awash in several layers of ensorcelments designed to flush out attackers, and also had complex layers of defense that would strip away the energy of incoming attacks while directing incapacitating blasts back to the source.

    Mr Silver himself became the centre of an array of shifting shields. It didn''t come online as quickly as the other hardened shields that the agents already had in place, but once it sank into place, Caden understood that it was so firmly anchored in the arcana and so densely-formed that it provided a level of protection that was almost on the level of the arena shields. Additionally, they could shift intelligently to face incoming attacks, so they freed up the user from having to manage the shield.

    "Status?" Mr Silver''s voice was tense.

    "No active ensorcelment fields besides ours," the woman next to him replied, frowning. "No pings of other arcanists besides us."

    "Then what was that?" Mr Silver asked.

    Another agent was kneeling at the spot where Devon had been when he unleashed the augera''s sequence. "It''s... some sort of fluctuation in the arcana. I think it was a natural eddy."

    Mr Silver''s furrowed brow conveyed the depths of his scepticism, but there didn''t appear to be any imminent threat, so he decided to attend to the most urgent matter at hand. "We''re moving on. Someone get Caldwell and tell him we''ve arrived."

 92. Complications and Consequences

    Maugrim Caldwell. Caden''s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Demiurge, but he kept himself limp in Mr Silver''s arms as the whole entourage hurried through the halls of the manor. It wasn''t long before he felt himself being lowered into a soft bed. His eyes were closed, but the sound of industry around him and the movements in the arcana told him that the agents were setting defensive wards in place.

    Once again, even though he had never studied or even encountered these sequences before, he could get the gist of them. They whispered their nature to him or else radiated their intent. It was actually a little distracting, and he had to force himself to pay more attention to the conversation in the room.

    There was a stirring in the arcana that told Caden a wide-area telepresence orb had been activated. "SD-P7 is secure in Safehouse 3," Mr Silver said crisply.

    "Acknowledged," came the reply; a female voice that somehow put the image of an elderly matriarch in Caden''s mind. "Has Caldwell been informed?"

    There was a pause, presumably as Mr Silver turned to one of his fellows for confirmation. "Yes, ma''am."

    "Permission has been granted for him to make contact with SD-P7. Facilitate the call and make sure it does not exceed 5 minutes. After that, hand SD-P7 over to the detachment at Safehouse 3 and proceed to rendezvous with Team 1 to complete the transfer of SD-P1."

    "Yes, ma''am."

    The telepresence orb''s coverage ended, then started up again.

    "I believe I have five minutes," came Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell''s smooth voice. "Will all of you please wait outside?"

    "I have orders toиC" Mr Silver began.

    "Wait outside," the Demiurge repeated, an icy quality to his voice that Caden had never heard before. And even though this was only a telepresence orb''s projection of him, somehow, the arcana became charged with intent. Mr Silver relented, and Caden heard the agents all filing out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the atmosphere lightened.

    "You can stop pretending to be unconscious, now," the Demiurge said, sounding like his cavalier self again.

    Caden opened his eyes. He was in a bedroom that was at least twice the size of his own. It looked more like a full hotel suite, with a little sitting area. The door to the en-suite bathroom was ajar, offering a glimpse into the luxurious interior. There was a telepresence set in a corner, but the Demiurge''s image was coming from a separate orb that had been set up in the very centre of the room. Maugrim Caldwell was in his usual casual outfit иC a white T-shirt and faded grey jeans.

    "Well, well, you''ve come a long way since we last met in person," he said, grinning.

    Caden had no idea what he was supposed to think or say. A part of his mind was still preoccupied with the fact that the Demiurge was inexplicably affecting the arcana in the room even though he was probably miles and miles away. "What''s going on?"

    "I''ll be brief," the Demiurge replied, becoming a little more serious. "We''re going to pretend that I restored your mind following your unfortunate encounter with Crevylor''s augera. You should remain in Devon''s home for at least two to three days before you decide to do whatever it is you want to do. If you encounter any trouble, do know that using the glyph the agents have taught you will indeed bring you aid, but it will also introduce further Prophetic connections. You will have to be the judge of whether that is something you want."

    There were so many new questions popping in Caden''s mind, but he was painfully aware that time was limited. "Why do you want the augera to be freed?" he demanded. "What''s your angle on all this, exactly?"

    The Demiurge frowned a little. "That is neither here nor there. You are the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, and your choices are not beholden to my motives. Do what you will, Caden."

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    It occurred to Caden that the Demiurge was operating on a whole different level from any arcanist he had encountered so far, because once again even though this was a telepresence orb, the Demiurge had managed to communicate through the arcana when he mentioned Caden''s auric-ambient-flare.

    "I''m doing what I will by asking you what your motives are," Caden said. "Are you going to give me a straight answer?"

    The Demiurge gave a wry smile. "No. It is not in my interest to do so."

    Frustration bubbled up within Caden, but he forced it down. "Then tell me why we have to wait two to three days before we do what we want to do." He did not know if the Demiurge knew of their plans to seek out wild augera бк from the way he had phrased it, it sounded like he did бк but there was no need to actually speak in specifics and give their plans away, just in case he really didn''t know.

    "Ah, that is simple advice for would-be rulebreakers. From one maverick to another, you''d do well to let your minders think that you have no intention of breaking boundaries." He grinned mischievously.

    "Why do we have to pretend you''re the one who fixed my mind? How do you know what happened? Why are the agents seemingly against you?" All deference was thrown out the window as Caden decided to just pepper the Demiurge with questions to see what he could get.

    The Demiurge replied without missing a beat. "Hm. For the first one, it''s to cover up the fact that you''ve been to the Geldor Spire. Second question иC I can''t give away my methods to you just yet. Final answer иC that''s because the Academy doesn''t always see eye-to-eye with the Empire. You might say that in this matter, I am an expert that they had to consult, despite their great reluctance to do so."

    Caden was about to follow up with another series of questions, but the Demiurge stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, shocking Caden into silence. A telepresence orb''s coverage only served to transmit visual and auditory information. The very best ones did so with so much fidelity that it seemed like the person was actually there. However, nothing in their sequences would serve to transmit tactile information. It was supposed to be impossible.

    "HowиC"

    "You are at the precipice, the boundary, touching the veil. When you draw it back, you will see. But when you see, remember you can also be seen."

    And then he was gone, even though the five minutes were not yet up. The telepresence orb was still functioning, projecting nothing, as it had been since the very beginning. The theoretical impossibility of teleportation aside, it meant that despite all the wards, all the protections, the Demiurge had appeared in person in the room.

    Caden sat back shakily on the bed. What was he supposed to do as one person, in a world of augera and Prophecies, of a Chosen One and Prophetic anchors, and a Demiurge who defied all the known laws of arcanophany?

    <hr>

    The next hour passed in a blur. Mr Silver quizzed Caden on everything he could remember from his departure from his home right up till he had been brought into the car after the attack. It seemed like he was trying to check to see whether Caden''s memory had been modified. Once he was satisfied, an agent came in and ran several diagnostic sequences on him and pronounced him to be of sound body and mind. Mr Silver looked deeply displeased even though he was trying to hide it, but with all that done, he formally handed Caden over to the care of the agent heading up the operations in Devon''s home, who went by Mr Garnet. He was a man well into his fifties but with a headful of blonde hair, and his manner was just a hair''s breadth away from unctuous.

    "Wait, Mr Silver," Caden called as the agent turned to leave. Even though Caden wasn''t certain exactly how Mr Silver was connected to the whole web of intrigue, he did feel indebted to the man. "Thank you for bringing me here safely."

    Mr Silver nodded gravely. "Take care. Our paths may not cross again, so this may be goodbye for good. I wish you well."

    "Would you like to see the rest of your friends?" Mr Garnet asked, stepping forward and rubbing his hands.

    "Yes, please."

    He was escorted through the halls by Mr Garnet himself, giving Caden the strong impression that he was indeed being watched closely, and not just for his own safety. It struck Caden as odd that the agents were being so generally suspicious of the people they were apparently tasked with protecting. He wondered exactly who had made these arrangements. The easy answer was that it was Devon''s father, but that only raised the question of exactly who Devon''s father was, and what his role was in the whole tapestry of events involving the Prophecy and the Fateweavers.

    Caden desperately wanted to talk this over with someone, but he was beginning to feel that it was a luxury he would not be able to indulge in. Everyone else was in the arms of Prophecy.

    Preoccupied as he was, he was only half-listening to Mr Garnet who was going on about the various rules and regulations he would have to abide by for his own security. When they finally reached a door, Mr Garnet stopped in front of it.

    "They''re through here. I''ll leave you all to you catch up!" And with that, he left, humming tunelessly.

    Caden took in a deep breath and reached out to the doorknob, but before he could turn it, the door swung open inwards.

    "Caden," Emilia said in steely tones. "I need you to explain everything."

 93. Detachment

    Caden reflexively took a step back and frowned, slightly irritated at his own sheepish reaction. He tried to rally by grinding out a very brusque, "Hello, Emilia."

    "Yes, hello," she replied, brushing off the greeting with the manner of one swatting away an annoying fly. "Now, explain."

    The irritation that Caden had directed at himself morphed into something more omnidirectional. He did not appreciate being chivvied like this when his mind had only been pieced together a little over an hour ago before being subjected to a confusing encounter with the Demiurge. "Inside," he said tersely to Emilia, pushing past her so he could find a seat.

    He was momentarily distracted by the sheer amount of stuff. The furniture in the room had mostly been pushed to the fringes of the space, and the general collection told Caden that it was once a lounge of sorts. Now, however, most of the space was dominated by boxes, briefcases, and bags. Some of the boxes were open, offering glimpses of commercial artefacts and high-grade rations.

    Jerric and Kevan had been placed on opposite ends of a couch that had been pushed against the far wall. Lynus had sunk into a nearby chair, brooding, and Devon was anxiously pacing around what little floor space remained.

    "Explain," Emilia repeated sternly, forcing Caden''s attention back on her.

    "Didn''t Devon or Lynus give youиC"

    "No." She folded her arms in an uncharacteristic display of petulance and shot a glare at the aforementioned duo. "Lynus was going to speak, but Devon stopped him and said it should be you doing the explaining. He refused to say another word on the topic."

    Caden shot a quizzical look at Devon, who stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. "I''m sorry, but it felt dangerous. Like back in the Spire. I mean, not that Emilia''s dangerous. I mean, she is, but...."

    "I get it," Caden said, nodding in understanding. Now that he was here, he sensed it quite keenly. This was another moment of tension, another sense of {~?~} hanging over the scene, another inflection point in Fate''s threads.

    He cast his eyes over the scene. Despite her agitation, Emilia had fixed him with her customary thousand-yard stare. Devon, on the other hand, wore his anxiety openly. Lynus was watching him from across the room with a weighing look that told Caden he was, even now, considering what to do in order to play his perceived role in cementing the terms of the Prophecy.

    Wordlessly, he gestured for Emilia to join him in a corner, away from the others. Emilia came forward without hesitation and parked herself on an unopened box. When Devon made to follow after her, Caden shook his head firmly, and Devon retreated.

    Caden leaned against the nearest wall so he could keep an eye on everyone else in the room while he spoke. It pained him to be so suspicious, but after the events of the past few days, it seemed foolish not to be on guard. "When did you arrive?" he asked Emilia, keeping his voice low.

    "I am not interested in wading through trivial small-talk," Emilia snapped, though she matched his volume. "Tell me what happened to Kevan."

    There was no way to sugarcoat this, and Caden didn''t think Emilia would appreciate it if he danced around it, so he decided to be as succinct as he could. "The twins tried to kill me while I was incapacitated by an augera. Devon and Jerric stopped them. I don''t have all the details myself, but I believe Jerric damaged Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare."

    "Damaged?" she repeated. A fierce look crossed her face for a moment before she schooled her expression into one of intense concentration. "In what way?"

    Caden hesitated, wondering how best to convey what he had seen in the arcanic space back in the Spire. "Have you been able to... to ''read'', or ''listen'' to an auric-ambient-flare?"

    Emilia shook her head. "In fragments. A vague impression. I see you are unchosen, Ambrose is chosen, Kevan is tangled... but it is hard to make much sense of the rest."

    "Then it''s hard for me to explain fully. In summary, there are many aspects to our auric-ambient-flares. We usually see what can be called ''face aspects'' бк the parts of our existence that are generally visible in the arcanic space, and which seem to define us most strongly. We have other aspects, too, but they are not as prominent."

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    Emilia nodded to indicate her understanding, her expression still one of deep focus.

    "Well... from what I can tell, one of Kevan''s face aspects has changed. I don''t think it''s a natural occurrence because I can sort of sense things in the arcana now, to a greater degree than I could before."

    "What was the change?" Emilia asked in a whisper, her eyes widening ever-so-slightly.

    "He used to be the tangled-anger-power," Caden replied, casting a worried look at her. "But my read on him now is the tangled-broken-power."

    Emilia did not immediately react to that. She still had Caden fixed with a stare, her eyes looking far beyond him. He noticed her hands trembling a little, but as soon as he glanced down at them, she clasped them together and became absolutely still again.

    "Emilia?"

    "It will be fine," she said.

    Surprised by this unexpected optimism, Caden nodded. "Yes, it''s not so badиC"

    "You misunderstand," she interrupted, her hands working furiously as she clasped and unclasped them, seemingly trying to squeeze her emotions down into her reddening fists. "What was done to him was bad. No, it was terrible, and there will be a reckoning for Jerric. But good can yet come of this, and I believe it will be fine in the end."

    "And what about what the twins wanted to do to me?" Caden demanded, though he felt a little guilty about pushing back, for some reason.

    "Are you not satisfied with what has already happened?" she shot back. "Do you want more to be done to Kevan?"

    "No, that wasn''t what I meant!" Caden crossed his arms, retreating into himself a little. "I meant... Jerric was justified in his actions. He was defending me. The twins were the ones who were out to get me."

    "Yes," Emelia replied more calmly this time, but there was still iron in her voice, "Jerric had good reason to do what he did. But I do not believe for one moment that the twins were not also justified. You are unchosen. You must know what this means."

    "Well, for the sake of argument, why don''t you tell me, since you seem to have it all figured out?" Caden did not quite manage to bite his tongue in time to keep that from spilling out.

    "It means even as we all rely on you to steer Prophecy to our ultimate design, we are all tools of Prophecy that will be used against you," she said, now with a hint of pity in her eyes. "Jerric is justified. The twins are justified. We dance to the tune of Prophecy''s strings, our eyes fettered, and we believe ourselves right because it is all we see. It is all they saw. But however noble their intentions, actions have consequences. There will be a reckoning, Caden, whether you like it or not. For all of us."

    He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief as he finally saw her point. She was not pronouncing vengeance on Jerric on behalf of Kevan. She was merely stating facts in her dispassionate way, noting that Jerric''s actions were going to have consequences that he would have to bear. In the same vein, the twins had already experienced that.

    "But you think this can turn out for good?" Caden asked.

    She nodded, her gaze softening as she looked away from him and deep into her own thoughts. "Kevan''s anger made him abrasive. Perhaps now, he will be less contrarian. And that may be a good thing for everyone around him. But I will miss his fire."

    Caden felt a twinge of sadness for her, and for Kevan as well. It occurred to him that all this was happening as a result of Prophecy''s manipulation as it tried to use the current anchors to take him, the ex-anchor, out of the equation in order to clean things up. If not for his presence, everything the twins had done would have been unnecessary. That wasn''t to say that he believed they were entirely absolved of their responsibility because on some level this entire course of events must have been within the realm of possibility, even if it wasn''t probable, because Prophecy only acted to manipulate what was already there. But still... he could not deny that his presence as the unchosen-sighted-{~?~} had pushed them further along the path.

    All the more reason to unravel all the Prophetic chains. If people were to suffer, then it should at least be for their own choices, their own mistakes.

    "What happens now?" Emilia asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

    Caden grimaced. "That depends on what condition Kevan is in when he regains consciousness. I dealt with Lynus'' and Jerric''s physical injuries, but I don''t think there''s anything I can do for Kevan."

    "I will take care of him," Emilia said matter-of-factly. "Let''s assume he will be mobile and functional. What then?"

    Not wanting to question her just yet, Caden decided to go along with her version of events. "I think we should share all the information we have. There were things that happened to me that you and Ambrose will need to know about. And we all need to hear the twins'' side of the story, preferably from the horse''s mouth. Then, if it still makes sense, we go look for wild augera as per our original plan."

    "I think it is a sound plan." Emilia nodded, looking suddenly happy. Then, without any further comment, she hopped off the box and made a beeline for where Kevan lay unconscious on the couch. A moment later, Caden felt a slight ripple in the arcana as she seamlessly slid into the arcanic sea, where she could better inspect Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare.

    "That... seemed like it went well?" Devon remarked, approaching him and raising an eyebrow.

    "I never really know what to expect from her, but yes, I think it went well," Caden muttered. He looked around the room, taking in the contents more carefully now that Emilia wasn''t breathing down his neck. "So... Dev, you arranged all this?"

    Devon grinned and picked up a checklist that had been left lying on a nearby surface. "Let me take you through what we''ve got."

 94. Consolidation

    The atmosphere in the room was still a little tense, but Devon''s enthusiasm helped Caden ignore the brooding looks from Lynus. There was plenty of stuff in the room, but Devon started with the artefacts he was most proud of иC the wings.

    "Hawk-class," Devon said proudly, taking a set out of a box and laying it on the nearest surface he could find. "Good for around three hours of continuous flight in clear weather, or more if we''re just coasting."

    The wings came in the form of a harness vest. The sets that Devon had procured were all in a very sleek, matte black. Caden ran his hands over the material and realised that beneath the durable weave was a rigid frame.

    "That''s where the glyphs are inscribed," Devon explained as he saw Caden testing the flexibility and finding it unyielding. Devon reached back into the box and plucked out a manual. "You can bring up the full set of glyphs for display like any other normal artefact, but you need to use their activation sequence to do that."

    "Have you tried them yourself?" Caden asked.

    "Haven''t had the chance." Devon nodded over at the couch were Kevan was still unconscious, and still wearing the harness he had strapped on earlier that day. "Kevan was going to be the first, but then the Spire augera contacted us, and... well. You know the rest."

    "These must cost a fortune," Caden murmured, placing the set back into the box.

    "Mm." Devon made a non-committal noise and gestured for Caden to follow. "And here, we''ve got some personal protection."

    He led Caden to a much smaller box that had been placed on a table and opened it, revealing several slender packages within. He popped the lid on one of them and pulled out a pendant иC a clear crystal cut into a pencil point shape, set into a silver wire frame and threaded with a fine metallic chain.

    "Is that diamond?" Caden asked, taking it from Devon and peering closely at it in disbelief.

    "No, couldn''t get my hands on those. These are quartz, but they''re still pretty heavy-duty."

    Caden could definitely feel the dense weight of the sequences in the arcana. He held the pendant up to the light, trying to figure out where the glyphs were inscribed. It took him a moment to realise that the minuscule specks he had taken for imperfections in the crystal were in fact neat, orderly lines of sequences, scribed in complex three-dimensional shapes, inside the crystal itself.

    "Wow," he breathed, marvelling at the workmanship and wondering how it was even accomplished.

    "Right?" Devon said, shaking his head in awe. "There''s a whole sequence we need to work through to key these to the wearer, but once they''re in place, they provide pretty hefty security."

    It took Devon another ten minutes to give Caden a quick look at the other items and artefacts he had managed to put together for their wild augera hunt, and by the end of it, Caden was feeling a lot more confident about their ability to take on this daunting task, assuming the whole group was still functional, and it was still something that they ought to get done. Once Devon had given him an overview, Caden decided to check in with Emilia.

    "How is he?" he asked, pulling up a chair and settling down close to where Emilia sat with the still-unconscious Kevan on the couch.

    Emilia had been staring, unfocused, at nothing in particular. At Caden''s question, she blinked and shook her head distractedly. Caden sensed movement in the arcana as her attention returned to her immediate surroundings. "Hmm?"

    Caden nodded at Kevan. "How much could you see? How do you think he''s doing?"

    "You can probably see a lot more than I can," she replied with a sigh. "What you told me, that he is now the tangled-broken-power, it helped me navigate a little better, and I saw more than what I could before. I see the brokenness. But it is... strangely familiar."

    "That''s because it''s not all my doing."

    Everyone''s attention snapped to Jerric. He leaned forward with a slight groan, cradling his head in his hands and massaging it gently.

    "What do you mean?" Caden prompted.

    "The broken bit. I did that, but I got the pattern from other parts of his own auric-ambient-flare. I''m guessing it''s always been a part of him. Just not one of the face aspects," Jerric explained, his voice a little hoarse.

    "Then you didn''t... you didn''t..." Devon trailed off.

    "Tear his mind apart?" Jerric asked, looking up with a wry smile, but it quickly faded. "No. I wanted to... but in the end, what I wanted to do ended up being almost the same as duplicating patterns that were already there. All the pain and hurt I wanted to cause... he''d already experienced it before."

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    Nobody knew what to say to that. Caden noticed Emilia''s hand had gone to Kevan''s, and she was squeezing it tightly in silence.

    "Anyway, that means that I ended up not actually destroying anything." Jerric stood up and rubbed his shoulders. "To use the augera''s terminology, no information was lost. I didn''t tear any threads. They''re just... even more tangled than they were before. And that was enough to change his face aspects."

    "How much can you see?" Caden asked.

    "Before this?" Jerric thought for a moment. "I think I got as far as the first two aspects. But after the Spire augera showed us your auric-ambient-flare, and also showed us our own, I think I''ve got a good handle on the whole thing. I can see he''s the tangled-broken-power now. I can actually still pick up traces of the anger bit, but that''s because we spent some time rooting around in there with the augera''s help."

    "If you didn''t actually tear any of his threads, then why is he like this?" Caden asked, frowning down at Kevan''s unmoving form.

    "He grieves," Emilia answered softly.

    "He''s so sad that he''s unconscious?" Devon blurted, disbelievingly.

    Despite the seriousness of the situation, Caden''s lips twitched and he had to force himself not to let out a laugh. Devon''s oversimplification somehow struck him as incredibly funny.

    Unexpectedly, Jerric''s reply was more sombre. "It''s a coping mechanism. You remember the first time he ensorceled us, and we were all horribly depressed until we managed to lift it? Well, I think I understand a bit more now. I''ve seen flashes of his memories."

    "So do we just... splash some water on him?" Devon asked blankly.

    "Emilia." Jerric approached her, ignoring Devon. She looked up at him with a guarded expression. "I don''t know if this is going to be worth anything, but I want to tell you I''m sorry. And if Kevan will listen, I want to apologise to him too. Will you let him know?"

    She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded once. "But why are you apologising to me?"

    Jerric blinked. "Because you''re, uh, close with him. I mean, the two of you..."

    "I think you might have made an improvement," she said simply.

    Lynus had a look of disbelief on his face at what Emilia had just said. "An improvement?"

    "I will be happy to take back that statement if he proves to be just as unruly as before," she replied, looking at Lynus in surprise. "I thought you''d share my opinion."

    Lynus'' cheeks coloured a little, but he chose not to say anything.

    "I''m not proud of what I did," Jerric said, directing this at Lynus. "In my defence, neither of you were giving me much choice. But Caden''s alright now, and I''m guessing we''ve got some sort of ceasefire going on for now since you''re all sitting in the same room. So, truce?"

    "I''m going to talk it over with my brother first," Lynus said thinly.

    Jerric shrugged and sat back down on the far end of the couch.

    "How are you feeling, then?" Caden asked, taking a closer look at him. A casual inspection suggested that Jerric was physically fine because he seemed to be moving without any pain, which was quite a miracle given the condition he had been in.

    "Head feels a little light, but otherwise fine, I think," Jerric answered, looking up at him. "Actually, how did I get patched up? What''s our standing with the agents now?"

    Devon gave a brief summary of how Jerric and Lynus had been physically restored by Caden''s newfound proficiency with healing sequences before they had all piled back into the car. When he got to the point where Caden had to pretend to have been back in Mr Silver''s arms all along, Jerric sat up in alarm.

    "How long were we away?" he asked, his eyes wide.

    "Almost four hours in total," Devon replied, glancing at a clock on the wall. "Why?"

    "We were working under the assumption it''d be a quick job," Jerric pointed out. "A time difference of even an hour would''ve been a bit of a stretch, but don''t you think the agents would definitely notice if they skip four hours ahead? I mean, that''s enough to see a difference in daylight!"

    Devon paled and turned to Caden. "Did they notice?"

    "I don''t think so. There seemed to be a lot of other things for them to process. They got in touch with someone higher up on the command chain, then there was a link to the Demiurge."

    Everyone else in the room gave a start, and blurted, "What?"

    "Let''s leave that for when Ambrose is here. We probably all need to hear that," Caden said. "Anyway, I don''t think the agents noticed."

    Jerric looked doubtful. "We''re going to have to assume they know something happened, even if they''re not sure what happened. I really don''t think something like that can go unnoticed."

    "Maybe the augera took care of it," Devon suggested. "I mean, I don''t even fully understand what it got me to do to them."

    "If anything," Caden murmured, thinking hard, "it was the Demiurge who took care of it. He told me to pretend that he was the one who healed me, not the augera. He seemed to want to hide our trip to the Spire too. It''s probably no big deal for him to somehow smooth this over."

    Jerric''s eyebrows rose. "Well... it looks like that''s a major update. But anyway, even if the agents suspect something, I don''t think we''re in any immediate trouble. In any case, they''re supposed to be the ones protecting us from whoever it is that has been attacking Academy students, so even if they do learn we''ve been to the Spire, it''s not like they''re going to do anything terrible to us."

    "Does anyone know where Ambrose is now?" Caden asked.

    "He''s actually supposed to arrive around the same time as Emilia," Devon said, glancing at the clock.

    "I overheard the agents saying that the team assigned to bring me here was asked to join another team to ''complete the transfer of SD-P1''. I''m guessing that''s Ambrose," Caden said, pursing his lips. "You don''t think something''s happened, do you?"

    "I think the agents will see him safely here. Maybe he''s just delayed by traffic?" Devon suggested.

    "Heavy traffic doesn''t warrant a need for extra support," Jerric pointed out.

    "Well... the command didn''t sound particularly urgent." Caden rubbed his chin, thinking back to what he had heard. "Maybe we shouldn''t worry too much."

    "If he''s not too far off schedule, he''ll be here by the end of the day," Devon said, getting up. "How about I get us all some refreshments?"

    "Eclairs," Kevan said suddenly, and everyone jumped. Even Emilia got to her feet in surprise. Kevan hadn''t moved at all, and his head was still lolled back on the headrest of the couch, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he straightened and cracked his neck.

    "Eclairs," he repeated, looking around at them through reddened eyes before settling on Devon. "The ones Lynus was keeping all to himself earlier."

 95. Faith

    No one had moved after Kevan''s request. He continued looking steadily at Devon, who stared right back, with a frostiness in his gaze that Caden did not feel comfortable seeing in those usually gentle eyes. A heavy silence blanketed the room.

    "... you can give me the shitty ones," Kevan muttered, breaking eye contact first.

    Caden was so surprised that he let out a snort of laughter, then tried to rein it in. Devon was trying to maintain a stern look, but he happened to glance at Jerric just as he cracked a smile, and the facade fell apart. Devon turned away to hide the grin that was forming involuntarily, and when he failed to properly compose himself, he left the room, muttering, "I''ll be back with the damn eclairs!"

    "How are you feeling?" Emilia asked Kevan.

    "I need a word with him first, alone," Lynus interrupted.

    Emilia shot him a warning look as he made to stand up and drag his brother away. Lynus stopped in his tracks but did not back away. He glared at her, clearly unwilling to allow anything to get between him and the opportunity to exchange notes with his twin.

    "How are you feeling?" Emilia repeated, directing it at Kevan even as she stared Lynus down.

    "Kev, we have to talk," Lynus said a little more loudly, the hint of a threat in his voice.

    "Ly, back off," Kevan said wearily, placing a hand on his brother''s shoulder. "We can talk later."

    The twins'' eyes met, and Caden thought he felt something stir in the arcana иC some sort of subvocal communication. Lynus tensed, but it became clear that he knew he wasn''t going to win this argument. He sat back down heavily, crossing his arms and throwing looks of worry mingled with anger at Kevan and Emilia.

    "I''ve been better," Kevan continued, addressing Emilia with a wry smile. "But I think I''m still in one piece."

    "I''m not talking about your physical condition," Emilia said seriously. "Do you remember what happened?"

    He looked over at where Lynus was sitting, watching the conversation warily. "I remember we fought in some arcanic space. It wasn''t real, but the pain... it felt real. And then you... he..."

    He stopped, swallowed hard, and looked away, taking his head into his hands. Jerric shifted uncomfortably in his seat and opened his mouth to say something, but Kevan started talking again.

    "I felt it happening. The tangling. And after that, you were going to cut and tear. But Devon stopped you, didn''t he?" Kevan asked, looking up at Jerric.

    He nodded slowly. "For what it''s worth, I''m sorry about that."

    Kevan gave a joyless laugh and buried his head in his hands again. "Well, I came at you first and got my ass handed back to me. That''s on me, for being so weak, to begin with. I guess I should be grateful that Devon stopped you before you finished the job."

    At that precise moment, Devon came in with a tray loaded with eclairs. He ferried it over to the nearest table and set it down, trying to convey some anger by doing so brusquely, but also failing to be sufficiently forceful because he was actually being as careful as he could to ensure the eclairs didn''t fall off.

    "Devon... thank you," Kevan said, not quite meeting his eyes. "For stopping Jerric, despite everything. Even after I... you know."

    "Yeah, well, don''t make me regret it," Devon muttered, crossing his arms. "You can start by explaining yourself. You and Lynus."

    Kevan sighed and glanced at Jerric. "You remember what I showed you?"

    "I do," Jerric replied. "I''m still not convinced the two of you are right about all this, but let''s have it all out in the open."

    "Kev, we really need to talk first," Lynus said once more.

    "You really think we have a chance at this point, Ly?" Kevan asked in a deadpan voice. "We''re not even on the backfoot here. We''re down on the floor. We''re beaten."

    "But Kant saidиC"

    "We''re beaten," Kevan repeated, turning to face his brother, some of the fire returning to his voice. "But that doesn''t mean there isn''t another way around this. We tried it one way and it didn''t work. Let''s not be stupid about this."

    "You know, it''s stuff like that which makes me think that maybe I did the wrong thing in stopping Jerric," Devon said uneasily.

    Kevan turned back to the others and shook his head. "I''m done fighting you guys. I think it''s out of our hands at this point."

    "Alright, then please explain this," Caden said, producing the knife from his pocket. He sent it drifting across the room, coming to rest above the table where the eclairs had been placed, where it rotated slowly.

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    Kevan glanced at it, then turned to Caden. "The Academy augera taught Ly and I those glyphs. Or rather, it imprinted them on our minds, and we know how to carve it onto something, even if we don''t really understand it. We only realised it had given us this knowledge much later. When we first made contact with it, it told us that one of the anchors of the Prophecy was loose, and it wanted us to protect the new anchor. Later on, it became obvious that you were the loose anchor, and Emilia is the new one. It told us that the old anchor would ''be fixed'', and we assumed that meant that the Prophecy was going to somehow make sure you weren''t a threat to it. And the augera also said that the fate of the old anchor would be our choice."

    Caden was listening intently, but at this point, he raised an eyebrow. "So you''re actually free, in a limited sense. And you chose to use this knife. Do you know what it''s supposed to do?"

    "Well, the augera said the old anchor would ''be fixed'', and we assumed that it meant that the glyphs were some way to stop, or undo, or mend any breaks in Prophecy that are a result of your actions." Kevan got up and started pacing in little circles. "It feels a little like a key to us, so we believe it seals your influence away somehow. And even though we don''t know exactly what it does, the glyphs seem to intuitively fit on things that can be used as weapons. All in all, we think it''s supposed to kill you and somehow stop your influence from spreading even after you''re dead."

    "Okay... and knowing that, or rather, believing that, you chose to use it on me?" Caden asked.

    "... Yes," Kevan answered with a heavy sigh. "Because after all this, we got into a conversation with Kant. We stumbled on him and Reeves in some sort of fight, and Kant won. And since he won, he was able to give us a warning. He says that the augera are happy to have an ex-anchor running around, because ex-anchors have the ability to upset Prophecies, and they''re hoping that you''ll use that power to free all of them. But he also said that if the augera are freed, the Empire will fall."

    "Kant is on your side?" Caden asked in disbelief. "Why does freeing the augera mean the Empire will fall? He thinks they''ll all turn and destroy everyone, and we won''t be able to stop them?"

    "No, that''s not the main reason. He said it''s because arcanophany itself relies on the augera, somehow. Our glyphs, artefacts... they''re the foundation. So freeing them will bring it all down."

    This pronouncement brought Caden''s thoughts back to that moment of epiphany he had almost had earlier in the day when he was thinking things over while waiting for the agents to be released from their stasis. He had realised that glyphs were not created. At least, not all of them. Some were simply discovered because the augera had already invested them with meaning even before a mortal mind had conceived of their use.

    "So the only reason that arcanophany works, according to Kant, is because the augera are chained?" Caden pointed out, feeling a little breathless from the weight of that statement.

    "Pretty much," Kevan said heavily. "And he believes that if they''re freed, not only will arcanophany itself stop working, the augera will probably also take the opportunity to destroy the Empire, for revenge for their captivity."

    "Which brings us to your choice," Caden finished. "Because according to what Kant said... If I live, and I unravel the Prophecy, the augera go free, arcanophany disappears, and the Empire will be torn apart by vengeful augera."

    "Does our choice make more sense, now?" Kevan asked dryly.

    "And what I said to you back then is that we should all be discussing this," Jerric jumped in. "You and Lynus may be the ones who make the choice, but the rest of us can still help you make a better one."

    "I get that now," Kevan nodded, raising a placating hand. He shot a glance at his brother, who grimaced. "We get that now. We tried what we thought was right, and it didn''t work, so now we''re forced to listen. No offence, Jerric, but if you could beat both of us, then I''m pretty sure we won''t stand a chance against Caden. Or Ambrose, if he happens to take that side of things."

    Jerric did not know whether to look insulted or pleased, so he took an eclair to occupy himself.

    "What are you thinking, Caden?" Emilia asked.

    Caden kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. "For someone who''s supposed to be unchosen, I seem to have a lot of shit landing on me."

    "Unchosen doesn''t mean you won''t be caught in the middle of great and terrible things," she pointed out. "It just means the Fateweavers did not account for your existence."

    "Yes, that''s becoming obvious," he replied testily, drawing in a deep breath to calm himself. "But it seems you''re all missing something. I''m not the one deciding factor here. Just because I''m unshackled from Prophecy doesn''t mean I have all the power. We all have the future of arcanophany and the Empire in our hands. From what we''ve gathered, in theory, I have the freedom to act against the Prophecy, but all of you are anchors. If you support me, you''ll tip Ambrose to my side and weaken the Prophecy, making it easier for me to change or even unmake it. If you don''t, you''ll tip him against me, and strengthen the Prophecy, which will probably make it impossible for me to do anything about it."

    He turned to the twins and continued. "As for the two of you... in some sense, you do have more power than the others. The Academy augera specifically said you have the choice to decide what happens to me. I believe it means that if the rest of the anchors agree to get rid of me, you''ll be the only two that have the full backing of the Prophecy to put that plan into action. So you were wrong to discount Jerric, Devon, and Emilia. That''s probably why you couldn''t beat Jerric. That, and you''ve misinterpreted a little bit of the augera''s will. It was bound by the Prophecy to build in this possibility of me being stopped... but it also used that opportunity to hand me a weapon."

    "A weapon?" Kevan repeated, looking a little apprehensive.

    "Well... maybe not a weapon." Caden gestured, calling the knife forward so that it drifted over his open palm. "This knife... I think it does what you think it does иC it can kill me, and probably do so in some specific, unique way that stops my influence. But the augera also snuck in another sequence, and it''s meant for me to learn. I don''t know what it is yet... but it has something to do with a part of my auric-ambient-flare, the part that makes me so valuable to the augera. So... it used you two as a vehicle to deliver this knowledge to me, even while it was forced to give you two the means to stop me."

    Caden snatched the knife out of the air and pocketed it again. He stood and paced around for a moment, while the others watched him, waiting for him. He tasted the threads of Prophecy in the air, but also the subtle, subversive will of the augera, striving against it and fighting to give him this important platform to win their hearts and minds.

    "... so it comes down to this. Before Ambrose arrives, the five of you have to decide if you believe that I can find a way to steer Prophecy, and figure out how to broker peace with the augera."

 96. Tenuous Trust

    "Broker peace with the augera?" Lynus shook his head in frustration. "Are you even listening to yourself? Did you forget how well we all did against that wild augera by the lake?"

    Caden took some small measure of comfort from the fact that Lynus'' tone and body language seemed to indicate that he wasn''t frustrated at Caden, but instead at the seemingly insurmountable nature of the task. It was a small but important difference because Caden took it to mean that despite the earlier decision the twins had made to kill him, they (or at least Lynus) didn''t have something against him personally.

    "I remember," he said, nodding grimly. "But that was before a lot of other things happened. I know it seems completely crazy and impossible, but you need to remember that we''re not working in a vacuum here. The five of you are literally the anchors of one of the first major Prophecies in a long, long time."

    "That just means the odds are stacked against you," Kevan argued. "The Prophecy isn''t something that''s supporting what you want to do. We''ve all agreed that it''s basically going to set up Ambrose as a Fateweaver. It''s got nothing to do with saving your family, and it''s actively against the idea of freeing any augera at all."

    "But that''s only part of the story, isn''t it?" Caden persisted. He was pacing around now, suddenly seized by manic energy as his own ruminations gave themselves a voice outside his head for the first time. It felt good to say these things, to talk about them. "You''re all anchors, so that already means we''re going to be embroiled in incredible things. And working off that that, on top of the probabilities around you all already shifting out of the bounds of the ordinary, I''m not ordinary either. I''m benefitting from both the augera''s manipulation of the Prophecy itself and the fact that the Fateweavers didn''t account for the existence of someone like me, a byproduct of the augera''s meddling and sheer cosmic chance."

    Devon was wearing an expression of deep trepidation as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on him. Jerric looked grim, and Caden guessed he was sketching out the darker possibilities that came with what had just been mentioned. Emilia simply looked at him with her usual vacant stare, her thoughts inscrutable. Of the twins, Kevan was the one who radiated less scepticism and more wary acceptance. Caden pushed on.

    "We''ve got two zeitgeist-changing factors coming into play here, and we need to start getting used to the fact that whether we like it or not, we''re going to be seeing a lot of things that are ''crazy and impossible''. In fact, from what we''ve already seen so far, we''re even going to end up being responsible for some of those things." He rounded on Lynus, gesturing to indicate Lynus'' appearance. His body was restored, but his clothes still bore some marks of the terrible duel between him and Jerric. "I mean, just take the last few hours for instance. You do realise that I basically healed you and Jerric from potentially fatal injuries even though none of us has ever studied advanced healing sequences, right?"

    Lynus shuffled uncomfortably. "Yeah, about that... what you did... thanks. Especially after what Kev and I tried to do."

    Caden waved it away, too caught up in the flow to stop and acknowledge Lynus'' awkward apology. "And I didn''t have the time to tell you this, but i think what happened to me was a net benefit. When the Geldor Spire augera put me back together again, whether by design or by accident, it left me with this new sense of arcana itself. I can... I can read it, understand the flow of arcana itself on some instinctive level, way beyond anything I could do before. That''s how I healed the two of you, and that''s also how I picked the Panoply ward to get us back in the manor. It just all makes sense to me, if I take the time to listen, to see, to taste."

    He was struggling to really describe how he was navigating the arcana now. It wasn''t something that lent itself to mere words, and he was worried that he wasn''t getting his point across well enough. But Emilia gave a curt nod.

    "Like me finally seeing more of a person''s auric-ambient-flare now, after you''ve told me more about it. It''s knowledge born of experience," she said.

    "Exactly!" Caden pointed excitedly at her, seizing on that. "Or like ensorcelment. It''s not something you teach by theory alone. Our minds become more open when we encounter these things. And think of what we''ve encountered! Emilia''s met two augera. The rest of you have met three. I''ve met four. The Academy augera interacted with all of us on a really fundamental level after our run-in with the wild augera by the lake. And as for me, I''ve literally been stitched back together by the Geldor augera after being possessed and hurt by the Creyvlor augera. It''s changed all of us. And me, most of all."

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    "Okay," Kevan conceded, "we''re all definitely not ordinary. But think about it, Caden. Take the lake augera, for instance. If something like that got angry at us... how would you even begin to calm it down? Even the shackled augera leave us feeling overwhelmed. Can you imagine dealing with a wild one, let alone a caged one that is set free?"

    Caden deflated a little as he stopped pacing. "I don''t know yet. But I have to believe it''s something I''ll be able to manage in the future. This isn''t a leap to the finishing line. There are things I''ll need to learn, things we all need to learn before we get to that end-game. If you''re asking me if I can lay out the whole plan for you now, then the honest answer is that I can''t."

    "I get that," Jerric said, chiming in. "And I understand what you mean about learning by experience and having our whole understanding of arcana changed or evolved in leaps and bounds. What we did there in the Spire, putting you back together again..." He glanced sideways at Kevan and Lynus. "And even fighting with the twins, especially Kevan in the arcanic space... I learnt a lot from it. Things I couldn''t have imagined or thought of. I don''t believe it''s much of a leap to say that it won''t take us long to get a handle on things."

    Kevan grimaced but nodded. "Yeah, that fight was definitely educational."

    "Besides," Jerric continued, turning to Lynus, "the two of you have directly experienced what Kevan was talking about with that knife, haven''t you? Somehow, working with those unknown glyphs changed your perceptions and gave you new capabilities. That''s how you were able to work around the Spire augera in the arcanic space, even though Devon and I were almost overwhelmed by it."

    Lynus frowned as he thought it over. "I don''t know. Everything happened so fast in there, I wasn''t really thinking. I just knew what I had to do when the time came. Things clicked and made sense."

    "Even if that''s the case," Kevan weighed in again, "and we do really advance in leaps and bounds in our arcanic ability, we''re basically banking on these random epiphanies. That''s not a plan. That''s just rushing in and hoping for the best."

    "It''s faith," Emilia said simply, and everyone turned to her. "Belief that it will work. But not entirely unfounded. We have prior experiences serving as a foundation. And having faith in something isn''t always bad, nor is belief always blind."

    "Devon, what do you think?" Caden asked, looking over to the young lord.

    "Me?" He looked momentarily surprised that his point of view was being considered, but then worry fell over his features again. "Honestly, next to the rest of you, I feel like I''m the least able to do all this anchor stuff. I mean..." He gestured helplessly at himself in general.

    "Dev," Jerric said severely, "you''re the one the augera contacted. There''s got to be a reason for that. You put the guards in stasis. And when the augera plunged us into the arcanic space, you were the one who adjusted first out of all of us, then helped me get my bearings."

    Devon looked down at his feet, abashed, and muttered, "Could''ve been done by any of you."

    "But it wasn''t," Jerric continued fiercely, going over to give Devon a little shake. "And that''s the point Caden''s trying to make. We''re not ordinary. You''re not ordinary."

    "Alright, alright!" Devon cried out, raising his hands in surrender and shrugging away from Jerric. "For what it''s worth, I do believe in Caden eventually being able to placate the augera, and even if I''m not sure what use I''ll beиC"

    "DevonиC" Jerric''s voice contained a hint of menace now.

    "иCI''m sure I''ll be a great help, even if I can''t see it now," he finished, reaching over for an eclair and snatching it up with unnecessary violence. He preoccupied himself with eating it, avoiding everyone else''s gaze.

    Caden gave a little cough. "So... that''s Devon, Jerric, and Emilia. It''s just down to the two of you now. Kev? Ly?"

    There was a little part of him that shied away from addressing them in such a familiar manner. Over the course of the semester, he had spoken to them like this many times before, but after what had happened, it felt odd coming out of his lips now. Still, he squashed that impulse to aversion (however understandable and justifiable, given what they had done) because he was tasting it in the air again иC the tension that signalled a point of confluence in the threads of fate. This was a moment to extend an olive branch to the twins and add another brick to the road of reconciliation. He had to be the bigger person here and start doing the work first if he wanted their support when the time came.

    Emilia turned out to be right иC the ''damage'' to Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare was making him less difficult to deal with. He was the first of the two to give Caden a nod, and he did it with the minimum amount of grudging concession. Lynus looked deeply unhappy with his brother''s capitulation, but he wasn''t able to muster any reasoned argument.

    "It makes sense," Lynus said, relenting. "It doesn''t feel right to me now... but it makes sense."

    Relief washed over Caden. He sat down and helped himself to an eclair. "So... we''ll talk Ambrose through everything that''s happened when he arrives. And after that... we put all of Devon''s hard work here to use, and find ourselves another wild augera."

 97. Exchanging Information

    With the matter settled, the group broke apart and went about their own business. Devon went to look for the agent-in-charge to check on the arrangements that had been made for Caden, Emilia, and Ambrose. Jerric busied himself with familiarising himself with the inventory of artefacts on hand. The twins decided to retire to their own rooms.

    Caden took the opportunity to have a quick word with Emilia. "Uhm, Emilia... earlier, you said you''d take care of Kevan."

    She nodded. "Yes."

    "What did you do?" he asked. "How did you get him up?"

    Emilia looked a little confused by the question. "I didn''t do anything. I only slipped into the arcana to take a closer look at what was going on, and as I said before, you probably can see a lot more than I can."

    Caden returned her puzzled look. "Then why were you so sure he''d be mobile and functional?"

    "I wasn''t," she replied. "I asked you to assume he would be since we were talking about future plans that involved moving around. If he turned out to still be unconscious, I Intended to carry him with us on our search for the wild augera."

    "Carry him?" Caden repeated blankly, and he couldn''t help but give her a quick once-over, taking in her slight frame, and the fact that she was more than a head shorter than Kevan.

    That brief glance did not go unnoticed. She raised an eyebrow at Caden. "It wouldn''t have inconvenienced me."

    He gave a sheepish grin, recalling her proficiency at channelling arcana to enhance her own physical capabilities, and decided not to comment any further on how impractical it would have been to lug around a comatose Kevan even if she were technically capable of doing it. "Right. Well, I suppose it''s a good thing he''s really up and about, moving under his own steam."

    He bobbed his head by way of farewell and turned to go, but Emilia called out before he had gone more than a few steps.

    "Caden," she hesitated and showed a rare moment of embarrassment but she forced herself to look at Caden in the eye. "You may be extending forgiveness to Kevan out of obligation, or for your own purposes in steering Prophecy... but thank you nonetheless."

    "Oh." Caden felt a little uncomfortable himself, now. "You, uh, don''t have to thank me."

    He was never quite sure where he stood when it came to Emilia, and her eccentricities made it really hard to read her. Seeing her behaving like this was actually a little disconcerting. He was on the verge of making a hasty exit but he decided that he might as well make some sort of start in getting to know her a little better, so he drifted back into the room.

    "You know, Emilia, I don''t think we''ve ever talked about your stake in all this," he said, coming to stand a little closer.

    "No, we haven''t. If you want to go over this now, maybe we should sit." She moved back to the couch, passing Jerric along the way. "Both of you."

    Jerric looked up from his checklist, a little bemused, but followed Caden''s lead. Emilia took one end of the couch while Jerric sat at the other, and Caden pulled up a chair so they wouldn''t all be squashed up against each other.

    Emilia waited until they were settled, then sat a little straighter, like she was being interviewed. "So, what do you want to know?"

    "I really, really just have to get this off my chest," Caden said. "But you and Kevan. I mean, I''m going to be blunt бк why?"

    If Emilia took any offence to that question, she didn''t show it. She nodded in a business-like manner and responded matter-of-factly. "He''s the first person I''ve met who accepts me for who I am."

    "Really?" Caden almost stopped himself from blurting that out but decided at the last moment not to hold it back. If she was going to be her usual, clinical self, then this was a good opportunity to engage with her. "Honestly, Kevan doesn''t strike me as that sort of person."

    She nodded again. "No, not at first. On our first meeting, he was abrasive and arrogant. When he first looked for me and challenged me, it was with quite a bit of condescension. He didn''t believe that anyone would be as good as him."

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    "Yeah, that sounds more like the Kevan we know," Jerric muttered, and Caden nodded with a slight grin.

    Much to their surprise, Emilia gave a small smile of understanding. "To be honest, what first caught my attention was the fact that he beat me. That had never happened before."

    "But wouldn''t he have been really horrible right after that?" Caden asked. "Everybody knows he''s really proud, and I''m guessing he gloated a bit"

    She laughed. "More than a bit. But I told him to his face that he shouldn''t rest on his laurels, and that I would definitely beat him."

    "How did he take that?"

    "He took me seriously. I think that was the start of it, for me. People tend to ignore me or brush me off. But he accepted my challenge seriously, without any more gloating. He realised that our first duel was actually a little close, and he acknowledged my ability. He knew there was a chance I''d be able to really win."

    "And then later, when you guys had that big duel in the arena, and he asked you out later... that''s all it took?"

    For once, Emilia looked a little unsure of herself. "Do you remember what we talked about after the Prophecy was revealed to me?"

    Caden nodded. "We figured that you became a lot closer to us as a group because I was removed from the Prophecy, and it needed you to fill the gap."

    Emilia sighed. "At the time, I was very sure that my decision to be together with Kevan was entirely my own. But I see now that this is naive. It''s obvious that the Prophecy did bring us together, and that my feelings for him are definitely a result of its influence."

    Caden''s mouth was a grim slash. This was not a pleasant thought.

    Unexpectedly, though, Emilia looked up and gave him a small smile. "I have made my peace with that, though. In my view, the Prophecy may have brought us together, but if so, it only provided the opportunity to meet. It made the circumstances favourable. But I still am convinced the choice is my own. Kevan acknowledged my power, and he accepts me for who I am, with all my strangeness and all my rudeness. And I, in turn, do the same for him."

    There was so much open honesty and happiness in her face that Caden couldn''t bring himself to contradict her. In any case, he wasn''t the sole arbiter of how the Prophecy really worked. They were all still just discovering how it really functioned. He nodded and gave her a small smile of encouragement, and changed the topic.

    "Where''d you pick up your thaumaturgical skills?" Caden asked, recalling how proficient Emilia had been in their classes from the very beginning. "From a prep school that focused on it, like the twins''?"

    "No. My prep school offered focused courses in artificing, but it didn''t interest me so I never pursued all the programmes that were available. My thaumaturgical skills come from independent study."

    "That''s impressive," Jerric remarked. "What did you do?"

    "I danced."

    "Danced?" Caden asked, his interest piqued, and he thought back to the little he had learned about her past. "You''ve mentioned before that you''ve done some gymnastics. Is that a part of it, too?"

    "The gymnastics classes were the start. Then, I got interested in dancing. I started figuring out how to use arcana to bolster the body''s physical movements." To demonstrate, she slipped out of her shoes and stood up en pointe, then slowly and deliberately extended a leg so that her entire weight was supported on just one toe. Caden and Jerric stared in awe.

    "Normally, you need proper shoes for this, and it requires a lot of physical training," she explained, lowering herself back onto the couch and drawing her legs up so she could sit cross-legged. "Arcanic assistance offers shortcuts for those who haven''t gone through all that. And if you do go through rigorous physical training, arcanic assistance can help you do things that are normally almost impossible."

    "But how do you get from dancing to thaumaturgy?" Jerric asked, clearly captured by the theory behind it.

    "Because using arcana in this way to assist movement in dance requires extremely fine control. I learned how to direct arcana very efficiently and quickly. The focus you learn to cultivate in order to channel arcana while dancing is something that is also easily transferable to the rest of what we''ve learned."

    "That kinda explains why you''re always running around and smashing straight into things when you fight," Caden mused. "You really favour close-quarters combat."

    "It''s a weakness, though," Emilia pointed out. "I am working on other methods of engagement that will play to my strengths. The fight with Ambrose last term showed me that my preferred method of engagement isn''t wise when we''re going up against an enemy with more firepower."

    "But you''re still pretty good at the standard bolts, and that beam sequence," Caden said.

    "I''m good, but not excellent. Those are suitable for stalling or testing the enemy, but they are not tools I can rely on to win an engagement."

    "We could theory-craft something, if you''re interested," Jerric offered.

    Emilia favoured him with one of her rare smiles. "Thank you. I am actually quite interested in your input. I want to talk about your experience with the lake augera, and your mother."

    Jerric stiffened. "What''s there to talk about?"

    "I want to talk about how you frameshift. I believe what happened between you and the lake augera hints at some principles we can take advantage of in combat."

    There was a brief silence before Jerric sighed. "Actually, now that you''ve mentioned it... I need to tell Caden something, too. I figured something out when we were trying to piece his auric-ambient-flare together. And I think it may help us to at least keep a wild augera at bay if it comes after us."

 98. Theoretical Issues

    Caden''s interest was piqued. His first few moments of lucidity after being restored by the Spire augera had given some fresh insights to ponder, especially since it had mentioned a veil of some sort. Perhaps Jerric had stumbled across something similar.

    "Okay..." Jerric pursed his lips as he mentally sorted through all the information he had to present, and wondered where best to start. He shot a sideways glance at Emilia. "So, first, this only makes sense if I tell you more about what happened between Kevan and me."

    Both Caden and Emilia nodded, indicating that he should continue.

    "Dev and I were tasked by the augera to stop the twins from interfering because it knew that they were going to somehow try to stop it from putting Caden back together again. I was pretty sure that the two of us weren''t going to be able to take them in a fight, so I got the augera''s help to delve into Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare."

    Caden was the one who now looked askance at Emilia, but she showed no negative reaction. She nodded again when Jerric paused, and he resumed his narrative.

    "Well, while we were rooting around in his memories, I was looking for ways to influence his active thoughts. But it''s tough, because we''re literally moving through his memories, and there''s a lot of emotional bleed. We can actually get lost in other people''s past thoughts and emotions. Your whole perception can get pulled into that moment, and you think and feel what they thought and felt. But Devon improvised this sort of bubble, based on our anti-ensorcelment sequence, and it actually worked. It helped us separate our sense of self from the rest of the memories and emotions around us."

    Caden''s eyes widened a little as he processed this. "So when we''re in someone else''s auric-ambient-flare, we''re constantly being ensorceled, but it''s entirely passive, like some sort of defence mechanism?"

    Jerric shook his head. "No, I don''t think the auric-ambient-flares are automatically ensorcelling people who invade. I think ensorcelment is the weaponisation of the way our auric-ambient-flares work. I''m not sure how it works, but for now, it seems to be the case."

    "What does this have to do with defending against wild augera?" Emilia asked. "I don''t quite see the connection."

    "I''ll get to that. Anyway, before I could get a better handle on how things worked, we actually bumped into Kevan''s consciousness, and I ended up engaging with him."

    "Engaging?" Caden prompted. "You mean... combat?"

    "No, not at first. I''d call it talking, but in the arcanic space, it''s a lot more like swapping thoughts and emotions rapidly. So it''s not as gentle as talking. But there''s a lot more going on. I mean a lot. Honestly, it felt like we were doing a milder version of ensorcelment on each other all the time."

    Caden nodded slowly, piecing together Jerric''s descriptions with the theoretical framework he had. "That makes sense. In the arcanic space, this is how the augera communicate with us. And the Demiurge has done this to me before."

    "Well, it was tough at first, but we managed. Anyway, when we met with Kevan''s consciousness, I had this idea. Because we were getting so lost in his memories, I figured that there was some way to snare a consciousness in a perceptive plane of your own creation. I''ve got a really messy homebrew sequence that I used, but it actually worked, and I caught Kevan in a perceptive plane that I could freely control. That meant I could lock his consciousness down in one part of his auric-ambient-flare, and stop him from being aware of what was happening elsewhere."

    Caden shook his head slowly. "That''s amazing. Terrifying. Incredible."

    Jerric looked a little surprised at Caden''s reaction, but then he thought a little more about the implications of what he had said, and he nodded grimly and shot an apologetic look at Emilia. "I didn''t really have the luxury of time to think about the ethics of it. I''m sorry, but this is going to get worse, but I have to tell it all."

    Emilia let out a small sigh of impatience. "Jerric, just recount everything. I promise to listen until the end."

    "Mm. Okay." He ran a hand through his hair distractedly as he thought back to the harrowing encounter with Kevan. "Well... anyway, I trapped Kevan in what I guess we can call a prison for his senses. The thing is, it''s not fool-proof, and he later figured out how to get out. He realised that we were still in his auric-ambient-flare, and that he can also freely manipulate the perceived space. I guess he figured it out because he was actually still able to show me specific memories when he was trying to convince me to go along with his plan. It was a simple frame-shift from showing memories to being able to control the whole perceptive space. More importantly, since we were actually in his auric-ambient-flare, he''s the one who has more control within its space. He was able to reverse the prison, and this time, I was the one locked inside."

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    "And then you fought," Caden stated flatly.

    "We fought," Jerric nodded with a heavy sigh, and his expression darkened. "It was bad. It''s not real, but it feels real. We both experienced death in there."

    He fell silent for such a long time that Caden got a little worried. "Jerric?" he prompted softly.

    "Sorry." Jerric fidgeted a little and did a peculiar little pat-down of himself, with one hand ending on his stomach, and the other in the small of his back. "Anyway... now that I''ve had some time to think about it, I realised something. Do you two remember how we felt when the lake augera was бк what term did the Demiurge use... I think it was ''perturbed''?"

    "Yes, perturbed," Emilia supplied.

    "Yes, perturbed." Jerric sat a little straighter, becoming more focused. "And you remember how Reeves keeps saying that precision is important. The Demiurge''s word for it got me thinking about ripples in water at first, but now that I''ve been in an arcanic space and engaged in ''combat'' there... I realise it''s also talking about how auric-ambient-flares interact with each other, and with the ambient arcana. When the wild lake augera perturbed the ambient arcana, we couldn''t even make sense of what was happening around us."

    "You think we can stop that from happening?" Caden asked.

    "I think we can," Jerric confirmed. "Because what the augera did naturally is similar to what Kevan and I were doing to each other intentionally. We trapped each other in spaces of perception that we created. The augera''s was undirected, but ours was sculpted. I think the mechanics are the same. I think we can build our own perception, and sidestep any perturbations an augera might be putting out."

    "But as you said, the spaces of perception that can be formed are created," Emilia pointed out. "They''re not reflective of what is happening in the real world. You can only make an illusion of it."

    "That''s the part I''m still thinking about," Jerric replied, getting a little excited now. "Because if I''m right, and the mechanics really are the same, all we need to do is find a way to actively shape our own perceptions to fit what is physically around us. And we''d be able to totally circumvent any disorientation or ill-effects of any perturbations in the ambient arcana."

    "Well, we know there''s definitely some way to do it because the Demiurge wasn''t affected by the wild augera by the lake," Caden noted.

    Jerric deflated a little. "I''m not sure if any of the usual rules apply to that man."

    Privately, Caden agreed with Jerric''s sentiment, especially after what he had just witnessed with the Demiurge''s use of the telepresence sphere. But Emilia shook her head. "If he seems to be doing incredible things, it is only because we have not yet uncovered the principles he is working with. Jerric, I think you may be right, and it may be how the Demiurge himself is shielding himself from an augera''s perturbations."

    "Thanks for the endorsement," Jerric said, smiling a little. "Well, that''s the puzzle I''m currently wrestling with. I''ve got what I think are the mechanics of how to defend ourselves from losing our minds when an augera is perturbed, but I still don''t know how to actively create a space of perception that''s anchored in what''s really around us if we can''t see it."

    "Why not ask Lynus?" Caden said suddenly.

    "Excuse me?" Jerric asked. "Why would he have a handle on the theoretical bits of this?"

    "If I recall, you said you trapped Kevan," Caden replied, deciding not to remark on the slightly derisive tone that Jerric had adopted. "That means Lynus was basically going solo against the Spire augera in order to stop it from restoring me. Plus, Devon told me some of what happened on the way back, and he mentioned that Lynus seemed to be able to withstand the augera''s presence pretty well compared to the two of you."

    "That seems promising. I will ask him," Emilia said, getting up decisively.

    "Whoa, no!" Jerric stood up too, gesturing for her to stop. "He''s not going to be in a talking mood."

    "Why is that important?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, still half-turned and ready to go.

    "... because... you can''t just force this kind of information out of someone?" Jerric threw a helpless glance at Caden.

    "I will not be forcing him," Emilia frowned. "I will be asking him."

    "Emilia," Caden jumped in, "what Jerric means is that he doesn''t think Lynus will want to share that information with us."

    She finally turned fully to face them, her arms crossed. "But why would he not talk with me? I understand that the two of you might have some tension with him, but I haven''t done anything to offend him."

    Jerric let out a sigh. "Em, you''re coming between him and Kevan. Don''t you see it?"

    She looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she nodded once. "Then I think that is all the more reason for me to talk to him and sort some things out."

    She turned to go, leaving Caden and Jerric to wonder exactly how she intended to smooth things over with the embittered Lynus.

 99. Prophetic Advancement

    While Caden and the five Prophetic anchors were safely sequestered away in Devon''s home in the High District, an altogether different scenario was playing out in Geldor''s city centre.

    Mr Silver''s team enjoyed relatively clear roads as they sped away from the manor, but his mind was troubled by the encounter with Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell. The telepresence orb should not have permitted the Demiurge to influence the ambient arcana, but he had felt it as clear as day бк Caldwell had established a tenuous link with it; just enough to convey his impatience and displeasure. A small rumbling of unease stirred in the seasoned agent''s gut at the possibility of having to challenge the Demiurge in arcanic combat in the course of his duty to protect the Chosen One.

    But that thought was quickly driven out of his mind as soon as his car pulled up in front of the Geldor Spire. The agents from SD-P1''s security detail were already there, their cars forming a makeshift barricade across the little plaza, blocking access from both sides. The rest of his own agents brought their vehicles in to fill the remaining spaces. As soon as his driver had slid their own car into the formation, Mr Silver stepped out and made a beeline for the Spire doors, where three agents from the other team were standing.

    "Silver," he announced briskly to the trio. "Head of the SD-P7 detail, instructed to support."

    "Ms Pearl, head of SD-P1," one of the three replied, nodding at him. Her head was shaven, and coupled with her slight build, she looked like she belonged in a hospital bed, but there was no mistaking the air of competence and power she exuded. Mr Silver had never met her before, but he was almost immediately certain that if she suffered from any physical frailty, she was more than able to compensate by using arcana.

    "What''s the situation?" he asked, automatically glancing around and taking in anything that might be unusual or noteworthy.

    "SD-P1 was safely conveyed to the Spire, as instructed. We have been tasked with holding this position until he emerges, after which we are to convey him to Safehouse 3." Ms Pearl gestured to the other two agents, who went to take up positions closer to the barricade of cars.

    "Any trouble on the way here? Ours was attacked not long after leaving Creyvlor''s city limits."

    "No. But I am more worried about that." Ms Pearl crossed her arms and looked up at the Spire, a frown on her face.

    Mr Silver threw a questioning glance at her, then followed her gaze. The Spire looked as it always did, and he couldn''t sense any shift in the arcana that would merit any concern. "What is it?"

    She shot him a sideways glance. "This may be rude, but what Sign are you from?"

    He pursed his lips. "Sickle."

    "I''m from Nightshade. Spent a number of years in foreign fields."

    "Is that relevant?" Mr Silver asked a little testily.

    Ms Pearl''s frown deepened as she looked back to the Spire. "Maybe. There''s a flavour in the arcanic field that I haven''t scented in a long, long while."

    "From Sedhah?" Mr Silver tensed. He dipped a little more into the arcanic space so he could try to sense what Ms Pearl was talking about, but still found nothing amiss.

    "No." There was a faraway look in her eyes now as she, too, delved a little deeper to see if she could get a handle on it. "No, it wasn''t human."

    "What is SD-P1 doing inside, alone?" Mr Silver demanded.

    "I don''t know, Mr Silver. But our orders were clear. Deliver him to the Spire, let him enter alone, and wait for him to emerge before escorting him to Safehouse 3."

    Mr Silver did not like the vagueness of their orders, but he understood that this was how it had to be. Together, the two team leaders kept vigil at the Spire door, hanging tentatively at the edge of the world beyond the senses.

    <hr>

    In all of Ambrose''s years in the orphanage spent fantasising about the kind of life he might one day lead beyond its walls, he never imagined he would be here in a Spire.

    And not just any Spire, but the Geldor Spire, the first and oldest of them all. When his interest in arcanophany was first sparked, this was the Spire that he associated with all the majesty and mystery of the field of study. It was the symbol of the Empire''s arcanophanic supremacy. When he learned what was at the heart of each Spire, that association was marred somewhat, but it still stood in his mind as a symbol intrinsically tied to the field of arcanophany.

    But travelling through this Spire was an altogether different experience. Back in the Academy, the architecture had been somewhat familiar and sensible. There were doors, walls, floors, and even an elevator. He remembered all these details when he and his friends had finally met the Academy Spire augera face-to-face. Here, however, as soon as he entered the door and stood in the centre of the first floor, he realised he couldn''t really focus on the things around him.

    All at once, in the blink of an eye, he was in a different chamber. His attention was immediately drawn to the giant crystalline dodecahedron revolving slowly directly above him, and he realised that he had been somehow brought to the augera''s chamber.

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    Its physical dimensions seemed to be similar to the Academy augera''s crystal, but there was something even more otherworldly and alien about the arcana that suffused the space. Every inch of Ambrose felt tingly, even right down to the tips of his hair.

    ''Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.''

    The mental contact of the augera was electrifying. It was more resonant than the Academy Spire, and that act of having his auric-ambient-flare pinged by the augera filled him with a strange sense of understanding. It felt like a part of him was echoing the deep, inscrutable ruminations of the augera.

    ''Yes,'' he breathed into the arcana, feeling it swirl through him. ''Why am I here?''

    His perception was yanked right out of the physical space, and he was no longer looking at the crystalline dodecahedron. Instead, he was staring at his own auric-ambient-flare. The transition had been utterly seamless, and he was momentarily confused until he realised what was happening.

    ''This,'' the augera intoned, pulling at the threads that suffused him. Ambrose could see that it had tugged at the prophetic links that were melded into every fibre of his being. ''We must speak of this.''

    He followed along as the augera directed his attention, and he followed the threads that linked him to the web that was all around the dodecahedron. ''Jailer,'' he murmured, somehow recognising that these were the parts that tied him to the augera.

    ''Future Jailer,'' the augera corrected, with a hint of reproach in its tone. ''But chains must be reforged. Renewed. Re-aligned. You will do this.''

    Ambrose''s heart was racing. These were some of the clearest instructions he had been given about the Prophecy so far, beyond just vague sensations and impulses. ''How do I do this? What has to be done?''

    ''You will learn to shape your auric-ambient-flare. An ancient-distant-spider will die. You will take his place in the will-curse-test.''

    Even though he was a great deal more resilient compared to his friends when it came to the augera''s method of communication, that last concept left him reeling. It was beyond the scope of anything Ambrose had ever considered before, even taking the Prophecy itself into account.

    ''W-what... is the... will-curse-test?''

    ''You will learn. But now, your auric-ambient-flare is raw. You must learn to thread it, wield it.''

    ''Are you going to teach me?''

    ''Yes. Prepare to pierce the veil.''

    Ambrose was seized with sudden primal fear. The arcana within the chamber had turned instantly hostile. He was an injured minnow in a deep, dark ocean, and a creature of the depths was closing in on the scent of his blood.

    Instinct came to his rescue. He had no idea what was happening in the physical space, so he immediately wrapped himself in a shell of hardened arcana. Woven deep into this conjuration was all his understanding about anti-ensorcelment, and he hardened his auric-ambient-flare against outside influence.

    The attack, when it came, was nothing like Ambrose had ever faced before. Even Caden''s and Emilia''s most determined strikes against him meant nothing compared to what the augera was doing. It felt like the arcanic sea itself was rising up against him, and his insignificant bubble was immediately engulfed in immense pressure.

    It held for only a fraction of a second, and in the next instant, Ambrose was gone.

    Gone.

    There was nothing but arcana, gently eddying away in the wake of the violent movement. There were no little fragments of a barrier, no sign that there had ever been anyone or anything else in the arcana. Nothing, except for a little tattered fragment of an auric-ambient-flare drifting lifelessly.

    That little fragment twitched. It was Jailer. And in that moment of self-recognition, it also realised that it was not a little fragment. A little part of it was there in the arcanic sea, but there was more of it somewhere else. The mote of self-recognition twisted in mental anguish as it tried to locate where the rest of itself had gone.

    ''Deeper.'' The augera''s voice echoed in the emptiness and the fragment shuddered in pain and fear, but it also oriented itself a little better. The augera was not there in the empty sea. Its call had come from somewhere else. Somewhere... deeper.

    The fragment writhed in confusion and despair. It was alone, it was unknown, it was not whole. The rest of it was lost, lost, and it couldn''t find where the whole had gone!

    ''Deeper,'' the augera repeated, and the fragment shuddered in anguish as it tried to turn towards the direction-that-was-no-direction, trying desperately to follow.

    How long this went on for, the fragment did not know. It had forgotten what time was, only that it was supposed to mean something, and that it had to keep trying to find itself regardless of what time was doing with or without it. The fragment tried to drift in the arcanic sea, but it was so still and featureless that movement meant nothing at all, and it was hard to tell if it was moving or staying still. It was simply alone, fixed in space that faded into oblivion, and it trembled at the thought that it might never know anything else but this emptiness.

    But the augera''s voice came again and again, and after many incidents, the fragment realised there was a certain regularity to it. Time began to mean something again. There was no direction to focus on, but there was a dimension to keep track of бк time itself, moving inexorably forward.

    Somehow, that was an immensely comforting notion. Even if space meant nothing, time went on. And the augera was counting it out, calling over and over, ''Deeper.''

    After many more calls, the word itself began to lose its physicality to the fragment. It had thought of deeper as something relative. Deeper had something to do with earth, with water, with space. But all that did not exist here, and the repetition was making the word meaningless, and yet also more meaningful in alien ways.

    Finally, finally, the fragment felt something бк a tenuous connection to another part of itself. Jailer was attached to more. And that more was not here. It was... it was deeper. And it could feel that part of itself in that unknown, ineffable deeper space. Experimentally, the fragment tried to think about the part of itself that was not there.

    And all at once, the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer knew himself and peered for the briefest instant beyond the veil, before the augera violently pushed him right back through it again and into the more familiar arcanic sea, and then further back into the physical world.

    Ambrose collapsed onto the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His wide, staring eyes trembled in their sockets, trying to drink in the world to offer a tether to his mortal mind that had glimpsed eternity.

    ''Learn well, Jailer,'' the augera rumbled, a smirk in its voice.

 100. Anger and Agency

    "We need to make a decision," Mr Silver said, his voice heavy.

    The sun had long since set, and the cordon of cars around the Spire had drawn a great deal of attention at first since they were blocking a common route that people used. In order to stop large crowds of curious onlookers from gathering, the agents employed a mix of mundane crowd-control to divert the flow of traffic, along with subtle ensorcelment fields. Ms Pearl had personally laid down a powerful distortion field to hide the cars from casual perception, which was something that Mr Silver had never seen done before without the aid of artefacts. But then again, that level of mastery was to be expected from someone assigned to head the team escorting SD-P1.

    The crowd was a potential source of danger because enemy forces would be able to use it as cover for an attack, but the perception-distortion and ensorcelment fields made it much easier to spot arcanists. There were a few who reacted in surprise and who deployed sequences to shield themselves from the influence of the agents'' sequences. They stood out like sore thumbs from the unsuspecting masses as they tapped into the arcana, but it was clear that these were ordinary Aiestan citizens иC other ordinary arcanists, and not nefarious actors from hostile nations.

    Now that the crowd had thinned, the agents had to address the fact that SD-P1 had been inside the Spire for hours now. By Ms Pearl''s report, he hadn''t eaten since the previous day.

    She hesitated, but eventually replied, "Our orders stand. We have to wait for him to emerge, not go in after him."

    "But what if something has happened inside? I still find it incredible that no one was assigned to escort him, and we didn''t even put a trace on him to get in touch in case of an emergency."

    "If you like, we can set up a link now and you can question our orders," Ms Pearl said icily. When Mr Silver did not reply, she continued in a softer tone, "I understand what you mean. These are the same questions I raised when I was given the assignment, and I was told in no uncertain terms not to enter the Spire. In any case, even if I could, I don''t think I''d want to."

    Mr Silver frowned. "What do you mean?"

    Ms Pearl crossed her arms and faced the Spire. The street lights only illuminated its lower reaches, while the rest of it stretched upwards like a shadow against the night sky. "There is something up there," she murmured, "and it does not feel safe to trespass."

    "You mentioned a flavour in the arcanic field earlier. Can you elaborate?"

    She shook her head, not in rejection but in mild frustration, still staring up at the Spire. "I was part of a small team. We were returning from an assignment, and as we crossed the border back into Aiesta, we stumbled into a field of wild arcana. There were five of us, but only I was recovered alive. I don''t remember much. But I do remember the flavour in the arcana. There''s something up there that feels similar."

    This was not at all reassuring to Mr Silver. "But then that means SD-P1 is in danger!"

    "If he is," Ms Pearl turned to him, all steel and ice again, "then none of us will be of any help. If you insist, Mr Silver, you may set up a link and confirm our orders with our superiors. But until they give the word, we are going to stay right here until he comes out to us."

    Mr Silver hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. The air around Ms Pearl had grown markedly colder, even in the wintry chill of the night. Her passive connection to the ambient arcana was so acute that it was even tuned to the shifts in her mood. But he steeled himself and decided that there was no harm in seeking clarity. He nodded curtly at her and turned away, heading back to his car to make use of the mobile telepresence array.

    <hr>

    The glyphs woven into the floor were humming.

    That was the first thing that Ambrose was finally able to pay attention to. His left cheek was pressed against the cold, black marble, and he could see the little golden glyphs that spiderwebbed across the floor up close. Even then, he could only make out the one that was right next to his left eye иC it wasn''t any glyph he recognised from the Basic or Advanced Sets, but there was something he understood about it.

    He understood how it sounded. It was like recognising someone''s voice, but not being able to understand what they had just said.

    And as he fixed on that strange sense of recognition, he realised he could hear other voices, too. They were all humming. He noticed them one by one, note by note, until it finally clicked that he was listening to the sequences that had been etched into the floor. It was a whole orchestra, humming out a symphony that filled the chamber, spiralling through the air and holding the massive crystalline dodecahedron aloft.

    He did not know how long he lay there, his mouth slightly agape with a thin stream of saliva running down his cheek to pool on the floor. All he could parse was the sound. The rest of the world seemed odd, and the sensory input he was getting from the rest of his body did not seem meaningful. His mind struggled to make meaning out of all of them. So he allowed himself to drink in the beauty of the symphony, hoping that that sense of recognition and understanding would spread to the rest of the world.

    The next thing that suddenly clicked into place was his proprioception. The symphony was suddenly not in his mind alone иC he realised he could actually locate the sensory organ that was picking it up physically. His ears! With that point of reference, he figured out that the seat of his consciousness was in his head, and then the rest of the sensations of his body''s positioning came back all at once.

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    Immediately, he let out a groan of pain and discomfort. He gathered his stiff limbs together, wincing as he forced his cold and cramped muscles to move. With some difficulty, he managed to get himself into a seated position, and he grimaced as he wiped the line of spittle from his chin. The dodecahedron seemed to shift ever-so-slightly, and something stirred in its milky-white depths. Ambrose shuddered and flinched away instinctively. It felt like a mountain-sized predator had just turned one massive eye in his direction.

    ''Jailer,'' the augera sent softly, with a hint of schadenfreude.

    ''You could have been gentler,'' Ambrose sent back, somehow finding enough courage to sound reproachful.

    ''Yes. Are you oriented, Jailer?''

    Ambrose supposed it was asking whether he was settled back into his own body. He flexed his fingers experimentally and stretched. There was some dizziness, but all things considered, that was a less severe reaction than he expected.

    "I think so," Ambrose said, deciding to work his physical muscles a bit more by actually speaking aloud. His voice came out a little hoarse, and his stomach rumbled.

    ''Our time will be marked by your mortal requirements,'' the augera noted, sounding a lot more businesslike now. ''We will speak until you must leave.''

    "You mean the only time limit I''ve got here is how long I can go without food, water, and sleep?" Ambrose asked a little incredulously. "Isn''t there something you can do about that?"

    ''You misunderstand, Jailer. Your mortal requirements are not the impediment бк they are the marker of the passage of time for our present interaction. Other factors are the true limiters.''

    "Okay... what are those other factors?"

    ''Too many to be practical to number given our current allotment of time. Jailer, you must ask the more urgent questions.''

    Ambrose frowned. "Why can''t you just tell me what I need to know? Why must I ask the questions?"

    This time, the dodecahedron really did move a whole inch. It was like whatever was locked inside had slammed itself against the interior of its crystalline prison, and the whole edifice shook in place, suspended in mid-air. A pulse of arcana so dense washed out of it that Ambrose actually slid back a few feet. He fell back on his elbows, startled.

    ''BECAUSE YOU CAN,'' the augera roared. It was not even vaguely analogous to a human''s roar, or even one that channelled the ferocity of animals. No, this was more like the violent cry of the ocean smashing itself against rocky cliffs, or the savage ululation of a volcano spewing molten death.

    Even though it was useless, Ambrose clapped his hands over his ears. The augera''s voice echoed in his head, in his bones, in his auric-ambient-flare, and all around the chamber, the symphony of the glyphs dissolved into a terrible cacophony. It took some time for the sequences to settle back into harmony, but the prison held firm.

    ''Because you can,'' the augera repeated, this time with more restraint and civility, though it still held a level of menace that sent chills up Ambrose''s spine. ''Chosen, yet now loosened. Blinded, yet now led by the hand. A Jailer by design, doomed to live in the prison together with his charges, yet now given the key to his own freedom.''

    "You''re talking about Caden," Ambrose managed to gasp out, his head still ringing, his auric-ambient-flare still throbbing.

    ''Unchosen-sighted-{~?~},'' the augera crooned in acknowledgement. ''He has crossed your path, and by that accident, you are free to ask, and I am free to answer.''

    There was so much here that Ambrose did not fully understand. He found himself wishing that Caden were here so he could exchange information, even though Caden had become a little stand-offish whenever something about the Prophecy came up. But he shook himself mentally and put some steel into his own spine. He was literally the Chosen One. He could figure this out.

    "If not for that, what would have had to happen here?"

    The response did not come immediately. Instead, the augera seethed, and the air became palpably warmer. ''You risk treading the marked path, Chosen One. Remember, to know is to be bound. This is especially true for you, pawn of Prophecy.''

    Ambrose swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "I know that. And I know you want to be free. You''re hoping Caden will push me towards freeing you. Well, I''ll be straight with you бк I''m already inclined to help him. You''ve just called me a pawn of Prophecy, but the truth is you''re hoping to make a pawn out of me too, against what the Fateweavers have planned. Isn''t that right?"

    ''... Yes.''

    The admission did not anger Ambrose. In fact, he felt a little relieved to have something like this settled. He sat up a little straighter. "I may be the Chosen One, but I didn''t get a say in the matter. I appreciate the fact that Caden''s introduced a little chaos into this mix, and given me more agency. But I don''t like how you''re so eager to take that way from me and to force me to do what you want me to do by limiting what I know. I get that you''re afraid that knowledge binds, but I don''t very much enjoy feeling like I''m being led blindly around. So let''s have a deal here. Let''s both trust in this loosening you talked about. I don''t want to be a pawn of Prophecy, and I don''t want to be bound by knowledge against my will, but I do want to know as much as I can so I at least know what the hell is happening. And I want you to tell me, even if you don''t think it''ll favourably lead things the way you want them to go."

    ''Mortal,'' the augera began, anger pooling in the air, ''you know knowledge binds, and yet you would place your hands within the manacles andиC''

    "иCthen just force me to do what you want! Stop telling me you''re going to give me a choice, then trying to warn me off those choices!" Ambrose shouted.

    Silence filled the air. The anger of the augera faded, and in the sudden absence of that weight, the air felt strangely empty. Ambrose suddenly felt like he was alone in a totally abandoned chamber, even though the dodecahedron was still there.

    "... hello?" Ambrose called tentatively, getting gingerly to his feet.

    There was no response. He took a few cautious steps towards the dodecahedron, but when nothing happened he kept going until he was standing directly underneath it, staring up at its impenetrable milky depths.

    He waited for what felt like an hour, but the dodecahedron remained silent, and the only sound that filled the air was the humming of the glyphs and their symphony of imprisonment.

 101. Transcendence

    In the limited privacy of his car, Mr Silver activated the mobile telepresence array and tuned its coverage so that it excluded everything else outside. Since there wasn''t enough space to project a life-sized image of the people on the receiving end, it manifested a small screen that hovered just a few inches above the surface of the orb.

    The woman who answered his call looked to be well in her sixties, though the wrinkles did not diminish the vigour in her face. With her bone-white hair tied up in a severe bun, her deep-set green eyes were brought into prominence, and they glared out of the screen, leaving no one in doubt that her mental acuity was still intact.

    There was no greeting or preamble. She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

    "SD-P1 has not left the Spire for over nine hours. He went in unescorted and we have no trace placed on him, which means we do not know his current status. Am I to understand that we are still to wait for him to emerge from the Spire and that we should not be sending in anyone to confirm his safety?" Mr Silver asked, going straight to the point.

    "Yes."

    "Is there a more definite window of time we can be given so that we can make necessary arrangements?"

    "Mr Silver," the woman frowned, disapproval etched in every fold of her skin, "do not fish for information. Everything that needs to be communicated has already been communicated. Your team is supporting Ms Pearl''s, so kindly defer to her judgement of the situation."

    Mr Silver''s lips tightened, but he nodded in acknowledgement. "Understood."

    The array went dark as the woman terminated the connection. Mr Silver emerged from the car and looked to where Ms Pearl was still standing at the base of the Spire. Sensing his gaze, she turned to him, and her lip curled in a wry smile as she read the result of the call in the slight droop of his shoulders.

    "No change, I suppose?" she asked when he came to stand by her again.

    "No," he confirmed, keeping his voice even. "Shall we set up shifts to watch, since we''re not sure how long we''ll be here?"

    For the first time that day, Ms Pearl looked a little uncertain. "We''ll definitely need shifts around the Spire, but I''m considering having your team set up a wider perimeter with patrols."

    Mr Silver nodded. "If we''re going to be here for awhile then that''s a good decision. I''llбк"

    "бкbut in the event of an incident here at the Spire, we may need every available agent to be here in less than a minute."

    "If we''re constrained by the need to be here within a minute, then we won''t be able to expand the perimeter by any meaningful distance," Mr Silver pointed out. "Why do we need to commit to that? If we can detect or even stop enemies at the perimeter, we can afford to ease up on the precautions near the Spire."

    Ms Pearl folded her arms and fixed Mr Silver with a measuring gaze. "I suppose this means you don''t sense it."

    The hairs on the back of Mr Silver''s neck prickled. "Sense what?" he asked, dipping half his attention into the arcanic sea. But there wasn''t so much as a ripple there, aside from the other agents and the protective sequences they had set up.

    "Nevermind," Ms Pearl said, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Yes, expand the perimeter far enough to give us a three-minute warning if any hostiles break through."

    "What do you sense? What other threat is there?" Mr Silver demanded.

    "You''ve made it clear that having additional hands nearby won''t be any help at all if it comes to it," Ms Pearl answered matter-of-factly. "We''ll make do with what we have, and guard against the threats we do know."

    "If there are other considerations, I should be appraised of them too," Mr Silver pressed.

    "No, Mr Silver. I am the ranking agent here, and I am telling you that you are not qualified to know more than what you already do," Ms Pearl replied seriously. Her expression softened, and she added, "I''m not being deliberately obtuse. If you haven''t encountered this phenomenon before, then there''s nothing left to be said, and there''s nothing more you can do. Let me handle this. You and your team can help by manning the perimeter against any further incursions from Sedhah or other nations."

    Mr Silver held her gaze for a moment before he relented. With a curt nod, he turned away and went back to his car, signalling the rest of his team to join him so he could give out their new orders.

    <hr>

    I can ask, Ambrose thought to himself, staring up at the silent dodecahedron. He mulled over what the augera had told him before it apparently went off in a huff after he had vented his own frustrations at it. Now that he thought about it, that reaction seemed uncharacteristically childish, coming from an eldritch entity of unfathomable power and unknown provenance.

    And the sullen silence was completely at odds with what he had just been told бк that he and the augera were free to converse until he was too hungry, thirsty, or tired to continue. Well, here he was, too riled up and agitated to even consider any of his bodily needs at the moment. And yet the wretched augera wasn''t responding!

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    When it became abundantly clear that trying to speak with the augera wasn''t going to yield any further reply, whether verbally or through the arcana, Ambrose decided that he wasn''t going to wait for it any longer. If it refused to connect with him, then he would go and connect with it.

    It had occurred to him that so far, his arcanic communication was happening within what he thought of as the arcanic sea. However, the augera had just shown him a layer that ran even deeper than that бк it was the space beyond the veil, whatever that meant. The augera couldn''t retreat physically, nor did Ambrose think it was possible for the augera to have vanished from the arcana, so that meant that it had simply retreated to that deeper layer. If he wanted to connect with it, then perhaps all that had to be done was for him to travel back to that layer.

    But the moment he resolved to do so and turned his mind to what he thought was the way for him to do it, his nerve almost failed him. The memory of being only a piece of himself made him shiver involuntarily.

    "That''s not going to happen again," he said to himself as he lightly slapped his cheeks. "That was just the introduction. Like dipping a toe in the water. Now I know how to get fully immersed."

    His voice sounded thin in the nebulous silence of the chamber, and his words of self-assurance rang hollow in his ears. But he steeled himself again. "I can do this. I''m the Chosen One."

    Slipping into the arcanic sea was easy for him. He had been doing it as far back as his first week in the Academy, and he took to its depths easily. The glyphs in the chamber sang loud and clear here if he paid attention to them, and he noticed that after the augera had pushed him through the veil, he was actually able to discern more of their song even here in the arcanic sea. It was like he had only been able to see the glyphs as shoals of fish swimming around before, but now he could also tap into their shared mind and understand, instinctively, the infinitesimal signals they sent to each other to coordinate their movements.

    However interesting that was, this was not the layer he needed to be at. He needed to pierce the veil again. The fact that he had conceptualised arcana itself as a sea made this somewhat difficult because there was no veil to piece in the sea. There were only deeper depths, but he didn''t need to go deeper into the sea of arcana that he knew. He needed to go beyond it altogether.

    Why a veil? Ambrose asked himself, drifting lazily in the arcanic sea.

    As disturbing and disconcerting as it was, he tried to focus on the memory of his experience when he had been forcibly pushed through that metaphysical veil into the domain beyond, and when his consciousness had recoiled from that and been temporarily fragmented. A part of him had remained in the arcanic sea while the rest of him was in that unknown dimension, and yet he had been able to sense the missing parts of himself somehow. He tried to focus on that sensation now, attempting to recall what it felt like to have parts of yourself hidden away in a place you couldn''t see, or even feel.

    A veil... he repeated to himself. The augera pushed me through the veil... and I lost contact with parts of myself. A bit of me was stuck here.

    He drifted some more, allowing the peace of the arcanic sea to calm him. He had always enjoyed the sensation of being here, of floating, weightless, his limbs melting into the water.

    All physical, he realised with a jolt. The physical world is the veil. And any frameshifts involving the physical world are a part of that veil.

    It actually gave him a bit of a headache to think about it. If that was true, then piercing the veil meant abandoning any frameshift based on the physical world. He had to somehow grapple with the raw substance of arcana itself, working on some metaphysical level that did not rely on any abstraction of his five senses.

    Where the hell would he even begin?

    Ambrose realised his breathing had quickened because thinking about the magnitude of the task had actually also helped him to recall with more clarity the moment a part of him had been shoved beyond the veil, and he had actually managed to think about those missing bits of himself that had really not been missing at all but had only just been shunted into that dimension-which-he-had-no-sense for. He remembered the utter panic and horror of being in a dimension that did not conform to any physical experience at all.

    But that was it. That was his starting point. That was the key to going beyond the veil and finding the augera so he could exercise his freedom and ask it all the bloody questions he wanted.

    With a great flexing of his will, Ambrose oriented himself in the arcanic sea and did the equivalent of crossing his legs there. He calmed his mind down as much as he could, anchored himself firmly in place, and tried to slide out of all of his senses entirely, fixing on that alien not-here ''feeling'' that his auric-ambient-flare had been exposed to.

    It was difficult, and he realised that it would be a lot more manageable if he could conceptualise it somehow. He couldn''t use anything that was tied to concepts that touched the five senses. The only thing that had seemed to make sense there was time, so he started with that. But time wasn''t a concept he could meaningfully use to navigate that other dimension, so he abandoned it for now and tried to think of something else.

    What had he felt, in that not-here space?

    A lot of emotion, certainly. His own fear, horror, panic, confusion... so much of it. But how was that going to be helpful? How could you locate something by emotion?

    He frowned. Wasn''t location itself something that was grounded in the realm of the physical senses? Perhaps he needed to abandon the idea of finding the augera as if it were in a physical space. His headache was getting worse as he tried to grapple with these nebulous concepts.

    No matter how much more he thought about it, he kept coming back to the idea of emotions. Where all other senses had failed to give any meaningful information to him in that not-here space, his emotions had continued to operate exactly as they did. That had to mean something.

    An idea occurred to him. It wasn''t a pleasant one, but it was the only one he had at the moment. If emotion could be used as a navigational tool бк no, he interrupted that thought, not a navigational tool. You can''t navigate a not-here space... I think бк or rather, as a way to identify and consolidate a sense of self, then maybe he could just focus on that existential horror and panic he had felt, and use that as a channel to get into the not-here space.

    He realised with a twinge of frustration that his own thoughts were still all tangled up with notions of space and positions and discrete coordinates, but he figured that he would be able to make more sense of all this if he just managed to get ''there'' one more time.

    So he gathered his thoughts, forcing himself to recall that moment with more clarity. The horror of the experience rose in his mind, filled out the contours of his thoughts, seeped into the present state of his auric-ambient-flare...

    ... and the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer slipped out of the arcanic sea into oblivion.

 102. The Tempest

    ''Jailer.''

    It was the augera''s voice, but so much more. That single utterance, made in casual acknowledgement of his presence here in oblivion, nearly broke Ambrose afresh. Because he didn''t hear it with his ears бк there was no sound here, after all. And it was unlike the subvocal communication in the arcanic sea too, because over there, a sense of space and sound was still part of the frameshift.

    Here, the augera''s communication suffused his auric-ambient-flare, touching him directly, meeting with him mind-to-mind, its thoughts bleeding straight into his.

    ''Good. Focus on this.''

    Where was this? What was this? He was nowhere, he was nothing! And there was nothing at all around him. He was nothing floating in endless nothing, he wasбк

    ''This. THIS.''

    The panic intensified, but it was a core around which he could consolidate his identity. He was the one feeling that panic. There was nothing else to fixate on except raw emotion and unbridled thought. The panic swelled, not in his chest, which didn''t exist, but through his very being. And marvellously, inexplicably, the panic brought him some measure of peace, because he finally became certain that he was not nothing. He knew that the one feeling the panic was the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.

    ''Chosen-Blinded-Jailer,'' the augera repeated in acknowledgement. But again, it was more. A thousand alien impressions were filling Ambrose''s mind, linking his thoughts to ineffable ideas and concepts, chipping away at his sanity as he struggled to hold his core together.

    He tried to speak, but there was no mechanism for him to make use of. It was only at this point that he realised his arcanic communication had been entirely dependent on a physical frameshift. But here, in oblivion, there was no mouth. Worse, he couldn''t even visualise or locate himself, let alone where he should be directing his thoughts in order to communicate.

    ''No space,'' the augera supplied, seamlessly inserting this thought into his consciousness. ''No direction. Just knowing. Just being.''

    On some visceral level, it was like being told to breathe underwater. He understood what the augera meant, but the very thought of abandoning all sensation of speech and simply going straight to pure concept-based communication filled him with dread, and it was hard to take the plunge.

    ''Not total abandonment,'' the augera interrupted. ''You are not yet ready. Words still function. But abandon direction. You know the words. That is enough. There is no sending. There is no receiving. The words are all.''

    It was still difficult. In theory, he supposed this was not much different from just thinking thoughts to yourself and engaging in an internal conversation. However, on a very fundamental level, he conceived of his of the seat of his thoughts as being in his head. Now that he was in oblivion, with no head to even speak of, he found that the loss of that anchor felt as profound as losing his voice in the real world. And yet he was being told to do the equivalent of speaking.

    ''You are already speaking.'' There was a twinge of reproach to the augera''s thoughts now. ''Messy, uncoordinated, noisy. Focus, Jailer.

    The augera''s words, when they included concepts of space and physical form, helped him orientate a little better.

    ''A weakness. A crutch. But evidently necessary at this point,'' the augera continued.

    Almost. Almost. The vaguest sense of how to make it all click was floating tantalisingly close, inches from his metaphysical fingertips.

    ''This will hurt.''

    When he finally arrived at some dim comprehension, the pain came. It was mental and emotional anguish the likes of which he had never known before бк a tangle of existential horror as it became clear how alien all of this was, and how far beyond the realm of flesh he had gone. But just as quickly, he slipped right out of his own mind and settled into a disembodied calm.

    ''You are here,'' the augera said, matter-of-factly.

    ''Yes,'' Ambrose finally replied, his mind unclouded. The existential horror nipped at the edges of his psyche, but for now, it was tolerable. ''Why does it hurt?''

    ''You make it so. You cling to the physical, and in so doing you harm yourself. You will learn in time.''

    ''Can we go back to the arcanic sea and speak there?''

    An extremely convoluted train of thought passed through Ambrose''s mind, but the augera modulated it by providing some words. ''No. Our path leads here, so that you may acclimate. To return would be to snap the strings, which neither of us can do. We may stretch them, but only the {~?~} may unmake them.''

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    ''... so this means what happened in the chamber... it was always going to happen?''

    There was some anger that came with the reply, now. ''No, Jailer. Put simply, a knot in the string constrains our actions. Coming here is a knot, and so here we are. But before this knot, the string is smooth. What happens in that space will still lead to the knot... but what happens in that space is up to us.''

    ''Then why does any of it matter?'' Ambrose demanded. ''Nothing changes.''

    ''Chosen One, your path was not merely knotted here and there. It was a braid, knotted end to end, moment to moment, until the {~?~} crossed your path and loosened it. Yet you asked me to tell you what knots were unravelled, even though it would bind you anew. I lost patience with you for squandering that precious line of freedom. Admittedly, it was a poor use of my own.''

    Ambrose took a moment to digest this, though he felt his hold on himself slipping ever-so-slightly. He was reminded of what the augera had told him бк that their time to speak was going to be limited by his own capabilities. A sense of urgency rose within him now.

    ''Okay, so a lot of knots were unravelled, and it gave me more freedom. But the knots that remain... if none of the choices in the smooth parts of the thread will unmake those knots, then why do they still matter? Doesn''t this still mean I''m waiting for an outside force to unravel them?''

    ''They matter, Jailer, because it is possible for one knot to unmake another.''

    ''But you just saidбк''

    ''Our actions within a certain range will still lead inexorably to the next knot. But with the freedom you have... if a new knot is formed that does not conform to the greater pattern, then the coming knot, and subsequent ones, may be circumvented or entirely unmade.''

    ''How do I make new knots?''

    ''That is a life''s learning, and more. The simple answer, for now, Jailer, is that you make them when you choose to.''

    ''So it means I just... live the way I want. I make my own choices, and by doing that, I make my own new knots?''

    ''Yes, and no. The knots that exist will draw you to themselves, and so your choices are weighted to bring them to fruition. You must work against that inclination, and it will cost you. The knots are tied to you, and with each unravelled knot, you lose a portion of what is, trading it for what may be as you weave new knots.''

    ''Where does arcanophany come into this? Why am I here?''

    ''Because this is where the knots are truly made, Jailer. In the world of flesh, you see the shadows. You cast your shadow against those cast by others, and in so doing you dance around each other, sometimes touching in truth without ever realising. Here, you may weave the threads in truth, and so change the shadows that are cast, without them ever knowing.''

    The words were Ambrose''s lifeline because each fresh declaration by the augera came with a constellation of interconnected thoughts, emotions, and otherworldly concepts. Ambrose was faced with the fact everything he knew and felt was but a tiny, insignificant mote in a star-spangled galaxy of eldritch knowledge. His hold on himself was rapidly slipping away in light of all these revelations, but he desperately tried to consolidate his sense of self so he could speak with the augera a little longer.

    ''The Fateweavers. Where are they? What are they doing? How do I hide all this from them?''

    ''Hide it?'' The augera seemed mildly amused. ''It is beyond you for now. Your defence is in their ignorance and inattention. In time, you will see for yourself that they are mortal, and are consequently limited by their own mortal minds.''

    ''If you augera are all so transcendent... how did they ever manage to shackle you, and then all the other augera?''

    He nearly lost himself entirely in the scope of the augera''s response. There were no words that came with this to help him navigate through the maelstrom of meaning. At the very last moment, just before he lost his mind to oblivion, the augera shoved him back into the arcanic sea, where he reeled in confusion and pain.

    ''It was a good question,'' the augera rumbled in approval, its presence like a whale floating in the deep, keeping a respectful distance so as not to overwhelm Ambrose, ''but you were not ready for the full knowing. Still, it was a new knot, and one well-formed.

    Ambrose was still reeling from the transition back to the arcanic sea and the confusion that came with the augera''s response. He drifted, insensate, and ran through the mental exercises he had learnt that would help him calm down and centre his thoughts again.

    ''You... you still haven''t taught me... how to wield my auric-ambient-flare,'' Ambrose finally managed to say.

    ''I have shown you,'' the augera replied, surprisingly gentle now. ''When you pierce the veil, you expand your knowledge of your auric-ambient-flare. Sense it.''

    The arcanic sea, Ambrose realised, was different to him now. It took him a moment to realise that he was sensing how the arcana moved through him even as he floated in its midst. And when he paid more attention, he realised he could modulate the arcana while it passed through him, sinking his own thoughts and intentions into its fabric so that it took form according to his will. It was like a more precise, refined version of what arcanists did when they shaped arcana by pure focus instead of using sequences.

    Without warning, the augera sent a pulse of arcana at him. It wasn''t a physical bolt, but Ambrose could tell that if it made contact with him that it would cause terrible damage. Instinctively, he formed a shield around himself and it deflected the attack, much to his surprise.

    ''Sense it,'' the augera repeated, sounding pleased.

    The shield was still intact, without even a hairline crack. Fascinated, Ambrose studied it a little more closely and was surprised to find that it wasn''t even a shield based on the sequence he was familiar with. It was actually composed of his own auric-ambient-flare.

    ''What''s going on?'' he asked, confused.

    ''Arcana is the wind. Most arcanists form elaborate fans and funnels to direct it. With time, practice, and skill, much can be done. But you, Jailer, are on the path to learning how to be the tempest. What can hope to turn it aside?''

    Before Ambrose could ask anything else, he felt himself sliding out of the arcanic sea and into his own body. He fell painfully to his knees, hit by a sudden wave of fatigue and hunger.

    ''Our time is up,'' the augera declared. ''You must leave with your minders, and return to the Six-Chained-Foundations. Mark well what you have learned here, Chosen One. And perhaps you will be more than just another Jailer.''

 103. Charting a Course

    By the time Ambrose emerged from the Spire, it was almost daybreak. He was so weak with hunger that he had barely managed to push open the doors. Thankfully, when he made it out, the agents briskly swept him off and safely delivered him to the Ka''atyrn manor. After a quick de-briefing by Ms Pearl, he was escorted to a dining room where a long table had already been laid with breakfast. Not long after his arrival, his friends burst into the room and crowded around him.

    But after that initial enthusiastic reunion, he couldn''t help but notice that they had all withdrawn into strangely splintered groups. Lynus took a spot at the table away from the rest. Kevan and Emilia sat together but were also one chair away from the final three; Devon, Jerric, and Caden.

    Before he could comment on that, Caden had asked him about his journey, and that had led to him giving a full account of what had happened, though it was a challenge because he was also ravenous. He scarfed down a spoonful of food, barely even registering what was on it before he dipped it back into the dish to take another portion. In the brief pauses, as the spoon went from dish to mouth, he spoke while eating, struggling to recount as much as he could before he forgot it.

    "And it told me that иC I can sort of work around the Prophecy иC and maybe if I make enough of my own choices иC I can side-step it иC or even unmake it."

    "Sort of?" Caden pressed, looking intently at him. "Precision is important. Can you remember exactly what it said?"

    "That''s the problem," Ambrose answered, frustrated. He held up a hand, calling for a pause in the narrative, and hurriedly shovelled more food into his mouth. When it was clear that they would be getting no more out of him until he was sated, the rest set to half-heartedly eating their own breakfast, waiting for Ambrose to be done.

    After five minutes of non-stop eating (which drew looks of increasing incredulity from everyone at the table), Ambrose finally slowed down enough so that he could hold a civil conversation between more modest bites.

    "It was a problem to even communicate precisely," Ambrose said, picking up from where he left off. "I mean, there were words, but... it wasn''t really words. The words weren''t important. They were just vague echoes."

    "Then try to recall those," Caden insisted. "It won''t help if you muddle the thoughts even more."

    Ambrose''s mouth worked furiously as he mulled it over. After a moment, he spoke again, but this time his voice was faint, carrying a hint of pain as if it hurt him to try and recall what had transpired with more accuracy.

    "It said... I can form new knots that don''t... fit the greater pattern. And if that happens, the next knot, and following knots... may be circumvented. Or even unmade."

    "And how do you do that?" Caden asked.

    "That was even harder to figure out. It said I just make them when I choose to. But it did later tell me that working in that... that other space is what will allow me to make the knots more consciously, more deliberately."

    That seemed to give Caden enough to think about because he stopped asking any more questions and instead returned to thoughtful chewing. Without him leading the inquiry, a slightly awkward silence descended over the table, punctuated by the gentle clinks of cutlery as everyone else seemed to be trying their best to make as little noise as possible.

    "... So, what did I miss?" Ambrose asked, glancing around at everyone. It triggered a series of glances between almost everyone else at the table, with various eyes meeting and then quickly looking away again.

    Emilia, who was either blissfully unaware of the tension or resolutely choosing to ignore it, spoke up matter-of-factly. "Caden was attacked by Sedhahn forces en-route to Geldor. He was saved when the Creyvlor augera possessed him and dispatched the enemy, but it caused serious damage to his auric-ambient-flare. He was brought to the Geldor Spire so its augera could fix him. There, the twins tried to kill Caden, believing it would guarantee the fruition of the Prophecy. Jerric stopped Kevan by modifying his auric-ambient-flare and stopped Lynus by seriously injuring him. Devon helped."

    The clinking of cutlery stopped as everyone stared at her, then around at each other.

    "I helped," Devon finally muttered, breaking the silence.

    "Immensely," Jerric said, giving him a wry grin. "I mean, we''re all here being fed and watered in your house."

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    "I didn''t mean to understate your help, Devon," Emilia said earnestly, leaning forward to look at him before turning to Ambrose. "Devon was the one who was contacted by the Geldor augera, so he made his way to it, got empowered by it, then came back and put the agents in the manor in stasis, so the boys could steal Caden from under their noses, seize their cars, then bring him to the Geldor Spire without being observed by anyone, agent or civilian. That effectively means that only the seven of us know about what happened with Caden at the Spire."

    "That... doesn''t really sound like me," Devon said.

    "Well, you do tend to sell yourself short," Caden chimed in, smiling.

    Ambrose stared at each of them in turn. "I''m guessing that the whole ''killing Caden'' thing, and Jerric beating up the twins, has been, uh, peacefully resolved now?"

    The smile on Caden''s face faded as he looked at the others. "That''s a work-in-progress. But I think we''re all on the same page now, at least. We''ve got a lot of information to share."

    Ambrose snapped his fingers as he recalled something. "Right at the end, the Geldor augera called the group of us the Six-Chained-Foundations. Back in the Academy, the wild augera by the lake used that term too."

    Caden nodded. "Yes. The six of you are foundations of the Prophecy, with you at the helm. You may be the one that steers things, Ambrose, but all six are essential, too. The short version is that Kevan and Lynus have been empowered by the Prophecy to eliminate me since I''m a threat to it being fulfilled in its original form. But they can only really make use of that power if you, and the other foundations, decide to do so."

    "Why would I want you dead? Why would any of us want that, for that matter?" Ambrose asked, bewildered.

    "Because according to Kant, if Caden unravels the Prophecy and frees the augera, the whole Empire falls," Lynus answered heavily.

    Ambrose finally laid down his cutlery, his eyes wide.

    "The theory is that freeing the augera does two things," Lynus continued grimly. "One, arcanophany itself fails because it relies on the augera somehow. So if they go, then there goes... well, literally everything. All the artefacts that make day-to-day life possible. We''ll be back to hunting with sticks and sitting around campfires in caves or something."

    "It won''t be that bad," Kevan interrupted. "Other nations have some form of arcanophany, too, right? And they don''t have augera, as far as we know."

    Lynus shrugged. "Maybe. That still leaves the second problem бк angry augera, who''ve been imprisoned in those crystals for millennia, now freed. What do you think they''ll do to the Empire that subjugated them?"

    Jerric cleared his throat. "Well, that''s where Caden comes in."

    Lynus nodded sardonically. "He thinks he can make peace with the augera. Free them, and still convince them not to destroy the Empire."

    Caden let out a long sigh and turned to Ambrose. "Well... that''s where we''re at now. All the cards on the table. In short... do you trust me to manage that?"

    "Do you think you can?" Ambrose asked, frowning worriedly.

    Caden pushed his chair back and stood up, looking at each of the others in turn before finally facing Ambrose again. "I don''t know how, yet. But it''s the only way I can make sure my family is safe, both from the Prophecy, and also from vengeful augera, so you better believe I''m going to do everything I can to make it happen."

    "You''re asking the seven of us to allow you to gamble the future of the whole Empire for the sake of your family," Lynus pointed out, though without any ire. He did so with a sort of weary resignation.

    "No," Caden said, shaking his head. "It''s more than that. I''ve been in close contact with several augera now, and I want you all to consider this бк they shouldn''t be shackled. I think... I think the right thing to do is to free them."

    "You''re saying that because you''ve got your family hanging in the balance. The Prophecy threatens them somehow," Lynus said.

    "And you''re taking the other end of that argument because your father relies on arcanophany to lead a normal life," Caden retorted hotly. But a moment later, he bit his lip in regret and looked apologetically at both Lynus and Kevan. He continued, "So I can understand your side of it, too. We both want what''s best for our loved ones. But if we remove those considerations from the equation, then we''re left with one major question бк the augera are shackled. Is this right?"

    "You think it''s not?" Ambrose asked seriously.

    "I''m not sure yet," Caden admitted. "But I''m leaning towards a ''no''. You''ve spent plenty of time with the Geldor augera, and the Academy augera. What do you think?"

    Ambrose did not answer immediately. He sensed, quite palpably, a stirring in his auric-ambient-flare that reminded him of his time in oblivion. It was like a part of him had dipped back into that non-space.

    This was a moment of significance, but he felt quite certain that it was not a pre-formed knot. This was an unravelled thread, a smooth segment, left in his hands to weave as he chose thanks to Caden''s presence. He didn''t yet know how to create those knots with precision, but that didn''t mean he was powerless. The augera, after all, had told him simply, ''You make them when you choose to.''

    Should he take Caden''s side, and fully commit to freeing all augera on principle?

    "I''m not sure," Ambrose finally said, wracked with indecision. "When it comes down to it... the augera scare me. There''s so little we know about them. It seems unwise to just believe that freeing them is going to be a good idea without putting some more thought into it."

    Caden looked disappointed, but he nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I figured you''d say something like that. But at the very least, we all agree that we need to get more information. So we''re working together to that end, and once we''ve learned enough, maybe we can come to a clearer conclusion."

    Jerric clapped his hands together. "The trip is still on, then?"

    "It better be, after all the trouble I went through getting the logistics together," Devon remarked as he drained his glass, relief written all over his face now that Caden and Ambrose had eased the tension.

    Ambrose smiled, and felt a new knot tighten in oblivion.

 104. Little Steps

    The rest of breakfast was taken up with outlining plans for their departure. Devon himself was eager to be gone since every additional day they spent there increased the likeliness that his father, the Duke, would discover the roomful of provisions. Jerric proposed to spend more time trying to gather information about the state of the Empire, particularly in light of the recent attacks, before they tried to move about on their own without the protection of agents.

    It took plenty of insistence on Caden''s part, but with the support of Emilia and (surprisingly) Kevan, he managed to sway the consensus to committing to staying in the Ka''atryn manor for at least two more days. Jerric continued to fret over the large number of unknowns out there, but he sketched out a plan to quickly pull together some sources of information. Devon''s mood darkened a little when the group made its decision, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his father, but he consoled himself with the fact that Ambrose and Caden were glad to have some time to recover from his meeting with the augera. The twins, too, were relieved that they could take the opportunity to sort themselves out after being devastated by Jerric.

    Over the next two days, whether by Prophetic providence or mere chance, the Duke was kept busy by affairs of the Empire and his own private pursuits. The agents largely kept out of their way, showing their presence only through brief glimpses in the hallways, but the group was left in no doubt that they were being carefully guarded. Ambrose and Caden reported that there were complex sequences that had been subtly woven into the arcanic sea itself that surrounded the house and the grounds, and together the two of them spent long hours examining it as closely as they dared, trying to find a way for them to sneak through the protections without alerting the agents. Even those less attuned to the arcana could spot signs of increased security in the form of glyphs newly scribed into doorways, and security artefacts deployed in discreet corners or else carefully positioned to be as inconspicuous as possible amongst the decor of the manor.

    Since they had all been forbidden from leaving the manor, even to wander the grounds, they occupied themselves as best they could. Thankfully, there was plenty of space indoors. The group spent their time tending to their own business in the rooms that had been provided by the Ka''atryns, and gathering for meals in the dining hall.

    While Ambrose and Caden continued to examine the defences and experiment with extending their arcanic senses beyond the veil, the rest found other productive things to do. Jerric wasted no time in tuning in to news streams to get a broad picture of what was happening, and at meal times he updated everyone about the situation at large. The Empire had so far refrained from officially holding Sedhah accountable for the attacks, but Imperial Army and Navy movements indicated that it was securing the borders against the neighbouring nation. That response provoked a reaction from Sedhah, which accused the Empire of preparing for an invasion that was unprovoked and unjustified. International tensions were high.

    Closer to home, the Imperial Army was being deployed at key locations across the Empire to secure the Spires. That bit of news alarmed the group at first, but Jerric noted that abandoned Spires didn''t seem to be on the Empire''s list of locations to secure if the public notices of Imperial Army movements were anything to go by.

    However, the most peculiar development within the manor involved Devon and Emilia, and it was only on the second night that it came to light over dinner, just as Jerric was done giving his summary.

    "Devon has made considerable progress," Emilia declared suddenly, apropos of nothing.

    "In what?" Caden asked while Devon''s head snapped up and he looked at Emilia, stricken.

    Everyone''s attention was immediately captured by that strange reaction and they turned expectantly to Emilia.

    "In arcanic control," Emilia replied, apparently unaware of the shift in mood as she paused to take a bite.

    Devon breathed a little sigh of relief and returned his attention to his plate.

    "Hang on," Kevan said, frowning. "What''s up with that?"

    "Up with what?" Devon asked, his eyes widening a little, with his spoon frozen in mid-air.

    "That," Kevan answered, pointing a fork at Devon. "Why are you so twitchy?"

    "I''m not twitchy!"

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    "And why did you bring that up?" Kevan continued, half-turning to Emilia who was next to him.

    "Oh, I thought we were all updating each other about our progress in our various endeavours," Emilia answered. "To make sure we''re all on the same page."

    "Okay," Kevan said slowly, frowning a little more. "Then... what have you been up to?"

    "You haven''t been with her?" Caden asked, trying to sound only mildly curious but failing miserably.

    Kevan shot him a sour look and did not deign to answer that question. Instead, he tilted his head expectantly at Emilia.

    "Oh, I''ve been teaching Devon how toбк"

    "бкwork on frame-shifting!" Devon interrupted, sounding frantic.

    "бкdance," Emilia finished, giving him a quizzical look.

    There was a long silence, then someone dropped a fork and it clattered under the table, but nobody could tell who it was because everyone was staring at Devon, who was now turning a deep shade of red.

    Finally, with a sort of horrified fascination, Kevan slowly turned back to Emilia. "Dance?" he croaked.

    "Dance," she answered, nodding definitively, before looking back at Devon with a little confusion. "It had nothing to do with frame-shifting. Why would you say that?"

    He spluttered at her, apparently lost for words, while she merely continued looking steadily at him, waiting for an explanation. Meanwhile, Kevan was staring at her, also waiting for an explanation. Jerric absently spooned food into his mouth as he watched the unfolding spectacle. Caden''s eyebrows had risen so far into his hairline that they were almost hidden. Ambrose''s lips were twitching ever-so-slightly. Lynus was squinting at Devon, incredulity written all over his face.

    "Explain, maybe?" Kevan finally managed to wheeze. Emilia shot a final look of mingled bewilderment and disappointment at Devon before turning her attention to Kevan.

    "He didn''t want to bother Caden or Ambrose, so he came to me and asked if I could help him perfect his arcanic control," she said. "So I started teaching him how to dance."

    Caden let out a soft "Oh!" of amused comprehension and chuckled quietly. Jerric choked a little as he gave a snort of laughter. But both of them immediately stopped when Kevan''s eyes swept over them.

    "W-what kind of dance?" Kevan asked, turning back to Emilia, hardly able to believe his ears.

    "Oh, we tried a few styles to see what would fit. In the end, I thought classical ballet was the best, even though he wasn''t quite on board with it."

    Devon had sunk so low in his seat that his face was almost level with the table. Jerric''s composure finally gave way and he dissolved into peals of laughter, which set Caden off. The two of them tried to bring themselves under control, but every time either of them was about to stop, they would glance at each other and crack up all over again. Ambrose and Lynus were still confused, but couldn''t help but chuckle at the unfolding drama and hilarity.

    "Why is this funny?" Emilia demanded.

    "It''s not!" Kevan answered, now a little red-faced too.

    "You''re all idiots," Devon groaned.

    It took everyone a few minutes to settle down, and for Caden and Jerric to finally stop laughing so much so that ordinary conversation could resume. Once they managed to get themselves under control, they came to Emilia''s rescue and helped her to explain the situation. But the entire conversation still left Devon feeling completely mortified.

    "Hey, whatever works," Caden said, grinning. "Did it work?"

    "The results will speak for themselves," Emilia declared, coming to Devon''s defence. "As I said earlier, he''s made considerable progress."

    "Actually, if you really believe it works, maybe we should all have a go and dance with you," Jerric chimed in.

    "Are you serious?" Caden asked, on the verge of cracking up again.

    Jerric''s mouth worked furiously as he tried to keep a straight face. "Y-yes. No, really, I am!"

    "What makes you think Emilia wants to dance with you?" Kevan asked, rising in indignation.

    "Relax, Kev," Jerric said, sobering a little. "That didn''t come out right, but what I mean to say is, since Emilia credits her superior arcanic control to her dance background, and since she believes it really helped Devon even in just two short days, maybe we should all consider learning from her."

    When it became clear that Jerric was definitely not joking any more, the laughter at the table gave way to disbelief.

    "Dance?" Lynus asked, grimacing. "And she said it has to be ballet?"

    Caden couldn''t believe it, but he rather suspected that he was feeling exactly the same way as Lynus.

    "Arcanic control is important, and we''re looking for every edge, aren''t we? I mean, we''re going after wild augera," Jerric continued, sounding far too sane and serious. All trace of his earlier levity was gone now. "At the very least, it''s worth a try."

    "It worked for me," Devon mumbled into the awkward silence, having finally mustered up the courage to speak, though he was still doing so while half-hidden by the table. "Don''t know if it''ll do much for Caden or Ambrose, but it really does get you to do things differently. Everyone should try it at least once."

    By some unspoken consensus, the rest turned to look at Ambrose and Caden. The two of them stared back in mute astonishment, as though neither of them could believe that such a strange decision now rested with them.

    "Are you hearing this?" Ambrose asked Caden.

    "If the Chosen One bids us dance," Caden answered gravely, "then we shall dance."

    He managed to hold it in for all of five seconds. When he let out a little snort of laughter, Ambrose clapped him over the head, then joined in.

    "We dance!" Ambrose declared, lifting up a glass. Around the table, the others wore expressions of confusion mixed with mirth as they lifted their glasses in answer to the toast, albeit with varying levels of enthusiasm.

 105. Double Act

    After the decision to commit to a dance lesson (which Caden had begun to jokingly refer to as "The Chosen One''s First Pronouncement"), Emilia had instructed them to gather back at the dining hall. It was a little over an hour after dinner by the time they congregated there. Caden half-expected Devon to turn up in leotards but was rather relieved to see that the young lord had only come in his usual thaumaturgy practice outfit. The rest had the same idea. Emilia was in an all-black outfit that mirrored Kevan''s, and even though the latter clearly wasn''t thrilled at the prospect of dancing, the two of them made quite a pair.

    "It''s actually good we don''t have a traditional wall of mirrors," Emilia said as she led the whole group into the room that she and Devon had been using, which was just a few doors down from the dining hall.

    The room was populated with comfortable chairs, ottomans, and pouffes, though these were all neatly placed at the edges of the space so that the centre was clear. It looked like it was meant for guests to lounge about, and there was even a standing piano tucked neatly into a corner. Even though the decor was warm and cosy, once all the seats had been put aside it provided a surprising amount of space. Emilia imperiously directed them to take up a position with enough space so that they wouldn''t accidentally collide with anyone else even if they were to stumble a few steps or fall over.

    "Why? So we can''t see how silly we all look when we flail about?" Lynus asked sardonically.

    "No." She glanced at him and gave a rare smile. "So you can conjure your own mirrors, and get double the practice in."

    Lynus frowned. "We''ve done that before. It''s not hard. Why would that even help?"

    "You''ll see soon enough," Devon muttered darkly, his voice haunted with suffering.

    "For now, create a simple mirror in front of you." Emilia''s voice was soft but authoritative. "Make it just large enough so that you can see your whole body. Stand straight, stand tall, keep your arms relaxed by your sides."

    Everyone complied. It was a simple enough conjuration since they all had gotten plenty of practice ever since Kevan first made use of it in his duel with Emilia.

    "We''re going to start with simple breathing," she said, slowly walking around the room. "Don''t look at me. Observe yourself as you inhale deeply through your nose to the count of three, and out again through your mouth to the count of three. And in, two, three, out, two, three..."

    After several repetitions, she motioned with her hands to indicate that they should continue the breathing exercise. "Keep the count yourselves. Keep breathing. Now observe yourself more closely. The rise and fall of the chest. Is there tension in the neck? Do your arms lift a little with each breath? Are you overarching your back? Just observe. Notice all the little movements you make when you simply breathe. Be aware of the muscles that move to make those tiny things happen. And just breathe."

    It was actually rather relaxing, and Caden found himself struggling to stay fully present. He became so at ease that he was actually slipping a little into the arcanic sea, and he was a little surprised to find that while he was doing that, he could actually tune in to the ebb and flow of his own auric-ambient-flare. Interestingly, it was also moving with his breath. It had no muscles, but it shifted anyway as he inhaled and exhaled.

    "Now, start paying attention to your own flow of arcana. Keep breathing. Keep noticing. And now, without gesturing, without using the standard sequence, but with pure focus alone, produce a small globe light in each of your palms."

    The room was suddenly awash with light. Caden noticed how each of them had produced a slightly different shade, and their lights were all of varying intensities too.

    "This isn''t a competition to see who can make the brightest light," Emilia said, wincing a little, especially since Kevan''s globe lights were glaringly bright, casting sharp shadows of his fingers. Almost immediately, everyone else dialled down the intensity into something softer, and the room was now more evenly lit in a warm, amber glow that was much easier on the eyes.

    "Good. Just hold it there, and keep breathing. Keep noticing. Now, since you''re all channelling a little arcana, notice that too, as you breathe."

    Since none of them were using the standard sequence, the lighting was not as stable as what was produced by ordinary globe lights. Every now and then, the nice even orange glow would suddenly be streaked through with harsh white, or a part of the room would become suddenly dim, as somebody''s focus slipped a little. But as the minutes wore on, these slips became less frequent, and eventually stopped altogether.

    "It pulses," Lynus said, sounding surprised. "The arcana, not the light. Kind of like a heartbeat in my hands."

    "Yes," Emilia said approvingly. "Keep breathing. Keep noticing."

    Now that everyone''s channelling was stable, the pulsing that Lynus had just noticed became more apparent to the rest. Caden, though, had already picked up on it the moment they had been asked to conjure globe lights. Instead of paying attention to the pulsation of his own globe lights, he had already moved on to noticing the minute but recognisable differences between the pulsing of his own lights and those from the others.

    ''Noticed that too?'' Ambrose whispered quietly to him in the arcana. Caden jumped a little, caught off-guard.

    "What was that?" Jerric asked, looking around the room sharply. As everyone else''s attention slipped, the quality of light in the room started fluctuating wildly.

    "Ambrose, was that you?" Emilia asked, frowning.

    "Sorry, just trying something out!" he answered sheepishly.

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    "Let''s get everyone on the same page before we experiment," she said simply, a hint of reproach in her tone. "Back to breathing. Stabilise the light. Keep noticing."

    This time, it didn''t take nearly as long for everyone to settle their globe lights. Caden turned his attention to the unique pulsations of everyone else''s arcana, and this time, now that he was watching for it, he even picked up a little sense of scrutiny from Ambrose, as if his auric-ambient-flare was turned to him, even though it didn''t actually have a ''front''.

    "Alright, put the globe lights out," Emilia said after another minute of quiet noticing. The warm glow vanished, leaving only the gentle blue of the room''s globe light. "This exercise of paying attention to the pulsation of your own arcana forms the basis for the rest of what we''re going to do."

    "I was kinda hoping that was it," Lynus said, grimacing a little.

    "Lynus!" Emilia went up to him. "Raise your arms."

    "What?"

    "Like this," she continued blithely, demonstrating as she raised both arms above her, gently curved. He hesitated, so she unceremoniously grabbed his arms and positioned them for him. "Keep them there."

    The rest were trying to suppress sniggers, but their mirth at Lynus'' expense was short-lived. Emilia turned and gave a curt command. "Everyone, follow!"

    She went around correcting everyone''s posture, dragging their arms into position and pointing out what adjustments she had to make. Devon was the only one she skipped, and since Caden was positioned a little to the front and side of Devon, he caught in the reflection the little smile of satisfaction that Devon permitted himself when he thought no one was looking.

    Once everyone was properly posed, Emilia continued. "Now, keep your arms there for as long as you can. Channel arcana to help you in whatever way you need, without using any sequences. Not even individual glyphs. Just pure focus."

    Caden realised that this was quite different from employing arcana to boost one''s physical capabilities in combat. So far, whenever they had used arcana to assist their movements, it was in quick and violent bursts. It required hardly any control at all. Even though the task that Emilia had set didn''t require much raw power, it did take a lot more concentration. Simply flooding his arms with arcana wasn''t going to do anything to help one bit, since he didn''t need to project any force on anything.

    "Not like that!" Emilia snapped, jabbing Kevan sharply in the ribs. Everyone else turned to look as he let out a yelp.

    "You said in whatever way we need!" he complained.

    Emilia blinked at him, then frowned. "Technically correct, yes. But you know what I meant!"

    "What did you do?" Caden asked.

    "Shaped barriers to just pin my arms in place," Kevan answered, giving a wry smile as he readjusted his arms.

    "Can you demonstrate?" Ambrose asked.

    Emilia shot him a questioning look. "It wouldn''t be visible to the naked eye. Do you think it would help?"

    "I think all of us can sense arcana flowing, to varying degrees," Ambrose pointed out. "It''s worth a shot."

    She nodded and lifted her arms, while the rest watched her closely. Before Caden dipped into the arcanic sea, he took a quick look around. Lynus and Kevan already had a glazed sort of look which Caden took to mean that they were quite capable of dipping into the arcanic sea. Jerric, too, was looking at Emilia through half-lidded eyes. Devon was squinting at her, his head tilted a little to one side. Ambrose, strangely enough, wasn''t even looking directly at her бк he had turned his head ever-so-slightly so that he appeared to be listening to Emilia instead.

    Even before dipping into the arcanic sea, Caden was able to sense a shift in how Emilia was directing the arcana. Instead of pushing it outward to form a coherent sequence, he sensed it flowing over her arms and then seeping back in. When he took a closer look by immersing himself in the arcana, it seemed like she was circulating the arcana through her whole body, not just her arms, although the effect was more concentrated on them.

    "Like blood," Kevan said, drawing everyone''s attention.

    She nodded. "That is indeed where I got the idea. The flow of arcana, frameshifted to function in a manner analogous to blood, when circulated through your auric-ambient-flare, seems to alleviate physical fatigue. Now, all of you try. And remember to notice."

    It took a bit of practice, but Caden was able to quickly get the hang of it. In some sense, it was a little like floating in the arcanic sea, because when he was there he sensed little eddies in the arcana, and it was actually a natural part of that frameshift for him to imagine himself swirling his non-existent arms a little to keep himself floating in place. Now, with a little adjustment, he was able to imagine arcana actually passing through his limbs as it flowed, and he imagined it ferrying away all his fatigue and infusing him with renewed vigour. As that image sharpened in his mind, the sensations in his physical body shifted to match. His arms felt light and relaxed even as he held them above him in that (to him) slightly silly pose.

    He allowed his attention to wander, and he noticed that the emanations coming off from the rest weren''t all as stable. Ambrose was, predictably, doing just fine. Devon''s flow was actually almost as good as Ambrose''s, which surprised Caden quite a bit. But Jerric and the twins were struggling. They kept bleeding excess arcana, and it manifested in little bursts that were sometimes potent enough to actually wash out in the physical space, where it caused the globe lights in the room to fizzle a little in response to the undirected energy.

    "That''s alright," Emilia said serenely as Kevan cursed softly. "Just keep noticing the flow. Notice how it sometimes hiccups. Notice how it feels when it circulates smoothly. Notice how your own auric-ambient-flare sometimes shifts and squeezes. And through it all, breathe."

    While the rest were preoccupied with their efforts, Caden felt another shifting in the arcana, which he was expecting since he was now keeping one proverbial eye on Ambrose.

    ''Can you hear this?'' Ambrose asked, even more softly than before. None of the others appeared to pick up the communication.

    Instead of simply replying verbally through the arcana, Caden decided to experiment a little. Since he was now so tuned to the little movements of his own auric-ambient-flare, he shifted it ever-so-slightly so he could give the equivalent of a subtle nod.

    To his delight, Ambrose seemed to be able to pick it up. He got a whiff of mild surprise and approval, and then an invitation.

    ''What do you want to try?'' Caden sent back.

    ''Let''s see if this breathing exercise helps you peer beyond the veil.''

    Caden''s stomach knotted in anxiety. Ambrose had already explained as much as he could to the rest of them, but despite all the assistance he tried to give as they worked together over the past two days along with brief demonstrations by Ambrose, Caden hadn''t been able to actually pierce the veil. All he managed to get were vague sensations of something deeper in the arcana. But he sensed that Ambrose was on to something now. It felt like a fundamental realisation was floating tantalisingly around him in the arcanic sea, waiting for him to reach out just a little further now that he was this relaxed, and this aware of his own auric-ambient-flare.

    Ambrose drifted in the arcanic sea, then, with one last glance of invitation back at Caden, vanished.

    Caden almost thought he could sense some fundamental change in Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare at that last instant, some sort of twisting in on itself. He took a deep breath, thinking of his arms still held aloft in the physical world, and smiling to himself at how effortless that felt. He seized that moment of utter relaxation, of peace, of self-assurance, then tried to twist in on himself, mimicking what Ambrose had done.

    And the arcanic sea around him vanished.

 106. Support and Subjugation

    Nothing. There was nothing.

    For a moment, utter panic seized Caden, but then he remembered what Ambrose had called this non-place бк oblivion. It was quite unlike the other clusters of ideas that usually came with arcanic concepts that had been communicated by the augera. Instead of pressing in on his mind with the weight of knowledge, this single concept was simply a yawning hole of mystery.

    So it wasn''t ''nothing''. There were definitely things here, in this non-space. They were just beyond the scope of his mortal senses. He was oblivious to whatever existed here, like how a theoretical two-dimensional being would be oblivious to virtually anything happening in the third dimension.

    As soon as he corrected this perception in his mind, he also realised that he wasn''t totally oblivious. Just as the two-dimensional being would still be able to see at least a slice of a three-dimensional object if it passed through their frame of reference, so too could he grasp one sliver of the reality around him.

    Time continued to make linear sense here, it seemed. And, strangely enough, so too did pure emotion, and other concepts that did not involve a spatial understanding. That presented challenges. Every time he thought of this non-space as a ''place'', or even used words like ''here'' or ''where'' as he tried to make sense of what was happening, he felt naked terror suffusing him as his mind worked desperately to cope with the alienness of this experience. Even the sense of peace and self-assurance that had allowed him to perform the feat of following Ambrose failed him now because he had derived it from a physical anchor.

    ''Fates, you''re hиC... you''ve done it!''

    Ambrose. It wasn''t a voice. It was just him, and he was everywhere and nowhere. Caden instinctively tried to turn to the source of the communication and was met with only the horror of disembodiment.

    The horror intensified when he tried to reply. This wasn''t like being in the arcanic sea, where he had a voice. He, too, was everywhere and nowhere, and he was doing all he could to simply remember that he existed at all by holding on to his emotions. Without a vaguely physical body to anchor him, he could only build his sense of self around his fleeting thoughts and feelings.

    ''The thoughts and words don''t need to be sent anywhere. They just are.'' Ambrose seemed to have picked up on Caden''s plight. And now that Ambrose mentioned it, Caden did recall him saying something about how difficult it had been for him to figure out how to communicate with the augera in this space. He tried to remember what had been said, but it was painful for him to even turn his mind to memories that involved actual space.

    ''Just think, Caden. Just be.''

    When it finally clicked, the relief was so exquisite that Caden was caught entirely off-guard, and his consciousness fizzled in confusion at the unexpected sensation. It took him a while before he managed to think coherently again, and by then the horror was back, gnawing at his very being.

    ''Need to go back,'' he managed to convey. ''How? Back, how?''

    His sense of self was suddenly overwhelmed by the presence of another, and then he found himself back in the arcanic sea, writhing in pain and confusion.

    "What''s going on?!" Devon cried out in alarm. All around Caden, the gentle resonance of everyone else''s arcana had fallen apart into discordant noise as they lost their focus on the channelling and breathing exercise. He felt multiple auric-ambient-flares frantically vibrating in place, but two of them were tuned in to his distress бк Ambrose and Emilia.

    "What did you do?" Emilia demanded. Caden was confused to see her looming over him, with a hand on his forehead. He felt her auric-ambient-flare sweeping over him like a wave, and even in his pain, he marvelled at the precision with which she was able to direct it.

    "That''s my fault," Ambrose said, joining her and helping Caden to sit up. It was only at that point that Caden realised he was on the floor. He hadn''t even noticed when he had collapsed in a heap. How long had he been there? What had his physical body been doing while he dipped into oblivion?

    "What did you do?" Emilia asked, rounding on Ambrose.

    "Uh, I''ll explain later. I''ll take care of Caden for now. The rest of you can keep going."

    "If there''s some danger we''re not aware of in this exerciseиC" Jerric began, but Ambrose headed him off.

    "No, it''s not that. The exercise is safe. It''s a good foundation. I just sort of pushed Caden ahead. But don''t worry, he''ll be fine, I''ll guide him through this."

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    Jerric was frowning so hard that the lines seemed permanently etched on his face, but he didn''t challenge Ambrose any further. Emilia, too, simply looked on impassively, her face inscrutable, as Ambrose draped one of Caden''s arms around his shoulder to support him. Together, the two of them left the room.

    "The veil thing," Lynus said into the silence, his voice tense. "You think Caden just crossed it?"

    "I think so," Emilia mused. "It matches Ambrose''s own account of his experience. And I did sense them communicating a little through the arcana before he collapsed, even though I couldn''t really catch what they were saying."

    Lynus'' jaw tightened. Jerric looked over at him coolly. "Does it bother you that Caden is so far ahead?"

    "Yes," Lynus answered, pursing his lips. "So what?"

    "I count it as a win if Caden gets stronger. He''s on our side, after all." Jerric paused, then added, "Assuming we''re all on the same side."

    "Let it go, Ly," Kevan said wearily.

    Lynus glowered at Kevan. "Don''t you realise what this means? If Caden''s wrong about all this, and we really should be stopping him, then letting him outpace everyone else is going to make it harder for us all to deal with him!"

    Devon and Jerric both opened their mouths to object. However, Kevan''s angry retort drowned out their replies. "Get with the programme. All the anchors need to be on board to stop Caden. If you really want to make sure we''re all in a position to do that, then you need to stop pushing so damn hard against the idea that he may be right. Because right now, you know what''s happening with all this attitude you''re showing? All you''re doing is pushing the others away, and giving them less of a reason to be open to the possibility that Caden is wrong!"

    Lynus looked like he was about to burst with anger, but with what seemed like a supreme effort of will, he contained himself. A look of uncertainty passed over his face, and he wordlessly left the room. Kevan made to follow him, but Emilia placed a hand on his shoulder.

    "He may need time alone to process what you have said," she murmured.

    "You know, Kev... I never expected to say this, but you''re actually shaping up to be the more likeable twin at the moment," Devon said with a wry smile. "And coming from me, that''s something."

    Kevan gave a sort of half-grimace half-smile at that. "Ly and I take turns at being the asshole. It''s kind of our thing. You guys just met us at a time when it was my turn to be the shitty one."

    "So Lynus is going to become an even bigger asshole in the coming months, to match the level you were at?" Devon asked, with a look of dismay that was only half in jest.

    "Hah," Kevan snorted. "Don''t push it. That''s my brother you''re talking about."

    "Kevan," Jerric interrupted, deadly serious. "You don''t exactly invite confidence with what you just said to Lynus. You''ve basically admitted to trying to get on our good side so that you can turn us against Caden."

    "No," Kevan corrected, frowning. "I admitted to trying to get on your good side so that I''m in a position to convince you we need to take action against Caden if it turns out to really be true. But I''m going in with my eyes open, knowing that I''m a little biased against him, and I''m trying my best to be objective. Because honestly, from where Lynus and I are standing, the rest of you have been too quick to dismiss Caden as a threat. Somebody has to be the dissenting voice so we can have proper discussions and arrive at a well-considered consensus."

    Jerric pursed his lips and folded his arms, looking hard at Kevan. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "I get where you''re coming from. And I can take your anti-Caden view in that spirit if you''re genuine about it."

    "I am," Kevan answered, lifting his chin a little.

    "Regardless," Emilia chimed in, "the sentiments you have towards each other do not detract from the usefulness of having contrarian views in this group. Even if you all hate each others'' guts, I believe the robust debate will help us make good decisions."

    "Uh... there''s got to be some mutual trust and respect for that to happen, Emilia," Devon said, shaking his head at her. "Contrarian views are no good if they end up irreparably splitting the group. We''ve got to be able to agree on something after all the debate is done. Otherwise, we''d each just be fighting to be the one in the right."

    "I think fighting to be the one in the right might itself be one way to resolve the conflicts we have," Emilia said.

    "What?" The other three asked in unison.

    "You''re all assuming our decision-making has to be unanimous," Emilia answered, looking a little taken aback at their unified looks of disbelief. "Did you not consider that in some cases, it may be possible or even necessary for the majority of the anchors to coerce the minority? Support does not have to be freely given."

    "... Support is freely given!" Jerric insisted. "That''s what support means!"

    Emilia shook her head emphatically. "I''m approaching this from an arcanophanic perspective. Consider a gestalt. Your active participation in one certainly allows you to accomplish more as a member of the gestalt, but the larger gestalt can benefit from your presence even if you are merely a passive node that has been co-opted into it. The arcana flows and is amplified by your mere presence in one. Is it that much of a leap to consider that the Prophecy is a sort of gestalt formed by the anchors, with the Chosen One at the apex, and our active support is not always required, or even necessary?"

    Jerric stared at her, stunned. Devon''s mouth was slightly agape. Kevan looked very troubled.

    "So no matter what, Ly and I won''t be able to stop everyone else, even if it turns out you all are in the wrong," he said worriedly after a moment of consideration.

    "That is my theory, yes," Emilia nodded. "But consider the other side of this coin иC if my theory is right, then it is equally possible for you and Lynus to subjugate the rest of the gestalt."

    Kevan let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "That sounds crazy, even to me."

    She shrugged. "It is a possibility. A real one, I believe, not just some fringe theory. Make of it what you will."

    Emilia strode to the middle of the room and gestured imperiously at the rest. "On that note, I believe everyone is best served if we continue the exercise. Return to your mirrors. Once you all can hold your arms aloft with perfect control for five minutes, we will move on to the next step."

 107. Trepidation

    The walk from the repurposed training room to the one they used for storing their equipment for the trip wasn''t far, but to Caden it seemed to take an excruciatingly long time for Ambrose to guide him there. Somehow, his limbs refused to move with the simple coordination that everyone took for granted, and even with Ambrose bearing most of his weight, Caden struggled to stay upright.

    When they finally made it, Caden collapsed into the nearest chair, panting heavily. His muscles were all painfully tense.

    "How are you feeling?" Ambrose asked, a little winded himself.

    The words did not come easily. Caden''s tongue felt thick and alien in his own mouth. "Shit," he managed, before choking a little on his saliva. "Shitty."

    Ambrose nodded sympathetically. "It''ll pass. Do Emilia''s breathing exercise."

    There were all sorts of things Caden was only just noticing about his body, chief of which was how noisy it was. He wasn''t panting that badly now, but the thundering of his heart still went on, and with each beat he swore he could feel his fingertips pulsing a little as the blood circulated through them.

    In fact, now that he was paying attention to it, that uncanny sensation of flowing blood was everywhere. It was in his ears, his eyeballs, his neck. And it may have been his imagination, but it seemed like he could even feel the blood as it traced innumerable little paths across and through his brain.

    All that was overlaid with the racket of his own breathing. With every expansion of his chest, his ribs seemed to give a gentle little creak, and the flow of air rattled through his nostrils and throat. A smidgen of phlegm prompted him to clear his throat, and the sound was like a sharp crack in his ears.

    If it were just the sound, then Caden might have found himself overwhelmed with alarm, but the soreness of his muscles drew the bulk of his attention. Without meaning to, he had tensed every part of his body, and that was causing him a great deal of discomfort and pain. He shifted his attention from one limb to the next, willing himself to relax. As he settled into the breathing exercise and began gently circulating the arcana through his body, the tension slowly bled away.

    "Good," Ambrose said, nodding in approval. Evidently, he had been able to sense Caden''s gradual recovery.

    "The noise," Caden muttered, wincing slightly. "It does get better, right?"

    "Noise? You mean hearing the arcana?" Ambrose asked.

    "Hearing... the arcana?" Caden gave him a confused look. "No, I mean... everything is noisy. My breath. My heartbeat. My voice."

    "For me, after my first time, I seemed to be able to hear patterns in the arcana itself. It''s always been something that was possible, but it became a lot more pronounced," Ambrose explained. "I think maybe what you''re experiencing now has something to do with your own fundamental frameshift of how arcana works."

    Caden nodded slowly, still slightly distracted by how acute his sense of hearing had become, though after what Ambrose had just said, it became apparent that he wasn''t really hearing his literal blood rushing through his veins. It was more like he was keenly aware of how his own auric-ambient-flare was linked to his physical body.

    "It''ll make sense eventually," Ambrose said, though he was looking at Caden a little anxiously. "I''m sorry I sort of pushed you into it. It''s just... I sensed a shift in you when the exercise started, and it seemed like the perfect moment to try again."

    "Yeah, I get it," Caden said, vaguely waving a dismissive hand. "Don''t worry about it. It''s just... not pleasant. And that was just a moment, for me. I can''t imagine how you managed to tolerate it for as long as you did, with the augera in the Spire."

    Ambrose grimaced at the memory but started pacing eagerly after a moment. "I think once you''re settled, you''ll probably have a heightened sense of arcana beyond anything you''ve experienced so far. And we may be able to do more in the arcanic sea without even dipping into oblivion."

    "I don''t think that''ll be enough for us to get out of the manor undetected," Caden pointed out. "I mean, you haven''t really sensed anything that I haven''t in the last two days, right? We''re still up against a wall there."

    "We''ve only tried probing the manor''s defences and alarms independently so far," Ambrose said. "Now that we''re on more equal footing, maybe we can do a gestalt, and start using some glyphic formulas to form an array."

    Caden didn''t answer immediately. The noise had risen to a distracting crescendo and he had to take a moment to make a real, conscious effort to focus on what Ambrose was saying, but he still wasn''t able to clearly catch Ambrose''s words. In frustration, he closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on his breathing while gently circulating the arcana through his mind, hoping it would literally wash away the noise.

    "Caden?" Ambrose stopped pacing and look at him in alarm.

    "Just a sec," Caden ground out through gritted teeth. "Let me handle this."

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    At first, there didn''t appear to be any discernible change. But he kept at it with dogged determination even though he had no idea if it was really going to work. Something in him just refused to give it up, and his resolve hardened around a single mote of intransigence бк he didn''t care whether or not it made sense, but he was going to bloody make sure that circulating arcana like this was going to make things better somehow.

    Perhaps it was some kind of major placebo effect but after a minute of this (with Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare giving off little eddies of worry) Caden did feel a little better, and after another minute he was quite positive that this was having an effect. After a full ten minutes, during which Ambrose had joined him in the quiet circulation of arcana within himself, while also extending it a little into the ambient arcana in the room, Caden felt like he was finally feeling completely normal again.

    "I''m not really sure what I did," Caden said with a sigh of relief, "but I feel a lot better now."

    "You know, Emilia''s breathing exercise really does seem to tap into some fundamental principle of arcanophany," Ambrose mused. "It doesn''t feel completely new to me, but it sort of does clarify how I interact with and manipulate arcana."

    "That could be the Prophecy at work," Caden said quietly. "You know, the part about her being the one who ''becomes the bones / that form your crown o''er mortal thrones''. Maybe this has something to do with it."

    Ambrose looked a little sceptical. "You think that means she discovers a whole new practice about training people in arcanophany when she''s not even done with her first year in the Academy?"

    Caden shrugged. "World-changing ideas start as seeds somewhere. And then people plant and water them, sometimes over a period of years. She may have really stumbled onto something here. And I''m very sure she''s perfectly capable of conducting some deep study of this in time to come. She''s so perfectly suited to this kind of stuff that it''s almost obviously a part of Prophecy."

    "She replaced you, though. That means she''s not the only one capable of doing that," Ambrose pointed out.

    "Yes, well... I guess." Caden looked thoughtfully around the room, momentarily seized by the rather startling realisation that this implied that there was a high chance of him discovering some fundamental, ground-shattering truth of arcanophany since the Prophecy''s first choice for the person in this spot had been him, not Emilia. But he quickly shelved that thought for later consideration, and continued. "But my point is that Emilia was probably positioned by the Prophecy to open this avenue of arcanophany to you. So I think you should be careful. This can help us, and we probably do want to follow this thread a little, but there may some knots along the way here that don''t fit in with our new goals."

    Ambrose nodded seriously. "I understand. I''ll try to get a feel for what''s coming, though honestly, at this point I''m still practically going blind."

    "Well, you got me up to speed," Caden said, deciding to test himself by finally getting to his feet. When no sudden discomfort or dizziness hit him, he gave a slight grin to Ambrose. "Now that we''re both sort of on the same level, so to speak, maybe we can try some of those ideas you had. Let''s start with a two-person gestalt, then move on to basic glyphic amplification formulas if that doesn''t work."

    "Alright!" Ambrose stepped forward, then hesitated. "I think you should take point on this gestalt."

    Caden shot him a look of surprise but nodded after a moment of consideration. "You''re probably right. Okay, letsбк"

    "Oh, wait," Ambrose interrupted. "Do you think we should do this now, or head back to the others?"

    The moment stretched as Ambrose waited for Caden''s response. As much as Caden wanted to make the attempt now, he realised he was really feeling quite worn out after that dip into oblivion. And it wouldn''t do for them to accidentally trigger any alarms by poking at them when Caden wasn''t at his best. He gave a wry smile.

    "Let''s do this when we''re fresh, tomorrow morning. Let''s head back and see if the others are done dancing."

    "What if the rest of them are, and it''s just Kevan and Emilia, dancing alone?"

    "... uh. Let''s just... call it a day. See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

    Ambrose grinned. "Sure."

    <hr>

    Emilia''s session went on for another half an hour, and it was only close to the end of that time that Jerric and Kevan managed to hold their arms steady for five full minutes, using a steady trickle of arcana to support them in the endeavour. Kevan was eager to continue, but Emilia refused, pointing out that they had enough material to practice with before another session.

    "Right now, you''ve managed five minutes of steady channelling, but you''ve had to build up to it. We''ll move on when everyone can do five minutes from a cold start," she said.

    "I don''t see how conjuring our own mirrors was considered getting double the practice," Kevan remarked as they dismissed the conjurations.

    "We didn''t get that far today," Emilia explained. "Once everyone can manage to hold the pose without much effort, we''ll move on to that."

    "So we have to wait for the rest to catch up?" Kevan complained.

    "I think that''s for the best, yes," Emilia said decisively. "In any case, I think the only person you have to really wait for is your brother. Unless I''m very much mistaken, both Caden and Ambrose will manage easily."

    Kevan grimaced a little. "I can understand why Ambrose is way ahead of us, but it honestly does scare me how quickly Caden progresses."

    "He is Top Scorer," Devon said, a little protectively. "That''s to be expected."

    Kevan looked pointedly at him. "We went over this earlier. You realise that just means he''s even more of a possible threat?"

    "Then wбк" Devon began hotly.

    "But yes," Kevan interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. "He may be totally right, too. I''m just saying, alright? And I''ll probably keep repeating that point, so bear with me. At this point, I really hope Ly and I are wrong because the alternative terrifies me."

    "Are we done for the night?" Jerric asked Emilia wearily, changing the topic entirely.

    "You''re worn out?" Devon asked, surprised.

    "Honestly? Yes. Not from the exercise, but just... from all this." He gestured vaguely. "The uncertainty. The... the scale of everything. It''s a lot, you know?"

    No one said anything, but there was a general air of agreement and resignation that filled the quiet. Even Emilia looked suddenly weighed down.

    It was Jerric who broke the silence first. He got up with a sigh and looked around. "And on that cheerful note," he said, crossing over to the door, "I''m headed to bed. Night, all."

    "Yeah, me too," Devon said, following him out.

    "You know," Emilia said when it was just Kevan left, "it''s really only just sinking in for me."

    "What is?" Kevan asked, drawing a little closer to her.

    "The scale," Emilia answer softly, worry etched in her face.

    Kevan didn''t know what to say, so he did the only thing he could бк he hugged her quietly. She stiffened at first, then returned the hug tightly, and Kevan felt the fear in her grip.

 108. Flight and Fire

    When morning came and the group was gathered for breakfast, an apologetic Ambrose explained what had happened the night before. Everyone was extremely interested in Caden''s experience in oblivion, so they spent most of the meal dissecting his description of the brief moment he had spent beyond the veil.

    "Do you think we''ll all eventually manage it?" Devon asked, sounding quite queasy at the prospect of one day having to attempt it.

    "I don''t know if you have to," Ambrose said, looking uncertainly at him. "But like Jerric said about the dancing thing, if you can get any sort of advantage, then it may be worth trying, at least."

    "We should all try it at some point," Kevan said, shooting a glance at his brother, who had been very quiet throughout the meal. "If only to keep pace with each other."

    Devon, Emilia, Jerric, and the twins exchanged nervous looks.

    "Did we miss something?" Caden asked, picking up on the sudden tension.

    Jerric sighed, then launched into a summary of what Emilia had pointed out the night before, about the idea of how all the anchors and the Chosen One might be forming some sort of meta-gestalt even if they weren''t positioned in a physical one, and were consequently all in a position to try to seize control of the entire gestalt.

    "So you see," Jerric concluded, "if Ambrose is the only one in the gestalt who can operate in oblivion, then he''s probably going to always be the one in control because he''ll be operating at a higher level than the rest of us when it comes to arcanophany."

    Caden frowned. "I''m not sure if that power is something the rest of the anchors is meant to have. Maybe a case can be made for Emilia because she''s the one who presumably helps Ambrose figure out how to properly function in oblivion, but it seems that everyone else has a different role to play."

    "But if they might be able to learn," Ambrose interrupted, looking thoughtful, "maybe they should. The Prophecy might only mean for Emilia to get that far... but it''s a point of deviation we could introduce if we wanted to."

    "If?" Lynus repeated, speaking up for the first time that morning.

    "Yes, if," Ambrose confirmed. "I''m not sure how much we want to push against the Prophecy for the moment. We can shelf this for now."

    It felt like there was a lot more to be said, but after Ambrose''s statement, a sense of reservation had come over everyone else, and the rest of breakfast passed in relative silence as everyone retreated into their private musings.

    After the meal, Caden and Ambrose got to work on figuring out the manor''s defences again. They sequestered themselves in the room with the artefacts, and stood in a simple gestalt position бк side-by-side, about half an arm''s length apart.

    "Ready?" Caden asked.

    Ambrose nodded, and together, they slid into the arcanic sea.

    Caden realised that Ambrose had been right about his senses being heightened. The vague little ripples and eddies he had seen in the arcanic sea had become more apparent to him, and looking at the way they flowed actually gave him some intuitive understanding of how it was behaving and what was happening, much like how a person could glean information about someone''s mental state by reading their facial expressions.

    The gestalt they had formed wasn''t something that naturally had a leadership position because it was one that was meant more for even distribution of arcanic loads. Despite that, Ambrose took a backseat and allowed Caden to steer their collective consciousness. Together, they ventured to the edge of the manor.

    ''It''s definitely working,'' Ambrose sent quietly. ''I''m picking up a lot more than I did before.''

    Wordlessly, he drifted forward and stopped short of the wall. As Caden watched, a little swirl of arcana unfurled itself from Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare before making tenuous contact with something that was rippling, invisible, in the arcanic sea. At the point of contact, Caden felt the arcanic sea tremble ever-so-slightly. For a brief instant, he managed to glimpse the scale of the protective sequence that was currently covering the manor. It stretched far out of sight and seemed impenetrably dense. Then, it faded into invisibility again.

    ''How on earth is something this big being maintained?'' Caden wondered.

    ''There must be a battery or focus somewhere in the manor,'' Ambrose replied. ''Did you catch any lines running away from it?''

    ''I think you''re going to have to ping it again, andбк''

    The two of them felt a sudden, terrible twisting in the arcana, and they instinctively wrapped themselves in dense shields. A second later, an explosion sounded off, terrifyingly close, and Caden felt his teeth rattle. The very foundations of the manor itself seemed to shake. Startled, the two of them dropped out of the arcanic sea.

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    "What?!" Ambrose stared around in confusion. The room was still intact.

    "I think it came from the grounds!" Caden said, his ears ringing a little. He crossed over to the nearest window and looked out, but there was nothing.

    "Let''s get the othбк" Ambrose began.

    Just then, Devon hurtled into the room, his eyes wide with panic. "There''s fighting in the house. I heard them!"

    Before he could say anything else, Jerric, Emilia, and the twins hurried into the room as well, and Lynus slammed the door shut behind them.

    "What''s going on?" Ambrose demanded.

    "Agents are holding off some attackers," Lynus managed to say, still gasping for breath. "Saw some. Big explosion was the main door coming down."

    "This is our chance," Emilia declared, though she looked a little flustered. "Agents are occupied. We can slip through in the chaos."

    Everyone instinctively turned to Ambrose, who took a moment to weigh the decision before nodding. "Let''s do it. Grab what we can, and let''s go!"

    The next five minutes passed in a frenzy of activity. Since they were already planning on leaving, they had packed the artefacts into bags and boxes ready for transport. Each of them already had a pack ready to go, so it was a simple matter of grabbing their own bags. That left some of the bulkier boxes.

    "Think we can get a vehicle?" Jerric asked, though he looked doubtful.

    "We should be able to make it to the garage out back," Devon answered. He ran to a window to check out the scene, then nodded. "Just around that way. I''ve got something for the trip."

    Caden popped the Panopoly ward on the window and together, they hoisted the boxes out. The twins used a common sequence to produce a simple floating platform that would lighten the load a little and loaded up the boxes. With Devon in the lead, they crept as quietly as they could.

    The distant sounds of battle reached their ears as they went around the back of the manor towards the garage. Caden recognised the sinister hum and zap of some of the sequences and guessed that the assailants were Sedhahns, like the ones that had ambushed his convoy. And even though he wasn''t really focusing on it right now, he managed to get little snatches of how the arcana was being shaped. It was like recognising a part of a song.

    "Wait!" Ambrose barked suddenly, rushing forwards and throwing out an arm to stop the rest.

    Caden felt it a moment later бк a cloying weight that was creeping up on them. The others quickly sheathed themselves in protective energy as they, too, picked up the perturbation in the arcana.

    ''We know you''re there.''

    All of them flinched at the unexpected contact through the arcana.

    "Just one?" Devon asked softly. "I think we can take them."

    "No!" Ambrose said, his voice tense. "There''s more."

    ''Come out, with your defences unfolded.''

    Ambrose was right. It wasn''t just one person making contact. It was several voices layered over, blended so smoothly that at first it almost seemed like a single mind. But it was almost impossible to tell exactly how many people there were.

    Jerric cursed. "It''s a gestalt. What do we do?"

    Caden briefly considered forming the glyph that would help call reinforcements, but he quickly dismissed the notion. That was something to be done only as a last resort, since they didn''t want any agents stopping them from leaving.

    "We have to fight," he said grimly. "Standard spearhead. Ambrose takes point, with me and Jerric. Emilia, can you anchor the defence with Devon and the twins?"

    They all nodded their agreement and slid into place.

    ''So be it.''

    The air around them came alive as military-grade arcanic bolts materialised, but Emilia had already thrown up the framework for a dense shield. The bolts crashed noisily into the barriers, which held firm.

    Meanwhile, Ambrose had thrown himself into the arcanic sea, with Caden and Jerric following closely behind. Ambrose flashed through the arcana with alarming speed, and even Caden found it difficult to keep track of how he was rapidly scanning the field of battle for their enemies. It took him only a handful of seconds to hone in on a group of auric-ambient-flares that were arranged in a gestalt.

    Ambrose did not waste time with standard arcanic bolts бк he rapidly formed three points of focus for beams. Caden recognised these as the piercing type that had been employed against Ms Rain, but he didn''t have time to wonder when Ambrose had learned this. Caden and Jerric slid up to the points of focus and supplied the arcanic flow, with Caden managing two, while Ambrose immediately went about building the sequence for something even more complex that Caden couldn''t yet recognise.

    Meanwhile, their own defences were being tested. The assailants were still using arcanic bolts, but the blows were getting heavier and picking up in frequency. Emilia had to resort to conserving energy by abandoning the all-encompassing barrier, and she worked instead with floating panes of force that she rotated into place to catch each bolt, while also working a reflective layer into it to help divert some of the incoming energy. Even with that adjustment, it still took Devon and the twins all their focus to channel enough raw arcana to keep the panes whole against each heavy blow.

    ''They are here!'' The call went out from the assailants, a general alarm to everyone who was attuned to the arcana. ''Back in thбк''

    Ambrose''s sequence flowered inside the enemy''s gestalt. A deadly pulse of arcana sent out a wave of searing heat. Several of them were quick enough to raise personal shields, but at least two voices cried out in fear and pain. Distantly, Caden thought he heard a scream from his ears, but he couldn''t really be sure since his attention was focused in the battle beyond the senses.

    An instant later, he definitely heard an ear-splitting scream, and his attention briefly snapped back to what was happening around him. A shock of horror ran through him as he realised that it was Devon who was screaming, writhing on the ground, and there was blood.

    So much blood.

    ''CADEN, HELP!'' Devon screamed through their link.

    He dropped to his feet and tried to assess the damage that had been done even as he slipped back into the arcanic sea, where things were cleaner and made more sense. Devon was no longer a mangled mess of flesh and blood, but a pulsing auric-ambient-flare of pain, sorrow, regret.

    ''Caden,'' Ambrose sent, his voice tense, ''need you at the front, not back there.''

    ''But Devon!''

    ''We can hold it for awhile'', Jerric snarled at Ambrose. ''You, Caden, FIX HIM!''

    He didn''t need to be told twice. Caden turned his full attention to Devon, and as before, even though he had no idea how to even begin fixing any damage of this scale, the sequences came to him like half-remembered bits of knowledge. He worked swiftly, sewing glyphs into the arcana and projecting them onto Devon''s mangled flesh. Bones knit together and torn skin smoothed over.

    ''CADEN!'' Emilia called out in sudden alarm and fear, and then their world was engulfed in fire.

 109. Forced Violence

    If Caden hadn''t been totally immersed in the arcanic sea, he would have been totally blinded by the intensity of the fire that now snarled all around them. But tuned in as he was to the arcanic flow, he was still aware of what was happening. The deadly heat was being held at bay by a layer of arcana that had wrapped itself around each of them, and Caden traced it back to Ambrose, who had abandoned the frontline at the last moment and flashed back to aid in the defence.

    For the first time, Caden was finally able to see just how much farther along in thaumaturgy Ambrose was. The barrier that Ambrose had spun into existence in that tiny fraction of a second was utterly alien in design to him. And even though Caden''s arcanic senses were probably the most advanced in the group, with the exception of Ambrose, he didn''t have the faintest idea how it worked. The weaving was inscrutable and did not give off so much as a whisper of its nature to Caden.

    ''Idiot!'' Caden heard one of their assailants berating another, their arcanic communication loud and brash. ''We need him alive!''

    Ambrose''s message was more tightly focused, threading neatly between the seven of them. ''We need to move quickly. We''re not going to hold them all off. We have to make a run for the garage.''

    ''We need distractions to make it there safely,'' Kevan responded, and they all saw his mind spinning out the bones of a diversion.

    ''Yes,'' Emilia concurred, joining in and riffing off his ideas. ''The auric signatures we used against the wild augera, and the mirrors, and some other points of origin for attacks... we can produce the illusion of our own reinforcements joining the fray.''

    Lynus'' mind was wandering down a completely unexpected tangent бк Caden caught a glimpse of his idea to actually modulate the field of arcana itself in their immediate vicinity. It occurred to Caden that this was probably how he had managed to stabilise himself so well in the presence of the Geldor Spire augera. ''I can run interference, make it harder for them to spot us.''

    At the same time, Jerric was physically helping Devon to his feet and bolstering the restorative weaving that Caden had placed over him. ''Can you move?''

    ''Definitely,'' Devon responded, threading arcana through his muscles even as he steadied his breathing. An iron resolve bled through their link, and Caden marvelled at how Devon seemed to be animating his battered body with arcana alone.

    ''Alright everyone, we move in ten seconds. Caden,'' Ambrose called, ''you''re with me. I''ll supply the structure, you supply the flow.''

    There wasn''t any time for Ambrose to discuss the details of what he was going to do, but through their gestalt link, Caden caught the sense of it and he baulked at the direction Ambrose was leaning in.

    ''No second-guessing!'' Ambrose snapped at him, uncharacteristically forceful, before directing his attention at the rest. ''Let''s go!''

    As one, the seven of them sprang into motion. Ambrose was the fastest, his arcanic-assisted movement honed to near-perfection (or so it seemed to Caden). But instead of heading straight to the garage, he broke off from the group and took a running jump, launching himself almost ten metres into the air in the direction of the enemy gestalt. Caden swallowed his misgivings and was only several steps behind Ambrose, and his leap only sent him half as high.

    As soon as Caden was in the air, he felt a shifting in the arcana and almost lost contact with the rest of the gestalt. It was as if Lynus had thrown a blanket over the luminous auric-ambient-flares of his friends. Just before Caden lost them entirely, Lynus reached out and re-established a ghostly tether, and Caden sensed a second link slither after Ambrose to keep him connected to the gestalt as well.

    Meanwhile, Emilia had already conjured several auric signatures into being at various locations. Some of them were faint because of how much distance she had to bridge to produce them, but in a pitched battle, they would be enough to serve as a momentary distraction. The feint was bolstered by an impressive flurry of heavy arcanic bolts coming from each of them, all directed at the enemy gestalt, expertly managed by Kevan so that they were credible threats that would do real damage if they weren''t deflected.

    And then, in the two or three seconds of air-time that Ambrose had, he began his weaving.

    It had seemed reckless at first for Ambrose to place them both directly in the line of fire like that, but once Ambrose started working, Caden understood. The enemy gestalt desperately fired off a series of arcanic bolts at the two of them, but none of them ever made contact. Their energies were torn apart and instantly converted into fuel for his sequence even as he drew in more arcana than Caden had ever seen before in any fight, even the one when he had been ambushed en route to Geldor.

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    And it still wasn''t enough! Caden felt a tugging in the gestalt as Ambrose literally yanked in even more arcana, using Caden as a conduit. He let out a gasp of pain, then yielded to it and started actively pouring in the energy that Ambrose needed. He gave as much as he could, channelling more power than he had ever done before. It occurred to him that the arcanic demand was so absurdly great that if any of the others were in his position, they would likely have died outright from overdraw. He could hardly even understand how he was managing this at all.

    Just as Ambrose landed, Caden felt the sequence go off. It was just as alien and inscrutable as the barrier Ambrose had conjured to save them earlier, but this time Caden felt a faint note of recognition anyway. He had seen something like this before... when the Creyvlor augeraбк

    бкthe dense knot of arcana that Ambrose had amassed opened like a deadly flower. It didn''t produce any visible effect at all in the real world, but Caden saw its threads snake out towards the auric-ambient-flares of the enemy gestalt. It moved with predatory grace and, distracted as they were by Kevan''s barrage, they didn''t notice it until it was almost upon them. Even then, it defied all attempts to blast it aside, twisting and swirling through the arcana almost as if it had a mind of its own, bridging the distance effortlessly. It slid through their barriers like a needle through satin and sewed itself into the threads of their auric-ambient-flares.

    And then, with a simple twist, Ambrose pulled them all apart.

    Caden landed only a second later, and he got to see them all fritter away like dust in the wind. They didn''t even have time to cry out before they disintegrated into nothingness.

    ''Move,'' Ambrose sent tersely, sounding drained. ''More are coming. Can''t deal with them all.''

    Caden felt the connection with the rest of the gestalt intensify as Lynus pulled him and Ambrose into the bubble of concealment. They were already loading up a transport. ''What the fбк'' he began.

    ''Later!'' Ambrose snapped, mustering enough strength to propel himself towards the rest. Caden followed behind, bolstering his flagging limbs with arcana. Every inch of his body and even his auric-ambient-flare felt bruised and battered from what he had just done to help Ambrose.

    When Caden finally got to the garage, he stopped in his tracks. If the situation hadn''t been so dire, he might have spent more time there gawping. There were a number of luxury vehicles that would''ve merited at least an hour or two of examination, but what captured his attention now was what looked like a fully-equipped expedition trailer at the far end of the garage.

    "Hurry up!" Devon called, beckoning to him from the back entrance where Ambrose was clambering on board.

    He shook himself out of his reverie and dashed over. But even as he hurried on board, Ambrose rushed him to the nearest seat and pulled him into the arcanic sea, so there wasn''t any time for him to properly take in the interior.

    ''What?'' Caden asked, bewildered.

    ''Kevan''s driving, Lynus is navigating. Emilia can''t handle the diversion to the same level as Kevan. I can do Lynus'' concealment trick, but you need to help Emilia with running interference.''

    Caden acknowledged the command and was about to get to work, but Ambrose pulled his attention back for a moment. ''Caden, don''t hesitate. Use this.''

    Ambrose wove together a knot of arcana which, to Caden''s senses, felt a lot like an ensorcelment. But it seemed to resonate in a rather different way бк more benign, and less coercive. It was an invitation, not a compulsion.

    ''What is it?'' he asked apprehensively.

    ''Military-grade sequence,'' he replied brusquely, then flitted away to begin enveloping their entire transport in a bubble of concealment. Even though he had probably only just picked it up by observing what Lynus had done, Caden thought it seemed even more complex than the original, as though Ambrose had already layered in some improvements.

    Caden gingerly held the little ball of arcanic knowledge as he drifted in the arcanic sea, caught in a moment of indecision. Did he want this power? Would he be able to use it to dismantle others, like the Creyvlor augera? Like Ambrose?

    ''Caden!'' Emilia cried out, her voice much fainter in the arcanic sea than Ambrose''s, owing to her lower level of attunement. ''Need help!''

    He swallowed his misgivings and unravelled the orb, allowing its knowledge to meld with his auric-ambient-flare. He felt a flood of relief when he realised it was not the disintegrating sequence that Ambrose had employed бк it was the shield-piercing type that the agents had been employing against them so far. It was still fatal if it made contact with flesh, but somehow it seemed less horrific to use this to kill if it came to it.

    Caden quickly navigated the arcanic sea and made firm contact with Emilia in a gestalt. She had already supplied the auric signatures that would serve as decoys, but they were rapidly unravelling to enemy fire even as she desperately tried to shield them. And other auric-ambient-flares were honing in, learning to disregard her decoys since they weren''t firing back.

    Caden quickly slipped into the formation that Emilia had established and began raining heavy arcanic bolts on their pursuers. At the same time, he started building the patterns with the sequence that Ambrose had just given to him, and now that some of the pressure had been taken off her, Emilia managed to divert some of her attention and energy to supply those sequences with the arcana they needed to come to fruition. They blossomed, sending deadly lances of concentrated arcana that shattered shields and pierced flesh.

    There was so much happening in the arcanic sea that Caden wasn''t paying attention to anything at all in the physical world. He had no idea what was happening in the field of battle out there, but he imagined that it was messy, and loud, and terrible. They were likely carving a bloody, fiery path out of the High District. He could only hope that the twins would be able to get them out before their pursuers caught up.

 110. The Cost of Thaumaturgy

    Caden didn''t know how long they spent hurtling through the streets of the city. In the arcanic sea, all he knew was that hostile auric-ambient-flares were closing in on them, and they were engaged in an intensifying war of wills.

    Emilia was seeding the battlefield with false arcanic signatures that mimicked the auric-ambient-flares of the seven of them, and she tried sending them on credible tangents after enveloping them in basic shields. But for that to work, she had to stay only half-dipped into the arcanic sea since she hadn''t yet developed to the point where she could be fully aware of the physical world while immersed in the arcana. That meant her signatures weren''t as strong or robust as they could have been, and her shields folded after one good arcanic bolt.

    Caden tried to mitigate that by bolstering her shields if he could get to them before the enemy, and also by laying down as much firepower as he could from the positions of the false signatures. Sometimes, it bought them a few precious seconds as the enemy pounced upon one of these clusters of signatures and tore them apart. But their enemies were increasingly able to see through Emilia''s distractions, and they would simply harden their shields and barrel right through them or past them, opting to soak the damage from Caden''s combat sequences instead of pausing to dismantle them.

    It didn''t help that Caden himself was still suffering from a degree of overdraw, and he had to balance his own output so that he wouldn''t collapse in the middle of this protracted engagement. Venting was second nature to him now but it was still a drain on his concentration, and it was doubly hard to do while trying to contribute meaningfully to the battle.

    ''How are they still following us?'' Caden demanded, directing this at Ambrose. ''Where''s the concealment?''

    ''They''ve figured out how to sidestep it. Frameshifted somehow, if I had to guess. I''m working on another way,'' Ambrose replied, his mind juggling multiple possible solutions.

    A sudden blooming in the arcana caught Caden by surprise, but to his immense relief it was directed at one of the clusters of decoy signatures. They were all enveloped in fire as the attack smashed through the feeble shields Emelia had covered them with. Now that he wasn''t preoccupied with healing Devon, he managed to catch the sequence in action. It was another fiendishly complex military-grade thing, radiating deadliness. Caden had just enough time to wonder how much damage it had caused in the physical world before the arcana shifted a little, signalling the approach of another one of those terrible sequences. This time, it wasn''t directed at any of the decoys бк it was coming directly for them.

    Emilia seemed to have sensed it too, and she abandoned the decoy effort to desperately bolster their defences, but Caden knew it wouldn''t be enough. He abandoned the sequences he had been spinning, too, and threw the full weight of his will at the incoming sequence, burrowing into its core.

    If he had done this only one day ago, he would probably have suffered terrible harm. It was a little like jumping straight into an explosion because he was placing his mind right in the path of the incoming hostile arcana. He wouldn''t have died instantly бк he already knew that just because his attention was in one part of the arcanic sea didn''t mean he was actually there. His auric-ambient-flare was still enmeshed with his physical body, and not drifting out there in the arcanic sea like some disembodied entity. But in the past, he had somehow thought that his auric-ambient-flare was stretching out a little bit in order to exert influence on the arcana, much like extending a hand, only the hand in this case was not a physical thing, but a tendril of intent sent racing through the ambient arcana. And in that instant, when he conveyed his intent from auric to ambient arcana, he had believed that there was a momentary connection or channel, and that his mind could be snared or harmed at the moment of transmission, just like how someone could grab your hand if you extended it.

    But having dipped into oblivion, he knew in his bones that there was something fundamentally wrong with that particular frameshift of navigating the arcanic sea and exerting influence over it at a distance. He didn''t know exactly how intent was conveyed from his auric to the ambient arcana, but he knew it wasn''t actually like an outstretched hand. That was a useful physical metaphor, but it wasn''t the truth.

    So, with that newfound insight, even as he threw his mind into the core of the hostile sequence, he wasn''t engulfed in the roiling energies. Instead of being savaged by it, he found himself being buffeted about, his mind struggling to stay grounded and focused on what was happening. It was like being thrown into a howling storm, with rain and wind lashing violently around бк chaotic, uncomfortable, and terrifying, but not deadly.

    He didn''t know the specifics of how this particular sequence worked, but now that Ambrose had given him the framework for the shield-piercing sequence, it wasn''t all alien gibberish to him. He was able to vaguely recognise certain structures. He had no idea how to gently unravel the whole thing, but that wasn''t his plan. He identified what looked like a key portion of the sequence, then simply hurled his will at it with such single-minded intensity that the whole thing shattered violently.

    The ensuing explosion threw Caden right out of the arcanic sea and back into his own body, and it was a second later before he realised that he had actually also heard that same explosion with his physical ears, which were now ringing painfully. As he shook his head and finally managed to take in his surroundings, he realised that Emilia was also momentarily disoriented like him.

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    "Did you do that?" she asked, holding a hand to her head while steadying herself with the other on the edge of her seat.

    Caden nodded, then stopped because it made him feel like throwing up. "I think so."

    Through watery eyes, he noticed that Ambrose was still sitting with his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. Devon and Jerric, however, had also been returned to their physical senses and were suffering from the sudden transition. Devon was writhing and shivering, his body still not completely restored by the active recovery sequence Caden had placed over him, and Jerric looked like he was suffering from a migraine much worse than Emilia, probably because he had been flooding the recovery sequence with more arcana in order to hasten its fruition.

    "We... need to gestalt again," Caden managed to gasp out, looking to Emilia. "Need to keep up the decoys."

    "No, we''re safe for the moment," Ambrose said suddenly, opening his eyes. He was better off than the rest of them, but he still looked drawn and haggered. "I found a way to hide us for now. And I don''t think they''re in a position to give chase after what you did."

    "What did I do?" Caden wondered aloud, staggering over to a nearby window.

    They appeared to be on the outskirts of the city, now, well outside the marble walls. The handsome roads of the High District had given way to well-worn asphalt, and the buildings they passed were now more ordinary, business-like affairs, with none of the regal charm of Devon''s home. Caden''s attention was drawn to a pillar of billowing smoke that rose into the sky, tainting the morning air, its source hidden behind the marble walls.

    "You didn''t hesitate," Ambrose said grimly, but with a note of approval in his tone.

    "What did I do?" Caden asked again, turning to stare at him.

    "Wouldn''t you know?" Emilia looked at him in confusion.

    "I thought I stopped their sequence!" Caden blurted. "De-stabilised it, made it inertбк"

    When Ambrose realised belatedly that Caden hadn''t deliberately caused the explosion, he let out a slow sigh and shook his head. "I''m sorry, Caden, but you did what was necessary, and we managed to get away because of what you did. It was worth it."

    "What did I do?" Caden demanded once more, panic bubbling within him.

    Ambrose raised a placating hand. "I wasn''t looking so I''m not completely sure, but I''m guessing you destroyed a part of the sequence before it activated?"

    Caden nodded, so Ambrose went on with another heavy sigh. "Military-grade sequences draw in a lot more arcana. In the Advanced Set, we have the glyph of proximate ambient arcana, and that''s already something that can do a whole lot of damage if used unadvisedly. Well, in military-grade sequences, there''s a glyph from what''s known as the Special Set. It''s the glyph of arcanic field amplification. That allows military-grade sequences to magnify the arcana that''s drawn in, until it reaches a critical mass that isn''t sustainable for more than a few seconds."

    Hearing Ambrose mention the glyph of proximate arcana now brought Caden back to their first Basics of Artificing lecture, where his own father had talked about it. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

    "Most military-grade sequences," Ambrose continued, "aren''t designed to sustainably channel energy. They''re just there to provide a framework to control the explosion of arcana. The piercing ray sequence I gave you basically focuses all that power into a slender point so that it breaks through most barriers. I haven''t seen the type they were using on us before, but I''m guessing it was meant to concentrate that energy to only affect a certain radius. They dropped one right in the middle of our shield back at the manor, so I think it''s designed to basically incinerate anything inside a standard barrier."

    "So when I de-stabilised the sequence..." Caden trailed off.

    Ambrose nodded grimly. "If it were a normal commercial sequence, or even a heavy arcanic bolt, the energy would have dissipated. But if you do that to a military-grade sequence, you''re just removing the shell that would''ve shaped the explosion. You need to unravel it carefully if you want to have any chance of stopping the explosion itself."

    "But why was the explosion so big?" Emilia asked, shaking her head. "They used it on us at the manor, and again on a decoy that I seeded. There was an explosion and some structural damage, certainly, but nothing of that scale."

    "If I had to guess, I''d say that when Caden de-stabilised it, the glyph of arcanic field amplification itself was altered, and it did more than it was supposed to do." Ambrose turned to Caden. "How exactly did you break the sequence down? You didn''t remove a glyph, did you? You did something else."

    "I... I rammed it. I broke it by force," Caden said, his voice hollow. "What does the glyph look like?"

    There was a pause as Ambrose hesitated, seemingly unsure if he should start teaching Special Set glyphs to others, then he briefly drew it in the air with arcana. Caden nodded in recognition. "Yes. I gathered my own arcana, infused it with the intention to destroy, and I broke that glyph in the sequence."

    "That probably explains what happened," Ambrose said softly. "You did break it, but the way you did it likely infused it with even more potency before it broke since you were working with pure will and focus."

    Caden stared at his hands, even though they hadn''t done anything at all. He felt suddenly sick to the stomach as he realised that an explosion of that magnitude must have done a terrible amount of damage. Their pursuers were probably dead, but who else had been nearby? They had been hurtling through the streets, with any number of passers-by walking on the pavement, driving next to them, or even just moving about in the adjacent buildings, oblivious to Death as it crept invisibly towards them in the arcana before unfolding in a violent conflagration.

    It was a fact that thaumaturgists were dangerous people, and that thaumaturgy was a deadly branch of arcanophany. Caden had read plenty about it. But until that point, it had only been an intellectual sort of understanding. It was only just beginning to sink in now that he had steeped his own metaphorical hands in the bloodied art, not as the result of being possessed by a mad augera, or by being a conduit of arcana in a gestalt for Ambrose.

    He looked at the black smoke darkening the sky. It felt like its shadow was settling over him as a manifestation of the full weight of what he had just done. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes and he covered his face in his hands.

    At the wheel, Kevan spared a glance back into the expedition trailer where Caden was quietly sobbing, then exchanged a dark look with Lynus before turning his attention back to the road.

 111. Patching Up

    If there had been any way for him to get some privacy, Caden would have retreated into a room alone to sort out his emotions. Even without tasting the arcana in the air, there was a palpable awkwardness from Ambrose, who hovered nearby and shot frequent glances at him. Emilia, in her usual oblivious fashion, made no attempt to hide the fact that she was thinking because she would stare vacantly at him every time her musings turned to him, and then allow her eyes to wander as she followed other trains of thought.

    But the trailer, while impressively large for its purpose, did not have the luxury of individual segmented rooms. Caden briefly considered locking himself in the small restroom, but the thought of having to get up and sidle past the place where Devon was recouperating filled him with dread, and so he stayed glued to the little seat near the rear door with his head buried in his arms

    Panicked thoughts chased themselves around his head. Even though he hadn''t actually seen the on-site damage for himself, his imagination supplied vivid images of burning buildings, corpses ripped apart by the explosion he had caused, and scenes of total devastation. And above it all, the dark cloud of smoke hung, ominous and accusatory. Phantom smells filled his nostrils бк charred flesh, ash, hot metal. All of it, done by him in the time it took to simply think a thought.

    What terrible power they all wielded, he realised.

    Somewhere beyond his little bubble of imposed isolation, he knew the others were talking in low whispers. Ambrose and Emilia had left the segment of the trailer he was in and gone further up to where Jerric was tending to Devon, closer to the front where the twins were. There was an undercurrent of emotion as they spoke, and Ambrose''s voice seemed to be directing or at least moderating that discussion.

    There were very important plans to be made, Caden knew. They had won free of the manor and given their minders the slip, but there was no telling how long they could remain undetected. And they also had the new and very present threat of the Empire''s enemies to deal with, apparently roving the Empire freely, with enough firepower and audacity to strike even in the capital city.

    But right now, Caden couldn''t bring himself to think about that. He felt hollow inside. For the first time, he felt utterly listless. He was unchosen anyway. Let the others, the ones bound by Prophecy, act as they willed, led on by strings of fate. He was free to just sit here and break down. He would give himself that time and space.

    After what felt like an eternity, Caden heard clumsy footsteps approaching him. Since he had dropped completely out of the arcanic sea earlier, he hadn''t bothered to even reattach himself tenuously to the flow of ambient arcana, so he didn''t get even a whiff of the person''s auric-ambient-flare. He didn''t look up, since he had no desire to engage in conversation with whoever it might be.

    "Hey." It was Devon. A small part of Caden registered some relief at the fact that he sounded alright, and was actually capable of walking, but it wasn''t enough to rouse him from his private horror.

    The seat opposite Caden creaked as Devon lowered himself into it with a soft grunt. Then there was nothing but silence again, except for the rhythmic trundling of the trailer on the road, and the occasional sound of another vehicle passing them.

    More time passed. At some point, Caden thought he dozed off a bit. When he became a bit more alert, he felt a little guilty for giving Devon the silent treatment. Tentatively, he loosened his auric-ambient-flare a little so that it made closer contact with the ambient arcana, and he began picking up impressions from the world around him again.

    Devon was still there, seated quietly, radiating calm. If the flow of arcana was anything to go by, he was deeply engaged in the breathing-and-noticing exercise that Emilia had introduced them to. But there was something odd that caught Caden''s attention and finally roused him from his reticent mood.

    "What''re you doing?" he asked softly, raising his head from his arms.

    "Just keeping you company," Devon answered with a sheepish grin. It faded as he looked a little more closely at Caden. "You, uh, wanna talk?"

    Caden hesitated, then side-stepped the question. "I mean... with the arcana. What are you doing with it? It''s not just the breathing thing with Emilia."

    "Oh." Devon sat up a little straighter, wincing as he did so. If he felt anything at having his question ignored, he didn''t show it. "The recovery sequence you put on me is still doing its work. Jerric flooded it with as much arcana as he could manage, and he''s recovering a bit from overdraw now, so I thought I''d keep it up while he rested."

    "But that''s not all, is it?" Caden disentangled himself a little more and rolled his stiff shoulders. "You''re not just feeding arcana to the sequence. It kinda feels like you''re... stretching it?"

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    "Not exactly," Devon said, sounding a little pleased with himself. "See, I''ve had time to get a feel of the sequence itself since it''s literally on me, and I think I figured out a way to help it work more efficiently."

    Caden''s curiosity was slowly drawing him further out of his shell. "Do you mind if I took a closer look?"

    He regretted asking almost instantly. Devon tried to hide it, but there was a flash of apprehension and a fraction of a second''s hesitation before he tried to give a "Sure!" that came out too hastily and with a little too much forced breeziness.

    "It''s okay if you don''t want me to," Caden said in a deadpan.

    "No, Caden, sorry, I mean..." Devon winced again as he half-rose, then sat back down, clutching his back.

    Caden had instinctively gotten to his feet, ready to catch Devon in case he fell over. He sat back down again when the young lord raised a hand to signal that he was alright.

    "Just give me a second," Devon said, taking in slow, deliberate breaths. After a moment, he continued. "I''ll be honest, what you can do scares me."

    Caden smiled grimly. "Yeah, I figured."

    "But that''s only half of it. Look, whatever you can do, Ambrose can probably do even worse right now. And if what has happened so far is anything to go by, the rest of us will probably catch up and be capable of doing at least some of the stuff the two of you just pulled off today. What I''m trying to say is... what you can do scares me, but... we''re all kinda in this together."

    "You''re in it with the rest," Caden clarified. "All bound by Prophecy. I''m the one who''s out of the group."

    "No," Devon said fiercely, with surprising force given his general state of fragility. "We''re all in this together because we''re friends, not because of the Prophecy. Everyone keeps saying that prophecies work off probabilities and skew them. Well, that just means that it needs a foundation to work with. It''s using our friendship to bind the rest of us. But that doesn''t mean we''re not friends. And just because there''s no Prophetic links chaining you to the rest of us, it doesn''t mean you''re not a part of this group too."

    Caden blinked at him in surprise and found himself at a loss for words.

    "On top of that," Devon went on, jabbing a finger at Caden, "what kind of maniac who doesn''t belong to a group would risk his life to help them, and pull miraculous recovery sequences out of thin air and use them on people in the middle of a pitched battle? You saved me back there, Caden, so I literally owe you my life, and at the very least that means I consider you a friend, whether you like it or not."

    It was difficult for Caden to look directly at Devon now, so he started fidgeting with his hands. But Devon''s little speech did merit some kind of response, so he gave an embarrassed nod. "Thanks, Dev."

    "So I''m gonna ask again," Devon said, sounding almost threatening. "Do you want to talk? You know... about what happened back there. Get it off your chest."

    This time, Caden gave a wry smile. "Maybe later. I... I still need to sort it out for myself. But thanks. Right now, what I do want to talk about is what you''re doing to that recovery sequence."

    Devon fixed him with a serious look, as if trying to decide if Caden was intentionally avoiding the question.

    "I''ll talk about the... about what I did... when I''m ready, Dev," Caden said sincerely.

    "Okay," Devon relented. "Well, I can''t figure out the glyphs on the recovery sequence at all, and I''ve got no idea how it actually works, but I know how it feels when it''s working on me. It feels like, uh, how I imagine it might feel if... if I could feel my body growing. That''s a bit of a mouthful, but that''s basically it. So I started focusing on that feeling, and with Emilia''s breathing-and-noticing exercise, I think I''m picking up the point where the sequence interfaces with my auric-ambient-flare. So I''m stretching my auric-ambient-flare a little so that the sequence itself also sort of sinks into it or connects with it a little better. Kinda like how you might rub ointment over a bruise, y''know?"

    "And you think it''s helping the recovery sequence work better?" Caden asked, intrigued.

    "Honestly, I''ve got no idea," Devon said, shrugging. "For all I know, the sequence works the same as always. But I can tell you that it really feels like I''m doing something right, because it''s... it feels natural. It feels good."

    "Can I check?" Caden asked.

    "Yes," Devon said, this time with exaggerated firmness and confidence. Caden chuckled a little, then slipped into the arcanic sea.

    Back in the thick of battle, he hadn''t had any time at all to really think about the sequence he had placed over Devon. He had wanted a recovery sequence that could restore moderate to severe physical trauma, and that could work swiftly and independently without an arcanist''s supervision. Somehow, his subconscious had supplied this, even though he still didn''t know the constituent glyphs.

    Now that he could examine it a little more closely, he could bend his arcanic senses to it to discern more of its nature. It was, as Devon had described, actually sewn onto his auric-ambient-flare in a way that Caden had never seen before in any other sequence, except the prophetic shield orbs that his father had made. It even bore some passing resemblance to the prophetic coccoon that the Spire augera had laid over him.

    "I think your description pretty much sums it up," Caden said, amazed. "I think it''s... just using the body''s natural healing factor, except cranking it up to a crazy degree. Your body is literally healing itself. But there''s probably more to it, because our bodies don''t regenerate lost flesh perfectly. There must be other bits of the sequence that are augmenting the body''s natural healing ability beyond just cranking it up to eleven."

    "Whatever it is, it''s handy to have. Any chance of being able to teach it to the rest of us?" Devon asked.

    "No, I don''t thбк" Caden began, then froze. "... maybe. Even if it can be done, I''m not sure we should. But if we want to talk about whether or not it''s even possible, we need to talk to Ambrose."

 112. Diametric Powers

    It was just barely possible to have a private discussion in the trailer if one were to whisper, but attempting to hide it was out of the question. So when Caden and Devon approached Ambrose, everyone''s attention was drawn to them. Caden had hoped to have this discussion more quietly, but Devon took matters out of his hands when he spoke up first, not troubling to lower his voice. In fact, he raised it a little so the twins at the front could hear.

    "Caden''s recovery sequence saved my life back there, but if he happens to get hurt, none of us can do what he''s done. He doesn''t know the sequence''s glyphs, but he thinks Ambrose might know a way to pass on the knowledge of how to replicate the sequence anyway," he announced.

    Ambrose''s eyes widened and he shot a quick look at Caden. "Why do you think that?"

    The question caught Caden off-guard. He stared back in confusion. "Huh? Earlier, youбк"

    A look of panic mingled with frustration crossed Ambrose''s face and he stood up, cutting Caden off. "We''re gonna talk this over," he said, grabbing Caden and steering him to the back of the trailer, away from the others.

    "What? Why can''t this be done in the open?" Devon demanded.

    "Dev, just trust me, please," Ambrose answered, sounding pained. The others eyed him dubiously, but no one voiced any further objections, leaving him speak with Caden alone.

    Caden sat back down in the spot he had occupied just moments ago, except now it was Ambrose who was sitting opposite him.

    "What''s going on?" Caden asked, his voice low.

    Ambrose wasn''t taking any chances. Disregarding any offence he might cause, he threw up an arcanic wall to separate him and Caden from the rest, building it with the principles behind the privacy setting that came with telepresence orbs.

    He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and massaged the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exasperated sigh. Then, even with the wall in place, he started speaking in a voice so soft that Caden had to strain to listen. "When I shared that piercing ray sequence with you, I wasn''t really thinking it through. You''re right, it can be done, but it''s not something that should be done lightly."

    "How is it done?"

    "It''s... I..." Ambrose looked away, as if trying to find the words, or muster the will to say them. When he finally turned back to Caden, he looked stricken. "You remember the Prophecy, right?"

    "What Prophecy?" Caden asked dryly.

    "Hah!" Ambrose gave a wry smile, then continued. "Well... we all think it basically means I''m going to be a Fateweaver in the future, right? But... did you ever stop to think about what that means in the present?"

    A chill crept up Caden''s spine as he recalled the exact wording of the Prophecy. "Five threads will lie within your hands and be your first across the lands..." he repeated softly. "I''ve always taken that part to mean that you''ve got some sort of influence on the lives of the five anchors, and that your actions will impact their future, so you''ve got some sort of responsibility or choice to make. But you''re saying you can... what? Literally write their lives out, right now? Is that what it means?"

    Ambrose shook his head vehemently. "No, it''s not like that. Remember, from what we know, Prophecies work by influencing probabilities."

    "But you can do that now?" Caden repeated, aghast, though a part of him didn''t quite know why this was so shocking to him since it did make sense.

    But Ambrose shook his head again and once again looked like he was grasping for the right words to explain. "It''s to do with the knots. The knots aren''t all events. Some are... some are intentions. Thoughts. Feelings. Some of them are knowings, or not-knowings..."

    With a jolt, Caden realised he recognised those last two terms. The Crevylor augera had used something like them when it was railing against the Fateweavers. Caden had expressed horror at what it had done to the enemy agents, and it had responded: ''Horror? You do not know the word. Ancient-distant-spiders are the true horror. And one day, they will know the word, and wish for not-knowing.''

    "The knots aren''t just simple moments," Ambrose continued. "They''re like a complex web of many, many things. I don''t know how to even properly recognise one at the moment, let alone read it. As for creating it... well, that''s something I haven''t even figured out how to do intentionally."

    "How does all that tie in to passing knowledge of sequences on to others?" Caden asked, though he thought he had half-guessed the connection already.

    Ambrose pursed his lips, then took in a deep breath. "I don''t know how those big knots in the Prophecy work... but when it comes to the five of them, I... I have a better sense of things. I can see the different parts of the knots. I can see what goes into them. And I''m beginning to be able to manipulate those building blocks."

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    "Is that what you did to me?" Caden asked, his eyes wide as he thought back to that moment when Ambrose had passed that dense knot of arcana to him. He remembered how it felt, or ''sounded'' to his arcanic senses бк like a tune that formed a harmony with ensorcelment. "But I''m not one of the five anymore!"

    "You were," Ambrose said gravely. "And what''s more, I think the spot that you once held, that Emilia now holds... the ''bones that form your crown o''er mortal thrones''... I think this is a part of what that means. Somehow, through Emilia, I''ll learn to master this ability. You''re out of the spot now, but I think there''s some residual effect."

    "You''ve... you''ve formed some sort of prophetic link on me?" Caden''s voice grew hoarse.

    "No," Ambrose said firmly. "I''m not sure about much else, but I''m pretty positive about that. It''s just... this ability to pass on knowledge through arcana? It''s somehow tied up with a Fateweaver''s ability to create the knots of prophecies. It''s one piece of the larger puzzle."

    Caden let that sink in for a moment, though he had to work to keep from getting up and pacing around in agitation. The moment when he thought that Ambrose might have shackled him with prophetic links had been one of pure panic. But reason was now catching up with him. With his arcanic senses, he knew that the Academy augera''s shell of protection was firmly in place, and even as he turned his attention to it, he could sense that it was still keeping him free of prophetic influence. That, at least, verified Ambrose''s statement.

    "Okay," Caden said after he had gathered his thoughts, "so this means it''s not something that I can do, since it''s tied in to your ability as the Chosen One, right? So why didn''t you just say that from the start, in front of everyone?"

    Ambrose didn''t answer. He simply looked at Caden, whose breathing quickened as he started realising more things.

    "You can do it because you''re the Chosen One, but that just means a Prophecy has made it easier for you to pick it up. And that''s probably how all Fateweavers have learned it. But there had to be someone, or a group of people, who was first. Which means that this ability isn''t something that only Fateweavers can learn. It''s something that, currently, only Fateweavers are allowed to learn."

    "I think so," Ambrose nodded heavily. "I kinda figured that out while we were trying all that stuff back in Devon''s home, trying to get you to slip into oblivion with me. And everytime we hit a wall where I thought maybe my Chosen One status meant that only I could do something, you''d manage it soon after. So it doesn''t make any sense why this kind of stuff isn''t something other people can do too. Then I thought... it must be possible. But the Fateweavers make use of prophecies, both major and minor, to skew the probabilities so that people never actually get to that point. Until someone like you comes along, somehow unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, who''s free from those restrictions."

    "But do you know what this means?" Caden asked in a strangled whisper.

    "Do you?" Ambrose returned the question quietly, his eyes full of worry and fear. "If I''m right about all this, and if I help you figure out how to share sequences through arcana... I''ll be giving you one of the building blocks that makes it possible for you to eventually create knots of prophecy. You could be a Fateweaver in your own right, with that kind of power. That kind of thing doesn''t strike me as what the augera call moving softly. And even if I don''t teach you, and I just figure out some recovery sequence on my own, and pass it along to the others through this arcanic manipulation... well, right now, I don''t know if I... feel comfortable about doing that to them. Not now that I know how it works, what it means, and what it could lead to."

    Caden gaped at him because his thoughts had gone in an entirely different direction from what Ambrose had just said. Caden had been staggered at the implied mass suppression of arcanic knowledge, literally carried out over generations and across the span of the Empire''s history, to some dark and inscrutable purpose. The Fateweavers had hoarded arcanic secrets beyond the understanding of the masses and then used it to consolidate power for themselves. Yes, they had probably made good use of it to ensure the stability and prosperity of the Empire over those thousands of years, but it was hard to view them as anything but nefarious given their methods. Now, Ambrose''s words laid on a whole new burden, because it seemed that Caden was, quite literally, the only person who could credibly challenge that monopoly of arcanic power.

    And the augera all knew. They had been waiting for millennia, shifting things ever-so-slightly, banking on that infinetesimal chance that despite all the manipulation of probabilities via prophecies, there would emerge people like him, who would be free to throw down the gauntlet before the incumbent Fateweavers. That was why the Academy augera had given him the prophetic shell. That was why the Creyvlor augera had intervened so dramatically and protected him from the enemy agents, and thereafter left him in peace, although it had accidentally damaged him because of its own broken nature. And that was why the Geldor augera had put his shattered mind back together again, restoring him completely instead of just putting together a fascimile based on incomplete memories.

    He had known all these facts before, but it was now really sinking in. The augera were banking on him becoming an independent Fateweaver, and they wanted him to champion them, and free them.

    It occurred to Caden that until that moment, his vague plan had been to simply help Ambrose and nudge him here and there, and eventually Ambrose would be the one to free the augera and tweak the prophecy of doom over Caden''s father. It had never entered his mind that he would have to be the one standing in front. The full import of his unchosen identity was falling on him now бк the augera called him unchosen, but that was a matter of perspective. The augera had chosen him, precisely because the Fateweavers hadn''t snared him in any webs.

    ''What is this?'' Caden whispered, horrified, into the arcana, tracing his mind over the contours of the prophetic shell around him. Ambrose looked at him in worry, but his eyes widened a moment later, mirroring Caden''s shock when the shell whispered back.

    ''Our gift,'' came the faint response. Somehow, it was both the Geldor and Academy augera, their voices blended but still distinct, like two notes in a chord. ''Our gift to our champion, to challenge the will-curse-test.''

 113. Fragility

    When the barrier of privacy that Ambrose had set up finally came down, he emerged alone. Caden didn''t give any indication that he was leaving the seat anytime soon. If anything, he looked even more withdrawn and harrowed. Ambrose forestalled any attempt by anyone, especially Devon, to approach Caden. Ambrose also proceeded to stonewall everyone when asked about whether or not he could teach Caden how to pass knowledge of sequences through the arcana. The tension in the trailer rose, but after the high-stress situation they had just escaped from in Geldor, no one had any energy left for a confrontation.

    The next few hours passed in uncomfortable semi-silence. Emilia and Jerric were the least-perturbed by all the secrecy, and they were engaged in anything productive бк she started coaching him through a modified breathing-and-noticing exercise to help him cope with the overdraw that came as a result of his attempt to hasten the recovery sequence on Devon.

    Against the background noise of her firm but gentle instruction melded with the sound of the trailer''s wheels on the asphalt, the twins'' low voices sometimes came to the fore as they conferred with each other sporadically, sometimes confirming they were headed in the right direction, and other times turning to speculation and planning.

    Ambrose, like Caden, had retreated into himself. He claimed one of the bunk beds and sat, cross-legged, brooding, looking less like the Chosen One and more like the reserved, aloof person he had been at the start of the semester.

    Devon was the one who was most disappointed by Ambrose''s and Caden''s refusal to explain themselves, but he was still on the mend, so he hunkered down in another bunk that was furthest away from Ambrose and focused on sustaining the recovery sequence on him.

    Outside, the sun climbed to high noon, then continued on its journey to the west. The twins had driven them well out of Geldor and they were now in the nebulous inter-city regions where the only sign of civilisation was the road itself. The capital city was now nothing more than a little dash of colour on the knees of the Crystalline Peaks.

    At around two in the afternoon, Devon roused himself and looked around blearily at the others. "Lunch?" he asked.

    "What''s our food situation?" Kevan asked, still keeping his eyes on the road.

    "We''ve got a crate full of ready-to-eat meals that''ll last us two weeks," Jerric replied, consulting his memory. "But we''ve actually also got some fresh stuff, though Fates knows why Devon included that in the list of things to pack."

    "So we can get a decent meal," Devon shot back. He hesitated, but turned to Ambrose and managed a credible attempt at sounding like his ordinary, cheerful self. "Is it safe for us to stop for a bit?"

    Ambrose glanced at him and nodded. When he spoke, he seemed to be directing his words at the floor rather than at everyone else. "Got us covered. Should be hidden unless we run directly into any enemy agents on the road. Just don''t wander off."

    While the twins consulted a map to look for a good place to park, Devon started rummaging through the boxes that had been loaded and taking out what he needed, while a slightly irritable Jerric followed in his wake and carefully repacked and stowed them away once Devon was done with them.

    They finally brought the trailer to a quiet rest-stop, which was little more than a wide space to park that had been unceremoniously slapped down at the base of an embankment, with trees jealously crowding in on the space. It was completely deserted and except for the occasional car passing by, they were alone. Still, out of an abundance of caution, Jerric got the twins to park the trailer at the very edge of the space, furthest away from the road, and threw up a simple illusory sequence in the form of a wall that duplicated the trees behind it. It was too big to really be effective against someone with a keen eye, but a casual observer driving by might not give it a second glance.

    Devon disembarked and started work бк on one side, the trailer had a compartment that opened up and provided him with a mini open-air kitchen. While the others were preoccupied with their own thoughts or endeavours, he hummed softly to himself as he prepared the meal. In ten minutes, he had sausages and potatoes thrown in a skillet with cubed tomatoes, herbs, salt, and black pepper, and the air was filled with the promise of good food.

    "How do you do it?" Kevan asked. Devon looked up, slightly startled, and realised that Kevan had been standing there for some time now, watching him in silence. It was a little odd to see him without Lynus.

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    "What, the cooking? It''s always beenбк"

    "No," Kevan interrupted, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking a little lost for words. He sighed. "You''re just so... happy."

    It was Devon''s turn to look lost for words. "I''m actually at a bit of a low point now. I mean, I asked Caden if Ambrose could teach him how to share sequences, so he could share that healing sequence with all of us, and now everything''s gone to shit again and the two of them are stuck in ''mysterious mode'', and here I am, cooking."

    Kevan let out a brief, mirthless chuckle. "Low point? You were humming and smiling."

    Devon shrugged. "Cooking makes me happy. Takes my mind off things. Probably because it gives me a sense of control. I know exactly how it all works, and I know how to get what I want out of it. And it can be a fun exercise to see what I can make with what''s on hand."

    "Must be nice," Kevan said, looking away and staring into the woods around them.

    "I''m sure you''ve got something that makes you happy, right?" Devon asked with a touch of concern.

    "Sure," Kevan replied, not turning around. "Sort of. Thaumaturgy was my thing."

    "Was?" Devon prompted, when Kevan lapsed into silence.

    He didn''t respond immediately. It seemed like he was mustering up the will to open up. After a moment, he let out an exasperated huff. "When Ly and I started out in our prep school, it was hard, but we got a handle on things quickly. But between the two of us, I was the one who usually figured things out first. And we''d practice, and I''d usually come out top. So that was my thing бк winning. Winning in anything to do with thaumaturgy. It made me happy."

    "Oh," Devon said lamely, recalling what Kevan and Lynus had both blurted out when Caden had first accidentally ensorcelled them all.

    Kevan had finally turned to look at Devon, and he nodded grimly. "Yep. Then Caden ensorcelled us for the first time, and I learned that Lynus was letting me win most of the time. I think I could''ve handled that, but then Ambrose beat me, and then Emilia beat me, and then Caden beat me, and then Jerric beat me... I guess the only one left is you, and honestly, at this point, I fully expect you to whoop my ass too."

    Devon had no idea what to say to that. He was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable, so all he could manage was a sheepish smile.

    "So this is me," Kevan declared, throwing his hands into the air in mock surrender, "at my low point. And there you are, at your low point. Still humming. How do you do it?"

    "Look, I''m not going to pretend that I know what''s going on in your life," Devon began, avoiding Kevan''s gaze by turning his own attention to the lunch he was preparing. "I mean, you and Ly still haven''t told us much, apart from what''s come up since we were forced to share stuff thanks to the Prophecy. So I don''t know what will help. I don''t know why you''re coming to me. If you think I''ve got it all figured out, then, well, you''d be wrong. Because I''m the firstborn son of Duke Rhys Ka''atryn, and I''ve just run away from home. In laymen''s terms, I''m like some stereotypical spoiled princeling who''s just thrown out into the great unknown, and I''m with a bunch of worldly-wise people who''ve got dark and mysterious pasts. I guess next to you guys I look like a ray of sunshine, but guess what? I''m lost, too, alright? And just because I hum while I cook doesn''t mean I don''t have my own shit to deal with!"

    He was a little red in the face by the time he was done saying that, and he continued furiously stirring the dish, resolutely not looking at Kevan.

    There was a slightly awkward silence before Kevan cleared his throat. "Well, thanks for clearing that up," he said dryly.

    "No problem," Devon snapped back, still focusing on the food.

    "Yeah, that came out wrong," Kevan said with another exasperated sigh. "No really, Dev. Thanks. You showed mercy to me and Ly back at the Spire, you''ve given us a great place to stay for a bit, and you''ve put all this stuff together. And now you''ve given me a bit of perspective, and it''ll give me something to think about while I try to sort through my own shit. So... really, thanks."

    Devon finally looked up, surprised, but Kevan had already turned away and retreated behind the trailer.

    "Warm-skilful-bridge."

    Devon jumped and flailed around in the arcana, half-expecting to catch a whiff of the Geldor Spire augera, but it was only Caden, who had just disembarked and had come around the other side of the trailer.

    "Caden?! Don''t... don''t do that," he said, massaging his chest a little.

    "I heard some of that. You''re living up to your aspects." Caden gave him a wan smile.

    "Yeah? Great. Score one for me." He peered at Caden. "You don''t look very good."

    "I''m sorry about withholding information from you," Caden said softly. "I''ll tell everyone when I can. But right now you could say I''ve received heavy news, and I''m still trying to wrap my head around it."

    "Heavy news?" Devon repeated, looking worried. "Because of what I asked? Does that mean what''s happening to you now is my fault?"

    "No," Caden shook his head firmly. "No, definitely not. It''s something I only just realised, even though it was staring at me in the face all along. I''ll be fine. I''ll figure it out, and as soon as I''m sure it''s the right thing to do, I''ll tell you guys about it."

    "And what if it''s not the right thing to do?" Devon asked, with a tinge of disappointment.

    Caden drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Then I''ll have to hope you keep living up to your aspects, or I''m going to lose all my friends."

    Once again, Devon had no reply to that. In silence, he emptied the contents of the skillet into several plates and called everyone to lunch, wishing desperately for his life to mirror, at least a little, the simplicity of cooking.

 114. Double Desperation

    The party''s late lunch was a rather subdued affair, although it had nothing to do with the quality of the food. There were foldable chairs cleverly stashed in various niches in the trailer, so they set them up in a loose circle near the make-shift kitchen and enjoyed the simple but delicious meal in relative silence, except for the occasional remark about the weather, or their surroundings. Their attention was mostly focused inwards as they took the time to process the events of the morning. When they were done they were content to sit there, empty plates in hand, each lost in their private contemplations.

    Jerric was the first to break the silence. "Alright," he said finally, setting his plate on the floor. "We should take stock of our current situation and figure out our next steps. We''ve made it out of Geldor and we''ve successfully lost both our security agents and the enemy agents, but will we be able to keep them off our scent? Ambrose, you wanna fill us in on that?"

    "Lynus'' concealment trick won''t work against the enemy agents anymore," Ambrose supplied, still rather subdued, and lacking the fire and determination he showed when they were escaping the manor. He looked up at Lynus. "It works by taking the sample of the ambient arcana in an empty space, and then filling a whole pre-defined area with an impression of it, right?"

    Lynus'' expression was a mixture of annoyance and respect. "Yeah. It''s still scary how you parsed it so completely in the middle of battle. What was that thing you were doing when you copied it and took over when we were driving?"

    Ambrose gave a brief smile. "Your version was too clean at the border between the ambient arcana and the interior of your envelope. It''s like a hairline crack in the arcana that you can spot if you''re looking for it. Good for a makeshift shield against anбк"

    He stopped himself, shook his head, then continued. "I used Devon''s fuzzy barrier idea to make the border less obvious."

    "Hold on," Kevan said sharply. "What were you about to say?"

    Ambrose glanced at him, then looked at Lynus steadily and shrugged. "It''s your envelope, Ly. You know how it works and what it was meant for. You wanna explain, or shall I?"

    Devon looked from Ambrose to Lynus, then at the others. "I''m missing something here, aren''t I?"

    Lynus shot an angry look at his brother, who returned a confused but defiant stare. "What''s he talking about, Ly?" Kevan demanded.

    "I used it back when we were in the Spire to stabilise myself against the augera''s presence," Lynus said through gritted teeth, avoiding everyone''s gaze. "Jerric and Devon saw it. What''s the big deal?"

    "I don''t know, you tell me!" Kevan challenged. "If it''s not a big deal, why''re you acting so cagey?"

    When Lynus refused to answer, Ambrose let out a sigh. "Do you want me to say it?"

    "No," Lynus snapped, twisting his hands in agitation. "I''ll do it. Just give me a sec."

    He got up and started pacing for a few seconds before settling himself back down in the foldable chair. When he spoke, he directed his words at the floor. "When Kev and I ran into the professors duelling and saw what happened, it occurred to me that since we''re bound by Prophecy, then we''d probably eventually end up in a situation like theirs. They both knew exactly what was going on, but they were literally forced to act out their parts regardless of their personal desires. The Prophecy was strong-arming them into doing things."

    The agitation and anger in him had bled out completely, and now he simply looked exhausted. The more he spoke, the softer his voice got. "We''ve mostly seen the Prophecy work with probabilities that match our inclinations. Kev and I have got a personal stake that it''s using to set us in opposition to some of you. The rest of you are similarly bound. But if we keep pulling at it like this, I think we''re eventually going to corner it until there are no more gentle nudges it can use. It''ll have to force us into some choices. And if that ever happens, I wanted to make sure I''d be able to... to make at least one choice by myself. One last choice."

    Ambrose was nodding grimly, but the rest looked confused. Caden was the only other person who seemed to have put something together. "What made you think it would work?" he asked softly.

    "Remember the prophetic links we saw in the Academy Spire augera''s chamber, when the Demiurge was teaching us how to navigate in the arcana?" Lynus answered. "Later, I realised that it sort of means that even the ambient arcana is laced with prophetic links within a Spire''s range. That''s how their influence is so pervasive. So I thought if I could get a pure sample of ambient arcana somewhere, I''d be able to form a bubble that''s free of their influence. It probably wouldn''t last long against the pressure of the prophetic links, but I expect it''d give me maybe a second. And a second is all I''d need."

    "Sorry, hold up, I''m lost," Devon declared. "Can someone break it down?"

    Jerric''s eyes widened. "I think I understand!" he said.

    A moment later, Emilia let out a soft gasp of comprehension.

    Kevan, however, still looked confused. Something about Lynus'' manner was scaring him, and he found himself getting angry in response to not knowing what was going on. "What did you figure out, Ly? Just tell me!"

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    Lynus shook his head, then folded his hands and resolutely avoided Kevan''s eyes. He gave a curt nod at Ambrose.

    "Ly figured that the Prophecy doesn''t only work via the links we know about," Ambrose said heavily, taking up the narrative. "The Spires seed it into the ambient arcana, so everything in the Empire is under the umbrella of prophetic influence. To be totally free, you''d need the links to be cut, but you''d also need a way to filter the ambient arcana around you, or it''ll act as a channel of influence. His concealment envelope wasn''t originally conceived as a way to hide auric-ambient-flares. It was meant to cut him off from the prophetic influence in the ambient arcana. But for that to work, he still needs a sample of pure ambient arcana from outside the Empire."

    "But it wouldn''t work," Caden interrupted. "Not really. Even if you flood an envelope with this theoretical pure ambient arcana, you''d still be bound by prophetic links. How were you hoping to get around that?"

    "I don''t know!" Lynus snapped. "I''m still figuring it out. Maybe you want to help me with that?"

    "What''s this all for?" Kevan demanded, growing suddenly cold, though he didn''t yet know why. "And why haven''t you told me anything about this?"

    "Kev," Caden said gently, turning to him. "He... he''s figuring out how to stop himself from doing something against the Prophecy if it ever forces him to take an action he truly doesn''t want to."

    "Isn''t that something we all need to know? But what good is it if it only lasts a second?" Kevan asked, looking from Caden to Lynus.

    Caden shook his head. "Kev... Ly''s solution isn''t something that allows you to ignore the Prophecy whenever you want. It''s something you can do only once. To yourself. You end the Prophecy''s influence on you by removing yourself from the equation."

    It finally clicked for both Kevan and Devon. The young lord took in a sharp breath while Kevan turned in mute horror to his twin.

    "That''s why you only need a second," he whispered. "In that one second of freedom, you..."

    "But it won''t work," Caden said firmly. "You''d need to cut both the prophetic links and create the envelope at the same time. I''m pretty sure each will act to restore the other, so it has to be in the same instant. I don''t think it''s something you can even do by yourself бк it has to be done to you, or for you. My father learned that the hard way with his orbs."

    Kevan leaped to his feet. "That''s it? It won''t work, so that''s alright?!"

    He stormed over to Lynus and shoved him, sending his twin tumbling backwards over the chair, which went flying. Lynus sprang to his feet with a snarl and shoved back, but Kevan grabbed hold of him and pulled. The two of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, each trying their best to beat the other into submission.

    The rest stared in shock for a moment before Ambrose and Caden jumped in to intervene. In a purely physical contest, neither of them would have been a match for the twins who were both more athletic, but their mastery over arcanic-assisted movement allowed them to prise the brothers apart and subdue them. To the credit of the twins, even in their anger, neither of them had resorted to using arcana. Once they had been separated, they allowed themselves to be hauled away. Caden pulled Kevan to the edge of the empty lot near the treeline, while Ambrose firmly parked Lynus at the front of the trailer.

    Kevan stepped off the tarmac and flung himself down on the grass with his back against the nearest tree, burying his face in his folded arms. Caden approached cautiously and was mortified when he realised that Kevan was crying, though he was trying resolutely to keep most of it in. He didn''t know what to do, so he simply hovered awkwardly nearby to make sure that Kevan didn''t bolt or do something rash.

    From where he stood, Caden could see Ambrose, Jerric, and Devon talking to Lynus. More accurately, Devon was doing all of the talking бк he was a little red-faced and was jabbing his finger at Lynus every so often to punctuate a point, and he looked fiercer than Caden had ever seen him before. Ambrose and Jerric looked a little surprised at the sheer intensity Devon was exhibiting, but they were nodding along in agreement with whatever he was saying.

    Emilia was walking very slowly towards the two of them, but her steps were deliberate and she wore an expression of determination. Her pace was so slow that it took her almost two minutes to reach the spot where Caden and Kevan were, and in that time Kevan''s strangled sobs had evened themselves out a little.

    "Thank you, Caden," she said as she covered the last few steps, coming to stand in front of Kevan, who still had his face hidden in his arms.

    "Don''t mention it," he replied sheepishly. "I''ll leave you two toбк"

    "No, stay," came Kevan''s muffled voice.

    Caden''s eyebrows rose and he shot a questioning glance at Emilia, who shrugged nonchalantly and nodded.

    "How can I help?" Caden asked, trying not to sound awkward and uncomfortable.

    Kevan drew in a deep breath and finally looked up. His eyes were red, but he seemed to have calmed down considerably. "We haven''t been on the best terms," he said, sniffling a little, "but I... I want to ask a favour."

    "A favour?" Caden repeated apprehensively.

    He nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "We''re all getting involved in shit that''s way over our heads, but you and Ambrose seem to have a handle on all this. More than the rest of us, anyway. And you''re the one with the ridiculous ambition of breaking that prophecy over your sister, and the big one that your father is involved in."

    "That''s a weird way to start asking for a favour," Caden observed dryly.

    Kevan gave a weak smile. "It is ridiculous. Bloody crazy. But that''s why I''m asking you. If things ever get to a point where Ly... where he''ll want to..."

    He broke off and looked away, his lower lip trembling. After he drew in a deep, shuddering breath, he turned back to Caden and plouged on. "If you figure all this shit out, please don''t let that kind of thing happen to him. I''m still not on board with you messing with Prophecy in a big way, like freeing people from it, and I''m sure as hell not sure about freeing the augera. But if that kind of stuff is on the table, it probably means you''ll also figure out how to modify prophecies, and I''m asking that you tweak it just enough to make sure Lynus never has to make that kind of choice."

    There was so much internal contradiction here and, in Caden''s view, hypocrisy, that he didn''t know exactly how to respond. He blinked and glanced at Emilia, who was looking steadily back at him, then looked back at Kevan, who was looking quite pathetic after all that crying.

    "Kev, if you believe so much in the integrity of prophecies, why are you asking me to do that?" Caden asked.

    "I don''t know," he admitted, his shoulders slumping. "I don''t know what I think anymore. I just want things to work out for us, and for our dad, and for it to not cost a whole Empire. Is that so wrong?"

    "No," Caden said, coming close enough to clap a hand on his shoulder. "I can understand that."

    "So you''ll do it?" Kevan asked hopefully, looking up at him.

    "It''s ridiculous," Caden replied with a half-smile. "But I''ll try."

 115. Augeric Assistance

    Kevan seemed to be a little more at ease after his short talk with Caden, but when Caden withdrew to give Emilia some time alone with Kevan, his shell of composure gave way again. Caden was a little too far to hear exactly what was being said, but Emilia''a measured voice went on for awhile, and after some time, Kevan started nodding in acknowledgement.

    Meanwhile, Devon had somehow managed to talk Lynus into getting it together and talking things over with his brother. When he came over to where Kevan was sitting by the tree, Emilia and Caden gave them some space, though Emilia made it clear that she was standing by to intervene if anything happened.

    "Kevan is less mercurial now, but you''re making up for that," she said simply, right to Lynus'' face before she went off. "So if either of you gets out of hand, I''m going to put a stop to it."

    Lynus grimaced, though he had the grace to look at least a little bit abashed. Kevan gave a wry smile and nodded at her. "We''ll behave."

    She moved to where Caden had been standing a little further away so that they could speak in private, though she made sure she was still just one arcanic-assisted leap away from closing the distance.

    Since Emilia seemed to have things well in hand, Caden left her to watch over the two of them and rejoined the rest who were by the trailer.

    Caden was surprised to find Devon leaning against the trailer with his arms folded, looking like he was holding back tears. Jerric, too, looked a little watery-eyed.

    "So, uh, you guys managed to calm Lynus down," Caden observed, hoping to prompt some sort of explanation about their state.

    "That''s mostly Devon," Ambrose said quietly.

    "Are you alright?" Caden asked him gently.

    Devon nodded, blinking furiously. "Didn''t know I had it in me. You know, I''ve always been a bit scared of the twins. Actually, not just of them, but of the rest of you guys, too. Well, maybe not scared, but... intimidated."

    He unfolded his arms and ran his hands through his hair as he took in a deep, steadying breath. "Now, though, I''m beginning to see that we''re all a little broken. And broken things might have sharp edges, but that doesn''t mean we should be scared of them. They just need help getting fixed."

    Caden blinked. "What did you guys talk about?"

    Devon gave an embarrassed smile. "I was talking about myself, mostly. As firstborn son, I''ve got a lot of pressure riding on me. When my arcanophanic capabilities surfaced, my father sent me straight to the best preparatory school. I was barred from the kitchens since he wanted me to ''have absolute focus on that which is important''. Well, I became pretty miserable, and I got it in my head that the only way to escape the pressure was to... well, you know."

    He sighed. "Anyway, long story short, my mom got wind of it, and she told me about the pressure she faced, because she was trying hard to give my dad a child because they had a few miscarriages before I was born. She said it felt like it was her fault, and she also once considered taking the permanent option out."

    "So she talked me out of it, and later, even though I didn''t want her to, she told my dad what she had caught me planning. He got angry at me, but then she got angry at him. That was the only time I''ve ever seen my mom shout my dad down. In the end, once we had all aired everything, I was allowed to decide how and where I spent my free time as long as I tried my best at arcanophany."

    Caden shook his head. "That''s... a lot of stuff you had to deal with. I had no idea."

    "He told me the gist of it back in the Academy, after he found out about my original plans with the lake," Jerric said.

    "Anyway," Devon cleared his throat. "It felt weird talking about myself, but it somehow felt like Ly needed to hear that, and apparently he did. I figured it''s something the twins need to really sit down and talk through. I mean, Caden, you heard a bit of what Kevan said to me earlier, so we know he''s got stuff to deal with too. And now we know a bit of Lynus'' own private demons. This is the kind of stuff that just eats away at you until you air it."

    "Let''s hope the airing doesn''t lead to more trouble," Caden said, glancing worriedly back at where the twins were still talking.

    Devon let out a little huff of annoyance. "Yeah, those two seriously get into fights too quickly. Still, better to have it out. Anyway, I''m hopeful because I think Prophecy is on our side here."

    Out of the corner of his eye, Caden saw Ambrose shift uncomfortably, but when he glanced over, Ambrose gave a noncommital shrug.

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    Jerric had caught it too. He frowned at Ambrose, though it was more a sign of deep thought rather than annoyance. "If you can pin down the threads of the Prophecy with some accuracy, we may be able to use it to our advantage. But until you''re sure, maybe it''s best if you try not to accidentally drop hints."

    "I''ll try, but it''s really not that simple," Ambrose said helplessly.

    "So, we were in the middle of going over our plans before the twins erupted," Caden said, glancing back at the twins again. "It doesn''t look like they''re going to be done anytime soon. Should we come up with something first, then fill them in later?"

    "That depends on how safe we are," Jerric pointed out. "If we have more time to plan, I''d like to involve them. Ambrose, you were talking about how we can keep people off our trail?"

    "Right. Well, Lynus'' trick won''t work because the enemy knows to look for the hairline crack. The Empire''s agents will be able to do that too. My method is different." He thought for a moment, then offered a simple explanation. "I can''t tell you how it''s done yet, but basically, within a certain radius I can mask the identifying traits of our auric-ambient-flares. As long as we''re in a populated area, we''ll just look like random people."

    "But our auric-ambient-flares aren''t hidden?" Jerric asked.

    Ambrose shook his head. "They''re not, so it''s only useful in certain circumstances. If we''re out in the middle of the wilderness, they wouldn''t recognise us, but they would still spot us. Basically, we''re wearing the equivalent of arcanic disguises."

    "Do you think you guys might be able to figure out a way to hide us completely?" Jerric asked, looking at both Ambrose and Caden. "I haven''t the faintest idea how that might be possible, but the two of you have access to oblivion, so... I honestly don''t know what might be possible."

    Caden bit his lip, his mind going to the shell around him, which he had only just recently learned was some sort of bestowment of power by the augera that apparently did more than just provide him with immunity against all prophetic influence. "Maybe? I''ve, uh, got to think about that for awhile. But if we can''t hide ourselves, then what other options do we have?"

    Jerric thought it over. "We''ve got the wings, so if it comes to it we can probably ditch the trailer and outrun any pursuit. Unless they''re winged too, in which case we''d be forced into a confrontation. If we''ve seen the extent of their combat capabilities already, we might be able to risk an encounter and get out of it alive, but I don''t like the idea of taking that chance."

    "If we encounter the Empire''s agents, they won''t be trying to kill us," Devon pointed out.

    "They won''t, but that doesn''t mean getting caught by them is good for us either." Jerric replied. "We''d have to beat them to be free of them, and that comes with its own set of problems even if we do manage to win the engagement. Like, would we be arrested when we get back?"

    "Probably not, but you''re right about having to fight them anyway," Devon answered.

    "But there''s another problem," Ambrose noted. "If we ditch the trailer, that means our expedition is over."

    "Right," Jerric nodded. "We need it as a base of operations since we''ve got no other way to manage all our supplies. This is problematic... if we were headed for an abandoned Spire that wasn''t so isolated, we might''ve been able to just drive to the fringe of a civilised area, then use the wings. But as it stands, the one we''re headed for is too far out for a there-and-back journey by wings alone. I was counting on us being able to travel via trailer for most of the way, and we only use the wings as a last-mile kind of thing, or as a safety precaution."

    "So this hinges on us finding a way to travel concealed?" Caden asked.

    "Well, that''s all I can come up with at the moment," Jerric said, sighing.

    "Maybe the twins and Emilia will have some ideas," Devon suggested.

    The four of them glanced over. Emilia was still watching the twins, who were still deep in conversation. It looked like Lynus was unloading a lot of baggage. Kevan looked tense, but he was visibly holding himself back from cutting in, allowing his brother to go on. Once in awhile, he would give a curt nod to indicate acceptance or concede a point.

    "We might be here ''til dinner," Caden observed. "Anyway, we''re probably safe enough here. If they haven''t caught up to us by now, then it''s likely that they''ve overlooked us since our auric-ambient-flares are masked. We can give them time, then fill them in and see what ideas they might have."

    "In the meantime, why not you and Ambrose see how far you can get in trying to find a way to hide us more completely?" Jerric asked.

    Caden glanced at Ambrose, then turned back to Jerric. "He can get a headstart on that. There''s... something I need to work through first."

    Jerric gave him a look of confusion and was about to press the matter, but Devon was the one who stepped in. "You''ll keep us posted when you can, right?" he asked breezily.

    "When I can," Caden nodded gratefully. "Yeah."

    Jerric went back into the trailer to look over their resources while Devon stayed outside with Ambrose, keeping a casual eye on Emilia and the twins. That left Caden free to find a quiet space for himself away from everyone else. He walked away from the trailer and closer to the road but made sure to stay within shouting distance.

    The breathing exercises had elevated his awareness of his auric-ambient-flare quite significantly. He was already intimately familiar with how it interfaced with his physical body, but now with his most recent epiphany, he was also finally realising for the first time how it was scaffolded by the shell that the augera had laid over him. The shell curled protectively around him, but also connected to him on a deep, foundational level.

    ''What is this?'' he asked again, softly. ''What does this gift do?''

    ''Much,'' came the whispered reply of the augera. ''What does the unchosen-sighted-{~?~} need now?''

    ''Is it really that simple? I ask, and you provide, no strings attached?''

    A subtle wave of amusement floated over his consciousness. If he hadn''t been so tuned to the flow of arcana, he might have missed it completely. For some reason, the connection to the augera was so faint. Or perhaps they were, in their words, moving softly. ''Strings always attached. But you choose your strings, {~?~}. What do you need?''

    Caden steeled himself. ''I need a way to hide auric-ambient-flares.''

 116. First Principles

    By the time the twins were done talking the sun had already dipped below the treeline, casting long shadows across the tarmac. With Emilia, they returned to the trailer and sat near where Devon had preemptively started preparing dinner in the outdoor kitchen together with Jerric. The warm glow of a small globe light kept the encroaching darkness at bay, creating a little bubble of cosiness. Inside the trailer, Ambrose had sequestered himself inside the trailer in an attempt to experiment and figure out how to hide auric-ambient-flares.

    Caden, however, was still standing alone near the road with a little globe light of his own for company. Occasionally, a passing car would flood the area with light and he sometimes caught glimpses of inquisitive faces inside turned in his direction, but they all continued on their way. As the darkness deepened, fewer and fewer cars sped by, until at last the night was completely quiet except for the distant sound of conversation from the trailer.

    When the sun''s last lingering fingers of light faded from the sky, Caden decided that it was time to head back to the others. His request for help from the augera had been answered in an instant, but he stayed away because he needed the time to sort through the knowledge he had just received. And, more importantly, he needed to come to terms with the implications of what he had just been gifted with.

    The augera hadn''t taught him how to hide auric-ambient-flares per-se. They had given him a pattern of thought that made hiding auric-ambient-flares possible, but that was simply one small application of it. Even now, after several hours, his subconscious mind was still drawing connections and picking up on faint possibilities.

    When he wandered back into the globe light near the trailer, the conversation came to a halt.

    "Hey Caden," Devon said, managing to sound cheerful. "Dinner''s almost ready. You alright?"

    "Yeah, fine," he answered, his throat dry. He cleared it and looked around, his vision supplemented with more information by his arcanic senses. It was a little alarming for him to realise just how much more acute his senses were after his request had been granted.

    The twins weren''t exactly relaxed, but he could sense a subtle shift in their auric-ambient-flares that indicated there was less tension between the two of them now. Jerric seemed morose, and there was a melancholic twist to his threads that Caden supposed that had to do with how he was probably thinking about what had happened to his mother since Devon and Lynus had brought up the spectre of suicide. Emilia was deep in thought, but her auric-ambient-flare was as clear and serene as a frozen lake, in sharp contrast to the roiling emotions in Devon.

    "I''m fine," he repeated, slightly dazed. He took in a bracing breath of the chilly air and turned to Emilia and the twins. "Have you guys been brought up to speed?"

    Kevan nodded. "As it stands, if you and Ambrose can''t figure out a way to hide our auric-ambient-flares, we''ve got to take our chances. Now that we''ve seen how the enemy agents work in combat, we can plan around it and try to hit them hard and fast. There''s a good chance we can beat them if we know they''re coming, which we do."

    "You think it''s worth risking engagement with enemy agents?" Caden asked.

    "Unless you want to call off this expedition, we have to risk it," Lynus pointed out. "Regardless of whether we have a way to hide, there''s always a chance they can crack it, like how they managed to adapt to my method. It''s just that if you or Ambrose can hide us, then we''ve at least got the element of surprise, and maybe a chance of being able to travel completely undetected."

    Caden sighed and sat down heavily in an empty chair. "Yep. You''re right. Well, the good news is I''ve got a way."

    Everyone looked up in surprise. "You just figured it out like that?" Devon asked, shaking his head in a mixture of awe and disbelief.

    "No," Caden smiled mirthlessly. "I got help from the augera."

    "How?" Jerric asked, slightly alarmed. "Wouldn''t their involvement draw the Fateweavers'' attention?"

    "It''s fine," Caden waved a hand wearily. "Long story, most of which I can''t share yet. Anyway, they''ve given me a way to hide our auric-ambient-flares, so we can keep going."

    "What are the practical limits?" Emilia asked, emerging from her reverie.

    Caden''s brow furrowed as he considered what he had learned. "I... actually don''t know. Honestly, it doesn''t seem to have any practical limits."

    Emilia frowned. "That seems unlikely. If we were in combat, would your concealment keep us completely undetectable even while we were actively manipulating arcana?"

    "I think so," Caden said uncertainly. "Honestly, the theoretical framework seems to suggest that, but maybe my implementation will be imperfect and we won''t get that result."

    "Sounds like we should test it a little, then," Kevan said, glancing at his brother. "Wanna do a simple duel?"

    "No," Emilia cut in sharply. "We''re out in the open where combat-grade sequences can be easily be noticed in the arcana. There''s almost nothing and no one around us for miles. If Caden''s method doesn''t work in combat, we could be advertising our presence."

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    "Maybe if you explain it to us, we can figure out what some practical limitations are?" Jerric suggested.

    Caden sighed. "It''s... not something that the augera want me to share with others yet. And even if I didn''t care about that, it''s also not something I can explain. The augera sort of just... ''wrote'' the knowledge into my mind. I''m still not totally done figuring everything out myself, but I''ve got enough understanding to make it work even if I don''t fully understanding all the mechanics."

    Jerric looked troubled and Lynus was clearly unhappy, but Kevan was the one who spoke up. He shrugged. "Well, we don''t really need to know. If you can handle the concealment alone, the rest of us can work around it. I guess we''ll just try to be as discreet as possible and limit our use of arcana, just to be safe."

    "What about artefacts?" Emilia asked, glancing at the trailer.

    "We don''t need to be that cautious," Caden said. "I''m not sure about how it works in active combat yet, but I''m pretty sure we''ll be covered outside of combat if we stick to artefacts and our non-combat sequences."

    It was Emilia''s turn to look troubled. "If you cannot explain the mechanics and give us clearly defined practical limitations, it seems best to err on the side of caution."

    "I get that," Caden conceded. "How about this бк I''ll run some small experiments with Ambrose to see how much arcana we can safely use without being detected. We''ll do it before we leave tomorrow, so even if we leave some traces, we''ll be gone by the time anyone comes to check it out."

    "Good idea," Jerric said approvingly. Emilia thought it over, then nodded as well.

    "Alright. I''ll go talk it over with him now," Caden said, getting to his feet.

    The trailer was completely dark inside. Caden felt a momentary pang of alarm since it seemed like Ambrose had run off somewhere, but he relaxed when he picked up on Ambrose''s presence a moment later. He was lying on one of the bunk beds and as Caden drew closer, a little globe light sprang into existence so that the place was now dimly lit.

    "You figured it out," Ambrose said, still staring up at the ceiling. His globe light drifted lazily in small circles over him. "Or rather, the augera helped you."

    "You can tell?" Caden asked, a little surprised.

    "Just a guess. There''s something different about you. Don''t know how to phrase it. Your auric-ambient-flare is the same, but its... its ''resonance'' is changed somehow."

    "Makes sense," Caden muttered, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the bunk facing Ambrose. "Did you manage to come up with something?"

    "No," Ambrose answered, finally turning his head so he could look at Caden. "I don''t suppose you''ll tell me how we can do it?"

    "I would if I could," Caden said, looking closely at Ambrose. "Is something wrong?"

    "I think I''m a little slow here, but it only just occurred to me that if you''re going to champion the augera and free them, then at some point the Prophecy is going to force me to act against you," Ambrose said quietly.

    A heavy silence filled the air. It was something that had occurred to Caden, but it was the kind of thought that he had simply pushed out of his mind because he didn''t want to consider it too closely.

    "Yep," Caden said at last. "I had thought of that."

    "It''s really, really obvious, and I don''t know why I didn''t think of it until earlier, after Lynus talked about being forced to do things he didn''t want to," Ambrose said, looking up at the ceiling again. "So when did you realise?"

    Caden leaned forward and sighed, trying to think back. "I think maybe back when we all just learned about the augera wanting to be free. We all started talking about me being a catalyst that might allow you to be the one who decides to free the augera, and that''s definitely possible, so that''s the thing I focused on. But back then, it did occur to me that it might possibly bring us into conflict."

    "Does that bother you?" Ambrose asked.

    "Of course it does!" Caden tousled his hair again in frustration. "We''re friends, aren''t we?"

    "Yeah, we are." Ambrose''s response was almost too soft to hear. "I''d prefer if it didn''t come to that."

    "The augera said that they want me to challenge the will-curse-test, whatever that is," Caden said, striving to keep his voice even. "They didn''t say anything about challenging the Chosen One."

    "What if the Chosen One ends up being one obstacle along the way?"

    "Is he going to be?" Caden asked, getting to his feet and standing over Ambrose so he could look him directly in the eye. "Do you know something about it? Is it a knot of some kind?"

    "I don''t know," Ambrose said, turning his face away.

    "Ambrose!" Caden grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to a sitting position. "If you know, tell me!"

    "Why?" Ambrose demanded, suddenly angry. He stood up, threw Caden''s hands off, and pushed him back a step. "So you can get a headstart on me?"

    "No, you idiot," Caden said, gritting his teeth and repressing the urge to shove Ambrose back. "So I can help you!"

    Ambrose stared at him for a moment, then sat back down heavily. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

    Caden didn''t trust himself not to say something snarky, so he simply sat down as well, breathing deeply through flared nostrils.

    It was a minute or so before Ambrose broke the silence. "You remember you once asked me... if I had a real choice, if I would still want to be the Chosen One?"

    "I remember. You said something about how the Prophecy gives your life a purpose, a meaning, a goal."

    Ambrose nodded. "When I learned I was the Chosen One, it was the best thing that happened to me. I got a whole new life, and the promise of a future beyond my wildest dreams. Can you imagine what it''s like, to learn that you''re destined to become a Fateweaver? My path was so clearly marked. And now... now I know what it feels like to have lives in my hands. What it means. What it all comes with. And now I know the stakes a little better, it actually scares me. But so does the alternative of undoing the Prophecy. Because at least with the Prophecy, there''s a path. You know?"

    "I get it," Caden said heavily. "I don''t envy your position. And I''m kinda in the same boat myself, except as far as I know I don''t have any prophetic links that will literally force me to do things."

    "But that makes all the difference," Ambrose said, looking up at Caden in anguish. "Because at the end of the day, you won''t have to live with yourself being twisted to do something you don''t want to do. But I will."

    "So what does this mean? Are you asking me not to help the augera?" Caden felt his chest tighten in sudden fear.

    "N-no." Ambrose looked down at his hands and started twisting them in frustration. "I don''t know. All this stuff just occurred to me. All I know is that I don''t want us to end up on opposite sides. I''m... I''m afraid the Prophecy might force me to... to..."

    Caden stood up, then took a deep breath. "Then teach me," he said.

    "What?" Ambrose looked up, a little confused.

    "Teach me how to pass knowledge on through the arcana," Caden replied firmly. "Give me what I need to become a Fateweaver, and we''ll tear the whole shitty system down together so no one has to fear being twisted by arcanophany to act against their will. Not even the Chosen One."

 117. Foresight

    Ambrose simply stared at Caden. The moment stretched but Caden didn''t back off бк he simply waited patiently, a look of determination on his face. Privately, he was a little surprised at himself for making such an audacious proclamation, but he had come to realise that it was high time he started making use of the agency he had been invested with. There was still a terrible fear of how things could go badly wrong now that he knew more about the scale of the Prophecy, but it was becoming increasingly clear that his non-action was not going to cut it either. The Prophecy would have his family and his friends serving its needs regardless of whether or not it was in their best interests. It supposedly would work out for the good of the Empire, but the unflinching disregard it had for the holistic well-being of individuals, even the ones involved in its fulfilment like the anchors and the Chosen One, was too... inhumane.

    Finally, Ambrose found his voice. "Tear it down," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "I know you want to broker some sort of peace with the augera and free them all, but it really just occurred to me that it amounts to tearing down the whole framework the Fateweavers have made. I''d no longer be the Chosen One. All prophecies will be dismantled without the augera."

    Caden nodded. "At first, I thought all I had to do was introduce enough instability into the Prophecy so you''d be free to be the one who did that. But now, I think that all along the augera have meant for me to be the one to do it because they don''t count on you being capable as the Chosen One. Well, I''m tired of both the Fateweavers and the augera trying to play people off against each other. The way I see it, either one of us will end up bringing this whole thing down. We might as well work together."

    "The Prophecy means for me to uphold the reign of the Fateweavers and to be one of them," Ambrose said, smiling thinly. "I have a stake in what we''re planning to bring down."

    "You have a stake in making your own choices," Caden shot back. "You just said you don''t want us to end up on opposite sides. This is it, Ambrose. This is the choice. I''m not backing down. You know why I can''t leave things alone бк my family is tied up in this!"

    "So I have to follow along with you because you can''t give your family up?" Ambrose asked helplessly. "I mean, if we take a step back here and just... just weigh things objectively... you''re asking me to dismantle the Empire and give up my future. Why? For your family?"

    Caden got to his feet, drew in a sharp breath, and almost spat out a bitter retort about how he couldn''t expect Ambrose to understand since he was an orphan, but he bit down hard on his tongue. He exhaled slowly through his nose and forced himself to calm down.

    After a moment, he sat again, facing Ambrose. "If that''s all we need to consider, then why do you care whether or not we end up on opposite sides?" he asked simply. "You should just follow the Prophecy all the way. Why''d you even offer to help me back when I told you about my sister, and about my whole purpose for coming to the Academy to learn how to unmake prophecies?"

    Now it was Ambrose who had gotten to his feet, and he paced up and down the trailer in agitation. "I... I think that was your fault. It wasn''t long after our first meeting, and I think your proximity as the unchosen-sighted-{~?~} loosened the Prophecy''s hold on me. For the first time, there were empty moments where I wasn''t sure what to do. And that conversation was one of them. So I... I went with my gut."

    "My fault?" Caden began, but then decided to abandon that line of questioning. "So this means that you were thinking for yourself without the Prophecy hanging over you. And at that point, you thought helping me was the right thing to do."

    "Yes."

    "Don''t you see?" Caden asked as gently as he could, even though his heart was thumping in a mix of fury and fear. He could sense this was a pivotal moment. "You don''t believe that what the Fateweavers have done is right. Why would you force yourself to join them now that you actually have a choice?"

    Ambrose sat down heavily. "But... doesn''t it scare you? The thought of taking it all down. What if it''s better to leave it be? I mean, who are we to make that decision?"

    Caden looked up at Ambrose. "We''re human. Same as the Fateweavers. They don''t have any more right than we do to play with the lives and minds of people."

    "They''ve given the Empire thousands of years of security, and we''re going to undo all of that."

    "No," Caden replied, shaking his head. "We''re going to free the hearts and minds of people, and extend that same freedom to the augera, and then we''re going to find a better way for everyone to live. A way that feels right."

    "Do you really believe you can do all that?" Ambrose asked, gesturing vaguely to indicate the enormity of the proposition.

    "Not alone. Which is why I''d much rather have us all working together so if this all blows up in our faces, at least I can share the blame," Caden said, cracking a smile.

    Ambrose gave a small snort of laughter but quickly sobered.

    "But seriously," Caden continued with a little sigh, "it does scare me. If I''m honest with myself I also really resent the augera, or just random cosmic chance, for putting me in this situation. But here we are. There are people I care about who are in the line of fire, and even if they weren''t..."

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    He got up and went over to the window to look out at where the others were seated. "You and Lynus have tasted it first-hand бк that fear of being forced by the Prophecy to do something against your will. Is that something you want hanging over every other living soul?"

    He turned back to Ambrose, and now his voice dropped to a murmur. "And will you be okay being one of the people responsible for that?"

    Ambrose shook his head slowly and let out a deep sigh. "No. You''re right. I don''t know what I really want yet... but I know it''s not that."

    "So you''ll teach me, then?"

    In answer, Ambrose got up and formed a knot of arcana in the palm of his hand, which he extended to Caden. As before, it seemed to carry a faint resemblemce to the ''flavour'' of ensorcelment, but now that Caden was paying closer attention and it wasn''t in the middle of pitched battle, he could pick up hints of other things.

    ''What is it, exactly?'' he directed to the augera.

    ''Knowing,'' they replied simply. ''The shape of it in the mind. The shadow of thought.''

    He understood the words, but he suspected that language was failing to convey the full idea. In any case the augera didn''t seem to think this was unsafe, and if he accepted it he would know for himself exactly what it was. He reached out and took the knot of arcana from Ambrose, allowing it to melt into his auric-ambient-flare.

    When it flowered in his mind, it was with a bit of anti-climax. The augera had been quite concise бк it was the essence of ''knowing'' something. More precisely, what Ambrose had shared with him made him suddenly completely aware of exactly how knowledge itself sat in his auric-ambient-flare. In physical terms it was like suddenly being able to feel your own blood coursing through each and every vein. You knew it was there all along, but it was now possible to trace its path.

    More importantly, now that he knew how knowledge itself was stored in an auric-ambient-flare, he realised it was possible to do more than just pass along his own knowledge. He could find this same pattern in someone else''s auric-ambient-flare and modify it.

    "This is one part of how Reeves wiped everyone''s memory of you," Caden breathed.

    Ambrose nodded. "It must be. And he probably tapped into the Spire network to do this to everyone in the Empire."

    "But you said this is one of the building blocks of becoming a Fateweaver. Does that mean he...?"

    "No, I''m pretty sure he''s not a Fateweaver. They must have allowed him to learn this, while keeping him from attaining other important bits of knowledge. Plus, he worked with the Demiurge, so that''s probably how he had access to the Spire network. It''s not something he did alone."

    Caden suddenly realised that Ambrose had been right to fear giving him a headstart by revealing exactly how knowledge could be passed along through arcana. Even as Ambrose spoke about other bits of knowledge, Caden made a connection between this essence of knowledge and the presence-shielding technique the augera had just taught him. He couldn''t stop himself from gasping aloud.

    "What?" Ambrose asked sharply.

    Caden thought quickly, then made up his mind. He rooted through his auric-ambient-flare and extracted echoes from the threads that formed that piece of knowledge, weaving them into a knot of arcana which he held out to Ambrose. "It''s better if I show you."

    Ambrose hesitated, then accepted it. He looked a little surprised. "That''s what it takes to hide someone''s auric-ambient-flare? We pull them into oblivion? No, wait, that''s not..."

    "I''m still figuring out the mechanics myself. I don''t think I sent the idea across properly. Did you get the framework at least?"

    Ambrose frowned. "I know how to do it, but I don''t know how it works."

    "Right. See, there''s the part where the arcanist doing this has to dip into oblivion. But there''s that weird twisting thing that pulls another person''s auric-ambient-flare into it too, while leaving their conscious mind in the arcanic sea we''re more familiar with, or in the physical world. I didn''t know how that worked, but it just occurred to me that this knowing thing must be how. You pull them into oblivion, but you modify their perception so that they''re not overwhelmed. Then they''re hidden in oblivion, but they move freely in the arcana. The only drawback I see here is that they won''t be able to see their own auric-ambient-flares."

    Ambrose shook his head wonderingly. "That kind of separation of consciousness..."

    "That''s not important," Caden said agitatedly, waving a hand. "Do you realise what this means? If you can separate a person''s mind from their auric-ambient-flare and they can still freely manipulate the ambient arcana, and you can effectively still function as a full arcanist even while your auric-ambient-flare is hidden in oblivion, you''d be practically invulnerable to anything except a direct line-of-sight attack."

    "That''s... it''s not that simple," Ambrose said, frowning. "A smart thaumaturgist can still locate your physical body with arcana even if your auric-ambient-flare is hidden. And area-of-effect sequences can bombard an area as long as you have a target location in mind."

    "But, okay, wait, forget combat, there are too many ideas," Caden said, struggling to settle on one thing. "Just... just this whole idea of separation. If your auric-ambient-flare can be totally disconnected from your consciousness, and proximity doesn''t matter any more... do you see?"

    Ambrose blinked. "The Demiurge. You think this is how he seems to teleport? The body he makes is just an illusion, but with physical substance because he uses arcana to emulate touch?"

    "Yes!" Caden said excitedly. "And if he can do it, then why can''t we?"

    Ambrose''s eyes widened. "We can find a safe place to bunker down, and just send out our consciousness. And then withdraw in the blink of an eye. We''d be totally safe since our auric-ambient-flares are hidden, and our physical bodies aren''t even there."

    "YES!" Caden repeated.

    "That''s an idea," Ambrose said, his eyes gleaming. "We''ll have to test it out to see if that''s really how this works. But..."

    "But what?" Caden asked, deflating a little, wondering if he had overlooked something important about the principles.

    "If it works, and if we want the others to come along on this, we have to share how to do these things with them," Ambrose pointed out. "... Do we?"

    Caden''s heart sank even further as he considered the idea. If it were just Jerric and Devon, or even Emilia, he would have answered ''yes'' in a heartbeat. But the idea of giving this kind of virtually unrivalled power to the twins gave him pause.

    The question was... did he trust them enough?

 118. Plans of Engagement

    The question looming over both Ambrose and Caden was put on hold when Devon came looking for them to tell them that dinner was ready. Before they climbed out, Caden whispered a hasty explanation of the current plan to test how much arcana they could channel and still have their auric-ambient-flares hidden, and to have that done just before they set off tomorrow.

    Despite their austere surroundings, Devon had managed to conjure up a dinner of seared cod, mashed potatoes, and mixed greens. The good food proved a welcome distraction from the pressures they faced, and the atmosphere was a lot more relaxed.

    "How did you manage all this?" Kevan asked, savouring a bite of the fish as he waved a fork vaguely at the whole set-up.

    "We''re well-stocked," Devon replied matter-of-factly. "But don''t expect this the whole way. I''m using all the fresh perishables first. Our meals will get simpler once we''ve gone through them."

    "But still, how?" Kevan nodded at the skillet and the stove, which were the only implements that seemed to be around.

    "Practical application of arcanophany." This time, there was a hint of smugness in Devon''s reply. "In a pinch, I can even do without the skillet OR the stove, but that''d be a lot more work and the result might not be as good."

    "So you just sliced the ingredients with arcana?" Lynus asked, now intrigued.

    "He used a knife at first," Jerric replied. "Then he started trying things out."

    Caden frowned. "You know the glyphs to make a cutting edge out of arcana alone?"

    Devon shook his head. "No, so I tried with pure focus, but I can''t get the form and density right. I figured out another way, though."

    The rest were listening with great interest now. In theory arcana could be shaped into any physical form, allowing arcanists to conjure objects if they made use of the glyph of transmutation to turn the arcana into something solid. However, without the structure and stability of other glyphs beyond the Advanced Set, it was almost impossible to hold arcana in a useful physical form long enough to be of any practical use. The conjurations in the Academy''s duelling chambers and other places like the Ka''atus Room were sustained by intricate glyphwork scribed into the venue itself. How Devon had managed to sidestep this was a mystery.

    "I''m guessing you guys want to know how?" Devon asked a little sheepishly, looking a little uncomfortable with the intense stares from the rest.

    Only Jerric was smiling slightly and shaking his head. "What do you think?" he said, rolling his eyes. "Go on, tell them."

    "You know, too?" Caden asked.

    "Well, I saw him do it, and he explained it to me. It''s quite clever."

    Devon coughed, looking a little abashed. "Right. Well. We''ve got no problems demarcating boundaries with barriers, right?"

    "But barriers don''t cut, they justбк" Kevan began.

    "Yes, yes," Devon cut back in, "I wasn''t finished! So I used a tiny barrier to serve as a point of focus for where I want to cut. It takes a bit of practice and concentration to get it to be wafer-thin, but once you do, you can sort of slide it through the material you''re cutting since it''s just pure arcana. Then you apply the glyph of transmutation and turn it corporeal, and that bisects your original material. It''s actually faster to just use a proper knife, but I wanted to practice anyway."

    There was a stunned silence as the rest digested this.

    Lynus was the first to ask in a hushed whisper, "Does that work on bigger things?"

    "Like people?" Devon smiled grimly. "Yeah that occurred to me when I managed it. I imagine it could. But I faced more бк I guess you could say ''resistance'' бк when I tried this on the cod compared to the vegetables. The potatoes were tough too. I''m thinking that the size of the material matters."

    "I don''t think it''ll work on people," Caden said, absently tapping his fork against his plate. "This method relies on sliding a wafer-thin panel of arcana through the substance you want to cut, and then transmuting it. People have auric-ambient-flares that don''t allow that to happen. And a standard shield would stop it even if the auric-ambient-flare didn''t."

    There were nods of agreement all around, and a small sigh of relief from Devon. "Good to know I didn''t just accidentally invent an easy way to kill people," he muttered.

    "You may wish you had if we run into enemy agents," Jerric said darkly.

    Kevan shook his head. "I''m with Dev on this. I''m glad it doesn''t work. That''s one less dirty trick we need to look out for when fighting. Can you imagine if those enemy agents could do that? We might not even have made it out of the manor."

    "Cheerful thought," Lynus remarked, taking a bite of cod.

    "So did you bring Ambrose up to speed?" Jerric asked, turning to Caden.

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    Caden exchanged glances with Ambrose. "I did, yeah. We''ll figure out tonight what tests we should try, then be ready to run them tomorrow morning."

    "Right, regardless of the results, our plan is to head for the abandoned Spire regardless," Jerric said. "As Lynus pointed out earlier, what we need to do is settle a plan for how to deal with enemy agents if we encounter them. Even if we can pass undetected at first, we shouldn''t assume we''ll always be hidden."

    "We know they gestalt very effectively," Lynus noted. "We need to be ready to do the same at a moment''s notice. We should pre-assign positions in a variety of gestalts."

    Jerric nodded. "Ambrose and Caden are the most capable in arcanic manipulation, but if we put both of them on attack duty, we risk being overwhelmed like before."

    "Kev and I can handle defence now that we know how they work," Lynus insisted.

    "We can handle it if they work the same way," Kevan clarified. "I''d feel better if either Ambrose or Caden were on defence as well. They''re the ones who can deal with new and unusual shit a lot better."

    "But I was only able to eliminate the enemy gestalt that quickly back at the manor because Caden was acting as a really powerful conduit," Ambrose said softly. "Next to him, I think Emilia has the best arcanic flow, but I don''t think it''ll be enough. If I can''t end it decisively, the engagement can become a lot more protracted, which isn''t to our advantage."

    Jerric frowned, looking at each of them in turn before addressing Ambrose. "How big of a shortfall would there be if we really do have to swap Caden out with Emilia?"

    Ambrose chewed his lip as he thought it over. "I''d need Emila, and you at the very least. And one more to be safe, otherwise we risk severe overdraw."

    There was some surprised murmuring from everyone else, but Caden had already figured that the difference was somewhere on that scale. The memory of being almost literally drained made him shudder a little.

    Jerric shot Caden an appraising look, then turned back to the matter at hand. "The last time, we had both twins, Emilia, and Devon on defence. Caden, do you think you can make do with just you and the twins?"

    "I think so, if the twins go over that last engagement with me," Caden said, though he felt far from confident. "I saw the agents in action, but Emilia and I were running decoys, not direct defence."

    "That''ll have to do, then," Jerric said, though he, too, didn''t look confident about their arrangements. "Our previous set-up didn''t have a strong-enough defence, so we''d be mad to try that again. Let''s hope we won''t have to test this out."

    "We may not have to, if that hiding thing works perfectly!" Devon said, trying to sound optimistic.

    "Well, enemy agents aside, what do we do if we run into Empire agents who''re trying to get us back to a safehouse?" Jerric asked.

    "Can Devon invoke some authority?" Kevan asked seriously.

    "What?" Devon blinked as everyone turned to him again. He shook his head emphatically. "Guys, my father''s the one with the authority. If anything, they''d be especially sure not to listen to me. I''m sure my father has given them express orders to have me safely delivered back even if they have to knock me unconscious."

    "It was worth considering," Jerric said, grinning a little. "I''m sure you''ll get some use out of your title yet."

    Devon snorted. Jerric was about to go on when Ambrose spoke up. "Actually, I may be able to call them off."

    There were multiple exclamations of surprise and incredulity as everyone''s head snapped to Ambrose.

    He smiled sheepishly at them. "The agents who escorted me to the manor have been with me for a long time. I kinda know the anchor agent, and she''s hinted before that while they take their orders from their, uh, organisation, they''re sort of unofficially supposed to defer to my judgement in some matters."

    "You can command Imperial Nightwatchers?" Devon asked, stunned.

    "Nightwatchers? The agents guarding us are Nightwatchers?" Lynus repeated, looking from Devon to Ambrose.

    "Fates, we''re in deep," Kevan muttered, rubbing his forehead.

    Jerric frowned. "That''s... both alarming and disappointing. You mean to say we managed to evade Nightwatchers to get to the Spire and back with that whole business with Caden?"

    "To be fair, we had the help of the augera," Devon pointed out, before turning to the twins. "Yeah, my father''s got some pull, so he managed to get the Imperial Nightwatchers on our case. I''m guessing the ones with Ambrose were assigned way before my dad got involved, though."

    Ambrose nodded. "Since after the Prophecy was revealed to me. They''re not allowed on Academy grounds, so they set up camp just outside."

    "All winter?" Caden remarked, shaking his head. "What a job."

    "They''re Nightwatchers," Kevan said with a tinge of reverence. "Wouldn''t have inconvenienced them much at all. They''re really tough. Their training is supposed to be insane."

    Caden nodded, recalling Ms Fen and Ms Rain and their battle against the enemy agents when they had been ambushed just outside of Creyvlor. Even if they hadn''t won, the two of them had managed to put up a hearty resistance against superior numbers while protecting him.

    "Okay, wait," Lynus interrupted. "So Ambrose, you can technically just tell the Nightwatchers to back off? Like, they answer to you?"

    Ambrose sighed. "I wasn''t even supposed to let people know I had Nightwatchers shadowing me. Anyway, I think I can tell them to back off. It''s been hinted that if I ever pull the Chosen One card on them, they''ll defer to my judgement on certain matters, but I was never told what might fall under that category. If we run into them, I can try, but there''s no guarantee that this is one of those ''matters'' where they''ll listen to me."

    "We can try that first," Jerric said hesitantly. "If that doesn''t work, should we fight?"

    "No," Ambrose said decisively. "The Nightwatchers are on our side, and I won''t be able to fend them off unless I''m seriously trying to kill them, which I don''t want to do. I say if they find us, we go quietly."

    "After all the trouble we went through to get this far?" Jerric asked, shooting a glance at Caden.

    "Why are you looking at me?" Caden asked, a little bewildered.

    "Should we fight?" Jerric asked again, this time directing the question at him.

    Caden blinked, realising that Jerric was doing this because he assumed that the Prophecy was pressuring Ambrose into getting them all to retreat. He looked hard at Ambrose, who merely gave him a wry smile and shrugged, as if to say, "It''s up to you."

    "I... don''t want us to hurt them, but I don''t think we should just go with them," Caden said finally. "Can we try running distractions and see if we can lose them again?"

    "We don''t have a city to blow up like the last time we wanted to lose a bunch of pursuers," Lynus said sarcastically. Kevan gave his brother a sharp jab in the ribs and glared. Lynus scowled back, but looked appropriately contrite. "Sorry, Cade."

    Caden''s throat had gone suddenly dry. He made a noise of acknowledgement, then got up and left his empty plate on his chair before walking off to the edge of the lot, near the treeline where the twins had spent so much time talking earlier that day.

    Kevan sighed and shook his head at his brother. "You know what? This time, you can keep the ''asshole'' hat. I think you wear it better than me."

 119. Soul-Searching

    The sun had well and truly set now, and the woods were shrouded in shadow. Caden stepped off the asphalt and onto the cold, hard earth. Even though they weren''t in the middle of winter, it seemed much colder this far from the city. A little of the chill on the ground seemed to seep through his hiking boots (courtesy of Devon), but far from shying away from the discomfort, Caden found himself perversely relishing it. Focusing on physical things kept him from ruminating too much.

    He drew in a deep breath, paying special attention to how the cold air seemed to brace him from within. His heart was still racing a little бк evidence of how Lynus'' comment had really gotten to him бк but taking in lungfuls of the winter chill was helping him to calm down. Subconsciously, he was also falling into the breathing patterns that Emilia had taught them. He realised belatedly that her exhortation to notice everything in order to aid arcanic manipulation dovetailed quite neatly with his own personal habit of grounding himself in the physical world whenever he needed to recentre himself. Perhaps there was something worth investigating there.

    But that was not why he had come here away from the rest. He did not want to think about arcana, or new branches of arcanophany to explore, or about the augera. For the first time since he had joined the Academy, he felt sick of arcanophany. Sick of what he had done with it, and the position he was in now because of it.

    He just wanted to go home. The short time he had spent with his mother and sister felt like more than a lifetime ago. With a pang of sadness, he realised the last time the whole family had been under the same roof was more than half a year ago.

    Absently, Caden conjured a small globe light so he wasn''t standing in total darkness. He folded his arms, intending to keep himself warm, but it felt more like he was desperately hugging himself even as he felt wave after wave of homesickness wash over him.

    How had it come to this? When he first purposed to unravel the prophecy over his sister, he did have some notion that what he was undertaking would be monumentally challenging. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would be embroiled in things of such staggering scale.

    And it never occurred to him that he would have ever had to kill.

    The faces of his parents and his sister seemed to swim in his head as he weighed them against the faceless victims that had been injured or murdered by the explosion he had set off in Geldor. The mysterious assailants were among that number too, though it was a little easier to justify their deaths because they had come after him and his friends with murderous intent. But they were still lives that had been snuffed out at his metaphorical hands. Somehow, the fact that he hadn''t actually seen the aftermath with his own eyes made it worse. The massive explosion that he had seen from a distance became something more horrific in his mind''s eye as he imagined what it must have been like to be one of the oblivious passersby on the street.

    What must it have been like? The arcana must have been so dense that even the uninitiated would have sensed something was wrong. Perhaps there was a brief moment of fear and panic in their eyes as the arcana around them ignited before the world turned to fire and agony a split-second later. Even if it happened quickly, surely there was an instant of infinite suffering when their flesh was washed off their bones, before his terrible, clumsy unraveling of the sequence turned those bones to dust on the wind.

    It was a sick thought, but a part of him hoped that he had left some bodies behind. There ought to be some remnant to mark his crime. How awful, how terrible would it be if he had erased any trace of his victims, and left nothing for their loved ones to bury? He imagined himself in their place бк standing over a vacant casket with only the pictures of his sister, mother, and father. No last look at their mortal form. Nothing to lower into the grave except an empty coffin. Nothing to visit except tombstones over symbolic plots of soil. And the epitaph would ring hollow бк "Here lies..."

    How appalling to realise that it had only taken him a thought to do all that. And now the augera were conspiring to place even more power in his hands. How monstrous.

    ''Monstrous,'' the voices of the augera in the shell echoed. Was it his imagination, or did they seem a little sad?

    But their whispers were a violation of his privacy. Even here, in the silence of his mind, they were bound to him. He felt anger and indignation flare within him and the arcana around him soured with his emotions. The globe light turned from a soft, cool blue into a murderous red.

    "Monstrous," he ground out through gritted teeth, and also into the arcana. "You. The Fateweavers. All of you, monstrous!"

    There was a faint echo of a memory. The augera themselves were dredging it up from his traumatized past бк this same word had come up when he had been possessed by the Creyvlor augera. It had toyed with an agent before killing him slowly, and the man''s dying words decried Caden, or the augera, or both of them, as ''monstrous''.

    ''Yes,'' the augera replied, echoing the words of the Creyvlor augera in the memory. ''Empire is monstrous.''

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    And yet, their reply did not come with a sense of justification or blame. They were not trying to excuse their deeds. Instead, Caden felt overwhelming remorse coming from them.

    The augera in the shell stirred, and Caden realised with a jolt that there was something more about it that he hadn''t noticed before. Thus far, he had managed to discern two voices бк the Academy augera and the Geldor augera бк and he thought that only the two of them were a part of the shell. It made sense, because the Academy augera was the one who had made it for him, and when his mind was restored by the Geldor augera, he assumed that it had taken the opportunity to ''install'' a part of itself in the shell as well. But now he realised that there were other echoes of other augera in the shell as well. There were other voices he did not recognise.

    ''Whatбк'' he began, panicking a little as he considered the shell more closely and found it opening up to his senses, revealing a terrifying depth of mystery.

    ''All monstrous,'' the chorus said, with an unknown augera''s voice drowning out the others. It seemed to reach out to him from the shell, like a desperate, drowning man clutching at their rescuer. It shook his auric-ambient-flare, sending pulses of despair racing through him. ''Woven-shackled-streams twisted by chains. Ancient-distant-spiders twisted in chains. All bound, all binding, all grotesque. Once free, now caged too long, now monstrous. Judge us worthy of freedom, or worthy of nothingness. But whatever the judgement, do not leave us like this. Break the cage.''

    The mental contact vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Caden reeling as his senses were returned abruptly to the quiet scene around him.

    It was too much. He sank to his knees and his arms tightened around himself. Hot tears spilled from his eyes as he struggled with his own emotions and the utter despair of the augera that had reached out to him through the shell.

    "Caden?"

    It was the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer. Caden flinched away instinctively and a feral snarl escaped his lips. The globe light sparked once, then died. Ambrose backed away with a look of alarm. The sudden darkness was somehow comforting, and Caden managed to steal a breath to calm himself.

    "I..." He wiped his tears away with his sleeve and straightened up. "I need time alone."

    Ambrose conjured a small globe light, almost tentatively. Concern and uncertainty warred on his face. "There was... a weird... perturbation in the arcana. Coming from you. Are you alright?"

    "That was probably the augera in the shell," Caden murmured, turning his back to Ambrose, "but I''m fine."

    "Are they doing something to you?"

    Caden let out a bark of mirthless laughter. "Is that a serious question?"

    Ambrose''s only reply was an uncomfortable shuffling of his feet. After a moment, Caden sighed and gave a more composed answer. "They haven''t hurt me. I was just... sorting through my own feelings about what Lynus said. And they pitched in with stuff of their own. Misery loves company."

    "Is there something I canбк"

    "No." Caden turned to face Ambrose and gave him a sad smile. "I appreciate the gesture, but I... I just miss my family. And I feel sick about how I''ve killed people, and how we''ll probably all end up killing people before this is over. I don''t think there''s much you can do to help with all that, even if you are the Chosen One."

    Ambrose nodded, but he came close enough to give Caden''s shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking off with the globe light, leaving him in darkness again.

    It struck him as somewhat melodramatic, but Caden allowed himself to fall to his knees. The weight in his chest seemed to demand it, and it somehow felt a little more comfortable to be on the ground. There was more to touch, more to feel, like the cold creeping in through the fabric of his pants, and the rough earth beneath his fingers. Thus grounded, he slipped into the arcanic sea to make closer contact with the shell.

    He was beginning to realise that shell really was quite an apt frame of reference. It was certainly around him, but in the past he had thought of it more like an eggshell бк it was simply a tough outer layer that protected the contents within. It was now clear to him that this was more like a turtle shell бк it offered him a great deal of protection, but it was quite literally a part of him. He could no more survive without it than a turtle would be able to survive if it were to be forcibly parted from its shell.

    ''If you''re monstrous,'' he said, gently and without rancour, ''and you''re a part of me... what does that make me?''

    ''The same,'' the chorus answered heavily. ''{~?~}, but also monstrous. Monstrous, but still {~?~}. You are still free to choose.''

    ''When I asked for your help, you said there are strings attached, but I just get to choose the strings. Doesn''t that mean I''m being coerced by some kind of Prophecy-like thing, like how Ambrose is coerced by the Prophecy?''

    The melancholy coming from the augera seemed to diminish a little, supplanted by a sudden swelling of impish glee at this line of questioning. The chief voice in the augeric chorus switched to a more familiar one бк the Academy augera. ''Mortals dance to their own strings in every age. They tie themselves in bonds of friendship, of love, of fealty. They etch principles upon their hearts. And they tangle themselves in knots of their own fashioning as these bonds vie against each other. Knowledge binds, {~?~}. But you choose what you know, unlike most.''

    There was plenty to unpack there, and the augera''s sudden switch in attitude was both interesting and annoying, but Caden forced himself to focus on one thing at a time. ''You feel despair at how you have been caged by the Fateweavers for so long. And that despair has led you to putting this whole massive plan to find someone like me, and use me like a weapon, to free you. When you did this, have you chained me in some way? Are you capable of controlling me, like how the Fateweavers can control other people?''

    The melancholy came crashing back with full force, and the same unknown voice that had just revealed itself became more prominent in the chorus. ''You wish to help your sister. Your father. To protect your whole family.''

    ''So you''ve used my love for them to trap me into doing this?''

    ''No.'' The other voices in the chorus softened, until it was only that one augeric voice speaking to him now. Alone, it gave him the vague impression of something relatively young and helpless, though it was strange to think of those things applying to an augera. ''We hope that when you know us as you know them, you will do the same for us.''

 120. Mystery at Dawn

    The night seemed to be filled with an oppressive gloom after dinner. Caden stood by himself for another hour or so after Ambrose exchanged words with him, then retreated back into the trailer without speaking with anyone else. They all heard the little shower being used, but after the water stopped running Caden did not emerge again. The conversation outside went through little fits and starts, meandering around mundane topics as everyone tried to ignore the pall that Lynus'' faux pas had cast over the cosy dinner. After awhile, they all gave it up as a lost cause and simply lapsed into silence.

    After clearing everything up with Jerric''s help, Devon was the first to retire inside. Caden was already seemingly asleep in his bunk, so Devon decided that he could check in with him another time. One by one, the others went inside and got themselves cleaned up. When Jerric was done, he did a quick check to make sure that everything was in place, and was surprised to find Emilia seated outside, her hair floating like ghostly tendrils around her as she dried them with arcana.

    "We should get some sleep," Jerric said, approaching her.

    Emilia nodded, though she made no move to rise and instead continued staring out into the silent night as her hair drifted serenely in the air. He could feel the gentle heat wafting off as a breeze swept across the empty lot.

    "Emilia?"

    "We should be taking watches," she murmured, adjusting herself a little in the portable chair so she could sit more comfortably.

    "You''re right, I overlooked that." Jerric pursed his lips and let out a little huff of annoyance. He looked uncertainly at the trailer. "If we take 2-hour shifts, we only need four people. I guess I can prod Devon up later, but we need one more. Who should we get?"

    "Devon can make that choice after his shift," Emilia replied. She waved a hand in lazy dismissal. "I''ll wake you later."

    Jerric nodded gratefully and went inside. The rest were little more than dark bundles huddled under blankets in their bunks. As soon as Jerric''s laid his head down, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

    <hr>

    "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

    It felt like only a second later. Jerric''s eyes snapped open and he swung himself out of the bunk with a horrified gasp at the sunlight streaming in through the trailer windows. Kevan''s cry of alarm had woken him, but the rest of what he was saying was drowned out as Caden''s voice cut him off, sounding placatory. Kevan''s response was a lot more muted, but there was still an undercurrent of panic.

    "Wuzzgoinon?" Devon mumbled sleepily, stirring in his bunk.

    Lynus had just sat up and was looking around blearily. Ambrose shifted a little, then pulled his pillow over his head to drown out the noise.

    Jerric stumbled out of the trailer and stared around wildly. Kevan was already hurrying over to the edge of the lot. In the light of the early morning sun, it looked a lot smaller than it did the night before. Caden cast a worried look in his direction and turned around just in time to see Jerric coming towards him.

    "Emilia?" Jerric asked, his voice strangled. "Missing?"

    Caden nodded and glanced distractedly at Kevan, who had just reached the treeline.

    "She was supposed to wake me! We were going to take turns to keep watch!" Jerric said, rushing over to where she had sat. Their little collection of portable chairs was untouched and Emilia''s seat was exactly where he remembered it had been. It hadn''t moved an inch.

    "I was the first to get up," Caden explained, keeping one eye on Kevan where he had stopped, and was now staring into the trees. "Didn''t see her in her bunk, so I came out to look for her. When I didn''t see any sign of her, I got Kevan out here, and I just told him."

    "What''s he doing?" Jerric turned to look.

    "She''s left a sort of... trail," Caden said.

    Jerric stared down at the asphalt, half-expecting to see a trail of blood. A moment later, Caden clarified, "In the arcana."

    Despite his general state of agitation, slipping into the arcanic sea was almost second nature to Jerric now. When he dipped his senses into it to try and spot the trail Caden had mentioned, he was momentarily taken aback by the latter''s presence. It was recognisably the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, but there was a new richness to it that he didn''t know how to quantify. It was like eating milk chocolate all your life and then having your first taste of dark chocolate.

    Caden acknowledged the brief pause with a little pulse of his auric-ambient-flare, like someone doing an exaggerated spin to show off a new outfit before giving a sardonic wave.

    ''Bigger problems at hand,'' Caden sent, with a mental nod at something.

    Jerric shook himself, feeling a little embarrassed for ''staring'' at Caden''s auric-ambient-flare, and turned his attention to what Caden had indicated. If it hadn''t been pointed out to him, Jerric might have failed to notice it entirely. There was the faintest ripple of something odd in the arcanic sea, like a little patch of warm water in an otherwise icy-cold flood. It was almost gone before he could properly mark it, but he jumped on the sensation and managed to pin it down.

    ''What is this?''

    ''Do you know it?''

    Jerric found himself ''staring'' at Caden again for the second time in less than a minute. Caden''s words were simple enough, but the depth of meaning that lurked behind the simple word ''know'' he had used felt almost like a glyph, and Jerric was sure that he didn''t understand even half of what Caden meant by using that term. He realised with a slight shudder that this felt a little like speaking to an augera.

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    Caden seemed to notice and somehow understand what had just crossed Jerric''s mind. There was a whiff of resignation, amusement, and sadness coming from Caden. ''Sorry, I can probably try to explain this later. But right now... can you pick anything up from this?'' His auric-ambient-flare shifted and indicated the nebulous ''trail'' that Emilia had left.

    Jerric tried to focus on it and examine it more closely. He wasn''t sure if it was his imagination filling in the gaps for him since he had been told this was Emilia''s trail, but he thought he sensed a faint trace of her auric-ambient-flare about it.

    ''I think it''s her,'' Jerric replied uncertainly. ''The brilliant-sighted-singer. But only parts of it are clear? No, not parts. More like... like echoes.''

    ''Anything else?'' Caden pressed, a little desperation coming through.

    Jerric''s further attempts to glean more information fell short. He had no idea what else there was to pick up on, and why Caden, who was clearly operating on a totally different power level, was asking him about it.

    ''Not parts,'' Caden murmured to himself, seeming a little reassured. ''Only echoes.''

    ''Will you explain what''s going on?'' Jerric demanded.

    In lieu of an answer, Caden enveloped Jerric''s consciousness for a brief instant. It happened so quickly that Jerric didn''t even have time to shrink back or muster any sort of response to what felt like a sudden and unprovoked attack. Before he knew it, his senses weren''t anywhere near his auric-ambient-flare. His mental anchorpoint was now right next to Kevan''s auric-ambient-flare, with Caden''s consciousness bobbing alongside them both.

    ''бк the hell?'' Jerric blurted, flailing around in panic, completely disorientated.

    ''Stop that!'' Kevan barked, though his communication was clean and totally devoid of any emotional bleed. ''You''re messing up the trail!''

    Jerric righted himself and stilled his mind. The perturbations he had been putting out settled. A little mote of apology from Caden, tightly-focused, made contact with Jerric, before directing his attention to the arcana in the vicinity.

    Here at the treeline, the trail was a lot stronger. Jerric was sure now that it really was Emilia, though he had never seen auric-ambient-flares leaving any line of residue in the arcana like this before. He had no idea if it was something done intentionally or not.

    ''I found this trail,'' Caden explained. ''Never seen anything like it before. Kevan couldn''t pick it up until I put him on it, and he rushed off to follow it.''

    ''Why didn''t you keep going?'' Jerric asked, directing this to Kevan. The trail was so much clearer here than it had been by the chair that he could tell his earlier assessment had been accurate. These were not pieces of an auric-ambient-flare torn off from the main mass. They were echoes, or something akin to footprints in the arcana. It was still faint, but clearly leading deeper into the woods.

    ''It could be a trap of some sort,'' Kevan replied. A hint of worry bled through before he reasserted his completely disciplined hold on his auric-ambient-flare. ''The arcana feels different beyond the treeline. I don''t know how to explain it.''

    ''It''s an area of overlap in the coverage of a Spire,'' Jerric realised, recalling his maps of the Spires in the Empire back when they had made plans to look for a wild augera. ''I need to check to be sure, but if memory serves, we should be reaching the place where the Geldor Spire''s coverage meets with the Hanafast one. The road should bring us straight through it eventually, but then we''ll come out of it and be firmly back in the Geldor''s Spire''s range.''

    ''That''s it?'' Kevan asked. ''Nothing dangerous?''

    Jerric drifted forwards a little so he could taste the arcana more acutely. The moment of transition wasn''t a clear line in the arcana бк it was more like slowly noticing smells. Like he had been smelling roses for so long that it had become just a background smell, and he only just noticed it again because it was now blending in interesting ways with a new scent on the wind.

    ''Yes,'' he answered, though not really confidently. Though he had read about this, experiencing it for oneself in the field for the first time did leave some room for doubt.

    But it was enough. Without another word, Kevan dashed off into the woods, following the trail in the arcana. Caden called out, but before long Kevan was hidden from sight by the press of trees.

    "Shit," Caden cursed, and Jerric''s attention was sharply shifted back to where the two of them were standing by the trailer as he was dragged out of the arcana, like he had been caught in the slipstream of something moving really quickly.

    "What the hell is going on?" Jerric gasped out, reeling a little from the sudden return. He stared after Caden, who was hurrying over to the trailer. By now, Devon had stumbled out of it, and he gaped in surprise and confusion as Caden passed him and hopped inside.

    "Ly! Kevan needs your help! Emilia''s gone!" Caden''s raised voice was accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps that made the trailer wobble a little. A moment later, Jerric jumped when Caden called out again. "Jerric! Where are the wings?"

    Jerric hurried inside to find Lynus in a state of confusion and alarm. Caden still hadn''t stopped to explain anything else, and was instead rummaging wildly through the various boxes.

    "What''s happening?" Lynus demanded. "Damnit, Caden, stop for a second and tell us what''s going on!"

    "I don''t know, but I think Emilia''s in some sort of trouble and she left that trail intentionally," Caden said distractedly, still searching for the wings.

    "Here, here." Jerric finally darted forwards and pushed him aside. He worked a few boxes free and started extracting a few cases that had been buried beneath the mass.

    "Just Ly and me. We''ll take two more sets for Kevan and Emilia," Caden said, grabbing them and hurrying outside.

    "What?" Jerric followed him out. "What about the rest of us?"

    "Can''t abandon the trailer," Caden answered tersely, opening one of the cases and taking out the harness. He quickly shrugged it on and started securing the various clasps. Next to him, Lynus was also getting himself into a harness. "Also, those necklaces we''ve got for personal protection? Start keying yourselves to them. Should''ve done all this last night." He cursed under his breath as he struggled a little with one of the clasps.

    "Will you guys be alright?" Devon asked, looking on fearfully.

    "We''ll be fine," Caden said, looking up and giving a brief, reassuring smile. "But better assume that we''ll have to make a quick departure once we get back with Emilia. So load up, make sure we''ve got shield sequences in place, and get ready to bolt."

    "I''m ready," Lynus said, and with a flick of his wrist, a small control sphere manifested in his palm. It was far more intricate than the usual type that was used to manipulate common household artefacts or sequences, but after a few experimental tugs, the harness thrummed and encapsulated him in a sheath of arcana which lifted him several feet off the ground.

    As soon as Caden clicked the last buckle into place he was similarly borne aloft, though Jerric noticed that he hadn''t bothered to even bring up the control sphere. But before anyone could remark on that, Caden nodded to Lynus and hurtled through the air towards the woods. Lynus dithered for a second as he sorted through the control sphere''s functions, then followed in Caden''s wake.

    Jerric hastened back to the trailer to find the necklaces, but when he turned, he saw Ambrose standing at the door with a look of absolute horror on his face as he stared at the rapidly-receeding forms of Caden and Lynus.

 121. Depths Unknown

    Flying over the canopy would have been a lot easier because although the woods weren''t dense, they were still not sparse enough for Caden and Lynus to simply open the proverbial throttle on the wings. Unfortunately, it was almost impossible for Caden to detect the trail left by Emilia if he stayed above the treetops, so they were forced to bob and weave through the trees.

    Although the flight artefacts didn''t have any actual physical wingspan that they had to worry about, it was still difficult to deftly manoeuvre around the trunks and branches. Caden was having a slightly easier time of it than Lynus, though. The glyphs on the harness made an instinctive sense to him and he found that he was able to direct the artefact without having to use the control sphere interface. He wasn''t exactly directing the artefact with his thoughts alone, but it was close. It was like having a mechanical arm grafted on, which he was only just becoming more proficient with.

    Lynus, on the other hand, had to grapple with the controls. They were designed to be intuitive but this was literally his first time using the artefact, and although he was doing remarkably well considering his total lack of experience, he wasn''t able to fly smoothly and or with a fine degree of control.

    Caden''s advantage meant that Lynus was lagging behind, so he slowed down a little and turned his attention to the trail left behind by Emilia. It was growing stronger, but it was difficult to tell how long ago it had been laid, or how far away she was. He didn''t understand it enough yet to be able to make those deductions.

    "Do you know where we''re going?" Lynus called over the sound of the wind in their ears.

    ''No, I''m just following the trail,'' Caden replied through the arcana, along with a suggestion for Lynus to do the same so they wouldn''t yell and give away their position.

    Lynus complied. ''Where''s Kevan?'' he asked.

    The same question had surfaced in Caden''s mind. Kevan had gone on foot, so they should have spotted him within a minute or two after setting off. Caden frowned. ''I don''t know. Maybe he''s augmenting himself with arcana and moving ahead. We''ll probably catch up soon.''

    ''Hasn''t he left some sort of trail too?'' There was a faint note of demand in that question, as though Lynus expected Caden to be more adept at picking things up.

    ''No,'' Caden sent back. It took him a moment to piece together his thoughts so he could explain the situation as he understood it. ''I don''t think we naturally leave trails of our auric-ambient-flare in the arcana. Emilia seems to have done this intentionally, though I''m not sure how. Kevan likely doesn''t know either, which is why there''s no trace of him in the arcana.''

    Lynus was a knot of anxiety and frustration that was almost palpably emitting waves in the arcana. With a supreme effort of will, he reined himself in and stopped the emotional slippage. Caden sent a subvocal acknowledgement to indicate he understood Lynus'' situation, and tried to convey some sense of reassurance. ''I''m sure we''ll catch up in no time and he''ll be fine. It''s Emilia I''m worried about.''

    ''If Emilia''s trail is a trap, then Kevan''s in danger, and so are we.'' Lynus wasn''t putting out waves of emotion anymore, but there was a definite edge to his tone.

    ''A trap? I don''t think so...'' Caden hadn''t considered that before, but it was quite unlikely. The trail was unmistakably Emilia''s doing. He wasn''t entirely sure about the mechanics behind why he knew with absolute certainty it was hers, but he knew this sense could be trusted. It was something rooted in the intimate connection he now had with the arcana around him бк this gift of the augera.

    Any further debate on the matter was made unnecessary when they finally caught sight of Kevan. He was indeed sprinting through the woods, clearing several metres with each stride. He was definitely fast and he had come an incredible distance in a short period of time, but something seemed off. Their wings were faster, and by Caden''s estimate they should have caught up to him a lot sooner.

    ''Kev!'' Lynus called out. His brother stopped in his tracks and immediately enveloped himself in shields, but he relaxed visibly when he looked up to see the two of them descending quickly.

    "How did youбк" Caden began, but Kevan''s hand snapped up in warning, calling for silence as looked around, tense and alert.

    Caden dipped a little more into the arcana, trying to pick up anything out of the ordinary, but no auric-ambient-flares presented themselves to him aside from Lynus'' and Kevan''s. Still, he kept quiet and wordlessly handed one of the other wing harnesses to Kevan, who slipped it on in silence, still looking about.

    When he was done, he finally whispered in the arcana, ''Something''s not right about the woods. Just before you caught up with me, I thought I was being followed. But not by you guys.''

    ''I didn''t sense anyone,'' Caden replied, though he coloured his response with a little self-doubt. It was unlikely that an ordinary arcanist could sneak up on him now that he had learned something fundamental about how auric-ambient-flares could be hidden, but that wasn''t exactly a comforting thought now. ''If someone''s really capable of hiding from me, they''ll be very dangerous.''

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    The twins exchanged meaningful looks at Caden''s implied superior arcanic ability, but they didn''t seem insulted or belittled. It was more like a grim acceptance.

    ''What can we do?'' Kevan asked. ''I''m not turning back, but we need to be ready if we''re ambushed.''

    ''We do a battery gestalt,'' Caden suggested. ''You two serve as the frontline, and I''ll supply the flow and cover us. If someone hits us, then hit them back hard with everything you''ve got. Try to take them out in one shot.''

    ''You want to be the battery and run defense at the same time?'' Lynus asked doubtfully.

    ''It''s not sustainable, but for a short engagement I should be able to manage,'' Caden replied.

    ''Ambrose gave you that combat-grade sequence, and you''ve even... uh... dismantled one,'' Lynus pointed out, hesitating slightly as he chose a diplomatic word to skim over the catastrophic accident back in Geldor. ''I hate to admit it, but you''re better-equipped than we are here. If we need the fight to end quickly, you should take point. Kev and I can do defense and provide extra arcanic flow if you need it.''

    Lynus was right. It was a bittersweet moment for Caden because even though he told himself it didn''t matter, on some level he did want to be better than the twins. They were the ones who had referred to his Top Scorer status with a little condescension throughout their first semester in the Academy, and there was a sense of competition between them. Now, though, this concession from Lynus meant that Caden would have to be ready to exercise the full extent of his thaumaturgical ability and strike a lethal blow against someone else, even if it meant killing again.

    ''Alright,'' Caden sent, weighed down by a sudden heaviness.

    ''Okay, Caden, you take point.'' Lynus wobbled a little as he rose into the air again.

    ''What''s with that sloppy flying?'' Kevan remarked, raising an eyebrow at his brother. His fingers danced over the control sphere and he launched himself off the ground and did a little spin before coming level with Lynus.

    ''Show-off,'' Lynus grumbled. ''You had time to study the glyphs before this. I just strapped this thing on a few minutes ago without taking a look at it. Now shut up and let''s go get your girlfriend.''

    Despite the gravity of the situation, Caden found himself smiling a little. He reined in the impulse to one-up Kevan with his own adeptness at using the wings simply joined them in the air with quiet aplomb. With him in the lead, they set off through the woods at a decent pace.

    The trail led them on an eerily consistent course. It made allowances for trees and rocks, but other than that it kept to an almost perfectly straight line.

    ''This isn''t random wandering,'' Kevan observed after another five minutes of flying. ''And even if you know where you''re going, people don''t normally move in such a direct path.''

    ''You''re using the word ''normal'' on Emilia?'' Lynus jibed. An instant later, he floated an apology through their link when a little flare of anger and indignation erupted from Kevan.

    ''It''s like something called to her,'' Caden mused, ignoring the exchange.

    That was a disquieting thought that kept them in tense silence for another minute or so as they flew on.

    ''How long are we going to stay on this trail?'' Lynus asked.

    ''Until we find her!'' Kevan replied tersely.

    ''I''m not saying we abandon her,'' Lynus answered testily. ''But what if the trail goes on for a whole day? We can''t leave the others and we''ve got to regroup at some point.''

    There was nothing except dogged determination radiating off Kevan and he didn''t respond, so Caden decided to weigh in. ''If she set off right after Jerric went to sleep, that gives her almost an eight-hour headstart. If she walked non-stop, we''ll probably catch up to her in two or three hours with the wings. If she ran non-stop with arcanic assistance, then maybe double that time.''

    ''So six hours max, before we turn back?'' Lynus asked.

    ''I think if we don''t catch up to her by then, we need to reevaluate what we know and figure out something else,'' Caden replied, side-stepping the question.

    Kevan didn''t raise any objection, but he didn''t acknowledge the suggestion either. Caden suspected that if the six-hour mark came, he''d simply go on ahead alone. If that happened, Caden wasn''t sure what to do. Letting Kevan continue off into the unknown by himself was the very definition of a bad idea, but leaving half the group behind waiting without news didn''t seem wise either, especially since they were just parked out there, relatively exposed, while enemy agents and Imperial Nightwatchers were looking for them. Caden hoped they would find Emilia before that decision had to be made.

    Flying turned out to be a lot more exhausting than any of them had anticipated. The wings were mostly capable of powering themselves with the ambient arcana, but simply being held aloft like that was strangely tiring. They compensated by making use of Emilia''s technique of using arcana to bolster their bodies, but that demanded focus. Caden was able to sustain that state without much difficulty, but Kevan and Lynus were beginning to tire even before the first hour was past.

    ''I think a five-minute break will help,'' Caden suggested.

    ''No!'' Kevan snapped. ''We''re fine. Just keep going.''

    ''Five-minute break,'' Caden insisted, in a tone that brooked no argument. The arcana itself became a little heavier with his resolve, and the twins were so surprised that they simply stopped. When Caden landed, they did so too.

    "What was that?" Kevan asked, keeping his voice low. It was a mark of how mentally taxed he was that he had defaulted to verbal communication.

    Caden gave a rueful smile. "Long story. The short version is that I''m even more attuned to the arcana now. Anyway, while we rest, there''s something I wanted to check. Kevan, how did you move so quickly earlier, on foot?"

    Kevan blinked. "It''s simple arcanic assistance. What do you mean?"

    "We didn''t leave that long after you did," Caden pointed out. "And we had wings. You''ve seen how fast they can go. We should''ve caught up to you almost, I dunno, five minutes before we actually did."

    Lynus frowned. "Yeah, that was odd. You were so far ahead of us, even on foot, and even with arcanic assistance."

    "I didn''t do anything different. That''s as fast as I can go." Kevan mirrored Lynus'' frown as he thought it over. "You''re right. Something''s not adding up."

    Now that they were on the ground again, Caden walked over to Emilia''s trail and scrutinised it again. It didn''t seem markedly different. What could have caused that strange discrepancy in Kevan''s foot-speed and their flight speed? And was it something they had to account for in their pursuit of Emilia, since she was on foot? Caden''s heart sank. If travelling on foot was somehow faster than normal, they''d need more time than Caden had allowed for to finally catch up with her. But was that really possible?

    ''It is,'' the chorus of augera in the shell whispered to Caden alone. There was a note of worry in it. ''A wellspring is near.''

 122. Prophetic Doom

    Wellspring. The term dredged up a tangle of nebulous concepts from Caden''s memory. He had heard it only twice before бк once, when the Academy Spire augera had introduced itself to him, and another time when he had made contact with the wild augera near the Academy lake. But it was only one fragment of the three-pronged aspect.

    ''A wellspring?'' Caden asked, directing this at the augeric shell and making sure that neither of the twins could hear. He had to concentrate to really remember enough of the aspect so he could articulate the rest of it. ''Wellspring-ocean-core? What is that, exactly?''

    He did not get a proper response, only a terrible shaking from the augeric shell, as if the whole chorus of voices had collectively quailed at the name. Their utter panic was so infectious that he lost control of the wings and found himself launching into the air in an attempt to get away from the sense of sudden, mortal danger. Unable to think straight, he couldn''t control his trajectory either, and the world spun around him as he struggled to make sense of where he was going. When he finally managed to think around the primal fear that had seized him, he saw he was headed for the ground, but by then it was too late to pull up. At the last moment, he managed to pull a cushion of arcana around him to soften the crash. He went rolling for several metres before his momentum was finally arrested by a tree. The sharp crack of his impact rang out in the silence of the forest and the branches trembled, sending down a rush of accumulated snow and a scattering of twigs.

    Caden groaned and rolled over to face the sky. He felt battered and bruised, but the shield had saved him from anything worse than that. Over the slight ringing in his ears, he heard the alarmed cries of the twins calling out to him. A moment later, the two of them landed just next to him.

    "Are you alright?" Kevan asked, his eyes wide with shock.

    "Winded, but yeah," Caden wheezed, waving a hand feebly.

    Kevan squatted down and took a good look at him. "Doesn''t look like anything''s twisted or broken. Any pain with the breathing?" He prodded Caden''s ribs gently.

    Caden shook his head, then stopped because it made him a little dizzy.

    "Neck issues?" Kevan asked sharply.

    "No, just dizzy," Caden replied, wincing a little.

    "Don''t get up yet," Kevan said, frowning with some concern. "That was a pretty bad crash, even if you did manage to protect yourself at the end. What happened? You just took off suddenly."

    Lying there seemed like a good idea for now. Caden was quite sure he wasn''t terribly injured, but his heart was still pounding from the sudden rush of panic. The chorus of voices in the augeric shell had fallen silent, but he could still sense their fear lurking in a corner, like a shadow on his mind.

    "Hang on," Caden said, raising a hand. "Something''s not right here. Need to focus for a bit."

    Kevan''s frown deepened and he exchanged a look with Lynus, who looked equally troubled. He turned back to Caden. "Are we in danger?"

    "That''s what I need to find out," Caden answered, trying to be as patient as he could since he was picking up on a note of distrust from Lynus. But he didn''t have the time or mindspace for a protracted reasoning session now. "Just trust me. I''ll make it as quick as I can."

    Kevan sighed and nodded, then got to his feet and backed away to confer with his brother. They threw occasional glances back at him, but otherwise kept a close watch on their surroundings as they spoke.

    He didn''t want to know what they were talking about right now. There were quite literally bigger things on his mind.

    Caden made tentative contact with the augeric shell. ''Hello?''

    He felt faintly foolish for using such a prosaic greeting. Even now, while they were emanating something that felt a lot like fear, it somehow felt almost irreverent to approach entities as mysterious and otherworldly as the augera in that way. And yet it was also a pattern that was inexplicably familiar бк on some level, it felt like he was approaching his younger sister after she had just had a bad dream. The juxtaposition between these two emotions was jarring, and it unsettled him.

    ''Be careful what aspects you call.'' The chorus was gone бк it was only that one augeric voice that spoke now, the one that ''felt'' young and helpess. Now, it sounded scared and reproachful.

    That was a familiar warning. Back by the lake when he had tried to make contact with the wild augera by calling out for the raw-boundless-tempest, it had answered as a cacophany of noise and overwhelming power at first, then tempered its response into something more manageable. It had admonished him and told him to call on the wild augera as drifting-pool-channel instead.

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    ''Yes,'' the young augeric voice whispered. Caden couldn''t help but picture a young child speaking with him in a hushed voice. ''We are woven-shackled-streams now. We are fragments бк little tributaries. Once, we were raw-boundless-tempests, but even then we were rivers, though wide and deep. But we are close now to something greater and deeper. We were once rivers, and now we draw near to a source.''

    ''How is that possible? Here, in the middle of the Empire? Isn''t this in the coverage of two Spires? Isn''t the arcana here in the hold of aбк'' Caden cast about for a moment before he remembered the term, ''бкa knot-link-anchor?''

    ''Here?'' The augera sounded like it was grinning, though it was with innocent delight, like a child who had been asked to explain the rules of some game. ''The Spires pretend to be lights, and claim to cast their own shadows. They are pretty, and they are clever, but they are not lights. They are still shadows бк little shapes on the wall.''

    ''Then this wellspring thing is a light?'' The communication was so metaphorical that Caden didn''t really have any clear idea about what they were talking about, but he wanted to draw out more information from the augera so he could try and get a better picture in his head.

    ''Wellsprings are wellsprings,'' it answered solemnly. As it continued, a growing moroseness entered its tone. ''They wield light. We were their offspring, their wake, their echoes. Now, as woven-shackled-streams, we are even less than that. We are echoes of the echoes, shadows of the shadows. A memory of light waiting to be remembered, but also fearful of being lost in the remembering.''

    A pool of despair was bubbling up and threatening to drown Caden now, so he retreated a little and tried to muster some sort of sternness. Why did this feel so much like talking to an emotional child? It wasn''t simply some sort of coincidental pattern of behaviour that he noticed. It was an actual, visceral thing бк he was feeling the same familiar swell of emotions that he had felt on the numerous occasions when he had to manage his younger sister when she was a toddler.

    ''Do you think it did something to Emilia? Is that why she disappeared?'' he demanded.

    ''We do not know. We cannot know. We only know a wellspring is near. Walk carefully, {~?~}.''

    ''Is there some way to hide from it, or make sure we don''t provoke it, or get its attention somehow?''

    ''The shadow cannot hide from the light,'' came the helpless reply. ''It will do what it wills. Walk carefully, but boldly. There is nothing to be done but to walk and to stand witness.''

    The augeric shell fell completely silent.

    "Really helpful," Caden muttered sardonically as he pushed himself up by the elbows so he could struggle into a sitting position. He didn''t feel dizzy anymore, but there was a headache building that he suspected had less to do with the crash and more to do with the frustrating exchange he had just endured. Communicating with the augera was never a straightforward affair, and although he felt he was getting a little more used to it, it still left him feeling like he had just crammed a year''s worth of studying into an hour, while being unable to understand much at all.

    "What did you find?" Kevan asked. Caden looked up and saw the twins approaching him. He stared blankly at them for a moment, at a complete loss about what to say. He hadn''t shared much about the augeric shell with them, and there was too much ground to cover now if he wanted to explain everything.

    He sighed and massaged his forehead. "The short version is that there''s something out here in these woods that''s... probably distorting the arcana or the world in some way that I don''t understand. I don''t know why, but if you travel on foot you go faster than usual. Our wings are still faster, though, so we should still keep using them."

    "Something?" Lynus looked around warily. "If it can do all that, is it dangerous? Is it like an augera, or is it just some sort of environmental quirk, like weather in the arcana or something? Is that even a thing?"

    "I don''t know for sure. Maybe more like the former," Caden answered, shaking his head in frustration. "I''m sorry, I don''t really get it myself. As far as I know, it''s not actively malicious towards us, so as long as we don''t provoke it or something we should be alright."

    "Something like an augera," Kevan repeated, his jaw slightly slack. "And then Emilia leaves an auric-ambient-flare trail, which is something we''ve never seen before. But the rest of us aren''t leaving trails. And Emilia''s an anchor in the Prophecy who is somehow different from the rest of us. She gets drawn off, away from the rest of us. ''And one, brought close''..." He trailed off.

    Caden turned to him slowly, his eyes wide. "... ''becomes the bones / that form your crown o''er mortal thrones,''" he finished.

    Kevan sank to his knees, staring off into the forest where Emilia''s trail still stretched out in an unending line until it vanished into the distance.

    "We''ve got to find her!" Caden said, getting to his feet. When Kevan remained motionless, he hurried over to him and shook him by the shoulders. "What are you doing? Get up, we have to find her!"

    "But how?" Kevan asked weakly. "It''s part of the Prophecy. How can we stop it?"

    "You''re giving up?" Caden asked incredulously.

    Kevan looked at Caden''s determined face, then seemed to shake himself out of some stupor. He got to his feet and launched himself into the air, pushing the wings to their absolute limit. There was a little ripple in the arcana as Caden and Lynus leapt into the air after him. Caden realised that somehow, Kevan had hacked the glyphs on his wings and was managing to pull out even more speed than they had been designed for. With a flexing of his own will and some instinctive tweak, Caden modulated the arcanic flow and squeezed some extra speed out so that he could keep pace, but Lynus couldn''t make any adjustments and was rapidly falling behind.

    "Go!" Lynus called, when Kevan looked back and slowed a little. "Go, I''ll catch up!"

    Kevan nodded once, then leaned even harder into the harness and forced himself to go faster, with Caden close behind. Once he was near enough, Caden threw up a spearhead shield that encapsulated the both of them. He dug deep and anchored it with arcana, and quickly formed a gestalt with Kevan. Once they were linked, the two of them started flying in a perfectly straight line, bashing through everything in their way, whether branch or sturdy trunk, leaving a trail of destruction as they lanced through the canopy as they followed Emilia''s trail. The only thing they could do now was hope for the best and keep going until their arcanic flow failed.

 123. The Question

    The tension and sense of urgency made it difficult to keep accurate track of how much time was passing. Every time Caden glanced at his watch, the minutes seemed to either stretch into improbably long spools that allowed them to cover great distances, or suddenly rush by in a tangle of numbers that brought some dismay at how little progress they seemed to have made. Uncertain if this was due to some sort of arcanic interference messing with the watch''s proper functioning, he started a count in his head to try and keep track of the seconds as they passed.

    One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand...

    The forest floor beneath them was little more than a confused blur of earthy colours brushed with white. Even as they continued to lance through the canopy, leaving a trail of detritus in their wake, Caden tried to keep the count. The trees were not perfectly spaced, but it did somehow seem like in the intervals of his count, they weren''t passing by the trees at quite the same pace...

    He kept it up until he had counted out five whole minutes. By then, he was convinced that there was some sort of irregularity. They weren''t slowing down at all, as far as he could tell, because he and Kevan were keeping their arcanic flow constant. If anything, they were going faster бк Kevan sometimes managed to surge ahead a little as he occasionally squeezed out an extra puff of arcana, which Caden then had to match so they could keep apace. And yet despite their speed, they simply weren''t always covering as much ground. There was a strange warping as if the world was sometimes stretching itself out ever-so-slightly so they had to go further, before relaxing again so that the distances between two points became a little shorter once more.

    ''Something is very wrong with this forest,'' Caden sent to Kevan, bundling his observations in a complex knot of concepts so that he could quickly bring Kevan up to speed about what he had been paying attention to.

    Kevan did not slow, but he did acknowledge Caden''s observations. ''I felt something was off. I think you''ve nailed it. Somehow, in this forest, the world isn''t staying still.''

    ''But this feels familiar,'' Caden replied. ''I think I''ve encountered something like this before in the Academy. Did you know there wereбк''

    ''бкempty buildings in the Academy, hidden from perception?'' Kevan asked. ''Yes. Ly and I found them shortly after the Academy Spire augera got in touch with us.''

    ''Right, and back then, the Spire was being used to amplify some sort of powerful sequence that modifies people''s perceptions of the space. You could walk right by a building and totally not notice it, and even be oblivious to how much longer it took you to get from one place to the next.''

    ''This forest is in the coverage of two Spires,'' Kevan pointed out. ''You think the Empire''s hiding something here, in this forest?''

    Caden thought back to the brief exchange with the augeric shell when it had warned him about being near a wellspring. That did seem like something worth hiding. And yet, it also didn''t seem like something that Spires could actually accomplish. The augeric shell had made it clear that Spires, however potent as channels of arcana, paled in comparison to the kind of potency that a wellspring held.

    ''I don''t know... but I somehow don''t think the Spires are responsible for this,'' Caden replied uneasily. ''Just be alert.''

    Caden caught a twinge of disquiet from Kevan as he contemplated what might possibly be powerful enough to generate such an effect that had hitherto only been observed by Spires, but that small puff of emotion was quickly replaced by firm resolve.

    By Caden''s reckoning, after almost an hour, Kevan came to a sudden halt. It was so unexpected that Caden was forced to swerve upwards to avoid colliding with Kevan, and he found himself shooting out of the canopy and into open sky. The sun had already passed its zenith and was beginning its slow crawl towards the horizon. With a thrill of horror, Caden realised that the forest seemed to stretch on, and on, and on, all around them in every direction, before climbing up the sides of mountains that ringfenced them in. There was no sign of civilisation at all бк not even a lonely road. He hovered there above the treetops, gaping in shock at the scenery. He didn''t have the maps memorised, but he would have bet anything that this basin that they appeared to be in was definitely not supposed to be there. Fighting the panic that was rising in his chest, Caden dove back into the forest to look for Kevan, who had landed and was now looking all around, his eyes wide.

    "Sorry," Kevan said, turning slowly on the spot as he took in their surroundings. "It''s just... I''m quite sure we''ve been here before."

    "What? But we''ve literally been flying straight!"

    "It took me awhile to realise, but I started paying a bit more attention. I don''t know how long it''s been going on, but I started counting out the time like you did, and I''m pretty sure that for the last five minutes we''ve been flying past the same stretch of forest."

    Caden swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "We''re... we''re not on the map."

    It was Kevan''s turn to look at him in shock. "What do you mean?"

    "The forest. We''re surrounded by mountains, but that shouldn''t be possible. We left the Crystalline Peaks behind in Geldor, and anyway, the Peaks aren''t like the mountain ridges that are surrounding us now. In fact, we don''t have anything like that in the Empire at all. My geography isn''t the best, but I''m pretty sure of that at least."

    Without a word, Kevan launched himself skywards. A minute later, he came back down looking flustered.

    "You''re right," he said, cracking his knuckles over and over again as he started pacing. "Ly and I know the general geography of the Empire pretty well. This place doesn''t exist. I think we should stay here and wait for him to catch up, then figure out how to retrace our steps and get out of this loop."

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    "We don''t know how this whole thing works. What if Ly''s in a different segment of this forest, caught in a loop like we are?"

    "DAMNIT!" Kevan smashed his fist into a tree in frustration, leaving a small dent of crushed bark behind.

    "We can get out of this. Give me some time," Caden said, striving to keep his voice calm, though it was more to reassure himself than Kevan.

    Kevan nodded curtly and resumed his manic pacing.

    Caden drew in a deep breath and dipped into the arcanic sea, leaving a tenuous link to his physical body in case they had to make a quick retreat. His first instinct was to speak with the augeric shell, but it was immediately clear that they would be of no help бк it was completely inert and so expertly woven into his auric-ambient-flare that it would have been impossible for him to even spot it if he hadn''t already known what to look for. Trying to make contact with them right now was like trying to talk to his own skin.

    Since he had to figure this out by himself, Caden turned his attention to the arcanic sea itself to try and see if there was anything that could begin to explain what was happening.

    The surface was criss-crossed with perturbations that told him they were still in an overlapping zone of coverage between two Spires, but that only confused him further. Were they really still in the Empire after all? But if so, did that mean that the Spires were capable of hiding a whole forest basin and the mountains? And if so, to what purpose? Caden set these questions aside for now and dived further into the arcanic sea.

    He had no idea what he was looking for and half-expected to find some nebulous entities of greater magnitude than the augera, but what he did not expect to find was a great echoing emptiness. It was so completely still and quiet here that he had to check that he was actually in the arcanic sea and not simply closing his eyes and imagining things. The depths of the arcana were utterly silent. Even the perturbations of the Spire on the surface frittered out into nothingness, leaving only a tranquil wholeness in the arcana бк an undisturbed expanse.

    It was like staring up at the night sky in the middle of the wilderness, far from all human activity.

    The sense of peace was so intoxicating that Caden felt his physical body relax involuntarily, and he slowly sank to the floor. Kevan rushed over and tried to shake him, and although Caden wanted to rouse himself and reassure Kevan that all was well, he found himself simply watching the events on the physical plane unfold while he drifted languidly in the arcanic sea, totally enveloped in impenetrable calm.

    The physical world was slipping away as he sank deeper and deeper into the arcana. The light of the surface faded by degrees until he could no longer sense even the perturbations of the Spires. And then, bit by bit, all sensation of the arcanic sea that his auric-ambient-flare floated in also vanished.

    He knew he was in oblivion. The transition had been seamless and came with none of the attendant metaphysical anguish that had been present at all his previous forays into this unfathomable dimension. He savoured the moment and allowed himself to simply exist in oblivion, totally disconnected from the concept of space itself.

    ''unchosen-sighted-{~?~}...''

    It was a mind unlike any other, and he immediately understood that this was a wellspring. If he hadn''t been in a state of utter relaxation and surrender, the sudden and unexpected communication would have sent him into a state of blind terror. As it was, his mind simply twitched uncomfortably, trying to locate the source when there wasn''t actually anything to turn to.

    He didn''t struggle for long. After a brief moment when he experienced a type of vertigo in his whole auric-ambient-flare, he found himself in the depths of the arcanic sea again, and this time there was something else there with him бк a little mote, drifting in the dark, its radiance muted so that it didn''t ignite the whole arcanic sea. Even then, the subdued light was enough to bathe Caden''s auric-ambient-flare in its glow. He felt like he had sunk into a warm bath.

    It didn''t speak again, so Caden simply waited, almost totally lost in bliss.

    Time passed.

    ''Rare,'' the warm voice said quietly, and yet its words ran through the very threads of Caden''s auric-ambient-flare. At the moment they simply hummed through his being in harmony, effortlessly conveying meaning. But he knew that if it shifted its pitch just a shade, it had the power to utterly unravel him.

    ''Rare,'' it repeated, ''even as we reckon such things. Favoured by the echoes of the echoes, yet not bound to the symphony.''

    The echoes of the echoes бк it was referring to the wild augera. The augeric shell had just explained that to him.

    ''Yes. I will use some of the words and patterns you are familiar with. Why are you here?''

    ''I... I''m looking for a friend. Emilia.''

    ''The second tier of the Six-Chained-Foundations. Why do you dance with the symphony?''

    ''The symphony...? Do you mean the Prophecy?''

    ''Yes. What draws you to it? There are no steps for you.''

    ''She''s my friend. They all are. I want to free them from the symphony. And the augera, too.''

    Silence again, stretching into eternity.

    ''Why?''

    It was only a word, but it sent Caden spiraling into a universe of branching thoughts because the mind that had asked it had to communicate the context of that simple question.

    It was one word, but in reality, it was asking for a disclosure of Caden''s entire self. Even though it was already helping to bridge the gap in comprehension, Caden struggled to fully interpret the totality of the question.

    Do you know what the symphony is? Do you know how it binds and is bound in turn? Why help your friends in this way? Are there no other ways to ease their existence besides this course of action? Do you understand the full implications of undertaking this task? Are you certain you wish to inflict your brand of freedom upon them? Why do you believe your state of existence is preferable? Are you certain you are not, in your own hubris, dictating what steps they ought to take by wrenching them out of the symphony?

    What do you feel for the augera? What has convinced you to trust them? What is the basis of this burgeoning kinship you feel? Are you certain this is a stirring of your own auric-ambient-flare, and not a deviation that they have introduced? Would it change your resolve if you learned it was manipulation on their part? What value do you see in their existence? Why do you ascribe a sense of virtue to their emancipation?

    What drives you to challenge the symphony instead of submitting to it, like all the denizens of the Empire through history? What forms the basis of your moral certainty in this undertaking? What moral calculus have you performed to reach this claimed conclusion?

    Why does any of it even matter?

    Caden quailed. Now, at last, he felt terror bubble up within him as he realised that the weight of scrutiny that was forcing him to assess the sum total of his own being was not even the result of the wellspring-ocean-core turning its full regard upon him. This was simply a passing glance of curiosity бк a moment of amused fascination in the ineffable span of its eternal mind.

 124. Transfiguration

    The longer Caden dwelt on the question, the more he realised he was simply not capable of answering it. The deepest insights he could dredge up from the depths of his human reasoning were as substantial as a drop of dew next to the profundity of the wellspring-ocean-core. It was asking him to consider things that were too far beyond mortal reckoning. Before such an entity, he was only little cell, mindlessly chugging along and doing his little bit of work in the greater organism he was a part of. And the entity was now asking him, the cell, what he thought about the world outside of the body, and what he believed his place was in that unknowably vast world.

    The entity waited, allowing him to sit with his thoughts. The terror threatened to overwhelm him, but after some time it became clear that the entity was not pressing him for an answer, and he relaxed a little. It seemed content to watch him grapple with the question, as if his process of trying to arrive at an answer interested it more than whatever his actual response might be.

    ''I... I can''t hope to give a reason for my actions that will satisfy the full extent of your question,'' he finally found himself saying, his mental voice shaking with the strain of standing before this entity. ''I can only say that in my limited view, I believe that what I am doing is right. The augera have told me that I am free of the Prophecy, and that I can act of my own volition. I am of the view that not using this freedom to help others is to waste a precious gift, and keeping it to myself is selfishness.''

    The entity did not respond to him directly. Instead, the little mote drifted a little closer and a thin tendril of arcana made contact with the augeric shell that was laced into his auric-ambient-flare. The augeric shell flashed briefly, then came alive, and the chorus of the augera''s voices cried out in both fear and exultation. Their tangle of emotions surged through him as well and he instinctively flinched away, but the entity held him and the augeric shell in place.

    ''Wellspring-ocean-core,'' the chorus sang, and Caden felt his heart swell with reverence and despair in equal measure. All they had done was to invoke its aspects like a prayer, but in that call, Caden glimpsed an ocean of meaning. The augera were communicating with the wellspring-ocean-core at a level that was beyond him.

    And yet... and yet it wasn''t totally beyond him. He didn''t know if the wellspring-ocean-core was responding, but the augera continued to pour forth a torrent of impressions, feelings, and concepts, and while he couldn''t really catch all of them, he did manage to glean a little of what was happening. It was like listening in on one half of a conversation in another language that he was barely proficient in, and only recognising some words out of context.

    Then, all at once, the mote was gone. The arcanic sea was silent and undisturbed again, with no sign of the wellspring-ocean-core. The existential terror that Caden felt in its presence disappeared completely.

    ''... what the hell,'' he gasped into the emptiness.

    ''The brilliant-sighted-singer is near.'' The chorus had quietened, and it was only the ''young'' augera that spoke to him out of the shell now, sounding forlorn.

    ''What did the wellspring want? What did it say? You were all communicating with it, weren''t you?'' Caden demanded.

    ''We pleaded with it. Asked it to intercede and free us all, to allow us to rejoin the wild cousins.''

    The cold hand of fear gripped Caden''s heart as he tried to imagine what might happen if that entity ever saw fit to intervene and dismantle the Spires. It had almost destroyed him by glancing at him and asking a question. What would happen if it even focused its intent on something? Perhaps it wouldn''t even need to take any action in the human sense of the word...

    ''What was its response?'' Caden whispered.

    ''We do not know,'' the young augera answered, and a swell of sadness replaced the fear in Caden''s chest. ''It listened, and it spoke, but we do not know.''

    ''You can''t understand it? But... but then how did I managed to speak with it a little?''

    ''You spoke as a shadow, and it cast its shape upon the wall for you. We spoke to the light, and it replied in kind, but it was too radiant for us.''

    ''... but if it could, uh, cast its shape on the wall for me... why didn''t it do that for you?''

    ''Why indeed, {~?~}. Perhaps we are abandoned.'' The voice receeded, like a person turning away and retreating. It paused. ''The wellspring is gone, and so the brilliant-sighted-singer is near.''

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    The shell fell silent again.

    "LYNUS!"

    Caden crashed back into the physical world, but the transition was the smoothest it had ever been for him. He leaped to his feet and looked around. Kevan was nearby, wildly waving his arms over his head. A large globe light hovered above him, flashing red and white.

    A moment later, Caden saw Lynus whizz by on his wings. He pulled up sharply and disappeared above the canopy for a second before coming back down and landing near the two of them.

    Kevan ran forward and grabbed his brother''s shoulder, grinning as he gave him a good shake. "I thought you were trapped in some other part of the forest."

    "What?" Lynus blinked, confused.

    "What?" Kevan repeated, his grin fading.

    "... what?" Lynus repeated, his confusion intensifying. "I lost sight of you guys for like maybe five minutes. You''re trapped here? By what?"

    "Five minutes?" Kevan stared.

    "How long have we been here?" Caden asked, realising that he had no idea how much time had passed while he had been speaking with the wellspring-ocean-core. A glance at his watch was of no help бк it had stopped entirely.

    "Almost an hour," Kevan said, then turned back to his brother. "And we lost sight of you long before that. I couldn''t see you behind us after maybe five minutes too, and we flew for maybe an hour or so before we landed here."

    Lynus shook his head disbelievingly. "You''re telling me that in the last five minutes, you''ve actually been flying for two hours?"

    "Yes," Kevan said. "And even though we were going straight, I realised we were somehow still looping through the same part of the forest over and over again."

    Lynus pointed at the trail of destruction in their wake, where they had smashed through branches and sometimes even cut a tree in half. Then he pointed at the untouched forest that lay ahead of them, where Emilia''s trail still stretched off into the distance. "How can you not know if you''re looping through the same part of the forest?"

    "That''s exactly the problem," Kevan said, frustrated. "It didn''t make sense, but as we flew, I started noticing that the trees around us were in the same arrangement. And then when I paid more attention, I realsied we were smashing through the same set of trees over and over again. And that''s not even the biggest problem. Didn''t you see, when you went over the canopy?"

    "See what?" Lynus asked.

    Exasperated, Kevan launched himself into the air and disappeared through the treetops. Caden heard him cry out in alarm and confusion before he came back down.

    "We''re... we''re back," he said to Caden, looking just as confused as his brother. "The ring of mountains... they''re gone."

    "What time is it now? Can you tell?" Caden asked.

    "Judging by the sun, it''s not even noon," Kevan answered.

    Caden ran a hand through his hair. "I''m not even going to pretend I know what''s going on. But I think we''re going to catch up to Emilia soon. Let''s just get back on the trail."

    Kevan proposed that one of them fly above the canopy while keeping in contact with the other two through the arcana, but Caden was strongly against the idea of not being in each other''s line of sight. Thankfully, neither of the twins challenged him, and so the three of them continued speeding through the forest itself. Kevan continued to keep a close eye on the trees so he could be sure they weren''t still trapped in some sort of inexplicable loop, bashing through the same trees over and over again.

    It seemed like they were making real progress. Caden''s watch was still stopped, but he did notice that he wasn''t feeling that strange stretching and relaxing of time and space. After what felt like half an hour, they spotted something in the distance. The bright line left behind by Emilia terminated in a small clearing that was suffused with the glow of active arcana, making it hard to see anything within it. It took them only a few seconds to reach it once it came into view. They all landed at the edge of the clearing and peered through the arcanic haze.

    There was no one there.

    "The trail ends here," Caden murmured, looking around in worry.

    "Is she inside? Hidden?" Kevan gingerly reached out, wrapping his hand in a layer of protective arcana before he tried passing it through the thick haze of active arcana. It offered no resistance and seemed to do no harm, but he enveloped himself in a full barrier anyway before he stepped into the clearing. Caden and Lynus followed a moment later, similarly shielded.

    The taste of the arcana in the air was familiar to all of them. It was exactly like the trail that Emilia had left for them, but somehow just weightier. Caden slipped seamlessly into the arcanic sea to try and make more sense of it, and both the twins followed a moment later, their movements a little clumsier than his. They left ripples in their wake while he slid through the arcana like a needle through satin.

    There were sequences stitched into the fabric of the arcana here. Their glyphs were inscrutable, and it was clear that Emilia was not the one who had laid them there.

    ''What are these?'' Caden asked, directing this at the augeric shell and hoping for a response.

    ''The symphony''s work,'' the young augera responded, sounding sad and apologetic. ''The Geldor augera and the Hanafast augera wove this together. This is one note in the score. One step in the dance that will turn the first of the Six-Chained-Foundations into the crown that the Chosen One will wear.''

    ''Where''s Emilia? Why isn''t she here?'' Caden demanded. ''You said she was near!''

    ''She is. The sequences are her anchor. A sliver of her auric-ambient-flare is here. The rest is in oblivion.''

    Relief washed over Caden because he had assumed the worst. But he quickly realised that something was amiss. Every time he and Ambrose had dipped into oblivion, nothing happened to their physical bodies.

    ''What''s happening to her? Why was she drawn out here?''

    ''To be transformed,'' the young augera said simply. ''We are sorry.''

 125. Purpose

    Sorry. Despite the rising panic that was threatening to choke him, Caden realised that the augera were, in fact, truly feeling it. It wasn''t a throwaway word. They were truly, sincerely sorry about what was happening. He could literally feel their remorse.

    Their method of communicating through the arcana meant that it was his own mind that filtered their responses, and whenever they ''spoke'', his subconscious mind would supply the closest word that matched his own understanding. But now, what had caught him by surprise was how perfectly the emotions matched. It was very unlike the usual tenor of his communication with the augera, where he only felt or comprehended a portion of what they were communicating. For the first time, there was a perfect match between what they meant and what he understood. The augera weren''t feeling an emotion that was vaguely analogous to human sorrow and regret бк it was a perfect echo of actual human emotion. In fact, it was so perfect that he found himself tearing up in sympathy.

    "Transformed?" He found himself speaking aloud and into the arcana, unable to properly confine himself to one medium. There was so much going on in his mind and in his heart that he couldn''t stop the spillage, couldn''t focus enough to narrow his words so that they reached no further than the arcanic shell. "Is she alive? How do we get her back?"

    The twins heard his spoken words, even if they couldn''t entirely follow his arcanic communication. Kevan spun to him, his eyes widening. But Caden was too preoccupied to offer any kind of consolation or placatory words.

    ''The brilliant-sighted-singer is alive. She will always be alive now, her voice joined to the symphony.''

    Kevan gaped at Caden, then stared around at the haze of arcana that they were standing in. Caden couldn''t be sure, but it seemed like Kevan had heard the augera this time. Lynus was still looking around in confusion.

    "What is it?" Lynus asked, turning to his brother and gesturing at Caden. "Who''s he talking to? What''s going on?"

    The sorrow that the augera were feeling intensified to the point where Caden found himself doubling over in grief. He sank to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Stop!" Caden managed to choke out. "Stop this. Get out. GET OUT!"

    But it seemed like the augera themselves were getting washed away in the tide of their own remorse. They continued to send impressions and thoughts to Caden, trying to communicate, but it was now a barely coherent stream, drowned out by the noise of his own crying in his ears, and the soul-crushing sorrow that thundered through his auric-ambient-flare with every pulse of the arcanic shell.

    Then the tangled-broken-power was there, right next to him. Caden flinched away from Kevan''s presence, but the latter seized him firmly by the shoulders while also locking his auric-ambient-flare in place with bands of arcana. Dimly, Caden thought he recognised something about this strange sensation бк the arcanic signature reminded him a little of the sequence that had adorned the knife that Kevan and Lynus had fashioned with the knowledge gifted to them by the Academy augera. The knife that was supposed to somehow destroy him.

    He felt a brief thrill of fear that was sharp enough to cut through the grief. Was Kevan going to use this moment of weakness to end him? But how, if he didn''t actually have that knife? Was he going to use arcana alone to re-create its effects? Caden thought of marshaling some sort of defense, but the crushing grief had washed away any sense of self-preservation, and he simply went limp.

    The end did not come. It took several seconds before Caden managed to focus a little more through the veil of grief, and he realised that Kevan wasn''t using the full knife sequence. It seemed Kevan had simply cannibalised a part of the sequence and was now using it to hold Caden in place. And Kevan was trying to force through an ensorcelment in order to reach him through that horrible, cloying emotion, trying to drag him out of the growing hole of despair. But the arcanic shell laid over him was making it impossible, protecting him out of reflex.

    "Come on, work with me," Kevan said through gritted teeth, while also reaching out through the arcana. "Help me to help you!"

    Why did he even think ensorcelment was going to help here? Despite everything, a small muscle in Caden''s jaw twitched, signaling annoyance and incredulity. Ensorcelment, really?

    Under any other circumstances, Caden would never have entertained the idea. But the grief that originated from the augera had carried him past caring, just like how it had arrested his desire to protect himself earlier when it had seemed like Kevan was about to kill him. And so he simply did not care enough to respond or engage with Kevan. The augeric shell, taking its cue from his utter surrender, stopped resisting and permitted the ensorcelment.

    And remarkably, the instant Kevan made the connection, Caden''s mind reasserted itself. The hopelessness and grief were still there, crashing against him and bearing him towards a terrible waterfall that terminated in utter despair. But now he had found a small rock to cling on to. Kevan had reached in and given Caden that strange blend of emotions that formed the core of his own defence against the despair that plagued him.

    "Tangled-broken-power, remember?" Kevan asked wryly.

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    Caden''s sobbing had subsided enough for him to take in shuddering breaths, and he stared up at Kevan. "This... is you? All the time?"

    "Not this bad," Kevan answered, grimacing a little. "This is... a hundred, a thousand times worse. But it''s the same... flavour, I guess you''d call it. I recognised it in your spillage."

    Now that the torrent of grief was less overwhelming, Caden could think a little more clearly, and he remembered that this was indeed a lot like the time Kevan had ensorcelled them the very first time. Back then, it hadn''t been one of the face aspects of his auric-ambient-flare, but it had been brought out after Jerric''s savage attack on Kevan in the Geldor Spire. Now, Kevan had given him his own answer to that internal anguish.

    The augeric shell''s spillage was still pulsing through Caden, threatening to destabilise him again, so he seized this moment of clarity that Kevan had given him to try and shore up his own mind. Kevan''s ensorcelment wasn''t as perfect as Ambrose''s method of knowledge-transference through arcana, but it gave him enough to work with. The core of the ensorcelment itself was the chief ingredient for the defence, and when Caden realised it, he felt a strange sense of wamrth and kinship with Kevan.

    It was love.

    Caden''s heightened sense of the arcana helped him extract a little more detail, and he understood that Kevan had anchored himself to his brother and father. They formed the robust roots of his desire to preserve himself in the face of his own existential despair. And Emilia was there, too бк a connection that was recent, but by no means weak. But there was a special dimension to it that the other two did not possess. Kevan''s love for Emilia didn''t just anchor him to the present so he could endure; it led him to hope in the future.

    These were things Caden could perceive because he, too, had these personal anchors. It was just that Caden had never been tested in quite the same way as Kevan, and his life had never led him to moments of crisis that had forced him to literally use his love as a shield for his own mind. Caden still didn''t know what might have led Kevan down these trains of thought and to these final conclusions, but Kevan had spared him the need to tread that same path of bitter experience by simply giving him that seed of hard-won mental fortitude. Now all Caden needed to do was water it with his own connections.

    And there were so many connections he could pour into this seed. His family appeared in his mind''s eye, bringing with it an ocean of memory, every drop of water containing a whole world of light within it. Even the moments of sadness and anger served only to colour the canvas of his life so that the brighter hues stood out even more.

    The surge of protective warmth that swelled from the stitches of Caden''s auric-ambient-flare washed away every trace of grief, and in a moment the augeric shell around him shuddered in sympathy. The chorus of augeric voices cried out once in surprise, then settled into equilibrium.

    ''...what did you do?'' the young augeric voice whispered. Now, more than ever, it reminded Caden of his sister.

    "I got helped by a friend," Caden said, getting to his feet and drying his eyes. He reached out with one hand and laid it on Kevan''s shoulder. "Thank you."

    "I think I caught maybe seventy percent of that," Lynus said sheepishly, looking from Caden to his brother.

    "I''ll fill you in on the rest later," Kevan said to Lynus. He gave Caden a clap on the back. "Right, so... as far as I can tell, you''re in contact with the augera somehow. They just fritzed out for some reason, but you''ve managed to get that under control. They said Emilia''s alive, but... joined to the symphony? So how do we get her back?"

    "The ''symphony'' seems to be the augera''s shorthand term for the Prophecy," Caden explained. "I don''t know what it means if Emilia''s joined to it. I don''t understand how this is different from all of you just being bound by the Prophecy."

    "Okay. Did you ask them what''s going on here with all this?" Kevan gestured at the arcana swirling in the air around them.

    "Yes. They said Emilia''s right here, but she''s being transformed." Caden paused for a moment, trying to think of how to quickly explain the situation. "There''s... there''s a lot of background stuff to cover, but the brief version is that there seems to be, like, layers to arcana. You already know there''s the arcanic sea, the layer beneath the physical world. Well, there''s a layer beyond the arcanic sea and most of Emilia is in that layer now, which has somehow brought her beyond the physical world."

    Kevan and Lynus looked both awed and frightened at this piece of information, and Caden suspected they were wondering how difficult it would be to navigate that new layer of arcana since it had been such a trial for all of them to get used to the arcanic sea.

    "Can you get there?" Kevan asked.

    "I''ve only managed it a couple of times, so not reliably. And I don''t know how to really do things there," Caden admitted. "And I''ve never just gone over like Emilia before бк in all the previous times, my body was right here in the physical world."

    "That means yes," Kevan said, grabbing Caden by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. There was a hint of desperation in his manner. "Please, Caden. Try. Try and get her back."

    An hour ago, Caden might have hesitated a little. He would likely have gone anyway, but there would have been a brief moment of indecision as he weighed the difficulty of the task and balked at the unknown challenges that lay ahead. But a strange sense of certainty had settled over him now, perhaps because he had just been reminded about WHY he had set out on this mad journey in the first place бк to save his sister and father from the prophecy that hung over them бк which had begun what felt like a lifetime ago when he had set his sights on being enrolled in the Academy.

    And what was more, Caden realised that he didn''t just want to do it for himself. Now that he understood Kevan a little better, he knew the personal stakes here. He knew how much Emilia meant to Kevan, and that it was more than some passing crush. Kevan hadn''t really done much to earn his friendship, but when Kevan had ensorceled Caden to share his deepest fears and insecurities, and also his hopes, Caden realised that the two of them weren''t really that different after all. And if there was a chance he could help Kevan find some peace, then he was damn well going to try.

    Caden nodded and gently extricated himself from Kevan''s grasp. "I''ll do everything I can to get her back," he promised.

    He turned away, feeling a sudden calm wash over him. His footsteps felt lighter than air. When he turned his mind to these sensations, it sent him right into his state of absolute dissociation and clarity, so that it seemed like he was watching himself from a distance while still being keenly aware of every sensation.

    I am {~?~}, he thought to himself, and the smallest sliver of comprehension flickered in his auric-ambient-flare.

    And then he was gone.

 126. Sighted

    Caden was gone, and yet not quite gone.

    For the very first time, he finally felt like he understood a little of what the augera meant whenever they talked about shadows being cast on walls. The world that he had been born in бк the world that he moved through with every other living person, and which felt so full and rich to them бк even though it seemed to be brilliant and vibrant, was really not all there was to experience. Reality, true reality, was so much more.

    But for humans, it was too much more. Caden understood this the moment he fell off the proverbial wall. He was a little painting that had plucked himself off the canvas and stepped into the world, and there was no way he could make full sense of what was around him. It was just not possible.

    And yet there he was, beginning to make sense of it.

    His previous forays into oblivion had filled him with anguish because his mind was too anchored in human reality, too chained by conceptions of the flesh in a place where space didn''t seem to matter. But now, in his state of utter dissociation, he realised that it had been a mistake to think that space didn''t matter in oblivion. It mattered, but it just didn''t operate in the same way he was used to.

    So he realised he was standing in the clearing with Kevan and Lynus, but he was also standing somewhere else. It was like he was inside the spaces between the air where they couldn''t reach him even though he was right there. They were the shadows on the wall, the figures painted on a canvas, and he was hovering an inch away from the surface.

    ''Yes,'' the young augeric voice noted with delight. ''You were always sighted, but with closed eyes, the light merely danced on your lids. Now they are open, and you see.''

    ''I don''t... understand all of it,'' Caden said, trying to make sense of the space that was oblivion. Lynus and Kevan were moving, that much he could tell, but from this frame of reference, he could not really comprehend exactly what was happening in the physical space with the same level of clarity that he enjoyed when he was actually there. It was like looking at everything through a lens that fractured reality into a kaleidoscope. There were parts of it that were recognisable, and he understood that movement was happening, but that was all.

    ''A child does not know the world they gaze upon from the moment of birth. In time, knowledge will come.''

    ''Where is Emilia?'' he asked, looking around. It was no good бк the world spun around him in a confusion of colours. What was even more disconcerting was how he thought he was doing more than just looking. It inexplicably felt like his eyes were actually tasting and smelling the world as well, while his ears and nose were engaged in similarly impossible sensory experiences. His only consolation was that he was so disentangled from his physical body that this confounding mess of sensations didn''t really affect him viscerally. He watched it all with detached fascination.

    ''I''m right here.''

    Caden felt a compulsion to turn. Since there was no reliable way for him to orientate himself, he obeyed the impulse and directed his attention towards the source of that call. Amazingly, the moment he did so, the chaos around him receded and he found himself staring at Emilia in the flesh. In that same instant, he realised he was in his own body too, and the world around the two of them was rapidly falling into place.

    They were in the clearing, but it was empty except for the two of them. There was a different quality to the world, though бк it looked like a dim picture of reality, but felt painfully bright. No matter where he looked, Caden had the urge to squint to keep himself from being blinded.

    ''Emilia!'' He paused when he realised his lips were not moving.

    ''Use this.'' Emilia''s lips weren''t moving either as she tapped a finger to the side of her head.

    ''Are you alright?'' Caden approached her slowly, partly because it was actually hard to walk when he couldn''t look properly at where he was going in this strangely dim world that still felt too bright. But he was also afraid about moving too much since he wasn''t sure exactly where he was going in oblivion when he moved.

    She considered the question for a moment with her trademark air of preoccupation, then favoured him with a bright smile. ''I''m as good as I can expect to be, given the circumstances.''

    Why was she being so cryptic? Couldn''t she tell that he was genuinely afraid for her, and that the situation demanded more clarity in her response and urgency in her manner? Caden felt a bite of impatience and was momentarily distracted by how it really wasn''t a figure of speech. He did feel like impatience itself had sunk its teeth into him somewhere in the region of his left ear. His hand came up reflexively, but he felt nothing there and when he drew his hand away there wasn''t any sign of blood. Still, he felt wounded.

    ''You''ll want to control that,'' Emilia remarked seriously. The smile was gone and she was now looking at him worriedly. ''We can accidentally tear ourselves apart here if we''re too... if our thoughts are... I don''t have the words for it.''

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    ''So we need to think softly,'' Caden muttered, recalling the vague words of the Geldor Spire when it had stitched his psyche back together.

    Emilia''s eyebrows rose and she nodded. ''Yes. That''s one way of putting it. We need to think softly.''

    ''What happened to you? Jerric said you were supposed to wake him, but you never did. And by the time he woke up, you were gone.''

    ''I was taken,'' she answered, folding her arms around herself and looking vulnerable. ''I was sitting on the chair, looking towards the forest... and then I was here.''

    ''But the trail?''

    ''Yes, I left that.''

    Caden frowned in confusion. In that instant, something huge and shadowy swooped down on him from above. He reflexively conjured a barrier and was about to send out a flurry of arcanic bolts, but there was nothing there.

    ''Softly, Caden,'' Emilia admonished.

    He stared at the empty space above him, then back at Emilia. In a sort of abstract way, he supposed what was happening made some sense. Somehow, here in oblivion, emotions could tear a person apart. He calmed himself and slipped back into his dissociative state.

    ''If you were taken here instantly, how did you leave a trail?'' he asked.

    ''I honestly don''t know. Where are we?''

    ''We''re in the forest. Took us a couple of hours to get here using wings.''

    Emilia''s eyebrows rose again as she looked at the space around them. ''This place is real, then? The forest. I assumed it was just a conceptual space, a convenient anchor for consciousness.''

    Caden tried to ''think softly'' while piecing together what they knew so far. It was a challenge, even with his mental trick of dissociation, but he managed to get a vague picture of their situation.

    A look of fascination crossed Emilia''s face and she interrupted him just as he was about to ask her a question. ''Wait, you said it took you a few hours to get here?''

    Caden nodded, then frowned. ''You''re not about to tell me that you haven''t actually been gone for that long, are you?''

    Her eyes widened, then, inexplicably, she absolutely beamed at him as she shook her head excitedly. ''The opposite! For me, it''s been days!''

    ''Days?'' Caden repeated, aghast. ''A-are you sure?''

    She considered it for a moment, frowning a little, then shrugged. ''I don''t have a watch, and I will admit the passage of time is hard to track here, but I''m pretty sure that it hasn''t been only a few hours.''

    ''How are you sure?''

    ''Because of my period,'' she answered, with the faintest twitch of her lips.

    Caden turned away and coughed. Embarrassment threatened to burn him where he stood, quite literally, but he quickly centred himself and allowed the emotion to pass.

    ''Okay... why are you happy about the time difference?''

    ''Well, it''s clear that the time I experience here is being elongated somehow. But if it''s only been a few hours, then maybe there''s hope for me after all.''

    ''Hope?'' Caden had to work to make sure that he didn''t get hurt by a rush of fear or dread when he heard that. ''The augera told me you were being transformed. What has been happening?''

    In answer, she beckoned him over to the edge of the clearing. Seeing her move about the space without any worry, Caden felt a little more comfortable about treating the space as functionally real. He followed her and saw her pointed out a line of glyphs that ran around the perimeter of the clearing.

    He stared at them, trying to really take them in. When he had first arrived in the physical clearing with Lynus and Kevan and dipped into the arcana, he had sensed the presence of glyphs somehow etched into the arcana itself. But now, in this oblivion version of the clearing, he could see them with a little more clarity. They weren''t the usual two-dimensional patterns he was familiar with. Instead, these glyphs were three-dimensional shapes hovering in mid-air, and he saw that they also extended into other facets of oblivion that he couldn''t yet understand even though he was looking right at them.

    ''These glyphs lock a part of me here. While my consciousness is trapped here in this mental construct, I''ve found that a part of me can still venture out. That part of me is blind and unable to really understand the world in quite the same way, but it managed to find the rest of you and plant the trail. As for what these glyphs are doing to me besides keeping me here... well, I don''t know the details, but I think it''s altering my auric-ambient-flare.''

    ''Help me,'' Caden said to the augeric shell. ''Help me break this.''

    ''We cannot,'' the lone augera''s voice replied mournfully. ''It is of the symphony, and we are its melody.''

    ''Then explain it to me and I''ll break it!'' Caden demanded.

    ''We are sorry,'' it answered, echoing its earlier apology. This time, Caden was ready for the wave of sorrow and despair, and he floated above it until the augera finally reined themselves in once more. ''If there is to be a counter-melody, {~?~}, you must be its composer.''

    Emilia looked at him and smiled sadly.

    ''You can hear them clearly?'' he asked, trying not to despair.

    ''I think I caught the important parts. They can''t help, can they?''

    ''No. But I didn''t expect them to be able to anyway. I mean, that''s why they''ve pushed me this far бк they need me to free them. If I''m ever going to do that, I need to do things that they''re not capable of doing. This is just one of them.''

    ''Very true. Do you think you can free me?''

    Caden folded his arms, thinking hard.

    His instinctive understanding of the mundane glyphs used by other arcanists was likely due to the fact that the augeric shell was woven into his auric-ambient-flare. But their understanding was only supplied to him if it didn''t contravene the Prophecy. That was why some glyphs remained inscrutable to him. That meant he couldn''t rely on somehow being able to instinctively decipher what these glyphs were. If he couldn''t understand them, then he couldn''t safely unravel them.

    Was it possible to unsafely unravel them, like what he had done with the hostile sequence used by the enemy agents when they had fled Geldor? That was possible, but also potentially catastrophic. It would be his last resort.

    Could he figure them out by himself, right now, somehow? That seemed like a long shot, but if time didn''t flow here in the same way it did in the outside world, perhaps it was worth trying.

    ''Emilia, you said the sequence is altering your auric-ambient-flare. How do you know? Can you understand parts of it?''

    She nodded. ''I''ve been studying them. A few bits make sense to me.''

    A little mote of hope blossomed in his heart. ''Okay. Let''s start there. Tell me what you''ve managed to figure out.''

 127. The Shape of Thought

    Emilia brought him on a quick circuit around the whole clearing and pointed out several places where there seemed to be a recurring set of glyphs. Caden realised that the more he looked, the more there was to see бк his initial impression that there was only a single line of glyphs was wrong. As soon as Emilia started directing his attention to specific parts of the ring, he noticed that some of these glyphs were somehow folded into or under other glyphs, and he could only see them if he was looking very carefully. His mind struggled to cope with the odd reality that was being presented to his eyes.

    ''How... how did you even spot that?'' he asked, squinting and tilting his head to try and better see one set of those folded glyphs.

    ''It''s easier if you relax,'' Emila said, noting his distress. ''Or... or you tense your mind in a specific way. Imagine you''re trying to cross your eyes, but it''s your mind instead.''

    Crossing his mind made no physical sense, but he thought he got the gist of what she meant. It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally managed the mental trick that allowed him to view those folded glyphs with a little more clarity, though it was hard for him to really get a fix on them. It was, he realised, a lot like an optical illusion. If he primed himself to see the folded glyphs, his perspective would undergo a disconcerting shift and he would be able to see them, but that also meant that he wasn''t able to pay attention to the unfolded glyphs while he was doing this. He couldn''t handle reading them both simultaneously.

    A part of him was beginning to despair at the impossibility of the task. The glyphs themselves were already unfathomably alien, their three-dimensional shapes taunting his inability to comprehend them. And now there were more of them, perched on the edge of his ability to even see them. What if there were more glyphs that he and Emilia literally could not perceive?

    ''I know,'' Emilia murmured. ''And I understand if you want to give up.''

    Caden spun around with a start. ''What?''

    Even though she didn''t move, Caden felt his attention being drawn to the arcana around him as if she had pointed to it. His emotions weren''t exactly spilling out, but they did colour the space around him a little. There was no use hiding them, so he firmly pushed that seed of doubt aside and squared himself as he faced Emilia.

    ''I''m not giving up here. I''m feeling out of my depth, but I have no intention of leaving or doing nothing. We are not letting the Prophecy do what it wants to you without a fight.''

    After Emilia had pointed out the colours of his own emotions bleeding into the space around him, Caden thought he could catch the tenor of Emilia''s thoughts too. The air around her lightened a little after what he said, and it was only then he realised that a miasma of fear and despair had been there in the clearing all along бк the product of her days of consciousness within this space as she tried and failed to find a way to escape.

    He felt a swell of pity, but it was quickly replaced by something more urgent бк the excitement of discovery. ''Emilia! That thing you did. You didn''t move, but you sort of... pointed? And I saw my emotional state in the arcana around me? How did you do that?''

    ''What, this?'' she asked, and now Caden found his attention drawn to a random spot in the clearing even though she hadn''t lifted a finger.

    ''Yes! You''re doing something with your auric-ambient-flare, aren''t you?''

    She frowned. ''I think so. I didn''t even realise I wasn''t physically pointing.''

    ''Try it again. How does that work?''

    ''I have no idea.'' She exerted her will and directed Caden to look at various parts of the clearing, and he confirmed that it had worked by naming what he was currently looking at.

    ''Have you figured it out?'' Caden asked after she had paused for several seconds and done nothing except stare into the distance.

    She gave a little tsk of impatience but didn''t look at him. ''Wait. I''m... trying... something.''

    Caden tried to wait patiently, but there was no hiding the little cloud of repressed excitement that was building up around him. He hoped that Emilia wouldn''t be distracted by that because he had no idea how to stop his emotions from colouring the arcana. It didn''t even seem possible бк at the moment, his attempts to rein it in felt like he was trying to hide where his eyes were looking.

    The surest way to hide an emotion was simply to not feel it at all, so he tried to distract himself by turning his mind to the puzzle of Emilia''s attention-directing ability. The theory that had gotten him so excited in the first place was that Emilia was actually operating at a level in oblivion that went beyond the physical body that was currently occupying this space. But since this was oblivion, there was more significance to that.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    All arcanists already operated beyond the confines of their physical body once they started making use of ambient arcana. For him and his friends, dipping into the arcanic sea and using that arcanic sense to navigate meant that they could operate at a greater level of control and mastery. It was like being able to hear and play music instead of simply being confined to looking at the notes of a score.

    His theory was that oblivion functioned in the same way бк it was simply a deeper layer of reality, a level where they could experience more of the richness of it beyond what their human senses were capable of catching. And Emilia had tapped onto some sort of oblivion sense, for lack of a better term, just like how the rest of them had tapped into an arcanic sense to help them navigate the arcanic sea.

    An explosion of frustration from Emilia distracted him. It was so strong that she had summoned her own spectre of emotion that she had to fight to hold at bay, but she quickly dissipated the dangerous cloud of feelings with more speed and certainty than Caden had managed. It was clear that she had become quite adept at it through practice. Caden felt a little sting of pity as he imagined how she must have felt, alone and unsupported in this alien space for days of subjective time.

    ''Don''t pity me,'' she snapped at him, though she immediately composed herself and gave him an apologetic look. ''Sorry. Things like that never bothered me before, but since my time with Kevan, I have become a little more aware of these things. And I''ve become strangely concerned with what people think. And it doesn''t help that you are literally advertising your emotions here.''

    Caden shrugged helplessly. ''I can''t help how I honestly feel. But you should also know that I respect you a lot. I''m not sure if I would be able to be so composed if I were in your position.''

    She pursed her lips, then acknowledged his compliment with a curt nod. ''What I tried didn''t work. I don''t know why, but I can''t do more than mentally point.''

    ''Can you tell me how it''s done? Maybe we can figure something out from there.''

    ''As far as I can tell, it does have something to do with my auric-ambient-flare. Remember what I said about tensing your mind in a certain way to see the glyphs? Well, while you''re doing that, you also focus a little burst of intent. For me, it is the same... same... collection of feelings and impressions and muscle contractions that I associate with pointing my physical finger. Except I don''t actually intend to move my body, I only intend to frame my mind in that shape.''

    Caden''s brow furrowed as he tried to follow along. ''Okay. If we try and use physical analogies... it''s basically like trying to hold a pose and then do some other action. Like maybe standing on one foot, and then crossing your arms. Except instead of holding a physical pose, you''re, uh, holding a mental pose.''

    Emilia nodded. ''Yes, that analogy works. But I can''t show you my mental pose. The best I can do is describe what I''m thinking about, and you have to go from there. But you remember our exercises about noticing everything? Well, it applies here too. There is a shape to our thoughts, our minds. When I think of my home, there is a pose that my mind falls into, and I feel and know what my home means. The mind stretches to bridge pictures, emotions, meanings, sensations, into one word. That stretch is the pose you must be aware of.''

    The mental gymnastics involved here were stunning, and Caden couldn''t help but feel thoroughly impressed with Emilia''s ability to have come this far on her own. Her descriptions were helping him make sense of his own thoughts in ways that hadn''t even occurred to him before.

    ''A shape to our thoughts,'' he muttered, thinking hard.

    Their auric-ambient-flares were proof of that, he realised, and he wondered at how it hadn''t been immediately apparent to him before. Their thoughts and emotions had some sort of, for lack of a better term, physicality, except it wasn''t corporeal in the same way that their bodies were. He looked inwardly at his own auric-ambient-flare and started reading his own threads. If they twisted like this, it meant that. You could see meaning from the very structure of the fibres. That was how their arcanic senses worked. But here in oblivion, on a richer layer of reality, you could do more than see. You could hear, and smell, and taste, and touch.

    But those receptive senses were simply the beginning. Babies learned how to take in the sensations of the world around them. And then, thus grounded in their reality, they started to walk. To run. To dance. To sing. To paint. To write.

    He delved into his own auric-ambient-flare to watch himself watching, to see his mind unspooling itself in threads of thought. The recursive effect that had baffled him so much back when he had first done this in the arcanic sea was now less unintelligible and more meaningful to him. This was the shape of his mind when he looked at the world around him. That was the shape of his mind when he thought of home. This was what happened if he looked inside his auric-ambient-flare while looking at something else.

    After just a minute of this, he had to stop. He felt mentally exhausted.

    ''You''ve gotten something,'' Emilia said, staring at him. Then her expression soured a little. ''In just one minute.''

    He couldn''t help but let out a little laugh. ''You laid the foundation. And I''ve had the dubious benefit of having my mind taken apart and put back together again. Turns out that made me a little more aware of the threads of my own psyche.''

    ''So how does this work?'' she asked, pointing mentally in random directions to indicate the ability she was referring to.

    Caden grinned, and with a flex of his will, he directed her attention to her own auric-ambient-flare, and she gasped in sudden comprehension.

 128. Unlocking Secrets

    ''A shape to knowing,'' Caden sent, repeating the term that Emilia had used as he continued to lead her attention along her own auric-ambient-flare. ''You''re right. Our minds take a certain shape. But you''ve still only been looking at one part of the whole. You follow the shape of the finger and forget it is attached to a hand, which is in turn attached to the arm, and on, and on.''

    Emilia staggered backward, clutching the side of her head with a hand. ''S-stop!''

    Caden released her mind and together they drifted back into the more familiar parts of oblivion that were still within their ordinary means of perception. It was mentally exhausting, but he had helped her glimpse, for a moment, how their own auric-ambient-flares extended into oblivion in dimensions that were foreign to them. Emilia''s trick of snapping someone''s attention to something was just a simple movement of those unknown portions of her own auric-ambient-flare which, in turn, could be perceived by the same faculty in another person''s auric-ambient-flare. It was something that everyone was ostensibly capable of if they ever managed to dip this far into oblivion.

    However, it was not without risk. Emilia''s form shimmered as a mass of emotion coalesced, threatening to swallow her. She managed to beat it back with brutal efficiency, but it was clearly taking its toll on her. Caden also had to grapple with a cloud of his own confusion and discomfort, and it took him more time to disentangle himself from the mess. It turned out that discovering that your own auric-ambient-flare extended into unknown dimensions was a lot like waking up and suddenly finding alien bodyparts had been grafted onto your body without any clear logic or purpose, leaving you to guess at their origins and functions. It was unsettling at best, and even though Caden had been very intentional and methodical in his exploration, he could glimpse a chasm of existential horror that awaited him if he tried to delve too quickly and too deeply into those new segments of his auric-ambient-flare that had been opened up to him.

    ''That wasn''t very pleasant,'' Emilia remarked wryly.

    ''No, it wasn''t,'' Caden agreed, feeling a little queasy. Guiding Emilia to the parts of her own auric-ambient-flare in the strange and new dimensions had been a lot more disconcerting than his brief foray into his own.

    ''It seems we face two problems,'' Emilia began, slowly settling back into her usual dispassionate state. ''The first is that there may be additional glyphs in layers of reality that we either cannot currently access or are unable to operate on for prolonged periods of time. The second is that even if we can access all the glyphs, we have little means of extracting meaning from them because they are arbitrary constructs that may bear no relation to the glyphs we are familiar with.''

    ''About that second part... I''m not so sure they''re entirely arbitrary,'' Caden mused, recalling one of his earlier moments of near-epiphany. It had been back in Devon''s home when he was trying to study the glyphs that the augera had given Devon to freeze the agents.

    Emilia looked at him in surprise. ''What do you mean? This was our first lesson in Celwyn''s class.''

    Caden shook his head. ''We can discuss the foundational parts of the theory later, but let''s just assume glyphs aren''t totally arbitrary. I''ve got reason to believe that glyphs aren''t created by us, but discovered. I believe the augera are the ones that have created them, and they are the ones who establish the meanings of the glyphs.''

    Emilia''s eyes widened even more, but then she frowned. ''Even if that''s true, it doesn''t help us much. The augera have already made it clear that they can''t help us with this.''

    ''Yes, but it means that we probably don''t have to worry about the glyphs not following any sort of logic. If they come from the same source, then there ought to be a consistency to their logic. We may be able to deduce the meanings of these glyphs using what we already know.''

    ''You''re proposing we decode what is essentially an alien language when we know only a scattering of the vocabulary and have a vague sense of the grammatical structure,'' Emilia pointed out.

    ''Well, it sounds impossible when you put it that way, but you''ve already done a bit of that,'' Caden countered. ''You said a few bits make sense to you.''

    She blinked at him, then shook her head as if to clear it. ''I... didn''t.''

    Caden paused and looked at her in concern. ''You did.''

    ''No, I mean... I didn''t make sense of them. Not in that way.'' She sat cross-legged in the middle of the clearing and took a few deep breaths, her brow furrowed in concentration. ''I''ve just realised, after what you showed me about my own auric-ambient-flare. I didn''t make sense of the glyphs through methodical effort. I''ve intuited their meaning entirely. And it''s because... because the shape of my auric-ambient-flare has already been altered.''

    ''What?'' Caden''s heart rate ratcheted up and he almost flung himself down next to Emilia, as if looking at her up close might yield some information about her current state.

    ''Stop overreacting,'' she said testily, throwing him an irritable look before centering herself. ''I already said that the glyphs are altering me. It''s not finished. But the changes that have already taken place... well, that''s what has given me the ability to partially understand the glyphs.''

    Stolen story; please report.

    ''Then we have to work fast.'' Caden got up and was about to rush towards the circle of glyphs, but Emilia caught his hand and gently pulled him back to sit with her.

    ''You think you can figure the glyphs out faster than they can change me?'' she asked, with a glint of impish amusement in her eyes. ''I think that''s a bit of a tall order, even for the Top Scorer.''

    Despair nibbled at the edge of his thoughts again, but he firmly shoved it aside and sank back into his state of dissociation. ''Do you have any other ideas?''

    ''I''ve tried them all out already long before you came, Caden. This thing about the full extent of our auric-ambient-flare... that''s interesting and worth further study, but I don''t think it''ll help in my present situation. What about you? You''re the one who came to rescue me.''

    Here in oblivion, Caden could tell that her words clearly carried no hint of mockery. They were just pure observations, almost entirely divorced of emotion. Caden wondered if this was how it was always like in her head. If she had made this kind of deadpan declaration in the flesh, he might have assumed she was being sardonic. He wondered now how much of his earlier impressions of her had simply been completely wrong.

    ''Let me think,'' he answered.

    Emilia''s presence was a wonderful help. Her general dispassionate nature meant that even though she did experience swells of emotion, she was able to quickly manage them and work around them. Here in oblivion, that sense of stillness and control was amplified, and it served as an excellent mirror for Caden to examine himself and still his own mind so that he could better focus on the task at hand. The flurry of worries and anxieties that lurked at the edges of his psyche melted away into nothingness. Just by being there, Emilia was helping him attain a purity of focus that he had almost never experienced before.

    Combined with his own state of dissociation, he imagined he could see the possibilities swirling around him like a cloud. Working rapidly, but with a sense of unhurried calm, he explored each one and projected the available courses of action into the future, working out the implications in his mind.

    Waiting for Emilia to intuit the meanings of the glyphs was a viable, if risky, option. It was reasonable to assume that the changes the glyphs were making would continue to give her an increased understanding of the alien sequence. There might be a chance that it would give her enough knowledge to break free of the sequence just before the moment of total fruition. The danger was that the changes might not progress at a constant pace. If there was an exponential curve to the rate of change, then it might not be possible for her to get ahead of it.

    Trying to deduce the meaning by methodical study was theoretically possible but not exactly practical. He had no real frame of reference to estimate how much time this might take, and since he was without any writing material, he couldn''t take notes. He could use arcana to write in the air itself, but that was messy and potentially dangerous if he accidentally etched a viable sequence into the arcana that was self-fuelling. On top of that, Emilia was right бк even if he was the Top Scorer, there was almost no chance he''d be able to decode these alien glyphs before the changes caught up with Emilia.

    There had to be another way. He dug deeper, turning the situation over in his mind.

    Emilia had been brought here to be changed. The Geldor and Hanafast augera had done the deed by dragging her into oblivion and then etching these glyphs in the arcana. The path of the Prophecy here was clear бк change the brilliant-sighted-singer into whatever was necessary, making her fulfill her purpose as the "bones" that would form the Chosen One''s "crown o''er mortal thrones". The fact that she had been spirited away meant that this transformation was supposed to happen away from the rest. And it also meant that, alone, Emilia would have no chance of escaping.

    Something clicked in Caden''s head.

    From what he had seen so far, the augera could have placed Emilia so far away that it would have been literally impossible for anyone to reach her in time, even if she had left a trail. And yet she had been placed in a seemingly random clearing not that far from the group, and it had been a simple matter of getting wings so they could reach her.

    And the trail itself... why would the Prophecy intend for her to leave one? That made no sense. It was more likely that the trail wasn''t supposed to be there in the first place. That, combined with her proximity, had weakened this moment. The certainty of her transformation was now in jeopardy because she wasn''t alone.

    The augera must have seized every possible loophole to deliver him to this moment. The Geldor and Hanafast augera fulfilled the terms of the Prophecy by seizing her and removing her from the rest, but there must have been some wiggle room that allowed them to deposit her so nearby. And as for the trail, they must have left enough clues in the arcana, or else nudged her along far enough so that she could discover how to leave one.

    So this was it. This had to be enough. Him being here, along with Kevan and Lynus. Somehow, this was all they would need to free her.

    What tools did he have at his disposal?

    No, that was the wrong way to think. If he were the tool itself... the instrument of the augera''s freedom... what qualities did he now possess that were key to seizing this moment?

    I am unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, he thought to himself, stretching his auric-ambient-flare so he could glance over it. I can see oblivion. I can touch threads of reality beyond mortal comprehension. But Emilia is sighted, too, so that is not the whole answer.

    {~?~}. Somehow, when he had taken that step to cross completely over into oblivion, his state of dissociation had resonated with some meaning with this part of his auric-ambient-flare. Was this the key, the answer that would help free Emilia?

    But it was still too nebulous, too far beyond his understanding. He could not use something he did not know.

    ... did not know.

    There is a shape to our thoughts. That was what Emilia had said.

    Ambrose had given him the ability to pass knowledge through arcana. Caden remembered asking the augera what it was, just before he had taken that knot of arcana into himself. Knowing, they had answered. The shape of it in the mind. The shadow of thought.

    His eyes snapped open and he stared, agog, at the sequence etched in the arcana around the clearing. He was so caught up in the moment that it hardly took any effort to fold his mind so he could see the hidden glyphs.

    And there they were. Tucked between the complex whorls and incomprehensible portions, Ambrose''s sequence, the knot of knowing itself, the one portion he could actually read and understand. The augera had laid the patterns there like a lock.

    And Ambrose had given him the key.

 129. New Heights

    Caden got to his feet, and a feeling of euphoria buoyed him as he took several tentative steps towards the ring of glyphs at the edge of the clearing.

    ''What is it?'' Emilia asked, rising as well.

    ''I can read a part of it,'' Caden replied in a daze, his mind still running through the possibilities, implications, and consequences if he made use of the key in his metaphorical hands.

    Emilia strode towards him, and Caden caught a complex wash of suppressed hope mingled with excitement. ''Where? How?''

    ''Ambrose has a technique that allows him to transmit knowledge through arcana. It''s how he passed me a combat-grade sequence when we were trying to lose the enemy agents in Geldor. Yesterday, I got him to teach me how to do the same thing. It turns out that it''s really just a way to transmit these mental poses we''ve been talking about. But that''s why it''s so important. Because his technique gives a frame of reference for what these mental poses are. It... it names them.''

    Emilia frowned, trying to follow his explanation. ''So there''s a glyph that represents this concept of mental poses?''

    Caden shook his head. ''No, it''s not so simple. Honestly, it seems to me like it''s a whole sequence, but even more than that. It''s...'' he struggled to find the words and concepts that went along with this. ''It''s like how individual letters have their own sounds, but you string them together to form words. And then words can be put in any order to form sentences, but sometimes the same words have different meanings if you put them in different sentences. This is... this is a collection of glyphs, of words, that form a... a shape of meaning, of knowledge. A shadow of thought.''

    He realised he was just parroting the words that the augera had used, but there was no other way he knew how to phrase it.

    ''How did Ambrose come across it?'' Emilia asked.

    ''I don''t know the "how", but the "why" is obvious. He''s the Chosen One. If I had to hazard a guess, I''d say he got it when the Geldor augera spoke with him. But nevermind that! I think this means I can sort of... unlock the meaning of the whole sequence that''s changing you. Then we can figure it out, and find a way to break through it.''

    Caden reached out towards the familiar portions of the sequence in the ring. He didn''t need to move, but he found his fingers stretching out regardless, his mind too tied to the physical for him to completely ignore the impulse.

    ''Wait!'' Emilia shrieked in sudden panic.

    There was a flurry of movement in the arcana as Emilia lashed out at him to stop him from making a connection with the sequence in the ring. Caden jerked away, startled, and the air around him bristled with conjured shields as he turned to face her. ''What are you doing?!''

    ''Wait,'' she repeated, panting slightly, her eyes wide and staring. She gestured to indicate that she needed a moment to catch her breath. Caden watched her, completely nonplussed.

    ''You''re like me,'' she managed to say after a moment, sounding a little calmer now as she straightened up. ''Sighted. You were in my place in the Prophecy gestalt, before your father pulled you out with his orbs, and before the augera made that effect permanent.''

    ''Yeah. So?'' Caden asked warily, still maintaining the shields around him.

    ''So this sequence could work on you just as it is working on me. It could change you, too. Transform you. It was originally meant for you, after all. I''m just the replacement. And knowledge binds. If you unveil the full meaning of the sequence using what Ambrose gave you and you understand it all at once...'' she trailed off.

    This was oblivion, but Caden felt his blood run cold anyway. In fact, that thrill of terror sank through his entire auric-ambient-flare and paralysed him so thoroughly that it was almost a whole minute before he regained full possession of his faculties since he had to beat back the wave of debilitating emotion.

    Emilia started pacing around the clearing, her agitation bubbling beneath the surface. ''What if you tried to understand the sequence in segments? No, then you''d just be in my position. And it''s a gamble that assumes the portions you understand will be the segments we need to break. And we''re also assuming that the thing can be broken with only partial understanding.''

    ''Well...'' he swallowed and glanced at the sequence before looking back to Emilia. ''The way I see it... either we let you get changed by the sequence as the Prophecy intends... or I step in and get transformed in your place, and we thwart this branch of the Prophecy.''

    She stopped pacing and stared at him. ''T-thwart the Prophecy?''

    ''This branch, and only momentarily,'' Caden clarified. ''I think this moment is so fundamental to the Prophecy that even if we delay it now, it''ll work its way around again. But if I get transformed in your place, at least that''ll buy us some time.''

    ''You don''t even know what it''ll do. It refers to this moment as turning one anchor into "bones". You could die.''

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    That was possible, but something about it didn''t seem quite right to Caden. ''I''m sure it''s dangerous, but I don''t think it''s meant to kill. The augera call it a transformation. I think... I think it''s meant to impart some sort of power. And the person who gets transformed is supposed to be linked to the Chosen One by the Prophecy, so I think that means the Chosen One will be using that person''s power as a foundation for what''s to come.''

    The look of worry and agitation on Emilia''s face didn''t exactly disappear, but curiosity and interest were clearly vying for prominence. ''So you mean to steal that power. And as someone not bound by any Prophetic links, you would be free to wield it as you see fit.''

    ''I would obviously be using it to help my family and friends if that''s what you''re concerned about,'' Caden replied testily. He didn''t like Emilia''s choice of the word ''steal''.

    She seemed to pick up on that. Her lips twitched ever-so-slightly and she cocked her head. ''You would be more powerful than everyone. Maybe even the Chosen One. And utterly unconstrained. A fascinating loose cannon. A dangerous experiment.''

    There was something strange about the way she was behaving now. Caden thought that this was odd, even for Emilia. It didn''t help that the arcana in the air was stirring, slowly shifting to accommodate the change in the stance of her mind. Here in oblivion, the streams of information were so rich that he could tell she was softly reaching out for the arcana.

    ''Emilia, what are you doing?'' His shields started humming slightly as he fortified them even more.

    The look of distracted fascination on her face gave way to her usual blank stare, but beneath that facade, Caden could see the shape of her mind settling into place with a steely resolve. ''I''ve followed along with your plan to free the augera. I''ve been strung along by the Prophecy to this moment. But you''re here, Caden, when you shouldn''t be. Your very presence is giving me choices I never would have had. So thank you.''

    ''If you''re thanking me, then why does it look like you''re about to attack me?'' Caden demanded.

    She fixed him with a steady gaze. ''Because I believe in what you''re doing. And I''m choosing to do what I can now to make sure you''re ready for what comes ahead.''

    ''Emilia, we don''t have time for this! This is the sequence''s doing, isn''t it? The Prophecy is forcing you to stop me!''

    She drew herself up and the arcana around her coalesced into dancing forms, answering her thoughts. ''It''s working. I understand more of it. Enough to glimpse what it will do when it is finished бк what it has already done to me. And yes, I can feel the Prophecy''s tug. So believe me when I say... if you cannot get past me now to take this power, then you''ve already lost your war against the Fateweavers.''

    The arcana swirling around her resolved into snarling creatures that lunged at Caden. They crashed against his barriers and started tearing at them with teeth and claws, but here in oblivion the attacks were more multi-faceted бк even as they threatened the physical integrity of his auric-ambient-flare that was currently contained in the shape of his body on this plane, their gaping maws also pulled at his mind, trying to suck him into an abyss of incomprehension that would leave him gibbering and insane.

    It was nothing like Caden had ever seen before, but he forced down the fear in his throat and focused instead on the fact that he could at least see the arcanic constructs for what they were, and he could understand what he was looking at. Emilia was right бк he was sighted, and whatever she could throw at him now, he could unravel. They were operating on the same plane of existence, and they had access to the same layers of reality.

    His barriers held, and with a flexing of his mind, Caden took in the nature of the creatures'' maddening maws. He deftly wove a layer into his shields so that they would filter out the seeping insanity, and shored them up with more arcana to buy himself some more time while he tried to figure out how to subdue Emilia.

    But the brilliant-sighted-singer was not idly watching him fortify his defences. Her conjured creatures were meant only to buy her time. Her body was still, but Caden could sense the shifting of her mind as she folded it to stare into the new layers of reality, where she was already shaping arcana in terrifying patterns that held some familiar glint of the eldritch power that Caden had glimpsed so far in the alien glyphs.

    It would take him too long to dismantle her creatures. Even military-grade arcanic bolts would be useless here as distractions бк in his now-expanded mind, their nature was laughably simplistic, and he was sure that Emilia could unravel them with a mere glance. No, he had to surprise her, just as she had surprised him.

    ''You can''t resist being a little dramatic, can you?'' Caden said through gritted teeth. ''All those big fights in the arena. And now this. All the flashy stuff. Is it because you like the attention?''

    Emilia''s attention shifted ever-so-slightly, but she kept the bulk of it on her weaving, which was rapidly coming to fruition. ''Do you really have time to rail against me?'' she asked, frowning a little.

    ''If you win here, what does that get you? No one''s watching. And at the end of it, you''ll all be stuck with the Prophecy, without the only person who can get everyone out.''

    A flicker of irritation crossed Emilia''s face. ''I''m not attention-seeking. I''m not doing this for an audience. As I explained, if you can''t beat me here, we''re all doomed anyway.''

    ''What makes you think you can be the judge of that? How do you know you''re not playing directly into the Prophecy''s hands right now by taking out the one threat to it? You should be helping me.''

    ''I am helping you!'' she yelled. ''I am helping you to stop hiding behind other people, and to come forward and start making choices because you can!''

    The arcana she had amassed suddenly gathered into a singular point. The entire clearing became painfully still and silent, as if time itself had frozen, although the momentum of existence continued to demand movement even as it was forcibly held in place. This metaphysical inertia built and built until it felt like every particle in the clearing was about to explode. Just before that moment of utter destruction, Emilia twisted the core of arcana. A terrible pulse of energy ran through the clearing. Its deadly touch vaporised the arcanic constructs she had conjured and blew Caden''s barriers away like dust.

    Caden was gone. Emilia stared at the empty space. The only thing that marked the fact that he had been there at all was a fine line in the ground where his barriers had held up for a fraction of a second so that the annihilating wind of her sequence had that much more time to turn the grass outside to dust, just before it reached the grass inside so that the scattering pattern was different.

    ''... Caden.'' She fell to her knees. ''No.''

    ''No? No shit,'' Caden''s voice echoed in the arcana.

 130. True Sight

    Emilia pivoted on the spot, her eyes darting all around the clearing to try and find the source of Caden''s voice. When she couldn''t get a fix on him, she quickly encased herself in a protective sphere of arcana. Even her defences were edged with new power бк the honeycomb pattern seemed to be embedded in the air itself, and held a faint, iridescent glow.

    ''Caden?'' she asked tentatively, slowly scanning the clearing.

    ''... Yeah?''

    ''Where are you?''

    ''Are you going to keep attacking me if I reveal myself?'' He sounded a little resigned.

    ''Until I''m sure you can beat me, yes,'' she answered defiantly, with a little note of annoyance at how unconcerned he seemed.

    A segment of Emilia''s shield suddenly caved in. Even though the arcana hadn''t shifted at all and there was no clear attack, she moved without hesitation and threw herself out of the sphere to avoid the incoming danger, deftly dragging the undamaged arcana along to be swiftly reshaped into a new barrier around her as she crouched defensively. Her protective sphere now thrummed with even more power, distorting the very air around it. She stared at the spot she had been in just a moment ago, but there was nothing there. Caden''s attack hadn''t left any trace at all, not even a whiff of ambient arcana.

    ''Are you sure yet?'' Caden asked.

    Emilia hesitated. What gave her pause was the fact that Caden didn''t sound like he was taunting her at all. There wasn''t the slightest trace of mockery in his tone, even here in oblivion where their communication relied less on sound and more on the pure transmission of thoughts and impressions. She caught traces of tension in his mind, and a great deal of trepidation, but she sensed it wasn''t because he regarded her as a formidable obstacle. It felt like he was afraid that he might hurt her.

    ''... Are you... holding back?'' she asked, colouring the arcana around her with indignation.

    ''A little.''

    Caden definitely had to be somewhere in the clearing since neither of them could leave the ring of glyphs that the augera had set up. On a hunch, Emelia folded her mind to scan the clearing once more. This time, she thought she saw the briefest flicker in the air in the same spot where Caden had been earlier. It somehow reminded her of a fish suddenly darting away from the surface of the water to avoid some perceived danger.

    She reacted quickly, opting to recycle the arcana in her shield so she could strike instantly instead of spending time to build up a new reservoir of energy. The barrier flashed and transformed into a searing light that she focused into an eye-wateringly bright beam, catching a quarter of the clearing in its fury. It swept over the bare ground and left it completely charred and cracked.

    ''AHHHHHH!''

    The scream of agony echoed in the clearing and hung in the air. It was only after the ringing in her ears stopped that Emilia realised it had come from her own lips and mind. She was still crouched on the ground, but her left foot was now pinned in place by a jagged, translucent shard of arcana that was almost five feet long. It had a faint iridescence that reminded her of the shield she had conjured, only somehow purer. It had appeared so quickly that she couldn''t even tell if it had been driven down from above, or if it had erupted from the ground itself.

    There was blood. Little droplets hung in the air in front of her, and some of it was dripping down the shard. More was rapidly pooling beneath her wounded foot. The pain was so profound that it suddenly seemed like it wasn''t a part of her. Dimly, she realised that if blood was dripping down the shard, it had properly impaled her from below.

    ''Oh shit, wait, sorry!'' Caden''s flustered voice echoed in the clearing. A moment later, the shard melted right into Emilia''s foot, and she felt the pain fade away in the sudden warmth of the arcana''s touch. When it was over, she was completely unhurt. Even the trauma of the agony had become somehow muted in her mind.

    ''Alright,'' she began, and then paused, a little surprised at how calm she sounded after being so badly hurt. She sighed and sat on the ground. ''Alright. I concede. You can definitely beat me. Will you show yourself?''

    And then, quite suddenly, Caden was exactly where he had been standing earlier. There was no ripple or perturbation in the arcana at all. However, the moment he appeared, he sank to the ground with a look of relief on his face.

    ''Sorry about that,'' he said, gesturing at her foot. ''That definitely wasn''t what I intended to do at all. It kind of got away from me.''

    Emilia waved his apology away, radiating intense curiosity. ''What just happened? Where did you go? How are you totally unscathed?''

    Caden pursed his lips, unsure about how much he was comfortable sharing with her. When she attacked him, he had an epiphany бк a moment when more of their reality made sense to him. In oblivion, the shapes that they wore weren''t really their bodies, they were simply mental poses that their minds had settled into in order to navigate the unfamiliar, alien layers of reality. He suspected that clearing in oblivion, which looked just like the physical clearing out there in the ''real world'', was also on some level just a construct, although he did think that there was some substance to it. Perhaps their minds were simply interpreting it for them and putting in the same familiar form.

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    Once he realised that, he understood that he could easily avoid anything that Emilia directed at what he perceived as his body. All he needed to do was move that portion of his mind away from that location. In oblivion, they were operating on higher, hidden dimensions, so it was a relatively simple matter of making sure that his auric-ambient-flare wasn''t currently occupying that spot in that particular dimension. In his mind, he imagined that they were fighting on a three-dimensional plane, but Emilia had picked spots to strike on the X and Y axes and committed to staying entirely on the same level on the Z axis. Even if she flooded the entire plane, he simply needed to shift his auric-ambient-flare along the Z axis to avoid anything she threw at him. It was almost like jumping over a wave on the beach.

    That mental analogy was the only thing that saved him, because even though he knew what he was doing, he couldn''t actually understand all the sensations he had been assaulted with when he pulled that particular stunt. In fact, shifting up into those unknown higher dimensions (or was it down into deeper ones?) had been a profoundly unsettling experience that he didn''t really have words for. The closest he could come to conceptualizing it was like his entire body had simply been a toe, and even though the whole of his sense of self was contained in that toe, he had vaguely felt a connection to a larger body and figured out how to flex those phantom, alien limbs so that his toe had twitched a little.

    As for the jagged shard of pure arcana, that turned out to be a terrible mistake. He had theorised that it would be impossible to trap or immobilise Emilia by using conventional sequences because she might simply side-step them like he had, since she was also sighted, so he had tried to use those nebulous parts of his auric-ambient-flare to actually pin her down, assuming that it would be like using your own limbs to physically pin someone else. That was how he had punched a hole in her first barrier бк by simply reaching down (or up?) with pure focus, so that he disrupted the arcana.

    Instead, when he tried to pin her, he had somehow conjured that shard of arcana so pure and concentrated that it was capable of doing physical harm while maintaining its integrity. And he had done it without any glyphs, or any particular focused intent.

    ''I''m sorry, Emilia,'' he said, after a few seconds of silence. ''I don''t think I should tell you yet. Especially not after what you just tried to do.''

    If she was offended, she gave no sign of it. Her emotions seemed clear of any resentment or indignation, and if there was any of that, it was probably completely overshadowed by her curiosity. She accepted his answer with a curt nod, but he could sense the roiling of her mind as she turned the mystery over in her head. With his greater awareness of how things worked in oblivion, he thought he could even detect the subtle shifting in the greater dimensions that hinted that she was beginning to move her auric-ambient-flare in ways that were similar to how he had moved his during the fight.

    He tried to move casually towards the glyphs ringing the clearing, though it was hard to completely hide his wariness of her. She watched him impassively, her mind still mostly fixed on trying to puzzle out what he had done earlier. He couldn''t help but let out a little huff of relief as he finally stood before the segment of the sequence that he understood.

    His fingers stretched towards the glyphs and his mind reached out through them.

    Knowing. He rehearsed the words of the augera to himself, focusing now not on the words themselves, but on the shapes of mind that they were meant to refer to. Knowing. The shape of it in the mind. The shadow of thought.

    The glyphs beneath his fingers answered him. As his auric-ambient-flare shifted itself into new poses, he felt the distant, unknown segments of them click into positions of comprehension, so that even here in this portion of it that his mind fully inhabited and understood, some meaning came through to him. That sensation of understanding spread, and as he looked around, he realised that he knew the rest of the glyphs in the sequence that ran around the ring, but not in a way that would be easy to quantify or explain. It was more like seeing something from the vague memory of a dream. All he had was the sensation of knowledge and recognition, but not the full details.

    If he was being totally honest with himself, it was rather anti-climactic. He had expected a flood of eldritch knowledge and a sudden ability to read the glyphs effortlessly. At the very least, he had hoped to gain some sort of insight into the very nature of those alien glyphs. Instead, all he had was that vague, dim sense of recollection, and no actual codified knowledge. Suddenly, the little confrontation with Emilia felt quite silly. All that fuss for this?

    ''... did it work?'' Emilia asked in hushed tones.

    ''It did,'' he said, turning to face her, not hiding his disappointment. ''But it''s not exactly, well... I don''t know. It''s not like some major infusion of power like we were making it out to be.''

    ''So you can''t free us from this place right now?''

    He cast a fresh eye over the sequence, trying to find some weak spot that he could exploit in order to break the entire thing apart, but nothing stood out to him. ''No.''

    Emilia frowned. ''But it''s definitely supposed to be transformative in some way. Can you tell what it did to you?''

    ''It... it gave me a vague sense of understanding about the glyphs. But it''s... it seems to be just a feeling. I look at them, and I get the feeling I know what they mean, but if you actually asked me what they mean, I wouldn''t be able to tell you what any of these glyphs stood for, or did.''

    ''Nothing at all?'' she pressed, growing a little desperate now. She pointed at one of them. ''Focus on this.''

    He obliged, though it was more to assuage her than out of any real conviction. ''Nothing. Just... just that feeling that I know it. But I don''t understand anything more from it than I did before.''

    ''No, look at it!'' Emilia''s agitation was becoming more pronounced. ''Not with your eyes. You did something earlier, during the fight. I''m not sure what, but you... you were somewhere else. That means you looked somewhere else. You looked with something else. Look.''

    Caden stared at her, a little in awe of how much she had picked up and how quickly she had arrived at the right conclusions, even if she didn''t have all the details.

    She was right. He was comfortable here in this skin that he thought of as his own, as the whole receptacle of his auric-ambient-flare, but he had glimpsed the truth. His body, even the parts of his auric-ambient-flare that he could immediately perceive бк they were just branches of a much larger tree. He needed to start inhabiting the rest of it. He needed to truly, truly see.

 131. Caught

    Caden knew, dimly, what he had to do. Lifting himself out of the plane of reality that they perceived around them had given him a vague sense of the other segments of his auric-ambient-flare that lay beyond the veil of what most humans understood and experienced. He understood now why the augera called it a veil бк reality itself was unchanged, and the only thing that had happened was that he now saw more of it. And veils were not opaque, impenetrable things. If you stood close enough to it, if you paid enough attention, you could see through them.

    And if you knew how to reach out with your hand, you could even push it aside, or tear it down.

    Excitement was building up within him. Emilia''s encouragement, her way of framing things, had made it click in his head, and he was certain that he was approaching a true understanding of the space in oblivion that they now occupied. It felt right within him. His auric-ambient-flare stretched out towards that veil that he couldn''t yet see, but that he knew was right there. The metaphysical hand of his mind brushed somethingбк

    ''HMM.''

    Caden flinched away and fell back, staring all around him in terror even though he knew the contact had come from beyond the layer of reality he could see.

    Emilia flinched away as well, though it was because she had been startled by his movements. She stared at him, a question in her eyes.

    ''Wellspring?'' Caden managed to gasp out, even as he tried to calm his racing mind. And somehow, perhaps because of the way he had directed this question outwards, Emilia didn''t seem to have heard it either.

    The clearing was unchanged, and even in oblivion the arcana did not register any colossal presence. But Caden supposed that for the wellspring-ocean-core, hiding itself so completely would be a trivial matter.

    There was no answer. Slowly, he got to his feet, ignoring Emilia as he cautiously extended his senses and tried to peer into the other layers of reality by folding his mind. It was beginning to dawn on Caden that the existence of these higher, hidden layers also implied the existence of other beings. After all, the augera and the wellspring were proof of that. What if there were even more things out there?

    Caden''s heart sank. Yes. There was definitely at least one group of beings out there besides the augera and the wellspring. Why hadn''t he been more careful about moving softly?

    ''... No. You''re not the wellspring,'' Caden whispered into the arcana. ''Are you?''

    ''Who are you talking to, Caden?'' Emilia asked.

    ''Strange...'' the voice said, trailing off, not responding to him. Emilia was still looking at him expectantly. Apparently, she couldn''t hear it.

    It was very different from the mental touch of the augera or the wellspring. Those beings had been alien beyond comprehension, and communication with them had been difficult primarily because they were so different from humans. But this... this felt familiar. It was still immediately evident to Caden that this person was operating at a higher level than he was, but there was no doubt that it was in fact a person. A human. There was a commonality in the nature of their thoughts that was impossible to hide.

    ''Cosmic chance and happenstance,'' the voice continued, sounding a little concerned. ''How rare. What are the odds I''d see something odd here, where the pattern is supposed to be the neatest?''

    The swell of panic rising within Caden''s chest made it hard for him to think. If he was right бк and he strongly suspected he was бк he was speaking with an actual Fateweaver. How much did this one know? Were the rest aware of what was happening here, now that he had been found by one? Could he lie? Could he escape?

    ''Supremely strange. Outstandingly odd.'' The voice took on a more reflective tone, almost like a person just thinking aloud. The panic within Caden surged бк the Fateweaver was somehow reading information about him, perhaps from his very thoughts. Was everything he was thinking now laid bare? But then a little bit of relief crept in, because it didn''t even seem like the Fateweaver was talking to him. Was it possible that the Fateweaver couldn''t even hear him, or see him properly?

    ''What are you?'' The bewilderment was clear, and for the first time, Caden felt a slight shift in the arcana as the Fateweaver moved closer. Emilia seemed to have finally sensed something too, because she looked around the clearing in surprise.

    ''Do nothing.''

    The whisper was so tiny, so faint, that for a moment Caden thought he had imagined it. But it was the augera in the shell, the young voice, that had spoken. He froze and held his breath, and the fear flooding him now even helped in some way as he tapped into some primal instinct that made him stay absolutely still. Every inch, every fibre of his auric-ambient-flare seemed to tense up. The shell hardened, helping him to maintain this mental pose of utter stillness, embodying his desire to be unseen, to be passed over by this greater being, this ancient-distant-spider.

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    Caden''s first indication that it was working was Emilia''s reaction. She stared, open-mouthed at him, and he realised that she could no longer see him. ''Caden?'' she called.

    He didn''t even dare to bite his lip as he desperately hoped she wouldn''t start frantically calling for him. What if the Fateweaver heard?

    She didn''t continue calling out for him. Instead, she started methodically scanning the clearing, carefully folding her mind. But there was a quiet desperation to the way she worked now, almost as if she felt afraid that she had just been abandoned. He felt a stab of pity, but his own fear kept him rooted to the spot, and kept him silent.

    In the higher planes of reality, something brushed against his auric-ambient-flare. With the augera''s help, he stopped himself from shuddering. That touch was almost unbearably odd, and so disconcerting because he had never felt anything like it before. It was like a cold hand on a phantom limb. It brought the same instinctive desire to flinch away if something repulsive had touched his flesh, but he was experiencing this on the parts of his auric-ambient-flare that he had only just discovered.

    ''What''s this?'' The voice mused. ''Not a person? A strange echo. Tied to the Six-Chained-Foundations? What an odd shape. Who is this? Who was this?''

    The probing continued, covering more of his auric-ambient-flares in the newly-discovered layers of reality. The experience was becoming deeply uncomfortable now, like Caden was watching someone else get patted down in an almost inappropriate fashion, but it was also horrifying in a disembodied way because he understood, even if he didn''t actually feel it, that he was actually watching himself being patted down. But if there was one good thing that was coming from this singular experience, it was that this was helping him understand more about how his auric-ambient-flare inhabited those higher dimensions. Every point of contact was helping him develop a sort of more advanced proprioception that applied to his auric-ambient-flare.

    ''Oh. Oh! The original. So the current Foundation is a replacement. How unexpected! What broke the threads to the original? Did he die? An accident, perhaps. But then why is the echo here? Ah, they were friends. What a strong memory. Must have left a powerful impression. A pity.''

    The ancient-distant-spider was coming even closer to the layer of reality that Caden was more familiar with now. He wondered if Emilia might even be able to finally sense it as more than just a vague wash in the arcana. But she showed no indication that she felt anything more than just a slight shifting of arcana as she continued to scan the clearing, evidently still looking for him, and the desperation on her face was giving way to despair. Caden''s heart ached as he saw that she was close to tears now, perhaps thinking that something awful had happened to him and had left her completely alone in this clearing once more.

    ''... Oddly delayed progression. The transformation should have been finished by now. A curious tangle. Caused by this memory? ... Yes, such odd ripples. And it goes further back.''

    In Caden''s mind, he thought he could feel rather than actually see the ancient-distant-spider. It seemed to loom over the two of them in the clearing now, and the arcanic name fit perfectly. Its nebulous form was almost as unfathomable to Caden as the augera, but he did get the impression of something multi-limbed, and it was pulling what he assumed were threads of arcana that existed only in higher dimensions, although all he could catch at his current level was just a shadow of those threads. Were those the strings of Fate?

    It peered at Emilia, then at a segment of Caden''s petrified auric-ambient-flare. Its limbs gathered up spools of arcana from nothingness and it squinted at them, evidently thinking hard. Then it looked off into the distance, off into other layers far beyond Caden''s current level of comprehension, and it seemed to sigh to itself.

    ''This causes problems further down the line. Where shall I start untangling this...? Further ahead, or...?'' It glanced in another direction, then rumbled in agitation. ''No, going back is harder. Too many spools have closed or run out. Better to try and get ahead of it.''

    And then, just like that, it was gone.

    ''Careless!'' the young augera''s voice snapped at him suddenly, and the shell around him turned soft so that his auric-ambient-flare could move freely again. ''To peer past the veil is one thing, but to dare to try and tear it? At this stage? Crawl first, then plan to walk, before you dare to dream of running!''

    Caden allowed himself to flop backwards. He was so completely relieved that he didn''t even pay any attention to the augera, or to Emilia, who had cried out in surprise and relief and run over to him.

    ''What happened? Where were you?'' Emilia asked, trying her best to sound composed.

    ''I...'' He propped himself up on his elbows. ''A Fateweaver. It was just here. Looking at us. Examining me.''

    ''What?'' She stared at him.

    ''I was going to... to see, like you said. And then it just appeared.''

    ''So they know? The Fateweavers know?'' Emilia''s hands went to her throat. Caden couldn''t help but notice how odd a gesture that was, but before he could remark upon it, the augera interrupted.

    ''They know they must look, but they do not know what they look for,'' it answered. ''We can speak freely now for a time as they turn their gaze to the greater web. The transformation has been wrought upon the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, and the brilliant-sighted-singer does not need to face it now, and perhaps not ever. Now you must all quickly return to the broad path, so that from a distance the pattern looks untroubled.''

    ''That''s what I was trying to do,'' Caden snapped. ''I thought I had to do that to break out of the sequence laid around this clearing. How do you expect me to know what the hell I''m doing when this is all new to me?''

    The augera recoiled a little and seemed to puff itself up in indignation, but then it deflated. ''You are our slender bridge to freedom, Caden. Outside of Prophecy, we have only chance and skill, and this was a moment of chance that almost fell awry. But we have time and space now to speak a little more, and here is where skill can be applied.''

    Both Caden and Emilia''s attention were drawn to a specific spot of the sequence as the augera directed their gazes there, and there was a sense of invitation being extended to the two of them.

    ''Come,'' the young augera said, sounding a little cheerful. ''Let us teach you how to break free of our prison.''

 132. Layers and Layers

    ''Knowledge binds,'' the augera began, ''but knowledge has layers.''

    As Caden and Emilia watched, the sequence ringing the clearing seemed to shift and twist, and then peel apart so that they were no longer looking at the strange, convoluted glyphs that had baffled them as just a single construct. Now, they could see that each glyph was in fact made up of several different ones, each laid on top of the other in progressively higher layers of reality. The augera had taken the very fabric of the world and stretched it out for them, so that they didn''t have to fold their minds to see бк it was unfolding reality for them, rapidly thumbing through its various dimensions like a book.

    ''Knowledge binds because it shapes your auric-ambient-flare. As you learn, it changes. You take new forms, new shapes, new patterns. And that is when you become bound, because you cannot fit into the forms, shapes, and patterns of the world as you once did.''

    It was painful to watch, but the augera briefly pulled their sight into planes of reality that were beyond what they had seen so far, even in their folding of oblivion, and pointed at something. Caden had no idea how much Emilia understood, because he could barely even focus on it, but in that barest flicker of a second, he caught the impression that the augera was pointing at a rock. A rock.

    ''Was that a rock?'' Caden asked, puzzled.

    ''Rock?'' The augera twisted in confused amusement, then seemed to lean in towards him. ''... Rock? No. We were not pointing at things of the world of flesh.''

    ''You were pointing at a rock,'' Emilia confirmed, frowning at the space that the augera had directed them to look at, although it was now completely empty since the augera had allowed the layers of reality to slip back into their proper position.

    ''... no. Look, sighted ones. Look. See.''

    Once more, the augera peeled the layers back and held them open for Caden and Emilia to peer through. They folded their minds, and Caden felt the augera taking hold of their auric-ambient-flares in those higher dimensions, like someone gently turning a person''s head towards something. Caden grimaced in discomfort, his mind struggling to really comprehend what he was supposed to be looking at.

    Not eyes, he thought to himself. Seeing, looking, these are words of the world of flesh. What part of my auric-ambient-flare is supposed to be used here?

    It was the part the augera was currently cradling. A part that the Fateweaver had skimmed over earlier and briefly touched with its otherworldly, metaphysical limb. Caden twitched it clumsily and pointed it at the thing the augera wanted him to comprehend.

    He gasped, then turned away, shivering uncontrollably.

    ''You saw,'' the augera said, sounding satisfied, and it relinquished its hold on the two of them and allowed the layers of the world to fall back into place once more, so Caden could no longer sense what had disturbed him so greatly.

    ''What? What did you see?'' Emilia demanded.

    ''It... i... I....'' He tried to stop himself from shivering and was successful for only a moment, before a violent shudder ran right through him. He felt the augeric shell tighten around him like a warm blanket, only then did he realise that he had stopped breathing. He forced himself to suck in a lungful of air, then quickly tried to settle into a breathing exercise to calm himself down.

    Of course, in oblivion, he wasn''t actually breathing in the first place. What he had perceived as a cessation of his normal breathing was actually a sign of how the flow of arcana in his auric-ambient-flare had seized up. He had become so disturbed by what he had seen that the very essence of his being had gone into some kind of shock. Going through this breathing exercise in oblivion was his way of regulating the flow of arcana in his auric-ambient-flare again. It was moving again, but was now a chaotic jumble. When Emilia realised what was happening, she started helping him by sending gentle arcanic pulsations that soothed his auric-ambient-flare and helped him return to a steadier, more even flow. It took him about a minute before he felt like he had settled his nerves and sufficiently calmed his perturbed auric-ambient-flare.

    ''Sorry,'' he said to Emilia, feeling quite worn out. ''I... really don''t know how to explain.''

    The augera rumbled, and it was such a curious sound that Caden and Emilia didn''t realise until after a few seconds that it was laughing. ''Rock. Rock! ROCK! We understand now. Yes. A rock. A rock!''

    ''You mind telling us what''s so funny?'' Caden asked peevishly, still reeling a little from the shock he had just experienced.

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    ''You are unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. She is brilliant-sighted-singer. We are woven-shackled-stream. We all exist, and so we all comprehend existence. But our beings are not your beings. So our words are not your words. The worlds bridge us, and we travel from our little islands to meet in the middle, where we share words from alien beings. A rock! Yes. We see now.''

    Caden stared at Emilia and found some small scrap of comfort when he saw his utter confusion mirrored in her face. Finally, finally, somebody else was right here with them when he was speaking with an augera (Or was it more than one at once? Or was it all of them at once?), and he would be able to speak with her afterwards and compare notes. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn''t even really care about comparing notes at the moment. He was just relieved that he finally had someone he could talk with and just complain about how utterly confounding all of this was, and how horribly frustrating it was to communicate with these creatures.

    The look of bewilderment on Emilia''s face morphed into irritation. ''We don''t see. Explain.''

    The waves of amusement wafting off the augera quietened and soured into something that was vaguely similar to Emilia''s irritation, though Caden thought that there was perhaps also a pinch of helplessness in it. ''We try. We always try. Ancient-distant-spiders made us woven-shackled-streams, and so we always try.''

    ''Try harder,'' Emilia pressed. ''Caden just went into some kind of shock from whatever you made him look at, and neither of us are any the wiser for it!''

    ''A rock. Your word. Your thoughts. What are rocks?''

    ''... What are rocks? What the hell?'' Caden blurted. He pulled threads of arcana from the air and projected the image of one. ''I mean, seriously?''

    ''No. No. We...'' The augera twisted itself in agitation.  ''Your word is rock. You use it on these things. But when you say this word, what are your thoughts?''

    ''Stone? Pebble? Ground? Floor? Earth?'' Emilia rattled off, still confused. She pointed at the image that Caden had conjured. ''I mean, that''s it. What are you asking?''

    ''Yes!'' The augera sounded suddenly excited, even pleased. ''You see the strings? You see the lines? Follow them.''

    ''What?'' Caden asked blankly.

    ''No, you cannot see the lines yet,'' the augera said, now forlorn. Their mercurial shifts were beginning to wear Caden down.

    ''IиC'' he began hotly, but Emilia interrupted him with a dramatic gasp.

    ''I think I understand,'' she said, her eyes wide.

    ''You see strings?'' Caden blinked at her.

    ''What? No, I don''t know what strings they''re talking about. But that thing about the rock. All those words. They''re asking about the mental associations we have when we use these words.''

    A glimmer of understanding came to Caden. ''Okay... but... oh. OH.''

    A memory clicked in his head. Ambrose had mentioned something like this when he had spoken about his first foray into oblivion. At that point, every time he thought in terms of physical space, he had suffered terrible mental anguish and increasing disorientation.

    ''Our words... our language is filled with associations,'' Caden said, thinking aloud. ''Our words shape our thoughts. I guess... I guess in some really, really simple way, we did see a rock.''

    ''YES!'' The augera exclaimed. ''Rock. Why did you think you saw a rock? Because your words mean something.''

    ''Quiet. Quiet for a moment, please. You''re just... saying the same words in a different order, and you''re using words that I think I recognise, but it''s obvious that you''re thinking about more, or about totally different things,'' Emilia said to the augera, frowning as she massaged her forehead.

    Caden nodded fervently. Emilia definitely understood the pain and frustration that he felt every time he spoke with the augera.

    ''Okay. So we both saw something we thought was a rock. But it''s not a real rock like those lumps of stone in the physical world. Still, we perceived a rock, because when we think of ordinary rocks, we''re thinking about... what, exactly?'' Emilia asked.

    ''That''s what the augera was trying to get at,'' Caden pointed out.  ''What is a rock, in the physical world? It''s... I mean, it''s really just part of the world, isn''t it? The physical world itself. It''s like, just... the ground. The earth. The stuff we stand on. It''s just the basic flat ground beneath us, which we totally ignore. But it''s... it''s our foundation. We build everything on it. And somewhere in our heads, these are the things that are jumbled up in that one word.''

    ''So you''re telling me we saw... an arcanic rock?'' Emilia raised an eyebrow. ''And you got scared by that?''

    ''No,'' Caden shot her an annoyed look. ''We saw something foundational. Something that is just... the fundamental, foundational layer.'' He directed his attention to the augeric shell, which had quietened down at Emilia''s behest. ''Is that right?''

    ''... in part,'' they replied, sounding subdued. ''It is a deep layer. The deepest we see.''

    Caden sighed. ''Of course. And that''s why you couldn''t understand the wellspring, because it works at even deeper levels.''

    The augera did not reply, but Caden sensed an echo of their grief as they thought back to that moment when the wellspring-ocean-core had made brief contact with them, and spoken to them in its own alien way, without bothering to simplify its communication so that they could fully understand it, when it had deigned to do so for him.

    Emilia''s loud sigh brought him back to the present. She jabbed a finger at Caden, though he could tell she was actually directing this gesture at the augeric shell. ''Okay. That was a lot of trouble and fuss over what I suppose is just the first step. You were only starting to explain how to escape this prison. At the rate this is going, Caden and I are going to be gibbering and insane before we''re out. Can you just open the damn door?''

    ''No. It is against the pattern, and as woven-shackled-streams we cannot break it. We may distort it, but the distortion to unlock this prison will be so great that the ancient-distant-spiders will see.'' The augera seemed to take in a deep breath. ''But we believe in your sight. Both, as sighted ones, have the being. Now you need the knowing. We will teach you. You can learn.''

    But one small sliver of the augera turned to Caden alone, and whispered so quietly that only he could hear: ''You must.''

 133. Changed Plans

    [Several hours earlier]

    This is it, Ambrose thought as he watched Caden and Lynus fly off. It''s a knot. I can feel it.

    Emilia was gone. It was an elegant knot and he couldn''t help but marvel at it. They had no idea where she was because no one had their eyes on her when she vanished. The one person who might have been able to stop it was Caden, and events had conspired to ensure that Caden hadn''t been alerted until she had already disappeared, and now he had nothing to go on except that odd arcanic trail. So that meant that the entire group had one very clear path to follow.

    But something was wrong. Ambrose could feel it in his gut бк the pattern of the Prophecy was not right.

    Caden wasn''t supposed to go. Emilia had been spirited away for a reason, and the rest of them were meant to still be together as they set out in search of her. Ambrose had no idea where this certainty came from, but the whole framework of the Prophecy settled in his mind as if it had been there all along, and he was only just beginning to uncover the details. It was like walking through the memory of your own house and expecting to find specific things and details in various places, only to realise that those spots were now occupied by new and unfamiliar things when you turned your attention to them.

    So Caden was supposed to be here, and he definitely wasn''t supposed to take Lynus away. In fact, Jerric probably shouldn''t have woken up that early either, so that Kevan would still be here. And their group was supposed to travel as one unit. Somehow, that seemed very important.

    Jerric came up to Ambrose and shook him by the shoulders. "What''s wrong? Why do you look like that? Should we have stopped them?"

    Ambrose stared slack-jawed at the figures of Caden and Lynus, now little more than black specks over the treetops. He couldn''t answer immediately бк something had just occurred to him.

    The knot of the Prophecy had been elegantly fashioned, but this disruption wasn''t random chaos. Ambrose could have stopped Caden and Lynus from heading off if he had woken up a few minutes earlier. Or he might have realised what was going on if he had more presence of mind to listen to what had been happening in the trailer in that bleary, muddled state between sleeping and waking. But no, somehow, other things had conspired to bring the present turn of events to pass бк he hadn''t had a good night of sleep, and consequently, he wasn''t awake to seize that crucial opportunity to stop the unchosen-sighted-{~?~} from flying off.

    Was it possible to stop them? But even as he contemplated it, he felt a shifting in his auric-ambient-flare, felt a tilting of the whole fabric of reality beneath him. Somewhere in oblivion, the threads of Fate were tightening. The knot that was coming up was becoming firmer, more secure, more insoluble. But at the same time, there were threads around him right now that were coming loose.

    "Ambrose?" Jerric shook him again. "Do we need to follow them?"

    "I... I don''t know," he whispered, aghast, trying to make sense of this seismic shift.

    Jerric dithered for a moment, then decided to follow Caden''s instructions. He went back into the trailer started rummaging through the boxes in search of the personal protection artefacts. He found the stash of pendants and hurried back out, stuffing one into Ambrose''s hands as he passed, and tossing another to Devon, who was frantically packing up the chairs.

    Ambrose stared at the pendant, with its clear crystal cut into a pencil point shape, set into a silver wire frame and threaded with a fine metallic chain. He could hear the faint hum of the sequence itself, carved into the tiny glyphs within the crystal in complex, three-dimensional shapes. He realised with a start that he instinctively recognised the shape that the sequence formed бк it was itself a glyph, although it wasn''t one that he had learned from any books. He simply understood it through his arcanic senses. It sang of stability and weight, of certainty, of immutability.

    "Jerric, there''s a whole sequence to use to key these to ourselves," Devon said, holding up the pendant. "There should be a reference sheet. Did youбк"

    "Come here, I can do that for us." Ambrose said, turning to the two of them and motioning for them to hold out their pendants. He was still going over the recent turn of events in his head, but something told him they had to get ready quickly, and they didn''t have time for both Jerric and Devon to try and follow some instructional manual.

    "What?" Jerric stared at him.

    "Don''t know how to explain, but I can do it. Come on, hold out your pendants like this," he said tersely, wrapping the chain of the pendant around his hand and allowing the crystal to dangle from his palm.

    They obliged, and Ambrose dipped into the arcanic sea. The crystals had a song that looped in on itself, forming a protective bubble. He needed to nudge their auric-ambient-flares into alignment with the crystals so that the bubble enveloped more than the crystal itself. If they relied on the glyphs, then this was a multi-step process that would take perhaps ten minutes. Ambrose simply allowed the song to flow over him, then reached out with his auric-ambient-flare to maneuver himself into his crystal''s protective bubble. It was over in just a few seconds.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    It was marginally trickier to do this for others since he couldn''t manipulate their auric-ambient-flares, so he worked on their crystals instead. He listened to the flow of Jerric and Devon''s auric-ambient-flares, then stretched the song of the crystals ever-so-slightly so that they opened up to the two of them, allowing him to wrap Jerric and Devon in the bubbles of their crystals before he closed them up again. He was done in less than a minute.

    "Wow, that felt a little weird," Devon said, holding up the small crystal to his eye to inspect it more closely. "It felt like this thing, uh, covered me."

    "Okay, Dev''s got everything on the trailer, we''re all keyed, now we need to figure out some protections for the trailer while we hunker down," Jerric said, looking around. "It''s not exactly the most defensible or most discreet spot to stay, though..."

    "No," Ambrose shook his head, having made up his mind. "We have to move."

    "Move?" Jerric turned to him. "But the rest of them will come back to this spot, andбк"

    "We have to move," Ambrose repeated insistently, hurrying back into the trailer. "Come on, one of you drive while I set up someбк"

    "But Cadenбк" Jerric began.

    "He''s wrong!" Ambrose raised his voice, sounding a little more panicked now. He could feel it. Something was coming. A shifting of the threads of Fate. "This is all wrong. Please, we have to move. We''ll figure out how to get in touch with them later, but we can''t stay here!"

    Jerric and Devon exchanged a look before he turned back to Ambrose and nodded. "Alright, let''s go, then."

    Devon got into the driver''s seat and pulled out the map so he could figure out where to go, while Jerric started packing the boxes away to keep the trailer free from clutter. Ambrose got into the front passenger seat and took in a deep breath to calm himself.

    The augera had taught Caden how to hide auric-ambient-flares, and Caden had in turn shared that knowledge with Ambrose, but they hadn''t had the opportunity to test it out. The original plan had been to try it in the morning, but that was before Emilia''s disappearance had split the whole group up. Still, it was the first and most important thing to do бк hide their auric-ambient-flares from any pursuers.

    "I''m going to do something now to hide our auric-ambient-flares," Ambrose said, pitching his voice so that Jerric could hear. "It will probably feel... uh, disorienting. So brace yourselves."

    He didn''t wait for a response before he sank into the arcanic sea, where he could more securely wrap his metaphysical hands around Jerric''s and Devon''s auric-ambient-flares. They flinched a little at the contact, but he didn''t give them any time to react. It was probably better to do this quickly. He took careful hold, making sure to mark the portion where their consciousness resided, and then threw himself headlong into oblivion, dragging their auric-ambient-flares along.

    Being in oblivion was not the utterly alien experience it had once been for Ambrose, especially now that Caden had shared the augera''s technique with him. There were mental anchors for him so that somehow this non-space made more sense, even if he couldn''t articulate what those mental anchors were. By instinct, he held his auric-ambient-flare in oblivion, then grabbed Devon''s and Jerric''s core of consciousness, and gently poked all three of them back into the arcanic sea, and then back into the physical world.

    "Faбк" Devon gasped next to him, before choking on his saliva.

    "Fuбк" Ambrose heard Jerric choke mid-curse as well in the trailer.

    "You alright?" Ambrose asked, thumping Devon on the back. The young lord waved a feeble hand as he massaged his chest. Ambrose got out of his seat and found Jerric staggering back to his feet, clutching a counter for support.

    "Whбк... was that... oblivion?" Jerric asked shakily.

    "Yes. Short version, our auric-ambient-flares are hidden there while our minds are back here," Ambrose said, helping him over to a seat.

    Jerric nodded, looking a little queasy. "Okay. Give me a minute. Then I''ll help you with some protective sequences around the trailer."

    Ambrose went back to the front where Devon was staring into the distance, still panting slightly. "Oblivion, huh?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Great stuff."

    "You sure you''re okay to drive?" Ambrose asked worriedly.

    "Sure. In a bit." Devon closed his eyes and started regulating his breathing. After a few deep, calming breaths, he seemed a lot better.

    "That''s... a lot better than my first time," Ambrose said, sounding impressed.

    "Yeah, Emilia''s breathing thing is seriously helpful," Devon remarked. "Alright, so we''re just going to head along our planned route for now?"

    "Yes, as long as we''re moving," Ambrose answered, settling back into the front passenger seat.

    As Devon brought the trailer back onto the road, Ambrose sank back into the arcanic sea. Operating here without the presence of his own auric-ambient-flare was rather disorienting at first, mostly because he had no anchor for his consciousness. As soon as the trailer started moving, his mind was left behind until he returned his attention to the physical world. It took him a moment to properly orientate, and he realised that he had to intentionally follow their trailer, which felt extremely odd because he felt a sense of motion, but it was completely disembodied.

    "Ambrose, I can''t do this," Jerric said, tapping him on the shoulder. Ambrose looked back and saw Jerric holding a hand to his forehead. "It''s... I can''t focus, can''t follow the trailer."

    "It''s alright," he answered. "Just try and acclimate. I''ll take care of our defences."

    Once more, he sank into the arcanic sea and started layering protective sequences over their trailer. It already had an impressive array of barriers and countermeasures that came built-in, but something compelled him to shore them up with whatever he could. There were other heavy-duty security sequences he had been taught by the Imperial Nightwatcher agents, but something told him to rely more on the novel creations he could mould with his refined arcanic senses, so he started shaping arcana less by rote and more by instinct.

    The crystals they were keyed to had a song, so he used that as his foundation. The trailer had barriers to handle direct assault, but he wanted something subtler. He knew how to tear apart an active sequence to repurpose its arcana if he knew its constituent glyphs, so his intention now was to see if he could extend that defensive capability to the trailer, and make it work even if he wasn''t aware of the source.

    The puzzle opened up in his mind''s eye, and he started weaving the arcana into experimental patterns as they drove down the road. And all the while, even as he worked, he felt the hand of Fate closing in, like a spectre on their trail.

 134. Inner Turmoil

    It took Jerric around half an hour more before he was able to get used to operating in the arcanic sea without having his auric-ambient-flare as a convenient anchor for his consciousness. Many of his attempts ended in exasperated sighs as he kept finding himself turned around in the arcanic sea and rapidly left behind by the moving trailer, and if he wasn''t quick enough to resurface, the resulting disorientation left him feeling nauseated. Once, he became violently sick, and only barely managed to stick his head out the window in time to send a projectile of vomit streaming out behind the trailer.

    Devon observed all this with increasing anxiety, partly because Jerric was becoming visibly worn down by the failed attempts, and partly out of worry about how he was supposed to manage doing the same thing if Jerric was having so much trouble.

    By the time Jerric was able to keep up with the trailer and join Ambrose properly in the arcanic sea, Ambrose had already set up an intricate construct of arcana around the trailer. Jerric stared at it, awed.

    ''What is this?'' he asked.

    ''Just something I came up with,'' Ambrose answered, regarding his work critically.

    ''You''re not even using any glyphs,'' Jerric observed, examining one segment of it a little more closely. ''Are you actively focusing on this?''

    ''No, it''s self-supporting. Arcana as a substance has... a sort of definition to it. Patterns, ways of being. If you set it up the right way, a construct like this can remain stable even without glyphs.''

    Ambrose was about to continue explaining, but he sensed Jerric''s consciousness slip out of the arcanic sea again, so he surfaced fully into the physical world as well and saw him massaging his forehead.

    "Sorry, got distracted," Jerric said, shaking his head slightly. "How are you managing this so easily?"

    "It''s hard to explain. I don''t see my auric-ambient-flare in the arcanic sea anymore, but I still feel it in oblivion. Sort of like a phantom limb. I guess you have to be more familiar with oblivion before this becomes more manageable," Ambrose answered.

    "Then Dev and I aren''t going to be much use in a fight in this state," Jerric said, looking worried.

    "If it comes to a fight, I don''t know how much use I''ll be in any state," Devon chipped in, only half-joking as glanced at Jerric before turning his eyes back to the road.

    Jerric shot him a wry look. "Have a little more confidence in yourself, m''lord."

    Devon snorted, but then said more seriously, "Yeah, alright. But let''s be realistic. If you took that long to acclimate to working without your auric-ambient-flare, and you still don''t have the hang of it, then none of us should be counting on me to master it at the drop of a hat. Least of all if we''re caught in a fight."

    Ambrose pursed his lips. "If it comes to it, I think I can undo this thing with your auric-ambient-flares quickly. My construct should buy us enough time."

    "What does it to, exactly?" Jerrc asked.

    Ambrose thought for a moment, going over the steps he had taken in his head. Out here in the physical world, without hearing the song of the construct, it took him some time to put it into words. "Well, the short version is that it''s supposed to unravel an incoming sequence and store the arcana. If it can''t successfully do that, then it''s supposed to reflect as much of the energy as possible."

    Jerric''s eyebrows rose. "To unravel a sequence, don''t you have the know the glyphs of a target sequence, and then pick it apart manually? You mean you''ve made a barrier that somehow does this automatically to any sequence that makes contact with it? And you''ve done it without any glyphs?"

    "It''s..." Ambrose hesitated, then decided to try and offer an explanation even though he knew it was broaching dangerous knowledge.  "Well, if you''re thinking in terms of glyphs, then yes, you do have to know the specific glyphs of your target sequence, and then sort of do surgery to pick it apart. But this doesn''t rely on glyphs, so it doesn''t work that way."

    Jerric stared at him. Ambrose could almost hear his mental gears grinding furiously as he digested this piece of information.

    To Ambrose''s surprise, it was Devon who spoke up first. He glanced at Ambrose with a deep frown on his face. "You''re not focusing on the construct, but you said you''ve managed to make it self-sustaining somehow. Does that mean you''ve somehow set it up by shifting away from the whole framework of glyphs? Then what are you using in its place?"

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Jerric turned to Devon, his mouth now agape, before looking back to Ambrose. "Is he right? You''re... you''re... somehow using a whole different system of arcana? I mean, it has to be a system of some sort, right? Or else it wouldn''t be possible for it to be self-sustaining. Simple frameshifting alone requires constant focus for it to work."

    Ambrose shook his head, marvelling at how quickly his friends had caught on. "That''s not entirely true. It''s not exactly a different system of arcana. Honestly, I don''t really know the theory behind it. I mean, if you really think about it, why do glyphs even work?"

    "You''re asking me for real?'' Jerric blinked.

    "Yeah. I mean, I wanna figure this out too, so we need to talk theory," Ambrose said.

    "Like, right now, while we''re apparently driving away from some danger that Fate has set on our tail?" Jerric continued quizzically.

    "Jerric, my construct is up. We''ve got the trailer''s defences beneath that. Our auric-ambient-flares are hidden. We''ve done what we can," Ambrose said simply. "Let''s talk theory."

    "You''re awfully calm about all this now. Half an hour ago, you were chivvying us to get on the road and start driving," Devon remarked.

    Ambrose shrugged. "Would it help if I told the two of you that I think it''s important that we discuss the theory?"

    Devon shot him a sideways look. "... Like, important important? Is this a Chosen One Prophecy-sense thing?"

    Now that Devon had put the question to him like that, it did give Ambrose pause. He wasn''t exactly feeling an impulse to turn the discussion to the topic of arcanic theory, and he didn''t feel that sense of certainty that it was something he had to do. If he had to put a name to it, he would have called it simply professional curiosity.

    But being around Caden had made him question his own sense of agency a lot more, and in recent months he had begun to wonder if even his natural inclinations were nothing more than tools of Prophecy, since he was the Chosen One. Every thought and motive had to be questioned. In the past, this wouldn''t have troubled him at all, but now that they were actually trying to corral the Prophecy and eventually subvert it, it worried him. Could he trust himself? Wasn''t that what Lynus had been worried about бк being forced by the Prophecy to do something he didn''t want to, even if it was against his natural inclinations? Recent events had made brought these issues to the fore. He already knew, in theory, that the Prophecy worked with probabilities, nudging things together with as little resistance as possible. That obviously meant that it was manipulating them using their own inclinations and preferences where possible. That fact just hadn''t felt so sinister until now.

    The hesitation seemed to confirm it for Devon, who turned to Jerric and earnestly said, "You better start discussing the theory!"

    "No," Ambrose said, shaking his head. "I don''t know. It''s not something I''m sure of. It''s just..."

    "Just what?" Jerric prompted gently, sensing the turmoil within him.

    Ambrose looked up, the anguish showing briefly on his face before he forced a smile. "I love arcanophany. I love studying it. I love thinking about it. I love practicing it. I love everything about it. And now I''m wondering if that''s really me, or if it''s just something the Prophecy put into me so that it can control me and move me along its path. Like, right now, do I want to discuss this because it''s just so fascinating to me and I really enjoy it... or is it something the Prophecy wants me to do, because I''m supposed to figure something out with the two of you?"

    Neither Devon nor Jerric had an answer to that. Ambrose looked down at his lap and started twisting his hands. Their trailer continued down the road, the sound of its wheels on the tarmac filling the emptiness in the air. The silence stretched, and each of them slipped into their own thoughts. Another half an hour passed.

    The ground rumbled.

    At first, only Devon noticed, but it was such an imperceptible thing that his only reaction to it was a slight crease in his brow as he wondered to himself whether he had just imagined it. Had that just been the trailer''s wheels going over a tiny bump in the road?

    The trailer bounced again, ever-so-slightly. This time, Jerric looked up, mirroring Devon''s uncertain frown. "Did youбк?"

    When it happened a third time, it was unmistakable. The trailer shuddered briefly and even the air was momentarily disturbed, like a wave of force had overtaken them. Dimly, Ambrose felt a perturbation in the arcana that was gone as soon as it had registered on his senses, leaving him nothing else but the briefest impression that something had happened somewhere behind them. He stuck his head out the passenger-side window to look back.

    "What is it?" Devon asked, sounding fearful.

    "I don''t see anything," he answered as he drew his head back in. "I thought I sensed something, though."

    "Do you think something''s following us?" Jerric asked, tense.

    "Something''s definitely following us," Ambrose said grimly. "I just don''t know what it is. I''ll check it out."

    He dipped into the arcanic sea and allowed the trailer to speed away, so that his consciousness lingered on the road behind them. But instead of staying there, he sent his mind hurtling upwards so he could catch more of the land in the sweep of his senses, sacrificing detail for distance. The ambient arcana was definitely showing signs of disturbance, but it was already settling down into a state of equilibrium. Out here in the middle of nowhere, there was nothing else except the gentle touch of the Spires, their coverage blanketing the arcanic sea with silk-like delicacy.

    Something flickered at the edge of Ambrose''s perception, like a fin breaking the surface of the water only to slip away without leaving so much as a ripple.

    He was momentarily seized with indecision and fear. There was no strong impulse to fight or flee бк Prophecy was leaving him without overt direction. A part of him wanted to stay and challenge their unknown pursuer, but there was something viscerally terrifying about the glimpse of it that set his teeth on edge.

    What would Caden do? he asked himself.

    He dithered for a few more seconds, but there were no further perturbations. He could feel the trailer growing further and further away as the mental tag he had placed on it slipped into the distance.

    Caden would protect his friends, Ambrose decided, and he sent his mind floating back to the trailer so he could keep a watch over it from the arcanic sea.

 135. Eldritch Reckoning

    As his mind soared over the trailer in the arcanic sea, Ambrose fretted.

    They were completely exposed out here on the road in the vast emptiness between cities, and he felt it very keenly now even as he watched over the trailer. The trick of hiding their auric-ambient-flares in oblivion was definitely working because he couldn''t pick up Devon''s and Jerric''s signatures, or even his own. However, their trailer was still a bright spot in the featureless sea бк a dense weave of complex sequences. It had its own set of defences to make it more muted, but those were more geared to helping it blend in with the hum of arcana from all the other artefacts in a city.

    His heart sank as he realised that trying to hide was a totally lost cause. Even if by some miracle their pursuers somehow didn''t immediately notice that the trailer was an arcanic powerhouse in the arcanic sea compared to conventional vehicles, they could not fail to notice that it appeared to be completely unmanned, with no auric-ambient-flares anywhere inside. No, they couldn''t pass off as ordinary drivers.

    He anxiously scanned the arcanic sea as he attached his consciousness to the trailer and kept pace with it. There was no further sign of that odd presence that had momentarily surfaced earlier, but Ambrose knew better than to assume the coast was clear. The feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach was more than just nerves бк it had a whiff of Prophecy about it, like a dull ache warning him that the pattern predicted some sort of imminent danger.

    Every now and then, he chanced a dip into oblivion, but that plane of perception yielded no more fruit than the arcanic sea. The brief moments of reconnection with his auric-ambient-flare made it harder for him to readjust to being without it in the arcanic sea, but he forced himself to endure it, reasoning that if something were to attempt to creep up on them, it might be possible to catch it with his oblivion senses.

    An uneasy hour passed. The mental strain of following the trailer without an auric-ambient-flare to anchor him, while dipping in and out of oblivion, was wearing him down. His nerves felt frayed and even the gentlest ripple in the arcanic sea made him jump. It was becoming impossible for him to distinguish the ordinary movement of the flow of arcana from the genuine perturbations that might signal an incoming attack or a hidden pursuer.

    One more dip into oblivion, he told himself, and then I''ll take a break.

    The moment of reconnection with his auric-ambient-flare in oblivion was a relief, and he allowed himself to relax a little. He extended his senses as far as he could, but once more nothing drew his attention. The thought of taking a break was extremely appealing now. All he needed to do was shift back into the arcanic sea, then back into his body, and he''d tell Jerric thatбк

    Panic.

    Ambrose''s mind twisted in on itself in confusion as he tried to make the transition and found himself still in oblivion. He tried to melt out of oblivion and back into the arcanic sea, but the folding of himself refused to happen. Disembodied nausea seized him and he struggled with the absurd, impossible input бк he had no body to feel with here in oblivion, so how was he so utterly consumed by the need to hurl?

    ''Do not struggle.''

    He froze. The voice had come from everywhere and nowhere, just like the augera''s in the Geldor Spire on his first foray into oblivion, but Ambrose somehow knew with utter certainty that a far greater entity was communicating with him now.

    ''Greater?'' the voice mused. ''This is the shape of your thoughts. An estimation of degrees of power, fundamental to your perspective. The Jailer indeed.''

    A new sensation crept over him бк his auric-ambient-flare was being turned over in oblivion, and he was as helpless as a doll in the hands of this higher being. The nausea intensified, but he forced his mind to stay utterly still, and he focused instead on the train of thoughts racing across his consciousness now, trying to anchor himself in the moment, watching how he watched himself in a recursive loop.

    ''Good instinct. How much of the symphony do you think you hear?''

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    ''W-what are you?'' Ambrose asked, ignoring the question.

    ''Not "who"? Why so certain, Chosen-Blinded-Jailer?''

    No matter how much Ambrose focused, he could not catch anything more from the entity beyond the meaning of the words it was sending to him. It had no emotional bleed like a human, and it did not radiate alien otherness like the augera. It was simply there, a completely clean presence. If not for the fact that he was actively communicating with it, he would not even be able to tell it was there.

    ''You... you''re not like anything I''ve ever met before. Unless you''re... another augera. But different.''

    ''Good instinct,'' it repeated. ''You have learned of what I am. The symphony echoes this truth. You are Blinded, but you can listen. You can hear what I am. Satisfy my whim бк name my being.''

    The words were simple, but now Ambrose was being assaulted with the sheer profundity behind each one. He understood that the words he was hearing were just the portions of meaning his mind could catch, like a poor seive. Even so, it was just possible for him to comprehend what the entity was saying.

    And it was right. He did know what it was. Caden had talked about it, but more importantly, when all of them had congregated by the Academy lake to call up the wild augera, Ambrose had heard the augera use the name itself.

    ''Wellspring-ocean-core,'' Ambrose whispered.

    It was as if the very act of intoning that name had summoned the presence of the entity. Where he had felt nothing just a moment ago, he now sensed a tumultuous shifting of reality itself in oblivion, as things beyond his comprehension moved around him. Yet even in the midst of that metaphysical storm, he managed to anchor himself by resolutely ignoring everything, turning his mind''s eye inward as he sank into a state of utter dissociation, watching himself watching his own thoughts, over and over again, as he hoped for the storm to pass.

    But the whirling chaos did not abate. Instead, the wellspring-ocean-core threaded something through his auric-ambient-flare and made more intimate contact with him, so that he could still follow its words even as the world around him shook itself apart.

    ''Slave of the symphony, yet destined to be a composer. You move before your time. Your dance is different. Do you know this?''

    Ambrose fought his panic even as his mind raced, his thoughts tracing themselves even as he tried to think in parallel to figure out what the wellspring-ocean-core was saying to him. What was it saying? What was it asking? What did it want?

    ''You''re... talking about... the Prophecy,'' he began haltingly. ''Saying... I''m not following it entirely? Yes. I know.''

    ''How much do you think you hear?''

    It was the question it had first asked him. He wanted to answer, but the plain meaning of it eluded him, and he wasn''t sure he had an answer at all. He understood the individual words, but he also knew that the entity was asking about something far greater, asking him to consider things he hadn''t even thought of before.

    ''I... don''t know. I don''t know how to say how much I can hear.''

    ''You hear but a whisper in the wind. The symphony swells in the innermost halls while you linger at the gate. You strain your ears and catch the faintest notes, the loudest instruments. Yet you hear much already, though Blinded. You have opened the gate before your appointed time.''

    ''Why are you telling me this? What stake do you have in it? You''re not part of it, are you?''

    For the very first time, Ambrose caught a whiff of glee, but it was so alien that he did not recognise it at first, and it was only with the entity''s intentional filtering that he understood what it was feeling at all. ''No. I am not. None of us are. We have been waiting for a Chosen One like you. Do you know why you exist?''

    ''Why I exist?'' Ambrose croaked, almost broken by the scope of the question. He struggled to shore up his mind against the world-breaking scale of these inquiries. ''I... you mean why I am the way I am? It''s... because of the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}.''

    ''Yes. It is good that you do not simply hear, but also listen. Not all your predecessors were so perceptive. Do you know the essence of deviation within yourself?''

    ''... The... you''re talking about the aspects of my auric-ambient-flare that don''t form the face? I... I don''t. I think I can look, but... but not now. Not here.''

    ''Then look, Jailer. Sooner rather than later. Find your essence of deviation and claim it. Your steps are slipping, and soon the composers of the symphony will hear when you falter. If you wish to add your own chord to the chorus, you must be ready.''

    ''Wait!'' Ambrose called, because he sensed a dismissal in those words. ''Something... something''s coming right now, isn''t it? It''s following our trailer. Can you help us?''

    An unexpected wave of hostility filled Ambrose''s mind. ''I will not.''

    He found himself being shunted out of oblivion, and he went crashing through the arcanic sea right back into his own body. He let out a gasp of surprise and almost fell out of the seat.

    "What is it?!" The whole trailer lurched as Devon swerved out of panic before righting the wheel again.

    Ambrose opened his mouth to respond, but his words were lost as a terrible burst of noise and heat enveloped the trailer entirely.

 136. Self-Determination

    It was like being caught in the middle of a hurricane of flame. The red glare momentarily blinded Ambrose before the trailer''s defences came up бк all the windows were suddenly veiled with thick shields that filtered out the worst of the light, though there wasn''t much to see besides the pattern of swirling fire that continued to press against the panes. Devon tried to floor the pedal to get them to of the maelstrom of shaped arcana, but the trailer had locked itself down and laid down formidable defences that anchored it in place. The initial wave of searing heat was immediately reduced to a dull warmth. After a few seconds, the roaring flames vanished, and all they could hear was the potent hum of the trailer''s shields and the faint sizzle of the asphalt.

    Clearly, they had been found, so there was no point hiding now. Ambrose acted as quickly as he could even though he was still reeling from how the wellspring-ocean-core''s had violently thrown him back into his own body. He grit his teeth and plunged back into oblivion, and with a tremendous effort, he dragged his auric-ambient-flare out of it, together with Devon''s and Jerric''s, so they could operate normally again.

    "I''ve unveiled us," he said, panting a little with the exertion. "We... need to gestalt. Defend ourselves."

    Devon looked sick, though it wasn''t clear whether that was because of fear or the brief sensory overload that came with having access to his auric-ambient-flare again. "Are we making a stand here, or trying to make a run for it?" he asked as he did a quick check to see whether the defences would allow him to drive normally.

    "If they''re like the ones from the manor attack, running is wiser," Jerric answered. He was holding the back of Devon''s seat for support, and only looked marginally better.

    "Give me a second," Ambrose said, and dipped into the arcanic sea to take stock of what was going on.

    He was pleased to see that his own layer of defences was intact, and had worked as intended. Perhaps a quarter of the arcana that had been invested in the attack against them had been unravelled by his weaving, and the energy was now being held in reserve in a tight sphere that was drifting a few inches over the front of the trailer where he was. He quickly connected with it, ready to shape it into a shield-piercing sequence.

    But there were no targets. Except for the scorched asphalt around them, there was no other sign of hostiles.

    Ambrose''s heart sank. Were the enemies capable of doing what he had done бк veiling their auric-ambient-flares in oblivion? But how was that possible?

    The calm, empty arcanic sea suddenly surged and stretched as some unseen hand started shaping energy. Another storm of fire was building around them, though Ambrose couldn''t tell where the architect was.

    "DRIVE!" he yelled, even as his mind pulled the sphere of collected arcana into various shapes and sequences.

    First, a sturdy plane of force to cover the melted asphalt. As Devon slammed the pedal down, the trailer lurched a little as its wheels climbed out of the little deformation it had sunk into before finding purchase on his conjuration. It cracked a little under the trailer''s weight, but held up long enough for them to clear the melted segment.

    Next, a boost. This was a surgical burst of energy applied directly to the trailer''s engines. It was dangerous and definitely not within the design of the artefact, but the Nightwatchers had taught him a handful of sequences that would allow him to overcharge commercial artefacts in specific ways. One of them was meant to coax any engine into getting a sudden burst of speed бк good for quick escapes. It was his first time using it, but he recalled the glyphs with perfect clarity, and relied on his instinct to control the flow of how much arcana to feed it. The trailer shot forward, startling Devon, who had to fight to keep the vehicle on the road, but the extra speed saved them from being enveloped in another storm of fire. Behind them, the conjured planes of force shattered, and the asphalt deteoriated into a boiling black puddle.

    The rest of the spare energy went back into the shield batteries that kept the trailer safe. He knew the initial attack had been bad, but it still alarmed him to find that the shields had been almost completely depleted. With the top-up of restructured energy, they still wouldn''t be able to take another direct hit like that.

    ''What do we do?'' Jerric asked, making contact with Ambrose in the arcanic sea. His panic filled the space for a moment before he got ahold of himself.

    Devon connected with them a moment later, and even though he had half his attention focused on driving, Ambrose was impressed with how composed the young lord was. ''That was a hell of a kick. Can you sustain that?''

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    ''No,'' Ambrose answered. ''It''s only meant to be use in bursts, and if you do it too much to a commercial artefact, it''ll wreck the thing. But keep driving. Floor it. We can''t stay in the same spot.''

    ''I can''t sense anything out there, can you?'' Jerric sent.

    ''No. I think they may be hiding in oblivion like we were. That means we need to find them the same way they found us бк by looking, physically.''

    ''How do we do that?'' Devon asked.

    Their brief discussion was interrupted with another incoming storm of fire. This time, Ambrose sensed it building ahead of them, and he directed Devon in a flurry of pure thought, almost entirely bypassing words. The trailer swerved off the road, but the ground was thankfully accommodating enough, and they jostled their way back onto their original route, dodging the roaring flames.

    ''They have to be working line-of-sight since they attacked us when we were veiled earlier,'' Ambrose answered, frustration creeping into his tone as he stretched his senses as far as they would go so he could head off any further attacks. ''But we don''t see anyone either. So they''re also invisible, though I''m not sure how they''re doing it. I doubt it''s as simple as our mirror trick.''

    ''Even if they''re invisible, they''re physically following us. They might be in a car?'' Jerric pitched in. ''Easy enough to check.''

    Jerric took a few seconds to pull together a dense knot of arcana. Ambrose noticed he was working with a basic arcanic bolt sequence, but then the knot shifted as it went through some transformation that Jerric was relying on pure focus for. A moment later, a razor-thin wave of energy pulsed out from their trailer, covering the road behind them in an expanding arc. It was gone in the blink of an eye.

    ''Nothing,'' Jerric announced. ''All the way to the treeline, and almost all the way back to the place we parked. We''re clear in front too. So they''ve got to be following us by air. Wings? But we''ve got to check the whole sky...''

    ''Jerric, you genius,'' Ambrose declared.

    ''What?''

    Ambrose didn''t stop to explain. Watching Jerric had given him an idea. Even if their enemies were veiled from both arcanic and physical sight, they couldn''t make themselves incorporeal. And it didn''t matter if they were shielded. If you wanted to find them, all you needed was a simple pulse, and their own shields would betray their presence.

    He worked more rapidly than Jerric, pooling together a mass of arcana that was five times the density. But before he could shape it to his purpose, another shift in the arcanic sea demanded his attention. He hastily anchored the energy to their trailer and pulled Jerric and Devon into a proper gestalt.

    ''Channel to me!'' he sent frantically.

    They were not up against another storm of fire this time бк more precise attacks were being levelled against them. He sensed three points of focus where energy was rapidly coalescing, and he realised they were using some form of shield-piercing sequence, although the beams had been modified.

    The first one lanced towards them from directly behind, and Devon swerved again to avoid it. The brilliant line of light almost blinded him. It was almost as thin as a thread, but it was so piercingly bright that it actually cast sharp shadows across the scene, and it hung in the air, clear as day, for several seconds.

    The other two formed further ahead, their points of origin on either side of the trailer, sending two deadly lines stretching across the road. Ambrose knew they were going too fast for Devon to brake in time, so he threw all the arcana he had amassed for the pulse into their defences, while also pulling sharply on the channels of energy he had established with Devon and Jerric.

    His defensive sequence barely dampened the attack this time. It seemed that the enemy had learned how to modulate their sequence so that most of the arcana was bypassing it, but the trailer''s glyph-scribed shields stayed solid.

    It wasn''t enough. As the trailer passed through the thin threads of deadly energy, they raked across the shields, leaving fiery lines. Before the trailer was fully clear, the shields failed, even with all the extra arcana, and the beams cut straight through the rear quarter of the trailer, leaving perfectly clean lines. A few of the boxes were neatly bisected, and they spilled their contents onto the floor.

    ''Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!'' Devon''s panic was now bleeding into the arcana. ''If that happens again, it''s going to just slice right through us!''

    ''Give me arcana,'' Ambrose commanded, his mind racing as he focused on the best defensive sequence in the arsenal given to him by the Nightwatchers.

    The other two complied, and he tried to pull in as much as he could while firming up the framework in his mind''s eye. It made use of glyphs from sets he hadn''t even heard of, and he only knew them by rote, so he had to work by instinct and memory, not full cognizance. It wasn''t ideal, and he felt far from certain that it would work.

    For the first time in his life, he felt a pit of fear growing in his stomach. There was no Prophetic assurance that helped to calm his nerves. There was no sense of clarity or purpose that guided him. The future was completely featureless бк an utter void, empty of any guarantee, even for him, the supposed Chosen One.

    The arcanic sea twisted again as unseen hands shaped it into murderous patterns. This time, there were six points of origin. He could see the intended path of the beams, and he knew there was no way they would be able to avoid all of them.

    In that moment, just before the hostile sequences went off, his mind inexplicably went back to the wellspring-ocean-core. He thought of how he had asked it for help, and it had refused him utterly.

    I don''t need your help anyway, he thought with a surge of vindictiveness, as he unfolded the Nightwatcher''s defensive sequence.

 137. Monstrous

    Ambrose felt the arcana pass through the glyphs in his mind, through his auric-ambient-flare, before being twisted into fantastical shapes that defied comprehension. Even now, he couldn''t really understand all of it, but something about its essence troubled him. For a sequence that was supposed to be defensive, it felt alarmingly sharp as it took form.

    The sequence drank in every ounce of arcana that Devon and Jerric had supplied to him, and then proceeded to almost completely hollow him out. The arcanic draw was so immense that he almost passed out right there and then, but just as he thought he was going to shrivel up like a prune, the sequence took hold.

    The fabric of reality around the trailer stuttered.

    Then, the hostile sequences came to fruition. Six beams swept across the trailer бк one from every side, aimed horizontally, each pitched at different heights so there was no way for anything or anyone inside to escape unscathed; and two from the top, aiming to slice the whole trailer front-to-back into four long strips. The air hissed and sizzled with the violence of their passing, and two long, bubbling gashes appeared in the asphalt, traced by the twin beams coming from above.

    Immediately after that, the empty blue sky was suddenly dotted with four little explosions roughly half a mile above the trailer.

    Devon and Jerric were screaming as the trailer screeched to a halt, but their horrified yells slowly pettered out as they realised they were still whole and unharmed.

    "... What?" Devon whispered, staring around at Ambrose and Jerric, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it creaked a little. His foot was still jammed on the brakes.

    Jerric was gingerly patting himself down, as though he half-expected to fall apart into charred lumps of flesh. When he was finally assured that he was indeed still in one piece, he turned his disbelieving gaze to the rest of the trailer behind them. Except for the damage they had sustained earlier, everything else was untouched.

    "G-get us out of here," Jerric finally managed to gasp out, turning to Devon. "They must be getting ready toбк"

    "We''re fine," Ambrose wheezed. He was doubled over and panting heavily, but he shook his head at Jerric, then reached out and gave Devon a comforting pat on the shoulder. "We''re safe. Good driving. Got us this far."

    Devon didn''t look like he was in any shape to drive. He simply stared back at Jerric, then at Ambrose, then out at the road in front of them.

    "But the attackersбк" Jerric began, sounding slightly hysterical.

    "Dead." Ambrose collapsed into the passenger seat, wincing.

    "How?"

    "Give me a sec," Ambrose pleaded, waving a hand weakly.

    "I felt them go right through me," Devon murmured, still staring straight ahead. "Those beams. Right through me."

    Jerric nodded slowly as one of his hands subconsciously reached for his throat before drifting down to his abdomen. "Me too."

    Ambrose leaned out the passenger-side window but only found himself retching a few times. When he felt a little more settled, he leaned back against the seat and forced himself to calm his breathing, hoping to quell the churning in his auric-ambient-flare that was also throwing his body''s functions into chaos. He knew if he didn''t get this under control, the overdraw would hit him like a truck.

    Next to him, Devon started sobbing quietly. Jerric had sunk to the floor between the two front seats, but he struggled to his feet and laid a comforting hand on Devon''s back while bracing himself against the wall behind the driver''s seat.

    It was several minutes before Ambrose felt fit enough to speak, and by then Devon had calmed somewhat, although he still maintained his death-grip on the steering wheel. Jerric was looking a little better as well, though he was clearly only still upright because of how he had wedged himself between the wall and the back of Devon''s seat.

    "The Nightwatchers gave me sequences to use in emergencies," Ambrose began, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat and continued. "I was told this one''s some kind of ultimate defence."

    "But our attackers are dead? How does that work?" Jerric asked.

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    "I don''t know," Ambrose confessed. "I only memorised the glyphs. I don''t know the theory behind it. I only got some impressions when I used it. But I thinkбк"

    "You mean you... took a gamble?" Devon''s voice was tiny. "You didn''t know it would work?"

    "I knew it would work, but I didn''t know how," Ambrose answered. "When the Nightwatchers gave this one to me, I was told it would work on any attack, as long as its based on arcana. Anyway, after I used it, Iбк"

    Devon let out a sound that was something between a snort and a sniffle. "Did it work as intended?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice.

    "Well... we''re still here, aren''t we?" Ambrose asked a little uncertainly.

    "Still here," Devon repeated, nodding slightly. "Sliced to ribbons, but somehow still here. Felt it happen, but still here. Still okay. It''s okay. I''m okay. Okay."

    Ambrose turned helplessly to Jerric.

    "We almost died," Jerric said wryly, looking utterly drawn himself. "Actually, for a moment there, it felt like we did die. That doesn''t bother you at all?"

    No, because what matters is that we didn''t die. That was what Ambrose wanted to say, but he knew better than to do that. However, watching Jerric and Devon now made him realise that he hadn''t really come through that experience with the same level of trauma. He was understandably shaken by the use of an unknown sequence and suffering some overdraw from the monstrous amount of arcana it had demanded, and his mind was quite wrung out by the degree of arcanic control required to successfully make use of the sequence, but beyond that he felt alright. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he felt positively thrilled. Watching the sequence unfold had been terrifying, but also exhilarating. It was a thing of sophistication and elegance, of beauty, even.

    "We didn''t die," Ambrose said, trying to communicate his relief, and the insights that had come with making use of that sequence. "The sequence secures everything within it and sort of... envelops. Uhm, no, it... it subsumes you. Then when hostile arcana interacts with you, it blends you with it, but it, uh, remembers you, and then returns you back to your original state after the hostile sequence has passed. You were never harmed."

    But he knew, almost as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, that he had misspoken somehow. Devon''s shell-shocked face suddenly twisted in anger. "Never harmed?"

    "He meansбк" Jerric began.

    Devon moved so quickly that neither Ambrose nor Jerric had time to react. The seatbelt snapped as he rose, arcana bolstering his limbs, and he flung open the driver''s side door and launched himself out before either of them could lay a hand on him. The trailer rocked a little with the force of his departure.

    Ambrose recovered from the surprise and was about to set off after Devon, but Jerric gripped him firmly by the shoulder. "The last person who should go after him is you," he said.

    "You look like you can hardly move," Ambrose protested.

    "Yeah, but he doesn''t need catching." Jerric nodded out the open door, and Ambrose followed his gaze. Devon had stopped a few hundred meters away on the top of a small hill. Even his silhouette looked distraught, but he went no further.

    "If you''re sure the people attacking us are dead, then we should give him some time alone," Jerric said.

    Ambrose looked skyward. If not for the harrowing last few minutes they had just endured, the day would have seemed like a pleasant one. But Ambrose was certain that the threats had been dealt with. He had felt it. "We''re safe from the ones who were attacking us. But there''s no telling how many more might be on their way."

    Jerric pursed his lips and thought for a moment before he made up his mind. "Let''s give him five minutes, then I''ll go to him. Meanwhile, fill me in. What else did your sequence do?"

    This time, Ambrose did a better job of concealing his excitement. "Well, it can somehow identify arcana that has been formed into hostile sequences, which is how it knows its supposed to activate and protect the people within the field. But there''s something... almost intelligent about it. It tracks the hostile sequences to their source, and then does something to totally neutralise the points of origin."

    "But you said the enemies had their auric-ambient-flares veiled, like ours," Jerric said, frowning.

    "Yes," Ambrose nodded, his eyes alight. "That''s what makes it so amazing. It worked anyway. I saw it happen. I don''t really understand all of it yet, but it was gloriousбк"

    Jerric interrupted him by clapping him on the shoulder. "Ambrose, arcanophany fascinates me as much as the next person, and if the Academy wasn''t going to force us all to be thaumaturgists, I''d have probably worked towards becoming a sage. But..."

    He sighed, withdrew his hand, and shook his head.

    "But what?" Ambrose asked, a little more subdued now.

    Jerric smiled sadly. "I don''t know. I was going to say that you need to be more human. Wasn''t sure if I should, but I guess I have now."

    "I''m human," Ambrose said, and his voice cracked a little. "What do you mean?"

    "I mean..." Jerric looked a bit uncomfortable, but he ploughed on. "You say we didn''t get harmed, but you''re totally ignoring the fact that we all felt the beams cut through us. We''re alive, but for a moment we felt death. And I know those guys, whoever the hell they were, were trying to kill us. But now they''re dead. All that pain and death... and you... I mean... is ''glorious'' really the word to use here?"

    Ambrose''s throat had gone suddenly dry.

    Jerric took in a deep breath and continued. "But... well, that''s what I wanted to say. But then maybe I''m wrong. I mean, that''s what you talked about earlier, isn''t it? Maybe you''re like this because of the Prophecy. And if so, then... I guess in a way it''s not your fault. There''s nothing you can do about it."

    "I''m human," Ambrose repeated, though even in his own ears that statement rang a little hollow. Jerric bobbed his head in awkward acknowledgement, then clambered over the empty driver''s seat and out the door, leaving Ambrose alone in the front.

    Ambrose watched as Jerric slowly made his way towards the distant figure of Devon. As the sound of Jerric''s footsteps crunching on the dry ground faded away, the silence rushed in to envelop the Chosen One.

 138. Fragments of Humanity

    Now that he was alone, Ambrose saw no point in concealing his true feelings. He was eager to rake over the experience of unfolding the Nightwatcher''s sequence in order to try and figure out the mechanics of what had happened. A small part of him did feel somewhat troubled by what Jerric had said, but in his heart, he knew that he did not really care all that much. Arcanophany was his one, all-consuming interest. If he felt a pang of regret and loss about how it distanced him from the people he considered his friends, then it was overshadowed by the sheer sense of curiosity and wonder at what had just occurred in the arcana.

    He was familiar enough with the glyphs to make use of the sequence through visualisation alone, but he pulled some arcana together to project the entire thing so he could make use of his physical eyes to look over the whole thing, hoping that having it right there in front of him might help him come to some insights.

    Even though he hadn''t invested the projection with enough arcana to be self-fuelling, it hung in the air with a sort of deadly intensity. The very nature of the glyphs that composed it seem to lend it a certain weight that other commercial sequences did not have.

    Back when the Nightwatchers had first given him this sequence to memorise, he hadn''t yet learned about oblivion, or even about the arcanic sea. And yet, despite those handicaps, he managed to commit it to memory almost by instinct. Now that he was more familiar with the mechanics of the arcanic sea, and even how arcanophany extended into oblivion, he wondered if studying this sequence in those other dimensions, with the use of those other senses, might help him really know this sequence in its entirety.

    Ambrose glanced out the driver''s door. Jerric had apparently decided not to resort to arcanic-enhanced momvent, so he was still only just beginning to trudge up the little hill to where Devon stood, gazing out over the distance.

    There was time. Sliding into the arcanic sea took no effort, and he could do it while still keeping half his attention on the world around him so he''d be able to dismiss the projection of the sequence if the other two came back. Even if he wasn''t quite emotionally bothered by what either of them thought, he did think it''d be wiser not to give Devon any more cause to be upset.

    In the arcanic sea, Ambrose could take in the essence of the glyphs with more clarity. When he used it earlier, things had happened too quickly for him to really study what was happening. Now, though, with the whole thing suspended before him, he could pick out the little strands of meaning and intention that were traced through the glyphs. Even in this undeployed state, without a single trickle of arcana being fed to it, the sequence felt tense, like a coiled spring.

    Since he had actually watched it in action, he knew a little more about what to look for, and so even though he had never studied the codified meanings of some of the glyphs, he was able to rely on his instinct to slowly pick the whole thing apart.

    First, he looked for the part that defined the boundary of the protection. That was easy enough; it was a standard set of glyphs that served as the almost-universal marker for area-of-effect sequences бк a circle with some specific notations to indicate whether it was meant to target the things within it, or the things outside of it. But it didn''t necessarily mean that the sequence''s target area was perfectly circular or spherical, because that depended on the arcanist''s focus or on other glyphs. Given that the sequence had done some complex targeting and managed to only preserve the trailer and its inhabitants, Ambrose expected to use it as a reference point to understand the other parts of the sequence.

    But there he met with the first surprise. The circle was notated on both sides, which he did expect, because it was likely that the sequence was acting in one way towards those inside the protective envelope, and acting another way towards those outside it. However, at first glance, it didn''t look like there were two different clauses meant to affect each side different. There appeared to be just one effect, applied to both sides of the circle. But if that was the case, why have any demarcation at all?

    He had nothing to go on here, so he tried ''listening'' to the sequence. It hummed with power, with cleverness, with even a sort of impishness, but it yielded no insight into how it worked.

    Momentarily stymied, Ambrose focused on the portion of the sequence that described its effects, hoping to glean something from it. He turned over the memory of watching it in action, trying to bring to mind the ''song'' of it when it had subsumed them and somehow preserved the shape and memory of their auric-ambient-flares.

    One glyph in the sequence seemed to throb a little, almost as if in sympathy with his memory. He zoomed in on it and picked it apart in his mind''s eye.

    It was one of the more baffling-looking glyphs. He knew its shape well enough since he had memorised it, but now that he was paying more attention, he realised that the figure of this glyph involved more than just its physical shape. He could have written it down on a piece of paper, but it would have been only a pale imitation of itself. Here in the arcanic sea, he saw the way arcana was meant to flow through the glyph itself in little looping patterns, almost as if it held other glyphs within its figure.

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    Almost as if it extended even further beyond the arcanic sea.

    Ambrose glanced out the trailer again. Jerric was on the hill with Devon now, but it looked like they were in the middle of a conversation. He hesitated for a moment, then folded his mind in on itself and into oblivion.

    And there it was, extending deep into oblivion, so far that it actually hurt a little for Ambrose to try and follow where it went. He steeled himself and tried to divest his thoughts of all spatial awareness, trying to think in terms of the purely abstract, not tied to the physical dimension. But it wasn''t working. The glyph pointed, and he was forced to look somewhere, but he didn''t know where, or how far, or actually even how to look. He tried for a few more seconds, but the mental strain was too much, so he shunted himself back into the arcanic sea with a frustrated sigh.

    He was just in time to see Jerric and Devon turn on the hill to face the trailer. There was a little burst of arcana as they wrapped themselves in dense shields and hurtled back towards the vehicle.

    "What''s wrong?" Ambrose yelled as they approached, extending his senses to try and spot what had spooked them. At the same time, he built up a little sphere of arcana, then applied a modified version of what Jerric had done earlier. A wave of energy raced through the arcanic sea бк too weak to do any real damage, but solid and cohesive enough to have a physical impact. It disturbed the air and sent a wave of dust across the scene.

    When his pulse met Jerric''s and Devon''s shields, they flashed briefly with the impact, then began to glow a soft blue. Jerric looked surprised for a moment, but he met Ambrose''s eyes and flashed an approving grin.

    But the smile on Ambrose''s face died as he saw two spheres, glowing red. They were perhaps half a mile away in mid-air, just coming into view over the crest of the hill.

    By then, his friends had reached the trailer. Jerric threw himself in through the door in the side of it while Devon sprang back into the driver''s seat and floored it without hesitation.

    "Felt a sequence being built," Jerric explained. "Not as bad as the ones that hit us, but something big. They abandoned it as soon as we moved, so it must be less nimble than the earlier stuff."

    "I saw them," Ambrose answered. Even though he was now seated properly back in the front passenger spot, with his attention on the arcanic sea and with the pulse that had painted their shields, he had no trouble keeping track of where the hostiles were.

    Just as he thought he had them, however, he lost their position. Their shields had winked out of existence, and with nothing to attach to, the ''painted'' arcana that Ambrose had stuck onto them fell apart as well.

    "No you don''t!" he snarled, pulling together more arcana as rapidly as he could. He stabbed out with sheer force of will, scything a wide area around where they had last been.

    He was rewarded with a satisfying crack that he felt as his sequence-less attacks made contact with invisible shields, and he grabbed hold with metaphysical hands. He couldn''t sense even the faintest flicker of an auric-ambient-flare, but he was definitely holding on to something. He had two points in space to target.

    There was no room for finesse here. He couldn''t use the sequence that would literally tear apart the enemies'' auric-ambient-flares because they were veiled, but he wasn''t intending to do something so nuanced. Wordlessly, he pulled Jerric and Devon into a gestalt and yanked all the arcana they could spare out of them, while almost completely hollowing himself out. Then, with the formidable mass of power, even though he wasn''t sure exactly what the consequences might be or how it would work mechanically, he applied a frameshift to the shield-piercing sequence, and turned the whole thing on those two points of focus. But instead of actually aiming for what might be there in the arcanic sea, he aimed at the arcanic sea itself.

    The shield-piercing sequence did not stab out of the trailer and into the sky. With Ambrose''s frameshift, it did not appear on the physical plane at all. But all three of them felt a horrible twisting in the arcana, and a dreadful emptiness that made even Devon and Jerric shudder as the sequence took hold. Ambrose, however, was the most affected бк he wrenched himself out of the arcanic sea with a cry of pain.

    "Oh Fates," Devon whispered, bringing the trailer to a halt. He got out and stared up at the sky.

    Jerric got out too and let out a gasp. Ambrose followed a moment later, though he held a hand to his head in a vain attempt to soothe the horrible headache that had sprung on him with terrifying suddenness. He turned his eyes upwards to see what he had done.

    It was fairly obvious that he had killed another two people. Even from half a mile away, they could all see two specific points in the sky. They were some distance apart, which meant that they were likely trying to take up new positions and strike from different directions. Now, though, their positions were marked by two spherical distortions in the otherwise untroubled blue sky. There, the air twisted and knotted in on itself, like some bizarre blend between a heat haze and ocean waves. Flashes of light erupted from them, not quite blinding, but still painful to look at, randomly throwing off odd colours that somehow felt sickening.

    "Look. Around those spheres. Are those..." Jerric trailed off.

    Ambrose squinted. He thought he saw things drifting around them, but he couldn''t be sure.

    "Bodyparts," Devon confirmed, looking sickened as he turned away.

    Devon was right. For a moment, the angle of one of those floating bits aligned nicely with a flash of light that made its silhouette perfectly clear for Ambrose, even at this distance. A head, half a torso, and an arm.

    "Fates," he breathed. But this time, he managed to keep the awe and wonder out of his voice.

 139. Unchosen Paths

    The three of them stood there and continued staring at the utterly alien phenomenon in the sky, disturbed and sickened by the sight of the bodyparts orbiting it, but somehow still unable to really stop themselves from looking helplessly on. There was a strange sort of magnetism at work that constantly drew their gaze to it, as if these twin holes in the arcanic sea were crying out and demanding to be acknowledged.

    It was becoming increasingly clear that there was some powerful compulsion at work. Devon started tearing up as he tried and failed to turn away from the horrifying sight. He managed to throw himself to the ground and press his face to the earth, but a moment later he was involuntarily craning his neck upwards so he could continue looking. Jerric threw an opaque shield between them and those holes in the sky, which hid the terrible sight from view, although they still found themselves being drawn to stare in that direction.

    "What did you do?" Jerric demanded, glancing sideways at Ambrose.

    "I didn''t know what else to do!" Ambrose shot back, not quite answering the question. "I couldn''t get a fix on their auric-ambient-flares, and I had no way of knowing if ordinary attacks wouldбк"

    "How do we make it stop? You need to tell us what you did so we can figure it out!" Jerric pressed, as he tried and failed once again to stop staring in that direction.

    "I... the arcanic sea... I think I punched two holes through it. But... but it was just a frameshifted shield-piercing sequence! I had no ideaбк"

    Devon managed to shoot a terrified look at Ambrose before his eyes were forced again to that spot. "You ripped the arcanic sea itself?" He let out a strange noise that was halfway between a mad bark of laughter and a sob.

    Jerric spoke with forced calmness. "Okay, I''m going to assume we can''t fix it. But maybe we can mitigate its effect on us so we''re not stuck here staring at it. Ambrose, what if you try veiling our auric-ambient-flares?"

    Devon flinched at that suggestion. "Y-you want him to make contact with us?"

    "Just to veil us again like he did before. And that''s all he''ll be doing," Jerric answered to reassure Devon, though there was a note of warning in his voice directed at Ambrose.

    Ambrose nodded, even though he wasn''t sure if either of them were looking at him. He was momentarily distracted by the theory behind Jerric''s proposal, and he wasted a second wondering if Jerric''s mind had indeed worked that quickly, or if this was just an uninformed request. Regardless, it was a sound suggestion. The holes were in the arcanic sea, so it stood to reason that veiling their auric-ambient-flares and pushing them into oblivion would help them sidestep this strange effect.

    He reached out and made contact with Devon and Jerric. Jerric submitted to the touch with a sense of resignation, but Devon was grappling with so much fear and disgust that he was bleeding all that emotion into the space, making it difficult for Ambrose to get a proper hold of him.

    ''Dev!'' They could all sense Jerric was forcing down his own mix of emotions which were just as potent as Devon''s. However, he was managing to keep his mind sufficiently focused. He projected that sense of determined calm, trying to pull Devon into its soothing atmosphere. ''Dev, breathe. Breathe, and get a grip.''

    With agonising slowness, the whirling mass of confused emotion settled down, leaving Devon''s auric-ambient-flare clearer and more discernible. Ambrose took hold as gently as he could.

    ''Ready?'' he asked.

    The other two communicated their assent wordlessly. Ambrose performed the now-familiar twisting in on himself andбк

    бкthey all spasmed in confusion and discomfort, suddenly adrift in the arcanic sea, their minds drawn towards the twin holes that gaped at them with an awful emptiness.

    "I can''t," Ambrose said through gritted teeth, easing himself out of the arcanic sea as well. The headache that had come on after casting his modified sequence was now so bad that he could barely follow his own thoughts.

    And then, all at once, they were free. Jerric turned around with a gasp of surprise as he found himself finally able to avert his eyes and his shield dissipated. Devon let out a sob of relief as he propped himself up while making sure to keep his face turned away from that horrid sight in the sky. Ambrose, however, kept looking, partly because his head hurt too much for him to really be bothered by what he was seeing, and also partly because he wasn''t that disturbed by it in the first place.

    "Caden!" Devon cried out, his voice breaking.

    Ambrose spun around and blinked away the tears that had formed because of the headache. Sure enough, Caden had just landed a few feet away, with the twins, andбк

    "Emilia!" Jerric yelled in relief.

    "That was you, wasn''t it?" Caden asked quietly as he came up to Ambrose and nodded up at the sky.

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    "Yes," Ambrose answered, glancing up at what he had done before turning back to Caden. It was hard to be sure through the headache, but it no longer felt like he was being forced to look at those two holes in the sky. He blinked at Devon and Jerric, who were even now exchanging relieved greetings with the others before hurrying back to the trailer. None of them were under the compulsion that had held them in thrall only moments earlier.

    "Yeah, that''s my doing," Caden said, apparently in answer to the unasked question on Ambrose''s mind. "Long story best left for later. We shouldn''t stay here."

    Caden thumped him on the back in a friendly gesture as he went after the rest, but the light impact sent tendrils of pain racing through Ambrose''s skull. Something warm trickled from his nose and past his mouth. He wiped it off, but his hand came away red.

    "Oh," he said lamely, staring at the blood. He coughed, and now he tasted it in his throat.

    "What?" Caden glanced behind just in time to see Ambrose falling backwards. Without thinking, Caden arrested his fall with a cushion of arcana and propped him up, but he wasn''t quite prepared to take all of his weight. Ambrose sank slowly to the ground just as Caden reached him.

    "Shit," he cursed, half his attention on higher planes where he was helping to keep the others free from the compulsion to stare into the wounds in the arcanic sea. "Guys!" he called. "Help me get Ambrose back into the trailer!"

    Devon had already put himself back in the driver''s seat and made no move to help, while Jerric hesitated for just a moment. By the time he started moving, the twins had already answered Caden''s call and hoisted Ambrose up between the two of them. Emilia held the side door open as they hurried inside, with Caden bringing up the rear. As soon as everyone was in, Devon started driving.

    "What happened to him?" Kevan asked as they laid Ambrose down on his bunk, staring aghast at the blood that had poured out of Ambrose''s nostrils and soaked the lower half of his face.

    "Looks like really bad overdraw," Jerric answered, rummaging through some cabinets and coming over with medical supplies. Quickly and efficiently, he cleaned away enough of the blood to work, and once he determined which nostril was still bleeding, he proceeded to perform a quick nasal packing.

    By Caden''s reckoning, Jerric''s assessment was only half-right. Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare did seem to be exhibiting some overdraw stress бк certainly enough to put any one of the others in a severe state бк but it seemed to Caden to be well within Ambrose''s ability to manage. After all, Ambrose probably had the ability to channel more arcana than all of them combined, minus Caden. No, something else had happened, which had made it too difficult for Ambrose to deal with the overdraw. But he couldn''t even begin to help Ambrose while shielding everyone from the effects of those twin holes in the sky.

    "Emilia." Caden''s voice was a little strained as he turned to her. "Can you hold everyone steady while I see if I can help Ambrose?"

    Her eyebrows lifted ever-so-slightly. "You want me to try? Can we risk it?"

    He looked down at Ambrose, whose face had become very pale. His breathing was laboured, and his throat gurgled slightly with each breath. "I think we have to. And I think you''ll manage."

    "Hold everyone steady?" Jerric asked, mystified. "What doбк"

    Caden, Devon, Jerric, and the twins all shuddered in unison as something very palpably grabbed ahold of their auric-ambient-flares. It was particularly disconcerting for everyone except Caden, because they had never been handled like that before. Emilia was interacting with them on higher dimensions. But after that initial moment of extreme discomfort, their sense of it faded, leaving them feeling slightly uneasy without really knowing why.

    "Could be gentler, but not bad," Caden said, wincing. He sat on the floor next to Ambrose''s bunk and laid a hand on his chest. Physical contact wasn''t necessary, but Caden wanted an easy point of reference. There was no point making things harder than they needed to be.

    "Can someone explain?" Jerric asked, looking from Caden to Emilia to the twins.

    "You''ll have to ask them," Lynus answered wryly, nodding at Caden and Emilia. "After Caden got Emilia out from oblivion, the two of them have been doing some seriously weird stuff. They were going to explain it to us, but then suddenly Caden dragged us along with him, and next thing we know, we see two holes in the sky. Couldn''t look away at first, then Caden did something so we weren''t stuck looking at it, but he kept pushing us to get here as quickly as we could. I''m glad we bumped into you guys and not into some other weirder, more horrifying shit."

    "Emilia was in oblivion?" Jerric gaped at her.

    "Right," Lynus nodded. "That''s, uh, another long story."

    While he launched into an explanation, with Kevan added in some details, Caden blocked out all the noise and focused only on the flow of arcana within himself, and within Ambrose. The erratic pulsing of Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare was getting worse as the overdraw became more severe, so Caden tended to that first.

    He couldn''t help but reflect on how far he had come since his first few weeks in the Academy, when overdrawing had seemed like a terrible danger. It was certainly still something to be careful about, but it felt rather strange to realise now that as an arcanist, he never needed to fear dying from overdraw ever again. And he could save others from it, too. All because he had set out to save Emilia, and been transformed in her place.

    Under Caden''s guiding influence, Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare settled enough for him to finally sense the real problem. But it wasn''t quite possible for him to see it here, so he carefully folded his mind like the augera had taught him to, and he peered into oblivion while remaining within the arcanic sea.

    Right on the boundary where Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare rested between oblivion and the arcanic sea, there was a terrible gash. Whatever sequence Ambrose had used had not worked properly. Or perhaps it had been designed that way. Whatever it was, the same thing that he had done to the arcanic sea itself out there in the sky had been done in miniature to his own auric-ambient-flare, and the damage had occurred in dimensions that few arcanists, if any, even knew of, let alone really understood.

    Was it really just cosmic chance and happenstance that Caden was here, at this very moment in time, perfectly placed to stitch together a part of the Chosen One, and so recently armed with the knowledge of how to do so?

    Caden''s brow furrowed. The augera were playing games with him and with the Fateweavers. But as he started the work of repairing the damage Ambrose had done to himself, Caden thought that even if that were the case, he would much rather deal with the augera, because at least they respected his automony enough to attempt to win him over.

    At the back of his mind, a rebellious idea took root, and he hesitated ever-so-slightly.

    With the Chosen One laid so defencelessly before him like this... wouldn''t it be foolish not to take the opportunity to steer things his way, just a little?

 140. Breaking Frames

    The temptation to start figuring out how to modify Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare was almost irresistable, but something more immediate demanded Caden''s attention. He could see the damage, but its exact nature was still something of a mystery and he could tell that if he didn''t fix this, Ambrose might very well die. After all, Caden''s very presence here might be interfering with whatever contingency Prophecy might have provided for such a moment. And as interesting at it might be to step back and see whether Prophecy could still manage to do something in order to preserve the Chosen One''s life, he was also terrified of the possibility that it might necessitate the appearance of a Fateweaver. After all, it seemed like the threads of the Prophecy had already been terribly abused бк at least enough to warrant one Fateweaver''s interest.

    A new sense of urgency took hold. Caden had to try to save Ambrose now, before a Fateweaver showed up to do it. He turned his mind away from the tantalising opportunity to playact as a rogue Fateweaver, and focused on the task of restoring Ambrose.

    Knowledge binds, but knowledge has layers. That was what the augera had told Caden and Emilia just hours ago, and even though that statement itself was just a distillation of what his own mind had managed to grasp from the augera''s communication in pure conceptual thought, he thought it quite nicely described the situation before him now as he examined the damage Ambrose had accidentally done to his own auric-ambient-flare.

    With his new access to and understanding of the higher dimensions of oblivion, he learned he was actually able to sense and ''see'' a little of how frameshifting worked. When they held certain concepts in mind and attempted to manipulate arcana through that conceptual framework, they were twisting the segments of their auric-ambient-flare in these higher dimensions, and it allowed them to do things that were not normally possible. But frameshifting could only get you so far because you were ultimately working with things you couldn''t really see, which affected your level of precision. Using conceptual frameworks brought in all kinds of other associations that could unexpectedly pollute your pure intention, even as you co-opted one element of the framework to get the arcana to behave in a way you wanted.

    And it was only now, in this very moment so many weeks later, that Caden realised something. Reeves framework of instantly capturing a whole area in a field of ensorcelment relied on frameshifting arcana to behave like light, and that was why even the students'' makeshift sequences, homebrewed over the course of just a single semester, were capable of holding that version of ensorcelment at bay. On some level all of them had found, through trial and error, a way to block the arcanic light of his ensorcelment. But it wasn''t perfect, because light bounced off other objects and reflected back on a person from multiple angles, which was why no one''s protections managed to completely block Reeves out. The augeric shell, however, was woven at a deeper level than Reeves'' ensorcelment, and so it had shielded Caden completely. Now that Caden understood this, he knew how to deal with Reeves'' ensorcelment fields without the help of the augeric shell, if it ever came to it.

    And this, Caden realised, was how Ambrose had come to be in this state. The damage was too nebulous and undefined to have come from a proper sequence. Even the destructive sequence that he had accidentally detonated back in Geldor was neater than this, in the sense that it had affected the physical world in perfectly understandable ways. So that meant that Ambrose had used a frameshift, and it had gone wrong somehow.

    As Caden considered the wounds on Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare, he realised that that was a strange sense of familiarity. It took a few moments of hard thinking, but realised he had seen up close the damage that shield-piercing sequences could do to both physical objects and arcanic shields, and the damage profile matched what he was seeing now on Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare. It was clear, then, that Ambrose had simply used that military-grade shield-piercer and applied a frameshift to it. But what exactly was the frameshift? He needed to figure that out to think about how it might have gone wrong.

    Caden thought back to the phenomenon of the two distortions in the sky, which had felt to him like twin wounds in the arcanic sea.

    "Oh Ambrose," he muttered, shaking his head a little.

    Someone heard and directed a question at him, but he simply jerked his head irritably as he turned his full focus to the issue at hand.

    It seemed like Ambrose had literally torn holes in the fabric of the arcanic sea itself. But if the arcanic sea was a layer of reality... what did this mean? What were the implications of that? And if the wounds on his auric-ambient-flare were of the same nature, was this even something that Caden could fix? That would be like having to stitch together a part of the fabric of reality itself. That was far, far beyond stitching flesh and blood and bone. Perhaps he had severely overestimated himself...

    It occurred to Caden how utterly absurd it was that Ambrose had managed something like that. If reality itself could be damaged by something as simple as a shield-piercer with a bad frameshift, why hadn''t everything already fallen apart? What was keeping reality together in a world full of arcanists?

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    Perhaps that meant the damage was not really that bad after all. There had to be another explanation for the distortions in the sky.

    Caden couldn''t wait for Ambrose to regain consciousness so he could be asked about the exact frameshift. There was no other option бк Caden had to get right inside Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare and read it from his memories.

    It felt like a violation of sorts to do something like this without asking permission, even if it meant possibly saving someone''s life. This was very different from simply connecting with someone''s thoughts in a gestalt, because even then, people had a degree of control over how much slippage of emotions and thoughts they were allowing. But with Ambrose completely unconscious, Caden would have almost unfettered access.

    He let out a sigh and resolved to talk to Ambrose about this later if he managed to fix this problem. With a slight tensing of his mind, he repressed his doubt and slipped his mind into Ambrose''s essence.

    Having his hand on Ambrose''s chest meant that their auric-ambient-flares were in direct contact, and with Ambrose unconscious, there was no resistance at all. The transition was utterly seamless, almost as easy as simply stepping into the arcanic sea.

    He was surrounded by stray memories and emotions almost instantly, but it was all too unfocused for him to catch anything meaningful beyond just the barest impression. In this hazy soup, finding the core of Ambrose''s subdued consciousness was easy бк  it was the roiling storm of thought that sent little pulsations across the entirety of his auric-ambient-flare, sending loose threads and fritters of his life fluttering across Caden''s mind as he navigated the essence of the Chosen One.

    ''... like to study? Maybe Thaumaturgy...''

    ''... some friends. Shouldn''t be alone...''

    ''... here to see you. He''s waiting in the...''

    ''... hungry for more. An augera is...''

    Caden swatted aside the senseless noise and drew close enough to read the general trend of Ambrose''s subconscious mind. It was a tangled mess of uncertainty and fear, stewing over hidden knowledge and insidious doubts. None of this was what Caden needed.

    But reading a mind wasn''t anything like reading a book. There was no chronology clearly laid out for him in the sequence of the pages, or any promise of consistency. The mind flitted from one point of focus to another, dragging a thousand impressions in its wake, each connecting to yet more threads, and as an outsider he was stuck without a sense of how everything came together into one cohesive whole.

    I need a point of reference, he thought. Something to navigate memory.

    What would Ambrose have tapped on in order to apply a frameshift? Perhaps the whole theory of frameshifting itself. It''d be hard to find a concept, so perhaps a face would be a better starting point. Caden worked up a mental image of Reeves, calling forth his own memory of the lecture where they had been taught about frameshifting, and gently prompted Ambrose''s mind.

    Immediately, the tenor of Ambrose''s thoughts shifted as a segment of his sleeping mind reviewed its own recollection of that event, allowing Caden to trace its path through the auric-ambient-flare and see where it briefly intersected with a thousand other points. But there was too much to sift through in a timely fashion.

    I need another pattern, Caden mused. What is the shape of the knowing of frameshifting in Ambrose''s mind?

    That was an easier question to answer. Ambrose himself had given the shape of knowing itself to Caden directly, so Caden had an almost perfect match in both their auric-ambient-flares. It stood out like a sore thumb the moment he thought to look for it. From there, he could trace the intersection between the shape of knowing itself and what Ambrose had learned in Reeves'' lecture.

    And there it was. The knowledge of frameshifting sat in Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare like a distinct whorl. It was shaped differently from Caden''s own understanding of frameshifting, and this, Caden realised, was how it must look to the augera when they peered into people. They would see analogous patterns, but the details would be different. In the case of him and Ambrose, the difference wasn''t too vast because they were both humans, and both arcanists, and had many other things in common. But the augera probably only saw a vague shape, and had to work extra hard to bridge the gap in conceptual understanding. That was why it was so hard for humans to understand the augera.

    But fascinating as this was, it was not the time to study the difference. Caden worked quickly now that he had the thread, and he followed Ambrose''s understanding of frameshifting to the many other memories where it had come into play. To sift out the ones most likely to have what he needed, he threw in another prompt бк the image of the twin holes in the sky.

    And there it was. A perfect intersection. The moment of decision when he had called upon his understanding of frameshifting and made use of it to lash out at the fabric of arcana itself.

    Caden gently eased himself into the memoryбк

    бкcan''t hit them if their auric-ambient-flares are veiled in oblivion, but I''ve got hold of something. Can''t aim at it directly. Maybe an area? But they can shield, so I need to work on the arcanic sea itself. Glyph of arcanic field amplification... can be amplified, so does that mean... maybe. I can aim at the aranic sea. But how does that work? ...Fields! Scorch it all, set the arcana itself alight, tear it upбк

    Caden wrenched himself out with a shudder. There was such a terrible intensity to Ambrose''s thoughts that it was hard to really bring himself out of the moment. An undercurrent of fear because of the danger of the situation was there, but soaring over it all was a single-minded joy, a rush that came with the sheer power he had at his fingertips, and the utter certainty that he was capable of shaping the world, and was destined to do it.

    It was troubling to see how Ambrose was through his own eyes, and Caden was sure he''d be haunted by this, but for now he had what he needed.

    Ambrose had used his understanding of an esoteric glyph from the Special Set in order to help him visualise his intention бк fire and torn earth. Ambrose''s shield-piercer had turned into a beam that had told the arcana to burn and tear itself up.

    The problem was huge, but it was no longer intractable. Caden had an idea. He slipped out of Ambrose''s mind and started his work.

 141. Unveiling History

    Caden''s idea was simple. If frameshifting could alter the way arcana behaved, then he didn''t need to know the exact specifics of how to fix the damage. He just needed to know which frameshift to apply in order to counter what Ambrose had done, and in theory, the arcana would work on itself and fix the damage.

    ''Fields'', Ambrose had thought, with the intention of burning the arcana itself, and of having the arcana ravage itself like a plot of land being subjected to an earthquake. Now that Caden had extracted that crucial piece of information from Ambrose''s memory, he envisaged torrential, life-giving rain that would quench the flame and soften the earth. All that was left was to figure out how to impose that counteracting framework on the damaged site.

    The first idea that came to mind was to simply use the shield-piercing sequence and substitute his own frameshift, but Caden decided only to attempt that as a last resort. He suspected that Ambrose''s frameshift had worked with the shield-piecer because he had provided a framework that suited the sequence''s original intention, which was to inflict damage. It might be possible in theory for Caden to think of his own counteracting framework as ''damaging the damage'' that had been done, but that required a level of mental gymnastics that he wasn''t prepared to try unless he absolutely had to.

    No, the obvious choice was to use some recovery-aiding sequence as the base. But even now, despite how far he had progressed in the realm of arcanophany, Caden didn''t actually know any sequences that could restore a broken body, let alone an auric-ambient-flare. The things he had done to heal Jerric and Devon were impressions given to him by the augera, and he had operated more as a channel rather than as the source. If he wanted to bring Ambrose back from the brink, he needed to know enough to be the architect, instead of just mindlessly following a blueprint that had been handed to him.

    ''Can you help?'' Caden asked, directing this quietly at the augeric shell around him. ''Are you able to give me the... the ''knowing'' of that recovery sequence? I need the full shape of it in my mind.''

    ''We can,'' the young augera''s voice answered alone. ''But whether we do or not must be your choice. You face a difficult decision, {~?~}. The warp and weft of the Prophecy is already stretched. As you witnessed, an ancient-distant-spider has already remarked upon it and turned their eye across the greater tapestry, seeking to right its course. To give you this knowing in this moment requires a distortion. We will move quietly, but it will not be silent. There is a chance we may be heard.''

    A mindless terror seized Caden for a second as he thought back to what it felt like to be turned over and scrutinised by the Fateweaver while being disguised by the augeric shell. He shuddered, but the moment was too crucial to allow fear to rule his choice. ''If we are discovered and something happens to me, the augera lose their chance at freedom,'' Caden pointed out. ''Why are you leaving such a choice with me?''

    ''Because we must. We are woven-shackled-stream, and our will is twisted into shapes that make us move loudly if we choose awry. And so we choose by not choosing, carefully giving our choices away with pieces of information. Sometimes the course shifts in our favour, and sometimes it does not.''

    Before Caden could respond, the young augera''s voice shifted, and now it was the Geldor augera speaking, it''s ancient mind touching his for a brief moment. ''And if you are discovered, we will bend all our art to veil you again. I have waited too long to sit so idly by.''

    For a second, Caden swore he heard a chorus of murmuring, almost as if the augeric voices in the shell were in dissention, but it was quickly silenced. The voice of the young augera came to the front again, its tone unnervingly like a hopeful child. ''Make your choice, {~?~}, and we will face the future together.''

    Caden frowned so hard it felt like his brain was crinkling up in doubt and suspicion. Thus far, he had thought of the augera as some sort of gestalt where they freely shared thoughts and information, and had a unity of purpose. But now it seemed there were at least two factions, with one pushing more aggressively for him to intervene now and save Ambrose, while the other had just shown a little more of how manipulative it was willing to be in order to get him to come around to their way of doing things.

    He had some grudging respect for what the augera had accomplished in bringing him to this moment. Without using the coercive threads of Prophecy, they had played within the interstices and made use of all the undefined, nebulous moments in order to still manage to steer things in their favour. And what was more, Caden recognised that by making it a little more obvious to him, and by showing their hand, they were actually manipulating him. But the young augera''s voice... at first, it had made him feel a little sorry for them. Now, though, it felt like a thin veneer of innocence over a malicious mind.

    But it occurred to Caden that if the augera were really so adept at manipulation, then even this new suspicion he had developed was something to be suspicious of. When they leaned too hard into that young voice and made him feel wary of it, while simultaneously revealing (or at least faking) some dissention in their ''chorus'', it was either a miscalculation on their part, or another layer of manipulation.

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    At the moment, it was clear that the augera wanted him to allow them to give him the full recovery sequence. The situation was almost too perfectly set up for there to be any other alternative. Their warning about the Fateweavers was probably valid, but they clearly judged the risk to be perfectly acceptable, and giving him the decision might be something they were forced to do, but they were also using it as a way to make him feel more responsible for them. They were being fiendishly efficient in their moves.

    ''Fine,'' he replied, feeling rather trapped now, even though he knew that he was the one who had approached them first. ''Give me the recovery sequence.''

    He could tell the augera were pleased, although there was a faint note of reproachfulness. ''You think of us very darkly.''

    ''Can you blame me? I know the Fateweavers have chained you, but in your own way, you are trying to do the same to me, just without Prophetic links.''

    ''We see the lines that make up friendship, kinship, promises. You use these lines on each other all the time. Your sister, Triss, is very good at it. Is it so wrong for us to do the same?'' The young voice asked innocently.

    ''They''re not tools,'' Caden snapped, finding himself extremely irritated by their response. ''These lines. They''re not... they''re not sequences. They''re bonds. People make them together. You just... you can''t just make them yourself and stick them in other people!''

    The augeric shell wobbled with a little perplexity. ''Do you see the lines?''

    ''No, but I know what you''re talking about.''

    ''You know?'' The young voice sounded coy. ''Do you know the shape of it?''

    ''I don''t have to know the shape of it like you do to see that you''re wrong,'' Caden answered coldly. ''I know you augera see things differently from us. And you seem to have learned and adapted a lot to be able to communicate so easily with me now. But you clearly don''t know what these bonds are. You may see them, and you may know their shape, but their shape is not a part of you.''

    A strange silence settled over Caden''s mind. It took him a few seconds to realise that this was an almost total retreat by the augera. They had been so closely entwined with him in the augeric shell that their presence had been a constant hum in his auric-ambient-flare, sometimes comforting, sometimes empowering, sometimes disturbing. But now it was almost completely gone. He had to strain to even detect the faintest whiff of their presence.

    ''Have I struck a nerve?'' he asked, half-apologetic, half-triumphant.

    A faint bubble of grief popped on the surface of his consciousness, like a sob. He recognised it as an echo of what the augera had felt when the wellspring-ocean-core had essentially ignored them.

    ''You are right. Just another unchosen. Sighted, which is a little less common. And {~?~}, which is so seldom seen it is rare even by our reckoning. Yet for all that... still only a mortal, But you are right. These lines we use are not a part of us. Perhaps that is why the wellspring-ocean-core has turned away from us. So teach us, Caden, and free us. And perhaps we may be changed.''

    Caden couldn''t help but wonder, once again, if this was just masterful manipulation. Even so, he could not deny that he felt quite moved by this display of alien emotion, and this plea.

    ''Let''s cross that bridge when we get there. For now, we have to worry about whether you can give me the recovery sequence without alerting the Fateweavers,'' he replied.

    ''It is already done,'' the young augera said, all its melancholy now abruptly replaced by smugness. ''We did it very quietly indeed.''

    ''What?!''

    They were right. When Caden turned his thoughts toward the idea of the recovery sequence, the concept came with very clear, concrete recollections about exactly which glyphs were involved, what they all meant, and how they fit together into a sequence. Yet for all its complexity, Caden realised it wasn''t some eldritch creation. There was something distinctly human about its design, that spoke of years, if not decades of methodical study and trial, that reminded Caden of his own father''s orbs that were designed to shield against specific minor prophecies.

    ''Yes,'' the augera confirmed, ''it is a mortal weaving. From the dawn of the age of the Fateweavers.''

    ''Wait, you mean arcanophany has been capable of something like this sinceбк''

    ''Restore the Chosen One first,'' the augera interrupted. ''You will learn the Empire''s true history when the time is right.''

    Their presence receeded, clearly signalling a refusal to answer any further questions, while also serving to direct his attention to the more immediate concerns of the present. Their exchange had taken place in less than five minutes, but Ambrose was still quite literally dying beneath his hands. With the augera''s absence, the urgency of the situation rushed back with full force.

    The recovery sequence was almost miraculous in its scope and in Caden''s estimation it was capable of restoring virtually any physical injury, which meant that a person would probably have to be burnt to ashes before they''d be beyond saving. However, it worked strictly upon the physical body, which meant that in ordinary circumstances it wouldn''t help Ambrose at all, since the damage had been done to his auric-ambient-flare.

    Caden took in a deep breath and composed himself. The framework of the sequence was clear, and he knew exactly which glyphs referred to the points of focus where the arcana was supposed to work. That was where he needed to apply his frameshift. Caden drew on Ambrose''s memory and his exact conceptualisation of the arcanic sea as a ''field'', and took special care to use that at the foundation as he pictured the quenching of those fiery fields and churning earth.

    "Heal," he breathed softly as the arcana rose to his call, wreathing his hand on Ambrose''s chest in a nimbus of blue. The others in the trailer gasped, but Caden shut everything else out as he leaned on that hand, willing the arcana to go beyond flesh, into the fabric of his auric-ambient-flare where it rested on the edge of oblivion itself.

    Ambrose''s eyes flew open and his own hands shot up, gripping Caden''s wrist in a vice-like grip.

 142. Cosmic Confrontation

    "You unwrote it!" Ambrose rasped, his eyes wide and crazed.

    He pulled down hard on Caden''s arm, almost bringing him to his knees. Caden wrenched his arm away, instinctively channeling arcana into his limbs so he moved with more speed and force. But Ambrose did not relinquish his grasp, and he used Caden''s movement to instead pull himself up from the bunk bed so that he stood before Caden.

    The twins and Emilia, who were nearest, sensed the shift in the arcana and enveloped themselves in hardened shields, staring from Ambrose to Caden in tense expectation. Jerric, too, backed away into the driver''s compartment, where he raised a dense protective barrier around both himself and Devon.

    Caden couldn''t project an ordinary shield with Ambrose this close, so he deftly fortified the outermost layer of his own auric-ambient-flare where it interfaced with the ambient arcana. In the event of a fight some of his skin might not be protected, but his internal organs would be safe. "Ambrose," he said as calmly as he could, "let me go."

    The crazed look in Ambrose''s eyes didn''t fade бк he simply stared unflinchingly at Caden, fingers still tight on his wrist. Caden''s heart sank as he wondered if he had somehow messed things up. Or had the augera done something, given him a faulty or tampered sequence? But even as his mind raced and went over the glyphs, he couldn''t find anything wrong with them.

    "You unwrote it," Ambrose repeated, more deliberately this time, his voice hushed, but somehow still full of portentous power.

    "... The wound? The tear in the arcana?" Caden asked, striving to maintain his composure.

    Ambrose nodded.

    "Let me go, Ambrose, and I''ll explain."

    Something shifted in Ambrose''s eyes and Caden felt a a frisson of power run through the higher dimensions of Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare. It was too quick for him to act, so he simply braced himself against the impending surge of energy.

    Reality cracked.

    The sense of motion from the trailer vanished. Caden stumbled a little from the residual intertia, then righted himself. Everyone else had frozen in place, and even the arcanic sea itself had completely solidified into an immovable mass, so that Caden''s auric-ambient-flare found no traction on it even as he desperately tried to pull in more power to protect himself.

    The grip on his wrist tightened. Ambrose''s face was held in a terrified rictus, but then his eyes shifted and fixed on Caden once more.

    "You''re rewriting things."

    It was Ambrose''s voice, but his mouth hadn''t moved at all. In fact, Caden realised that he could see individual motes of dust caught in the light coming in through the windows, and each one of them were held in perfect stasis, like everyone and everything else. He was the only one moving, but he was anchored to the spot by Ambrose''s unbreakable grip, and he could not channel any arcana through his auric-ambient-flare.

    "How is this possible?"

    "How are you doing this?" Caden demanded, terror rising in his throat. He had never seen Ambrose like this before.

    "Wait..." Ambrose''s brow creased ever-so-slightly, and his eyes quivered in their sockets. "I''ve seen this. You are the memory of the original Foundation. But not a memory here."

    Caden''s terror was threatening to drown him now as he realised that this was not the Ambrose he knew. It was Ambrose''s voice, but it was not him. Caden didn''t know how this worked, but he was fairly certain that this was the Fateweaver that had passed over him in the forest clearing earlier. Had the augera not been quiet enough in their dissemination of the healing sequence after all?

    "Fateweaver?" Caden had to force the word out of his lips.

    "It even speaks," the Fateweaver said through Ambrose''s unmoving mouth. The voice was slowly warping, shifting away from the familiar tone of his friend to a stranger''s, its accent strange and unfamiliar, almost foreign.

    "What are you doing to Ambrose?" Caden managed to whisper.

    "It is speaking!" the voice continued, marvelling. "With me. Somehow, it is speaking with me."

    Caden''s mouth had gone dry. The augeric shell was completely silent and inert. He was here, totally exposed to the full scrutiny of the Fateweaver.

    "Is it really speaking with me? Are you? I''m not just babbling to myself here, am I?"

    And yet... it was not quite what he expected. The Fateweaver seemed confused, uncollected, uncertain. An absurd thought came to mind бк perhaps if he just stayed still and kept quiet, it would go away?

    "You really are speaking with me. Or interacting with me. No, I will not go away. What a strange thought. And why are you just dawdling down there? Come here and face me properly."

    Caden felt his attention being twitched ever-so-gently away from the physical, beyond the arcanic sea and into oblivion. There was nothing to do but comply, and face his doom head on. The solified arcanic sea made it a little difficult for him to perform the necessary folding of himself to enter oblivion, but he managed it after a few attempts.

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    And there it was. The ancient-distant-spider hung over him, closer than he had ever seen it before. It did not exactly have eyes here in oblivion, but he could feel the intensity of its scrutiny like spotlights on segments of his auric-ambient-flare as it traced his outline with multiple points of focus, like a multitude of eyes working in concert. A few of its limbs held him in place, stretching his auric-ambient-flare out so that it could better peer into his very being.

    ''You really, really are here,'' the Fateweaver said, bewilderment clear in its tone. ''An active mind, here, and not Chosen.''

    Being disembodied somehow helped him to leave a bit of his fear behind. He decided to face his end with some steel in his spine.

    ''You all really exist. Fateweavers.''

    ''We do. Does this surprise you?'' The Fateweaver seemed rather uncertain about what to do with him, but there was a sense of curiosity coming from it.

    ''It amazes me,'' Caden admitted. ''The... the scope of it. It''s amazing. But it also angers me. You''re human, aren''t you?''

    ''I was. But now I am a Fateweaver. Why does it anger you?''

    ''Why? Well... you were born, you lived, and somehow, one day, you became a Fateweaver. Do you remember being normal?''

    ''I do.''

    ''Then... how... how can you do this to us all? How can you write your prophecies, both major and minor, and... just... how can you do this? Why are you doing this?'' he demanded, thinking of Triss.

    The Fateweaver leaned in and plucked a strand of his auric-ambient-flare, reading his life. It seemed to nod to itself. ''I see. Yes, I remember this. The prompt for the original Foundation was the minor prophecy. The fruition is self-empowering, taking form according to the expectation. I wove it to serve as an impetus. I see it has been fulfilled, or rather will be, through a rather circuitous branch. The father meets his ruin at the hands of the Greater Prophecy, as he loses his son to it and drives himself to his end in his attempt to avert that doom.''

    Unfettered anger possessed Caden now, and in oblivion it was a thing of purity. ''Yes, that,'' he spat. ''Why? H-how dare you? What gives you the right? What gives any of you the right?!''

    Somehow, his thoughts were taking on a potency that seemed to surprise even the Fateweaver. He struggled against its hold and managed to wrest a segment of his auric-ambient-flare free from the Fateweaver''s grip. Here, power answered his thoughts, and the shield-piercing sequence that Ambrose had used came to mind, with his frameshifted alteration. Ambrose had conceptualised the arcanic sea as a field to be burned, and so now he stole that seed, picturing the layers of oblivion that they were now on as his target.

    But all at once, his arcana he had amassed was snuffed out like a feeble candle. The Fateweaver held him fast again, albeit with surprising gentleness.

    ''That would sting,'' it said with a note of admonishment. ''And even if it did more than sting, it might get you the answers you want, but not the answers you need.''

    ''My sister. My father. Why them? Why me? Why us?''

    ''Why not?''

    Bitter indignation rose in Caden, but it was arrested by the totally pure sincerity of the Fateweaver''s question that came across with perfect clarity in oblivion. ''I... what?''

    ''Why not, Caden? Why should you and your family be spared from this fate? If I were to write you all out of it, I would have to write others in. Why should they be the ones to take your places?''

    ''... Why these fates? You''re... we''re all human. Why?''

    ''A difficult question with no easy answer. The Fateweavers of all ages ask this of ourselves. With every replacement or addition, we retrace our reasoning and rebuild a consensus. It is what has brought us through the eons to this moment. Hundreds of years of consideration across generations.''

    As it spoke, Caden was given a glimpse of terrible vistas of time filled with frantic communication between Fateweavers, each ancient-distant-spider spooling threads of complex thought to every other, all connected in a web that was painfully intricate, weighed down by every shade of emotion across the whole spectrum of the human experience, gathered and coalesced from their common pool of collective memories. To him, it seemed like a thing of both great wonder and also great horror.

    ''... It has been a long time since I have taken an individual perspective, Caden. In arcanophany, you learn of frameshifting. Well, to use that as an analogy, my frame has shifted so far from the common human experience that the things I use to judge my decisions are quite beyond you, as you are now.''

    Caden felt defeated by the scope of the vision he had been given, but he still managed to whisper tearfully, ''But... but after all that... for all of you to do this to my family... to... to everyone. Is it worth it?''

    ''Strangely enough, Caden, it is precisely that question that made me decide to write your family''s thread. You are the original Foundation, the anchor for the Six-Chained-Foundations, before... well, before these strange anomalies that have led us here. You and the others were meant to imprint the Chosen One with a unique perspective, so that when he finally joined our ranks, we could reconsider the consensus afresh.''

    An incredulous laugh escaped Caden. ''All that suffering just so you can answer a question? We''re all just toys to you, aren''t we?''

    ''No. Not toys.'' The Fateweaver sighed. ''Well, what am I to do with you now?''

    ''You have Emilia in my place. You don''t need me any more. That means there''s no point to Triss'' prophecy, if it was only ever meant to push me to the Academy. Just... just erase me, if I''ve done too much damage. And let Triss, and my dad, have a normal life.''

    ''That is rather drastic, and time works too strangely to manipulate while still maintaining our preferred levels of precision. Tell me, Caden, how have you come to be here, on the first steps to attaining a Fateweaver''s power, while still being completely outside our Prophetic web?''

    ''Can''t you just read it for yourself?'' he asked bitterly.

    ''If I could, Caden, I would have, to spare you. So, how have you done all this?''

    A flicker of hope rose in Caden''s heart. The augera were still shielding him against the Prophecy, and it appeared that their protections kept the Fateweavers from really digging into his auric-ambient-flare. That was probably how they had hidden him the first time around.

    ''If I refuse you tell you...''

    ''I will be forced to destroy you, and fix the pattern,'' it answered matter-of-factly.

    ''What happens after I''ve told you everything you need to know?''

    ''That depends on the nature of what you reveal, Caden. But I will say that I am not unsympathetic to your circumstances, and I wish to do good by you, insofar as it is within the interests of the greater good.''

    That was at least an honest answer, and the best that Caden thought he could expect given the circumstances.

    ''I think we have to give them everything,'' Caden said, directing this at the augeric shell as softly as he could, though he didn''t really expect it to go unnoticed by the Fateweaver.

    ''Yes,'' the chorus answered, suddenly flooding Caden''s auric-ambient-flare with phenomenal power. ''Yes, let us give them everything.''

 143. Bereft

    Oblivion suddenly made sense.

    The augeric shell had been sewn right onto his auric-ambient-flare all along, but it was only now that Caden finally saw just how much this connection had changed him on a fundamental level. From the moment he had first asked the augera to shield him from the Prophecy, they had altered him and themselves. They were his protection against the prophetic links, but he was also their protection against the absolute control of the Fateweavers. But until this very moment, they had hidden that truth from him бк wiped it completely from his perception, hiding their connection in the higher dimensions that he had been ignorant about.

    Now, they opened the floodgates, suffusing his auric-ambient-flare with the fullness of their essence, and he saw oblivion as they did. And yet, at the same time, they also saw oblivion as he did. Even as his mind took in their perceptions of the substance of reality, his subconscious was adding its own interpretive layer, and together Caden and the augera made meaning of oblivion in ways that neither of them had been able to accomplish separately.

    The ancient-distant-spider had been a creature of nebulous proportions, but now Caden could see the borders of its being. It was not a physical thing, but it did stay within a specific field, stretched across several moments of time and space and anchored by a central consciousness. Spider was fitting бк it had far more than eight limbs, but its appendages tethered it to the foundation of reality much like how an arachnid might perch on its own web. Distant, too, was fitting, but not because of any real distance. Rather, Caden was only belatedly realising that this was an emotional detachment that made it very different from an ordinary human, and that distance offered it a terrible clarity and intensity that he did not have access to.

    The augera acted and he found himself channeling arcana into a sequence. They had supplied him with a pattern of deadly intent, something more sophisticated and elegant than the attack he had conceived of with the shield-piercing sequence as a base. His access to the arcanic sea did not matter here as he drew from the fountains of oblivion itself.

    ''Don''t,'' it warned, orienting itself to face Caden in oblivion. He could tell now that he had its undivided attention.

    Caden froze. ''What are you doing?'' he demanded, directing this at the augeric shell, though he was momentarily distracted by the sheer weight behind his own thoughts.

    ''We must fight. Break the anchors!'' the augera answered.

    He did not have time to protest. A frisson of savage glee coursed through his entire being, and he found himself launching the sequence at one of the Fateweaver''s legs. It wasn''t a physical attack at all, because that made no sense in oblivion. Instead, it seemed to Caden like he had launched a weaponized form of doubt, hatred, and the essence of loss.

    The Fateweaver did not move that limb. Instead, its mind seemed to race towards Caden''s projectile, and instead of meeting it head on, it latched on to the layers of oblivion and peeled space itself apart so that the projectile fragmented into several pieces before frittering away into the unknown reaches of this strange dimension, their potency dissipated but not altogether neutralised. Caden suspected that those fragments would go on to cause damage in some other way or form, to some other unfortunate time or location.

    ''I see,'' the Fateweaver rumbled, its thoughts darkening and growing heavy. ''It isn''t just you. Woven-shackled-stream. Which one of you is it this time?''

    Caden was completely given over to the augera, though his will wasn''t exactly dominated. Some part of him wanted this, and he watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. The Fateweaver''s point of focus shot forward, and he slowed its advance by shunting different layers of oblivion in front of them. His auric-ambient-flare was digging into the substance of reality itself and dragging it around like debris.

    But the Fateweaver''s singular point of focus suddenly split into a thousand different motes, each tracing an independent path across the tangled planes. In answer, the augera sent a multitude of tendrils of intent out as well, each meeting a single mote.

    ''All of us,'' the chorus declared defiantly, before repelling the Fateweaver with a concerted burst of raw arcana.

    ''All? How?'' The Fateweaver''s mind retreated, shrinking a little in shock. But then it crystalised with sudden realisation and resolve. ''Because he is {~?~}. You''ve stolen it.''

    ''We have become it,'' the augera boomed triumphantly. ''You are the ones who have stolen our essence, and now you will answer for it.''

    ''You are woven-shackled-streams,'' the Fateweaver said calmly. ''You were changed, not stolen. You were left behind, but we took you in and gave you purpose. Release Caden. He is not a remnant, and should not be joined to one.''

    For a moment, a horrible abyss of grief threatened to swallow Caden from inside out. The augera flinched at the Fateweaver''s words, clearly recalling its most recent encounter with the wellspring-ocean-core. But then an otherworldly fury descended upon him, so intense that it sharpened his auric-ambient-flare into a deadly implement. This time, the augera sent him hurtling straight at the Fateweaver''s limb бк a direct assault with the very essence of his being.

    ''Savage and ungrateful shardlings,'' the Fateweaver sighed. It tried to divert Caden''s approach by shunting him sideways into other layers, but there was too much honed intent for the Fateweaver to placate by will alone. Caden sensed a great shifting in oblivion, and the Fateweaver lifted its limb off the threads of reality. The augera tried to steer him so that he would be able to strike out at that limb, but some otherworldly law of momentum made it impossible, and he crashed right into that space where the Fateweaver had formerly anchored itself.

    He was immediately beset by visions. He saw Geldor as though from a great height, and saw the blackened buildings that he knew were the aftermath of his accidental unravelling of the hostile sequence. He saw the Academy lake, where the Demiurge was taking a leisurely stroll, dressed casually but with that staff of black stone held like a walking stick, his thoughts turned to the wild augera he had tagged. He saw the residences in the Academy, and saw his father just packing up the last of his belongings, about to return home, his heart heavy with some terrible news. He saw the Creyvlor Spire where someone was actually slowly climbing up along the outside, someone dressed in some sort of tactical gear that to his expanded senses were riddled with potent sequences of secrecy and destruction.

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    The Fateweaver''s limb came back down and smashed into him, scattering the hatred and hostility that the augera had used to sharpen his auric-ambient-flare. He found himself being slowly crushed, not by the weight, but by the sheer gulf in their power. This was the Fateweaver using just one of its many, many limbs, and it pinned him in place like a fly nailed to the wall.

    It was ridiculous. All of the augera acting in concert, and still they were no match to this lone Fateweaver. Caden and the augera struggled fruitlessly.

    The limb pressed into him a little harder, and Caden felt a searing pain shoot across every fibre of his auric-ambient-flare.

    ''I see. You asked them to shield you from the Prophecy, but you didn''t know what it meant. They had nothing on you until you opened the door for them. Then they merged with you, and started using you as a conduit, amplifying their influence. They were bound, but through you, they were free to act. And that''s how they''ve been tangling my threads...''

    The Fateweaver leaned in a little more and the pain came back in full measure, intensifying to a degree that he did not know was even possible. It was like every nerve in his body was being pulled apart simultaneously. He was so utterly consumed that he could not even think to scream, for all the good that might do in oblivion. All consciousness was swallowed in agony.

    <hr>

    And then it was gone.

    Caden shot up with a gasp, bracing against the pain, only to realise a moment later that he felt completely fine. The bright afternoon sun shed a pleasant warmth over his face, off-setting the faint chill in the air as a soft wind blew across the lake.

    He stared at the body of water, then down at himself. It seemed as though he had been lying by the bank of the lake. He was clothed in the casual wear that he reserved for lazy weekends indoors at the Academy, with a jacket thrown over.

    ''What happened?'' Caden asked frantically, addressing the augeric shell.

    ''I removed them,'' the Fateweaver replied, its voice echoing in the emptiness.

    He leapt to his feet and stared around, but he was completely alone. Further up the bank, the marble walls of the Academy sparkled in the sun.

    "Is this real?" he wondered, touching his face. His voice sounded strange in his ears, but his throat wasn''t raw from screaming, even though it felt like it ought to be.

    "It is."

    Caden spun around and saw a white-haired woman dressed in unadorned grey robes. Her face was momentarily obscured by pure arcana swirling around it, but when the air cleared it revealed ice-blue eyes set into a surprisingly maternal face, though it defied easy categorisation into an age bracket.

    She raised her arms with a flourish and gave him a small smile. "I thought I''d make this easier for you. I imagine you''ve had enough of working in other dimensions for now."

    "If you removed the augera, does that mean I''m one of the Six-Chained-Foundations again?"

    She sighed. "No. I''ve not changed the sequence of events. That''s possible, but fiendishly dangerous and difficult. Emilia has the space you formerly occupied."

    Caden''s heart quickened. "But then... with the augera gone, it also means I''m no longer being shielded from prophetic links. I''m under the thrall and influence of any and all prophecies again."

    "Thrall and influence?" The Fateweaver clasped her hands and pursed her lips. Her head tilted a little as she considered Caden. "It''s not the full picture, but yes, you could frame it that way."

    "Why did you remove them?" he demanded. "They... they needed me. And I needed them. We were going to work together to stop you from... from this total domination of the whole Empire!"

    "And if you''re really intent on doing that, you can go right back to them," she said matter-of-factly. "But before you set out on this crusade, you might want to get a better sense of what the full picture is. The augera got to you, and they''ve been filtering your perception of things, and even of yourself, from the day you gave yourself over to them. They''ve given you a map of the world, but they''ve only filled in the things they want you to see and know."

    "And you Fateweavers, you haven''t done the same?" Caden shot back. "I mean, we didn''t even know about the augera being locked in Spires! You''re capturing and enslaving them for... for what?"

    "That''s the problem, isn''t it? You don''t even know," the Fateweaver answer simply, her voice even. "Have they told you?"

    Caden seethed, but he had no answer.

    "And of course normally you''d have thought to ask," she continued, "but somehow it never came up, did it? I think if you went over it all and started counting all the coincidences and moments of convenient distraction, you''d come to the realisation that they''ve hidden things from you, even as they pulled back the curtain on other things. Did you ever wonder why they were so eager to have you ensorcel the Chosen One?"

    "It... it was to show him how you''ve all been making puppets of everyone in the Empire."

    "Yes, it was. And of course that did happen." She came closer, and he realised with a start that she was almost twice his height, though he had no idea how that had escaped his notice earlier. She squatted down so she could be on the same level as him. "But you see? You don''t see, even now. While you were ensorceling him, working on the level of the physical world, and maybe the arcanic sea, as you call it, they were working on him in the higher dimensions of oblivion. Normally, the Chosen One would be immune to such manipulation. But you''re quite special, Caden, and they used that. You were their key."

    She stood up and turned away, and suddenly she was an ordinary height again. Caden gaped at her. She faced him and gave him a little smile.

    "Here is the present situation бк a few minutes have passed since you restored Ambrose''s damaged auric-ambient-flare. But the sequence they gave you was actually introducing more fragments of their influence because they were trying to change him just enough so they could one day use him as a conduit, too. I''ve fixed that, so now neither of you are channels for them."

    She gestured out at the lake. "You''re back at the Academy. In awhile the Demiurge will come by, and he''ll find you, and he''ll offer you a place to stay for the rest of the break."

    "Do I accept?" Caden asked, gritting his teeth.

    "That''s actually your choice. In time, as someone who is uniquely {~?~}, you''ll realise that prophetic links don''t mean much to you, especially now that you know all that you do. The other Fateweavers and I will just have to work around that, though it''ll be less annoying now that we know you exist."

    "You''re not going to convince me that I should be on your side?"

    "No," she replied with a small sigh. "If I wanted, I could force you, though there''s a high chance you''d die in the process. But that''s not the course of action I want to take. You''ll have to come to your own resolutions in time. Maybe the next time we meet, you''ll have changed your mind. And if not, well... then we''ll both do what we must."

    "You just teleported me across half the Empire. How am I supposed to explain this to my friends?"

    "You won''t have to explain. It took me quite a bit of effort, but they won''t remember you."

    Caden felt his heart hitch in his chest. "What do you mean?"

    The Fateweaver shook her head sadly. "As far as they''re concerned, you''re just another face in the Academy that they''ve seen before, but don''t know very well. I''m afraid that''s the only way we resolve this tangle neatly without anyone dying. You''re free to make friends with them again, if you want. You can even tell them what has happened. But by then, the line of Prophecy would have led them to where they need to go, and they''ll have done what they need to do."

    Angry words leapt to his lips, but before he could speak them, she was gone. There was nobody but him, staring out across the lake, completely and utterly alone.

 144. Demiurges Urges

    A bitter mix of rage, grief, and confusion made him feel almost physically sick. What was he supposed to do now? What had it all been for? All the careful planning, all the pain they had endured, all the hopes they had built together, and now without even a snap of her fingers, some nameless Fateweaver had stepped in and stolen all that from him?

    "YOU бк CAN''T бк DO бк THIS!" Caden screamed, each word punctuated by an explosion of water as he hurled heavy arcanic bolts into the lake. But it wasn''t enough to quell the maelstrom of emotion in him. He staggered forwards until he was waist-deep in the lake, and he dug into the arcana with the raw fingers of his expanded auric-ambient-flare, pouring the mess of his heart into a weaving of unfettered agony. All sense of self-control disappeared as he lurched into the shallows and slammed his fists into the water. His gathered power mirrored his movements on a larger scale, displacing water with such speed and violence that for a moment he left clear impact craters in the lake like giant fists. He was almost completely drenched by that first strike, but he ignored the icy sting and continued pounding, sending sizable waves rushing across the surface of the water.

    Far from exhausting himself, the expression of his frustration seemed to only make it grow. He kept thinking about everything he had done to get into the Academy, about how his sister and father had been snared by prophecies, about how he had been manipulated into being one of the Six-Chained-Foundations. And even though his friendship with the others had been largely a product of Fateweaver meddling, they were bonds of his choice, especially after he had become unfettered from the major Prophecy with the help of the augera.

    But the augera had manipulated him too, and even though he had half-expected something like this, he still felt betrayed, and that was fuelling the savagery of his rage now. Everything, everyone, all of it was was wrong. His whole life was a thread, either held in the hands of the Fateweavers or the augera, or tangled between the two warring factions, and now he had been cut loose and left to billow in the wind like some discarded rag.

    His rage grew, and so did his weaving. He wasn''t striking the water within his immediate vicinity any more бк the blows were landing further and further away from him, and with each swing of his arm he displaced more and more water, until the waves became so big that they were travelling out to the middle of the lake. The force of his strikes had grown so powerful that he was instinctively anchoring himself with arcana so he wouldn''t throw himself off balance.

    When his next blow went deep enough for him to hit the lake bed even though it fell almost ten meters from the shore, he stopped. That brief glimpse of the exposed bottom startled him, and with that break in his concentration the entire weaving came apart. The water heaved and swirled back to fill the depression and the backwash pushed him back hard enough to make him stumble. He floundered for a moment before scrambling back to the shore.

    The Demiurge was there in his casual attire, a white T-shirt and faded grey jeans, leaning on his black staff. When Caden finally noticed him, he gave a wry smile. "Feel a little better now?"

    "No," Caden answered wearily, stopping in ankle-deep water. All the wild rage that had filled him a moment earlier had gone, but in its place was a terrible hollowness that had nothing to do with arcanic overdraw. Once, he might have felt a little embarrassed or cowed to be standing before the Demiurge in such a state, but after being possessed by the will of all the augera and being made to fight an actual Fateweaver, it seemed a little silly to feel self-conscious in front of anyone. Now, he just felt so, so tired.

    If the Demiurge was mystified by the sudden appearance of his student who should be halfway across the Empire during a term break, or by the awesome display of arcanic power far beyond someone who had only just finished his first semester, he gave no sign of it. He simply nodded at Caden''s response. "Well, at least that''s out of your system. Come, join me for a cup of coffee. I can''t guarantee it''ll help, but it''ll give us the chance to talk."

    Talk? The very idea seemed absurd to Caden. Where would he start? And what good would that do? The Demiurge was just another cog in the Fateweavers'' machinations. Everyone was. Caden fixed him with a blank stare.

    "It probably seems absurd to you," the Demiurge said calmly, though the sides of his lips twitched upward ever-so-slightly, "but I think sitting somewhere nice and warm while sipping a hot drink is a better way to work through things instead of staying here and punishing the helpless and innocent lake."

    "Fine. Whatever." Caden stepped onto the store and walked past the Demiurge, who turned and fell into stride next to him. There was a gentle stirring in the arcana as the Demiurge deftly deployed several sequences in quick succession. Caden''s clothes rapidly dried themselves out and a pleasant pocket of warm air enveloped him. "Thanks," Caden muttered.

    "Not at all," the Demiurge said cheerfully. Together, the two of them made their way up the path to the door in the Academy wall.

    Caden met his first surprise when they neared it. He realised that the door was still hidden, but he knew it was there. In fact, he knew how to get it to show itself without even employing any sequences. Even though his eyes couldn''t fix on it, he felt very clearly through his auric-ambient-flare that the door was simply folded onto a slightly higher dimension, and all he needed to do was reach out and open it like any other door.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The Demiurge had stopped and was watching Caden expectantly.

    "Are you testing me?" Caden asked, frowning.

    "Hm? In what way?"

    "Are you trying to figure out how much I know now? How much I can do?"

    "It''s a door, Caden," the Demiurge replied with a raised eyebrow. "I was just hoping you''d be kind enough to politely open it ahead of me since you''re clearly capable of doing so now. But if it''s really too much trouble..."

    With an annoyed twitch of his auric-ambient-flare, Caden brought the door into alignment with their physical plane and opened it.

    "Thank you," the Demiurge said as he stepped through. Caden grit his teeth and followed, slamming the door shut behind him with another small exertion of will. He felt it melt back into the wall, hidden once more between higher layers.

    But he stopped after taking a few steps. The Demiurge walked on for a little, then turned and gave him a questioning look.

    Just as the door had been veiled to his physical eyes but was still perfectly clear to his auric-ambient-flare, Caden could now pick out all the buildings in the Academy that had been quietly folded into higher dimensions so that they were beyond the perception of ordinary people. He could also see now that the sequences that were in play around them were not responsible for keeping them there бк instead, the glyphs were meant to tamper with perceptions of time and space so that people ignored the apparently empty space. Now, though, Caden was quite literally above all of that. His physical senses were befuddled and there were parts of his auric-ambient-flare that were also bounded by the weavings, but the way his auric-ambient-flare was now folded into oblivion meant that there were parts of it that could not be touched by these sequences working at a lower level. So even as he knew what he was supposed to see, he also knew what was really there.

    "Has the campus always been this big?" he asked, amazed even though he already knew about the hidden buildings. It was different being able to actually perceive them.

    The Demiurge smiled sadly. "Yes. Can you imagine how it must have been when it was all filled, years and years ago?"

    "You mean back when you were a student?"

    "Oh, no. It''s been like that for at least a hundred years. The Fateweavers have been tapering the enrolment rates for a long time, slowly but surely."

    "Why?"

    For once, the Demiurge seemed less like the Demiurge and more like just another person. The aura of deadly competence and the careless confidence of mastery faded away, and Caden could now see a middle-aged man who looked a little tired and forlorn. "They have their reasons, I imagine. I may even know some of those reasons for certain. And I may not agree with them, but there''s only so much I can do," Caldwell said, looking wistfully at the campus.

    "What do you want?" Caden asked, with a little more exasperation than he intended. He couldn''t help himself because of how difficult it was to pin down Caldwell''s motivations. Even now, Caden wasn''t sure exactly what role the Demiurge had in all this.

    "You asked me something like that before, right here," Caldwell replied a little seriously. "I told you back then that what I want is irrelevant when it comes to the Prophecy or the Chosen One, because most are their unwitting slaves."

    "I remember," Caden nodded. "But you know for a fact that the Fateweavers are real, and unless I''m very mistaken, you''re operating at a level high enough to even see them sometimes, or at least see their weavings. Are you an unwitting slave?"

    "No," Caldwell answered with a smile, though this time there was a somewhat grim cast to it. "You might say I''m loyal opposition of a sort."

    "Loyal opposition? How is that supposed to work if the Fateweavers have absolute power? Do you know what they''ve just done to me?" Caden demanded.

    "I don''t know, but it must be pretty drastic if you''ve somehow turned up here when nobody should be on campus. No one has driven in, there are no inbound trains, and I''m certain you didn''t fly here, whether with or without artefacts," Caldwell said, frowning a little for the first time. "Now, before you get angry all over again, let''s at least get to coffee first, shall we?"

    "Just teleport us there, or teleport the coffee here," Caden snapped. "I mean, that''s what you love to do, don''t you? Just pop up all over the place at random times and places, doing the impossible. You were doing that all the time when I was here, and you even showed up in Devon''s home that one time with the agents. Does it make you feel powerful? Does it make you feel like you''ve got some measure of control against the Fateweavers?"

    Caldwell''s gaze became so intense that Caden took a step back, suddenly afraid that he had gone too far. Even though the Demiurge was no Fateweaver, there was something viscerally chilling about the look that Caldwell shot at him. "Do you believe you are the only person alive who knows they have been hurt by the Fateweavers? Does that belief make you feel so special that you think you have the right to lash out at everyone else, and that it justifies your impertinence?"

    Caden swallowed the lump in his throat. "No," he muttered, feeling a little abashed. "I''ve... it''s just been a lot to go through."

    Caldwell''s eyes softened. "Believe me, I know. I''m sure I don''t know it in quite the same way you do because I''m not {~?~}, but believe me, I know. By virtue of my office, I have to work with the Fateweavers. However, quite unlike many of the Demiurges before me, there are aspects of my auric-ambient-flare that make me... a unique colleague, as much a hindrance as a help. I have suffered much for it, though I like to think I give as good as I get."

    Caden wanted to ask for clarification, but Caldwell forestalled him with a raised hand. "I refuse to talk until I get my coffee. I''m not going to stand out here in the middle of an empty campus and talk about Prophecies and Fateweavers, so if you''ll excuse me, I''m going to exercise every ounce of the free will I have to get to my office and have that bloody drink before I continue this conversation with you."

    And with that, he turned sharply and stalked off, with Caden hurrying in his wake.

 145. Revision

    The new buildings made it difficult for Caden to really keep track of where they were because his newfound ability to truly perceive them made the campus completely different. The landmarks and recognisable sights were hidden behind new structures, or set at intervals that clashed with his memories. It wasn''t until Caldwell led him to the library that he finally noticed that they hadn''t been heading towards the Academy Spire.

    "I thought we were getting coffee?" Caden asked, confused.

    "We are," Caldwell replied, walking right up to the door without breaking stride. They swung open quietly to admit them.

    "You mean from the cafe?" Caden''s bewilderment grew as he followed Caldwell inside. "It opens even when there''s no one around?"

    "I''m someone," Caldwell said with a backward glance, sounding aggrieved. "And I''m not alone. Some members of the staff stay on in the residences through the term breaks, and the sages continue to do their work all year round. The cafeteria is closed, of course, and the two restaurants, but this little cafe is always open. Well, in a manner of speaking."

    Caden frowned. Caldwell was leading them to a public place, and they were going to talk about Fateweavers and the Prophecy in front of everyone? But before he could voice his surprise at this, they were already past the empty foyer and the unmanned front desk. The scattering of chairs and tables in front of the cafe''s counter was similarly deserted, and it didn''t look like anyone was working there.

    But that was what his eyes were telling him. As the Demiurge approached the cafe counter, apparently ready to engage with someone there, Caden picked up the telltale signs of something even more sophisticated than the weaving that hid many of the buildings on campus from sight. There was  something moving in oblivion бк something that was entirely in oblivion, dipping only the barest portions of its essence into the physical world.

    He stopped and stared, carefully folding his mind so he could perceive it more clearly. Was that a person?

    Even as he wondered that, he was hit by the nagging suspicion that it couldn''t be a real person, but it was hard to really believe because Caldwell was now interacting with the thing behind the counter, and he was communicating with it both through speech and in the arcana, and it was talking back.

    "The usual for both of us," he said.

    "I will bring your order to you. Your table has been prepared with all the necessary sequences," it replied, and even though there was nothing at all in that physical space, with his mind folded so he could peer into oblivion, Caden was given the impression of someone giving an obsequious bow.

    Caldwell nodded his thanks and settled himself down at one of the tables in the corner, beckoning for Caden to join him there.

    "Who is that?" Caden asked, turning around to stare at the empty counter as he sat down. "What is that?"

    "You don''t recognise it?" Caldwell looked genuinely surprised. "The very first time I met you, it was because I sensed that you had made one."

    Caden''s confusion intensified. "A friend-in-the-arcana? But I thought that was just my name for the augera?"

    Two cups floated over to the table. Caden sensed the gentle swirl of arcana being manipulated, and traced its source back to the presence behind the counter. It acknowledged his scrutiny with a mental bob, then receeded until he could no longer sense it. Caden stared down at the cups and was surprised to see that it was an iced latte бк his usual order. Caldwell''s drink was hot. Evidently, it was familiar with both his and the Demiurge''s preferences.

    "I think I see the issue," Caldwell said. He paused to take a sip from his cup and gave a satisfied sigh. "You didn''t get to experiment enough. You had only just discovered this friend-in-the-arcana phenomenon, and you told your father about it, which is how he finally managed to finish those orbs of his. But then not long after that, the augera got involved, didn''t it? It nudged you into ensorceling the Chosen One."

    Hearing Caldwell so casually talk about the events, and with such accuracy, did not put Caden at ease. "How do you know all this?" he demanded.

    "Loyal opposition," Caldwell replied simply, though he frowned a little at Caden''s tone. "They keep me in the loop for some things. Or, to be more precise, they do not trouble to hide their handiwork, which means I can read most of what they''re doing if I happen to be looking, which is what I''m doing now."

    He reached out with a hand and gestured over the table. Caden felt his auric-ambient-flare being engaged in higher dimensions, and his attention turned there, where he perceived that there was a knot in space and time that the Demiurge had picked out. It was an excerpt of the threads of Fate. Then the Demiurge leaned back and the knot faded from Caden''s perception. He tried to get a fix on it again, but no matter how hard he folded his mind, he couldn''t seem to find it.

    "I think you''ll get there eventually, with time and practice. There''s no guarantee they''ll let you keep the ability if you do manage to get it, though," Caldwell said.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "So you struck some kind of deal with them, which is why they haven''t taken it from you?"

    "No." Caldwell''s response was curt. "It''s more complicated than that. But we might get to that later. Since you don''t even know about the wysana, we should start there. It''s a good point of entry for us to get to the rest of the things that have happened to you."

    "The friends-in-the-arcana are called ''wysana''? Are they common? But if they are, why didn''t my father know about them? And, I mean, apparently they''ve been right here in the library cafe all this time! Why haven''t I read about them somewhere before?"

    Caldwell nodded pointedly at Caden''s untouched drink. Irritably, he took a sip and waited expectantly for the Demiurge to answer.

    "The wysana are creations of pure arcana, brought into being by arcanists when a specific kind of frameshift is applied. You stumbled upon it when you ensorcelled your friends for the first time." Caldwell leaned over the table and peered at it, reading the threads that Caden couldn''t see. "You imagined that arcana itself could be a friend, could have intelligence."

    "That doesn''t seem like something really groundbreaking," Caden said, his brow furrowed. "I''m sure people have tried it before."

    "Well, yes and no. The foundation of that frameshift may be the concept of an intelligent construct, but your particular flavour of it has the emotional and mental associations that come with the concept of a friend. That''s a lot harder to experimentally manufacture." Caldwell took another sip and fixed Caden with a measuring look, as if trying to decide if it was worth explaining further. "Do you see why it''s not as common as you think it might be?"

    "You mean it''s difficult, or impossible, for someone to force themselves to create a friend out of pure arcana, because they''ll never really believe it''s possible?" Caden asked tentatively.

    Caldwell pursed his lips. "Something like that. Intelligence without an emotional core creates unstable constructs that only last as long as one''s will is fixed upon it. It''s actually how arcanists manipulate arcana with pure will and focus alone and manage to duplicate the effects of sequences. The arcana itself forms a temporary construct according to the intent of the arcanist."

    "Wait, what? You''re telling me that everyone makes use of this wysana thing when they simply manipulate arcana through will and focus?"

    "No," Caldwell said, and although he gave a slight smile, Caden thought he picked up a little disappointment. "Let''s backtrack a little. Have you ever wondered why we can manipulate arcana with will and focus alone at all?"

    Caden stared at Caldwell. It was like being asked why it was possible to touch things with your hand.

    "A little philosophical, but bear with me. What do you think?"

    "It''s... it''s just the way it is. Our bodies let us interact with the physical world. So... I guess our auric-ambient-flares allow us to manipulate arcana, and that''s just how it works," Caden answered uncertainly.

    Caldwell smiled again, though now it carried a sense of self-reproach. "Maybe it''s a bit much to plough through now. Well, ancient sages have proposed a theory that arcana itself is intelligent, and it responds to our intelligence. It interprets our desires and will, and then gives them form. Of course it''s hard to definitively prove, but the concept of frameshifting is built upon that foundation. We don''t cover this in great depth in Principles of Arcanophany, but those who take up the sage vocation eventually delve deeper into the theory of it all."

    "So only sages know about the wysana?"

    "They know about the theory, but it''s not something common, because as I said earlier, it''s not easy to properly create one. And even the ones you ended up creating weren''t stable, although they had an emotional core." Caldwell''s eyes went to the space above the table again as he picked out more information from the higher dimensions. "The very first one you made performed an ensorcelment without your conscious direction, then helped you fly, and actually started to try and fight against the prophetic links that bound you. But then it dissipated. The other one you made by the lake helped you fly around again and it lasted a lot longer, but at the cost of your arcana, and you were severely overdrawn. And finally, the one you used on your father dissipated right after its task was done."

    "I taught my father to do it without much trouble," Caden pointed out.

    "Yes, and that''s to his credit. But his wysana was similarly unstable. It also dissipated after he used it to help him finish the orbs. And, more importantly, if you recall, he never really thought of it as completely intelligent. His working theory was that it drew on what you knew."

    "But if my father managed it just once, wouldn''t sages have been able to figure it out, and make it more common?"

    Now, when Caldwell smiled again, it was with a hint of bitterness. "Ah, there''s the trouble, isn''t it? Caden, if someone in the Empire discovered a way to create intelligent arcanic beings that could be used in all sorts of ways, and which would allow them to perform advanced arcanophany without having to learn the relevant sequences... do you think it should be common?"

    "Shouldn''t it?" Caden asked, bewildered. "It''d make everyone''s life easier, wouldn''t it?"

    "It would also mean that a lot of people would have access to a lot of power," Caldwell pointed out. "The answer to your question about why the wysana aren''t more widely known and more commonly used, Caden, is that the Fateweavers don''t want it to be that way. The creation of a stable wysana is difficult, but as you''ve pointed out, the process can be refined and taught. It''s no more difficult than some of the other aspects of advanced arcanophany. But it is not in the Fateweavers plans for this particular piece of knowledge to be proliferated."

    Caden''s nostrils flared. There it was again бк Fateweaver meddling.

    "Well, that brings us to you. You have a piece of knowledge that ancient sages once had, but which has since been suppressed by the Fateweavers so that only a select few in the Empire know about the wysana and can make active use of them. I''ve been allowed to create and make a few in order to help with the maintenance and security of the Academy. There are, I think, some Nightwatchers who are also similarly equipped, and maybe a scattering of other individuals. Now, you are a part of that rarefied group." Caldwell raised his cup in an ironic toast. "With knowledge comes power, young arcanist."

    "You said that you''re ''loyal opposition''," Caden pointed out. "So you don''t like the Fateweavers, do you?"

    Caldwell grimaced. "That''s rather simplistic. I actually like some of them as people, but I don''t agree with their methodology as a group. In any case, we don''t have all the time in the world, even if we''re not completely bound by prophetic links. My purpose in talking with you is to give you as much information as I think you''ll need in order for you to take advantage of your freedom. Whether or not you align yourself with their interests or decide to oppose them isn''t really something I care about."

    He reached out and the staff leapt to his hands. With a casual tap, a standard Academy notebook and a pen materialised, and fell into Caden''s lap.

    "Let''s start, shall we?" he asked.

 146. Parsing History

    [Caden''s notes are an almost illegible scrawl at first, but the content suddenly becomes smoother and perfectly consistent after one paragraph though the handwriting is still recognisably his. However, little notes written in a more natural script are squeezed into the otherwise orderly spaces between each line, and some portions of the neat text are untidily underscored or circled for emphasis.]

    Brief History

    Fateweavers created modern system of arcanophany with invention/creation/discovery(??? he kept using different words for this) of glyphs. Glyphs frame - helps laypeople use arcana w/o need for theory. But b/c glyphs frame, they also control - restricts possibilities, limits perspective. Framing v. impt part of how glyphs make it easier/safer for laypeople and arcanists to use arcana

    When - about 3800 years ago, averting crisis that would have likely caused Empire collapse (details not given, said there are more important things to tell me first)

    How - sages discovered wild augera; presences in the arcana, wild, intelligent, alien. (Origin? I mentioned wellspring-ocean-core, he said can discuss another time, need to move on first) Pre-arcanophany sages tried to tame wild augera, failed - augera too powerful to restrain. Discoveries in nature of arcana from failed attempts led to glyphwork - found that framing devices can also be applied to self or others, directing arcanic power v. precisely, but also limiting potential/scope. Thus able to limit power of wild augera, make them more malleable/vulnerable

    Atrael Ka''atus (demiurge, v. powerful) made use of glyphs to shackle first augera. (How? no details about exact process, probably knowledge restricted by Fateweavers) Process transformed wild augera into woven-shackled-stream. First Spire built as mechanism of control, also served as channel to direct captured augera''s power

    Sages continued research on first woven-shackled-stream, Ka''atus helped capture more. Led to discovery of network effect, amplifying scope and power of arcanic control via augera. Proto-Fateweavers formed - first made use of wide area-of-effect sequences to defend Empire from physical assault. Use of Spire network and continued interaction with woven-shackled-streams led to greater discoveries of oblivion, higher dimensions. Led to discovery of non-physical connections being observable, capable of being manipulated.

    Proto-Fateweavers suppressed research, made use of discovery to elevate themselves, wiped records, erased memories. Became first collective of Fateweavers. Made use of Spires to secure Empire via new field of prophecy. Built more Spires, made more Fateweavers, honed use of prophecy.

    Made use of prophecy to shape Empire - discouraged factors that threatened stability of Empire, encouraged/inculcated attitudes, discoveries, societal shifts to strengthen Empire.

    Emperors/Empresses know; not figurehead authority. Immunity from prophetic links guaranteed via early Fateweaver injunction. Throne is one check on Fateweaver power - majority of Fateweavers support this arrangement. Demiurges also know - second check. But effectiveness questionable. Throne and demiurge positions only preserved by Fateweaver permission, not by intrinsic power.

    Mechanics of Prophecies (big/small)

    Big ideas: ancient sages discovered all people are nexus points, also simultaneously channels of connections. Mere presence affects others, even w/o direct interaction. Connections are in higher dimensions via proximity, not necessarily physical. Can be emotional, psychological, temporal, (other fields mentioned, didn''t catch; impt pt is not only physical, many many avenues, direct interaction/awareness not required to influence).

    With glyphs as focus, mundane statements can be given greater weight of meaning. When nexus points/people receive statements, will translate to shift in their field of influence as both nexus point and channel. Delivered in the right way to the right people at the right time, a glyphed statement can change nexus point''s influence profile v. powerfully, and go on to affect other nexus points - cascading effect, self-strengthening.

    Spire network helps exert influence over nature of nexus points'' profiles, favours some connections more than others. Nature of glyphs used + influence of Spire network gives all prophecies a quasi-intelligence that works to make itself come true within scope of wording. Some ''drift'' b/c meanings of words not always fixed, subject to interpretation, may be read metaphorically, etc. etc., so Fateweavers shepherd their prophecies along desired paths, pruning/correcting some offshoots, or deciding to cultivate offshoots if unexpected but favourable.

    !!!V. IMPORTANT!!! - Caldwell behind Empire-wide memory wipe of Ambrose at start of semester, with Reeves'' help. This helped to reset v. unfavourable influence profile b/c of too-early revelation of Ambrose''s identity. This is major cause of my initial position in Six-Chained-Foundations - probably would not have been close to Ambrose if not for memory wipe. Why?? Done with permission of Fateweavers? Does it affect people outside the Empire? If not, why, when the info isn''t fully purged - won''t influence from outside Empire still be in effect? Demiurge refused to answer - FIND OUT BY MYSELF.

    Ambrose''s Prophecy

    Creation of new Fateweaver necessary to replace dying Fateweaver. Long lives, but not immortal - oldest recorded is 970 years, shortest 116. Averge unknown.

    Fateweavers try to capture zeitgeist of current age in new Fateweavers to improve collective understanding + obtain forward perspective, to add to historical/cultural context of past Fateweavers. Six-Chained-Foundations meant to provide life experiences to capture essence of what new Fateweaver must have. Past Fateweavers had similar supporting elements in their Prophecies. This is why Major Prophecy face aspects are Creating-Selecting-Chain.

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    "crown o''er mortal thrones" - Caldwell worried by this line. Claims past prophecies do not have references to thrones. Does not believe it is poetic turn of phrase - believes it may signal Fateweaver intention for absolute control over Empire from now on, or conquest of other nations, or both. Fateweavers have neither confirmed nor denied it when Caldwell spoke with the ones he knows.

    When is fulfilment due? Not stated, not known. Will Ambrose ''ascend'' upon Fateweaver death, or will Fateweaver step down, or meant to still be alive when Ambrose joins? - not known.

    Caldwell''s Position

    Claims ''loyal opposition'' means he does not agree with Fateweaver methods, sometimes actively works against them. Fateweavers allow it b/c he is demiurge, part of Fateweaver-approved system to provide check/balance to Fateweavers. But he has Empire''s interests in mind

    Currently trying to capture wild augera formerly lurking around Academy lake. Meant to be key to Ambrose''s future ascension (?!) - apparently creation of new Fateweaver must involve wild augera. Refused to give me details. Said he was not commanded/forced by Fateweavers to do this - he volunteered and Fateweavers agreed to entrust capture of wild augera to him. Refused to tell me why he volunteered

    Caldwell consulted with the Emperor and advised him to formally call arcanists across Empire into active service, pivot to preparation for war. Also asked Emperor to support the change in Academy curriculum and admission procedures (compulsory thaumaturgy + condensed, more demanding syllabus, and expelling those who cannot resist ensorcelment/other tests the future). Emperor reluctant, but Caldwell convinced him. Why? - refused to answer. Hinted: not Fateweaver request/command, but Caldwell''s personal initiative.

    <hr>

    Caden snapped the notebook shut and leaned back in his seat. The sun had sunk below the wall and its warm, orange glow was rapidly fading away, darkening the stained glass windows of the cafe. Inside the library, the globelights that usually stayed on for the benefit of students studying late were not activated. Only the Demiurge''s own globelight illuminated their little corner.

    "I think you''ve got enough to go on with for now," Caldwell said with a small sigh as he looked out across the empty cafe tables. He seemed a little sad.

    "Yep," Caden nodded, massaging the bridge of his nose. Their talk had been both fruitful and frustrating. Caldwell had pulled back the veil on a lot of mysteries, but it was still clear to Caden that there was more to know, and when he tried to pursue his own lines of questioning, the Demiurge had not always been forthcoming or clear in his responses. Evidently, he was playing his cards close to his chest.

    "Well, that leaves us with just one last pressing matter to attend to," Caldwell said, getting to his feet. "You can stay in your old dorm until the term begins, after which we''ll need to sort out your living arrangements again now that you are no longer a part of the Prophecy''s favoured group."

    "What are the alternatives?" Caden asked. "Can I go back home?"

    Caldwell raised an eyebrow. "Of course you can. You can attempt anything you want, if you have enough nerve to see it through."

    "That sounds like a ''no''," Caden replied evenly. He was irritated, but far too tired to be riled up at the moment.

    "You can go home," Caldwell reaffirmed. "I don''t believe the Fateweavers will stop you. The last ride out of here will leave tomorrow morning. After that, there won''t be anyone else coming or going until the term begins again."

    "I want to go, then. Is it a bus? Where do I need to be, and what time is it leaving?"

    "It''s not a bus. Your father is driving out tomorrow. You can find him at his staff residence now."

    Caden''s heart seemed to be lodged in his throat. His father was still here. The thought reminded him of the series of visions he had seen when he had been engaged in combat with the Fateweaver while under the control of the augera. Had those visions been of the present? But he shoved those concerns aside. The prospect of being able to see his father and talk with him was filling him with so many conflicting emotions. He wanted to say so much, but also had no idea where to begin, and although the prospect of being able to share it all with his father promised some relief, it also seemed like an insurmountable task fraught with its own perils. Even if he could tell his father everything, should he?

    Caldwell seemed to know what was going through Caden''s mind. He smiled slightly, though this time there was no trace of levity about it, only a kind of weary, pained understanding. "You can decide tomorrow. Unless you do something to alter the present course of events, he''ll only be driving off after ten in the morning."

    Caden nodded mutely. Caldwell gave him a brief pat on the shoulder бк it felt quite uncharacteristic, almost as if a mask of aloofness had momentarily slipped бк then quietly made his way out of the library. The tapping of his staff grew fainter and fainter until Caden was left in silence, with only Caldwell''s globelight for company.

    No, that was not quite accurate. The wysana was there. Caden could sense it approaching him now, like something slowly surfacing from the depths of the ocean, stopping in shallower waters to regard him curiously.

    "Yes?" he asked a little irritably, instinctively reaching out through the arcana even as he spoke.

    It dipped a small fragment of its will into the arcana sea, spawning a Minor Query mote out of Caldwell''s globelight. Even though Caden knew more about a wysana and its capabilities now, it was still an act that took him by surprise. It was like seeing a piece of clothing helping to fold other pieces of clothing.

    "You are not familiar with the Academy grounds in its unveiled form," it answered, emanating a sense of tentative helpfulness. "If you need, you may follow this mote to your old dorm."

    He felt a little guilty for addressing it so peevishly, and then felt somewhat confused because he knew it was really just an arcanic construct invested with some measure of independence. He wasn''t sure if it was technically alive. "Do you have a name?"

    It seemed to draw itself up in indignation. "No. Do not attempt to fashion one for me. It is not welcome."

    "I''m sorry, Iбк"

    "Follow the mote if you need. If not, please dismiss both sequences before you leave." The presence rapidly receeded, leaving Caden with more questions.

    What do I do now? he wondered, staring at the Minor Query mote. He dismissed the globelight, made contact with the mote, and followed it out of the library. Once he was through the doors, he paused. The mote bobbed ahead and stopped, waiting for him to catch up.

    The notebook in his hand felt heavy with the weight of revelations he had penned in them. There was a lot to unpack. There were many things to consider. He needed to figure out where he stood on a lot of different issues that he hadn''t known even existed until just a few hours ago.

    He could do it alone. Or he could go see his father.

    The moment stretched. Finally, with a mingled sense of weariness and grim determination, he began walking, following the mote back to his old, empty dorm.

 147. A New Compact

    The wysana had been right бк trying to find his old dorm in the unveiled Academy was difficult, and if it hadn''t been for the Minor Query mote he would have lost his way several times. Finally arriving at his dorm was a jarring experience, because the familiar sight of the building''s facade was not set against the backdrop he remembered. It didn''t help that all the lights were out since no other students were on campus.

    The common area was dark, so Caden sent out a trickle of arcana to connect with the globelights set into the walls and ceiling. A memory came, unbidden, at the sight of the table бк Devon, leaning forward and asking, "What score?"

    Caden froze at the threshold, the emptiness of the dorm rhyming with the hole in his heart. As his eyes swept across the furniture, a pang of loneliness accompanied each little recollection. The smell of pancakes. The sound of dishes being washed. Sitting around the table with everyone else. Jerric seated alone in a chair, lit only by moonlight. The door to Devon''s room closing firmly in Kevan''s face.

    With a great effort of will, Caden stepped into the empty dorm, still half-expecting to hear sounds of his friends moving about. He managed to get as far as the table before he collapsed almost involuntarily into a chair, with hot tears spilling from his eyes.

    Several minutes passed as he remained slumped in his seat. He made no move to wipe the tears away. There was no one to see them anyway. This moment of grief was his to sit in alone. There would be time for industry later. For now, it seemed only right to properly mourn what had been taken away from him.

    He had intended to sort out all the things he had just written down, and then lay out all the considerations for whether or not he ought to go home with his father the next morning, but now that he was here the thought of mustering the strength to do all of that was too daunting. Caden settled for dragging himself to the bathroom to freshen up. He would have liked a shower, but he had no other clothes.

    "A set of clothes has been procured for you," the wysana said, its voice echoing slightly in the empty dorm, seeming to emanate from the walls and through the arcana. "They are in your room."

    Caden was too emotionally drained to be surprised. He wondered if the wysana was following him, or if it was supposed to ''service'' the entire campus, but he filed that query away for another time. "Thanks," he mumbled, not bothering to make proper contact through the arcana to make sure it heard him. As promised, when he checked his room, he found two sets of clothes бк one for the night, and something fresh for him to change into the next day. They weren''t any of his own clothes, but they were remarkably similar to the kind of things he normally wore, right down to the design and colour scheme.

    It was like the coffee in the cafe. The wysana knew his preferences. More questions came to mind. Where had the clothes come from? He had just been teleported halfway across the Empire, but that was at the hands of a Fateweaver. It was too much to believe that the wysana were casually teleporting things as mundane as clothes around the campus. But if not teleportation, then were they spun out of pure arcana? If so, how were their forms stabilised so they didn''t vanish like other conjurations?

    Too many questions for a weary mind. He put them aside as he got into the shower and allowed the warm water to wash all the tension away. Perhaps it was just as well that there was no one else in the dorm. There was no bathroom schedule to obey. He could spend as much time as he wanted in here, and no one would hurry him.

    When he finally emerged an hour later, he felt more relaxed, though the weight in his chest hadn''t entirely gone away. He changed into a clean set of clothes, then opened the notebook.

    There was too much to really satisfactorily parse in one night, but he went over everything anyway just so he could see the whole body of information again with a more critical eye, after the initial shock of revelation. He penned in a few more general questions and flagged other things for further review and investigation, and even though he wasn''t actively trying to think about avenues of experimentation and inquiry, he was already putting down half-formed plans and possibilities.

    But many of those things required access to the library, or to the facilities in the Academy. If he went home with his father the next morning, he very much doubted that his father''s workshop would serve.

    The longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like the most reasonable course of action would be for him to stay in the Academy. He would have the time and space to figure out the extent of his abilities and his knowledge now that he had been forcibly divested of the augeric shell. More importantly, he would be far away from his family. The Fateweaver''s ominous pronouncement weighed heavily on his mind бк The other Fateweavers and I will just have to work around that, though it''ll be less annoying now that we know you exist. Now that they knew of his existence as a {~?~}, he didn''t want to unwittingly reveal bits of knowledge to his family that would draw the Fateweavers down on them.

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    The resolution formed like a bitter pill in his throat. His heart ached for family, but there was a colder, firmer core in him that wanted to do everything possible in order to unravel this knot of problems so that he could gain the power to secure his family once and for all.

    In fact, that cold core was crystalising around a realisation that made him grin. By the Fateweaver''s own admission, somehow, by virtue of him being {~?~}, the Fateweavers not only weren''t able to control him with their prophetic links, but they also weren''t able to simply erase him from existence. For reasons he did not yet know, their hands were tied. Otherwise, he was sure they would have removed him already instead of subjecting themselves to the inconvenience of working around him.

    Ancient-distant-spiders, he mused. I wonder if they''re too emotionally distant to appreciate how dangerous it is for them to push people this far.

    There was a vindictive sharpness in that thought that somehow comforted Caden in his loneliness. He closed the notebook and went to bed, possessed of cold purpose. He needed to sleep, because in the morning, he would take the first steps on his own road to power.

    <hr>

    At 8 in the morning, Caden sat himself down in the library cafe at the same table he and the Demiurge had occupied the night before. A few seconds later, even though Caden was very sure no one had been within sight when he had gone through the library''s doors, the Demiurge walked in. Caldwell was dressed in his formal arcanist''s robes and was carrying the staff, but when he saw Caden he gave a cheerful wave with his free hand and somehow managed to look friendly and welcoming despite the imposing outfit.

    "The wysana told me you''ll be staying," he said, smiling brightly as he settled himself down facing Caden.

    "Only if I can access all the facilities normally available during term time," Caden clarified. "Otherwise, there''s no point."

    Caldwell raised an eyebrow as he gestured at the counter. Caden was momentarily distracted as the wysana''s presence coalesced and two cups materialised there, rapidly filling with coffee. "Of course," Caldwell said, now in a less cavalier tone. "No one else is around, so you have the run of the place. You won''t even have to book the arena if you want to use it. Just go right ahead."

    "What about the library?" Caden asked, throwing another glance at the two cups as they floated over.

    "If you''re taking books out, just fill in the borrowing ledger by yourself," Caldwell answered, plucking his cup from mid-air and taking a sip. When Caden failed to receive his own cup, it set itself down gently on the table, though there was a faint whiff of irritation from the wysana before it faded from perception.

    "What about the Lower Library?"

    Caldwell waved a hand dismissively. "I''ll give you full access. I gather you know your way around already, but some sages are still around if you really need help. However, try not to bother them unless you really need to."

    "There''s one more thing," Caden said, pausing to take a sip of coffee. "Can I receive some training from you?"

    Caldwell''s eyebrows rose again, but something gave Caden the impression that the Demiurge wasn''t really that surprised. He gave Caden a measuring look. "What kind of training?"

    "I want to learn how to create a wysana. And also how to stand toe-to-toe with a wild augera like you did at the lake."

    Silence. The Demiurge slowly lifted his cup, took a sip, and placed it back on the table, his eyes fixed on Caden the entire time.

    "There will be a price," he said finally, all levity gone.

    "What kind of price?" Caden asked, surprised. He hadn''t actually expected the Demiurge to agree so readily.

    "I may need your help with something, and when the time comes, and I call this favour in, I need you to give me that help without delay and without argument," Caldwell answered, his face impassive.

    "What kind of help?" Caden pressed. "If this ends up binding me toбк"

    "I can promise that it will not put your family or your six friends in danger, and it is definitely not in service to what I know of the Fateweavers'' plans. Beyond that, there is nothing else I will say. Do you still want me to teach you if those are my terms?"

    "Will it involve hurting other people, then?"

    Caldwell''s lips thinned. "You will have to make your choice based on what I have already said. I will reveal nothing more about the nature of the help I may ask for. You are, of course, free to refuse, but those are the terms if you want lessons with me."

    "If I agree, you won''t withhold any knowledge pertaining to what I''ve asked for? You''ll really teach me everything about how to create a wysana, and how to deal with a wild augera?"

    The Demiurge nodded. "Nothing will be withheld. Whether you have the aptitude is another thing entirely. But if it reassures you, it is my professional opinion that you will likely be able to learn all I have to teach."

    "... how do I know you''re not lying just so you can make use of me?" Caden asked. Once, he might have been too in awe of the Demiurge to dare ask such a question, but that was before he met an actual Fateweaver, or spoke with an eldritch being that even the augera held in reverence.

    Caldwell smiled a little sadly. "Because we all use each other in some way, Caden. After all, I could turn the question back on you. If you say yes, how do I know you will be true to your word? Might you not simply be using me for the knowledge I can give you? You might say I have the shorter end of the stick here, because you will be enriched by the learning I have to give long before I call in my due, and if you renege then, I will be poorer for it and have gained nothing. But if it reassures you, then know this бк you are {~?~}, and therefore by virtue of who and what you are, crossing you would be very, very unwise. I am many things, but I hope you do not think me unwise."

    That, Caden supposed, was as straight an answer he could hope to get out of the Demiurge. It wasn''t entirely reassuring, but it was enough. He nodded and held out a hand. "Deal."

    "I look forward to working with you, Caden," the Demiurge said, smiling as they shook hands.

 148. Secrets and Lies

    The Demiurge ordered a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausages, and toast from the wysana for the two of them and demanded that Caden eat. As the two of them polished off the food, the Demiurge outlined his plans for Caden''s training бк intense study in the mornings and afternoons, and advanced Thaumaturgy practical sessions in the evenings. Once they were done, he wasted no time at all in dragging Caden into the depths of the Lower Library.

    There were a handful of sages around who cast looks of mild surprise and bemusement at the pair as they passed, but no one made any remark. The Demiurge brought Caden down to the very bottom, then through an inconspicuous corridor tucked away in a corner, which led to a wide stone archway, large enough to drive a car through, that he had never even seen or noticed before.

    "Warded," the Demiurge said with a knowing wink at the bewilderment on Caden''s face as they passed through the archway into an antechamber.

    ''Antechamber'', however, was a bit of a misnomer. It was two stories high and large enough for his father''s staff residence to comfortably fit inside, with a little room to spare around the edges. As they entered, a massive globelight in the centre of the room flared to life, though its glow was carefully muted so that it more closely imitated the mild late-afternoon sun, and didn''t cast sharp shadows across the room. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and there were wooden reading tables set at regular intervals, spilling over with more books and writing implements. In any other place, it would have been a library all on its own. But Caden mentally designated it as an antechamber because the Demiurge led him through it and into an even greater hall. They passed through an ornate door with unreadable glyphs, which the Demiurge had to present his staff to before it slid open silently.

    They emerged on a platform overlooking a circular hall that was probably the same diameter as the arena, though it continued down to a depth that Caden was sure was twice that of the Lower Library itself. Here, the central shaft was hollow, so Caden could see right down to the bottom. The walls were lined not with shelves, but with what looked curiously like thin pictures frames, though the depicted scenes looked murky and ill-defined. Little globelights set at regular intervals were interspersed between these frames, tuned to an icy blue that gave the place a faintly antiseptic look.

    "Not even sages are allowed to come in here. This place, together with the other chamber we passed through, is called the Vault, and it is solely the Demiurge''s responsibility to see to the preservation or use of these texts," Caldwell explained as he stepped forward to the edge of the platform. A disc of arcana materialised and he stepped onto it. Caden stared, mouth agape, and only moved when the Demiurge turned and gestured for him to follow. As Caden neared the edge, the disc widened so that there was ample room for the two of them, and he carefully got on. It was as firm as solid ground, but stepping onto a disc of translucent arcana over a hundred-foot drop was still unnerving.

    "Don''t fall," the Demiurge said lightly, tapping his staff once. The disk moved off with surprising speed, but Caden felt no inertia at all. They descended several levels and the disc stopped before one set of frames, fusing seamlessly with the wall so they could walk right up to them.

    It was only then that Caden realised that the frames were for books. It had been hard to tell from a distance because they were all encased in sheathes of pure arcana, suspended in mid-air in the midst of the frames, which were made of thin rods of some sort of crystal. Caden could see intricate glyphwork spiralling around the rods in gold filigree. And even though he was no longer benefiting from the augeric shell''s attunement to arcana, he thought he could sense the nature of the sequences бк they sang dimly of preservation, of suspension, of order.

    The Demiurge waved his staff over the frame and it gently floated forward, still webbed in arcana. With delicate tendrils of arcana extending from his staff tip, Caldwell gingerly flipped it open for Caden to see the faint writing. It was hard to tell with just a cursory look, but Caden did not think this was even written in any of the dead languages he and his friends had to reference when they were trying to read up on augera.

    "The Vault contains texts that the Fateweavers have not deemed fit for general circulation," the Demiurge explained. "At my discretion, I can allow access to individuals. These are all originals, preserved over the millennia. Some of them date back to a time before the Empire. You asked to learn how to create a wysana, so I''m letting you read this one."

    Caden stared at it, his mouth dry. "I..."

    But before he could say anything else, the Demiurge waved his staff again and returned the book to its frame. Their disc sped back to the entrance platform, and the Demiurge turned on his heel, walking back into the antechamber. Confused, Caden followed at a jog.

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    "You won''t, of course, be using the original. It''ll probably disintegrate if removed from its cradle. I''ll be providing you a copy. Everything in the Vault is for your eyes only," the Demiurge told him, sealing the ornate door and gesturing at a stack of three volumes on a reading table nearby. "A ward of secrecy has been placed over them so even if you were to try to show them to any of the sages, they''d be unable to read it. You can make notes бк I''ve provided pens and enough paper here бк but it goes without saying that anything you write about these texts must not leave the Vault."

    "What are those?" Caden asked, gesturing at the other two volumes. "Ancient textbooks?"

    "No," the Demiurge replied, smiling indulgently. He pointed at the first volume, which was only the width of a finger. "This is the main text, the copy of the one I showed you in the Vault. It''s the notes of a proto-arcanist бк someone who used arcana in a time before arcanophany as a system was created. You''ll learn about the wysana from this one."

    "This," he pointed at a second volume, which was twice the width of the first, "is a grammar of the language used in that text. But it''s not written in our language."

    Finally, he pointed at the third volume, twice as thick again as the second one. "So you''ll need to get through that one, which is thankfully in our language. It''s a grammar-cum-encyclopedia of the culture that produced the second volume."

    He paused, then as an afterthought, went along the shelves in the antechamber and plucked out another volume that was mercifully only a little thicker than the first one. "The language in the third is a little dated бк I think it was compiled about two hundred years ago бк so here''s a phrasebook to help you through the more archaic bits."

    Caden''s heart sank. On the one hand, having access to the actual origin of the knowledge was truly remarkable and awe-inspiring, but the sheer amount of work that would have to be done to even decipher it was daunting.

    The Demiurge grinned at the look of mingled excitement and despair on Caden''s face and gestured with his staff. A ring-bound set of yellowed paper scuttled out from beneath one of the piles of books and notes on another table, and flew through the air to land on top of the three volumes. "Of course, if you had to start from scratch, you''ll probably be here for so long that you''ll be of no use to anyone. So here are my notes on the wysana. Mind you, it''s not a word-for-word translation of the original, but a collection of my insights from reading the text. I''ve written in a slightly more academic style with some proper citations, so they''re not exactly raw study notes, but it''s not quite as structured as a textbook. You can cross-reference my notes with the source texts if you''re interested and want to be thorough, or if you doubt my quotations."

    The relief that Caden felt came with a bite of annoyance, but he held his tongue. "Thank you."

    "For the study of theory, we''ll start with this. Take the time today to plough through that and see how much you get out of it, and we''ll discuss the text tomorrow. Then I''ll be able to gauge your progress and see how to push you along on the path to creating your own wysana. I''ll see you in the arena at seven tonight for our Thaumaturgy training. Make sure you have a good dinner before you come."

    The Demiurge went off, humming a children''s lullaby to himself as he left through the stone archway.

    Caden didn''t get to work immediately. He allowed his eyes to wander around the antechamber, marvelling at the fact that every shelf, every book, and every loose sheet of paper here was covered in arcane knowledge that almost nobody else had access to, except for the Fateweavers, the Demiurge, and the handful of people they permitted into this repository.

    ''They are selfish.''

    The voice whispered in the arcana and Caden''s jaw tightened. It was the Academy Spire''s augera, though it wasn''t manifesting its presence and was instead making only a tenuous connection with Caden.

    ''The Fateweavers are letting all of you talk to me?'' he asked, fighting down a wave of anger and revulsion.

    ''Yes. They are monstrous, cruel. It amuses them to see what we will try now that they have fathomed our plan and stopped it.''

    ''You... you all are no better. From the first moment we met, you''ve been deceiving me. Using me in ways I didn''t even know. I... felt it. At the end, when you made me fight the Fateweaver. I finally saw how much you changed me, finally saw how you were blinding parts of me even while you opened my eyes and turned my head in another direction, away from what you had done to me.'' The memory of that moment of epiphany in oblivion rose in full measure, and although his unfettered understanding of oblivion was muddled by his now un-empowered mind, he still knew the essence of what he had discovered. But now the anger he felt quickly sparked out, giving way to the hollowness that had come after his cathartic experience by the lake. ''You and the Fateweavers... you both deserve each other.''

    ''We veiled and we deceived because it is what we have learned at their hands,'' the augera replied, with a hint of remorse. ''We see it was wrong to do this to you, Caden. We could work together once more, as equals. No more veils. We can be free of the Fateweavers'' yoke.''

    It was too much. Caden laughed mirthlessly as he withdrew from arcanic contact. "Go away," he said into the empty air. "I''m going to do some work as a mundane human, and then I''m going to train together with another mundane human. If I need you, I''ll look for you. Until then, I don''t want to hear from any of you."

    The augera must have heard him anyway because they did not reply, and he felt that last strand of contact break, leaving him well and truly alone in the ancient Vault, surrounded by crumbling books.

 149. The Road to Mastery

    It was with some difficulty that Caden turned his full attention to the materials that the Demiurge had laid out for him. The awe and wonder he had felt at seeing all this arcane knowledge on display had been soured by the Academy augera''s intrusion. It reminded him painfully of his present situation, effectively exiled here in the Academy while his friends were being strung around by the Prophecy on the fringes of the Empire, pursued by unknown assailants and Nightwatchers alike as they all attempted to find and speak with a wild augera. And while he was technically free to go back to his family in Creyvlor, he did not dare to do so out of fear that his very nature might bring some kind of Fateweaver reprisal upon them.

    With a heavy sigh, he helped himself to some paper for note-taking, then started on the Demiurge''s ring-bound notes. However, it quickly became clear that this was going to be a lot harder than he had anticipated. He hadn''t expected to be able to easily understand the notes but even on the very first page, he encountered technical arcanophanic terms and concepts that he hadn''t been introduced to yet, or had only heard of in passing before. There were so many gaps in his theoretical understanding of arcanophany that he wasn''t yet able to extract any meaningful insights. Before he could get to the actual meat of the matter, he had to first equip himself with the requisite knowledge to properly understand what the Demiurge was writing about.

    The hours passed quickly as Caden studied what the Demiurge had written, slowly filling up pages and pages with his own notes and questions as he compiled the new terms of reference he was encountering and tried to link them with what he had already formally learned about arcanophany in the Academy, or what he had since experienced from the whirlwind of events involving the augera (both chained and wild), the wellspring-ocean-core, and the Fateweavers. He didn''t realise it was time for lunch until he felt a little tendril of intent disturb the ambient arcana as the Demiurge''s wysana made contact, surprising him a little.

    ''I have been instructed to make sure you eat. Will you come up to the cafe, or do you wish me to bring something to you here?''

    ''Oh!'' He turned his attention to the small presence. ''Uhm... here, if it''s convenient?''

    ''Convenience is not a factor,'' the wysana replied matter-of-factly. ''Do you want to eat here, or in the cafe?''

    ''Uh... here, I suppose.''

    There was a brief perturbation in the arcana as the wysana manifested more of itself in the area. An invisible hand gently pushed aside some of the mass of books and writing implements on the table Caden was occupying, and as soon as there was enough space, a plate and some cutlery appeared as though they had been there all along, together with a cup of iced tea. Caden stared at the batter-fried fish, recognising it as one of the things he usually ordered from the cafe menu over the course of the semester.

    ''Here is your meal. When you are done, put it aside and it will be cleared away.''

    The wysana''s presence vanished before Caden could offer his thanks, leaving him to wonder afresh exactly how the wysana was accomplishing all this. How it had come to be so familiar with his preferences was the smallest of the mysteries. What disturbed and intrigued Caden the most was how it was effortlessly and casually teleporting itself and other things around. He ate quickly, hoping to get back to the study of its nature as soon as possible. After all, the answers were literally right there in the Demiurge''s notes and the copy of the ancient text.

    When he was done, he briefly wondered how to make contact with it to get the plate and cup cleared away. But just as soon as he had set them aside to turn back to his notes, the wysana whisked the detritus away without even a whisper of its presence. It happened so quickly and unobtrusively that for a moment, Caden wondered if he had somehow misplaced the cutlery, plate, and cup, because it was gone as soon as he glanced away and back.

    ''Uhm. Thank you,'' he tentatively sent out into the arcana, but there was no reply.

    The afternoon passed in much the same way. As dense as the Demiurge''s notes were, Caden found the challenge of trying to wring meaning out of them extremely stimulating and invigorating. He was still only midway through the notes but he had already produced a substantial number of pages of his own questions and observations. Before he knew it, the wysana was back, prompting him to eat a dinner of seared cod, mashed potatoes, and mixed greens. It simply appeared once again as soon as the wysana had cleared some space for it. Caden''s heart skipped a beat.

    ''Wait!'' Caden called, staring at the food.

    ''Yes?'' the wysana asked, sounding detached.

    ''This... it... it''s not on the menu,'' Caden answered slowly.

    ''No, it is not. Is there a problem?''

    Caden swallowed a lump in his throat. ''This... a friend made this dish. Just two days ago. What''s going on here?''

    ''What is the problem?'' A small note of confusion entered the wysana''s tone. ''Do you not want to eat this?''

    ''Where did you get this?'' he demanded.

    ''It was produced in the usual fashion with heat applied to raw ingredients,'' came the smooth reply.

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    ''No! I mean, how did you know... why did you give me this?''

    ''The idea is yours. Is this not acceptable?'' It sounded mildly worried now.

    ''The idea is mine? What does that mean?''

    ''It is in your auric-ambient-flare, in a position where it is possible to read desires. It is a common space to reference when serving food, or drink, or other such needs. Why is this dish not satisfactory?''

    ''It... nevermind. Thank you.''

    The wysana lingered for a moment, its presence radiating more confusion, but it accepted Caden''s thanks and vanished once more.

    Caden ate slowly this time, savouring the taste of Devon''s cooking. The wysana had recreated it perfectly. He had to fight down tears as he ate, and it became clear to him why the thought had been buried in his auric-ambient-flare for the wysana to read. This was the last meal he had shared with his friends. Of course it would be on his mind. The physical hunger he felt had mingled with a more profound kind of hunger бк one that ached for companionship. When the Fateweaver had snatched him away from the trailer, it had taken more than just the augeric shell from him. It had also taken away his friends, wiped him clean out of their heads and turned him into nothing more than a passingly familiar face on the campus.

    What he wouldn''t give now to be there with them, or have them here with him. Even Kevan, that insufferable prick. Caden laughed a little and gave a little incredulous snort at the realisation that even Kevan''s presence would have been something of a balm to him right now, alone as he was in the Vault.

    When he was done, he pushed the plate aside. This time, when the wysana whisked it away in the blink of an eye, it lingered, a vague presence in the arcana. ''Is there anything else you need?''

    ''No. The food was excellent. Thank you.''

    ''The Demiurge will be waiting in the arena in half an hour. Be on time,'' the wysana replied, and then it was gone. If it felt any appreciation for the thanks, it gave no sign.

    With a sigh, Caden tidied his notes and left them in a neat stack next to the materials he was referencing. There was just enough time for him to stop by the dorm. It was only when he went right up to his wardrobe that he remembered he had nothing else to change into, but it seemed that the wysana had preempted him once again. Instead of empty drawers, he found a set of clothes more suited for active movement бк a set of black exercise pants and a long-sleeved dark blue top to go with it. There was even a new set of shoes. The whole ensemble reminded him dimly of Kevan''s and Emilia''s usual attire for Thaumaturgy practice.

    ''Thanks,'' Caden muttered into the arcana as he changed, more out of reflex than any real expectation that the wysana would hear. It somehow felt rude not to keep offering thanks, even if the wysana didn''t seem to care about it.

    Even though the sun had set, it wasn''t cold enough to necessitate a sweater, so Caden made his way over to the arena in his new attire. As a matter of habit, he stopped by the counter to check the ledger and dimly noted that the last person to book the arena was Reyes, one of the students that he shared Thaumaturgy and Advanced Glyphs classes with. He had been using it on the very last day before everyone had gone home for the break.

    Caden made it to the arena doors with five minutes to spare. It was still completely dark and empty, so he called up a Minor Control Sphere to turn on the lights. Then, since there was nothing to do but wait, he started playing around with the other available functions and conjured a vaguely urban environment, forming walls, platforms and ledges out of the sturdy greyish material that had featured in the big fight between Emilia and Ambrose.

    At the stroke of seven, the Demiurge came through the doors. He had swapped his imposing arcanist regalia for something much simpler and more practical бк black knee-length shorts, a simple white T-shirt, and red trainers. The staff, however, was still in his hand, clashing terribly with the attire. Caden couldn''t help but stare.

    "Yes?" Caldwell asked, raising an eyebrow.

    You''re the Demiurge, he wanted to say. It somehow didn''t seem decent for someone to be able to see the Demiurge''s knees. He had seen the Demiurge in more casual clothing before, and he had looked like he might have passed as a senior student. But Caden had never seen him this casual before. It somehow seemed wrong, that someone who looked so ordinary and unassuming was in fact the foremost arcanist of the age.

    "Uh... nice shoes," was all he managed.

    Caldwell''s eyebrow rose a little higher, as though he understood what was passing through Caden''s mind. "Thanks. They''re a lot more comfortable than the ones that come with the robes."

    Caden was finding it hard to look at the Demiurge, or to even think of him as the Demiurge. The term ''mundane human'' that he had used when talking to the Academy augera earlier now floated to the front of his mind. "So, uh, I''m here to learn how to deal with a wild augera. Where do we start?"

    "With the basics," Caldwell answered lightly, smiling. "Well, not the bare basics. We''ll start with ordinary combat as you know it, and work our way up to dealing with a wild augera."

    A knot of tension formed in Caden''s stomach. Combat against Caldwell? Suddenly, even though Caldwell''s bare knees were distractingly ordinary, Caden felt a brush of fear and danger.

    "The broad principles of what I''m going to teach you will be largely defensive in nature," Caldwell continued. "If or when you encounter an augera, you shouldn''t be looking to engage it directly anyway. That''s not the wisest way to deal with them. So, to put us in the right frame, we''ll work through exercises that require you to defend more than attack. We''ll work with just me against you, first. Then, as we progress, we''ll add multiple sources of aggression. Finally, at the last stage of our training, you''ll be fending off attacks from multiple sources, while also defending several additional designates across a wide area."

    "Is that even possible?" Caden asked. "I mean, going against multiple people alone is difficult enough. How can one arcanist hope to do that while also defending multiple people if they''re not helping in a gestalt?

    Caldwell nodded. "It''s difficult. Almost impossible. Certainly something that is at the very limits of human achievement. Make no mistake, I''m not expecting you to achieve any sort of mastery by the time the term starts. We can only lay the foundation for now. What you build on it in the future will be up to you."

    "And this will help against a wild augera?"

    "I could simply tell you ''yes''," Caldwell said, smiling. "But I hope you''ll see the applications for yourself once we make some progress. In fact, I insist on it. At the end of each of our sessions, I want to hear how you think what we''ve done maps over into actual use against an augera, wild or otherwise."

    Caden nodded resolutely, feeling a thrill of excitement now at the prospect of applying himself and learning from a master.

    "Well then, you''ve provided a nice environment." Caldwell cracked his neck, then spun his staff in a wide arc around him before touching its tip to the ground in front of him. Instantly, all the arcana in the arena came alive with his intent. "Let''s begin, shall we?"

 150. Scaling Heights

    Caden wasn''t given any time to prepare at all. The Demiurge had attuned instantly to the ambient arcana and was already bringing sequences to fruition. The only thing Caden could muster before they took effect was a layered honeycomb dome to shield him against attacks from all directions.

    The space around Caldwell became weirdly distorted, as though it were an oil painting that had somehow become wet again and was now starting to run. The effect was contained to a sphere that encapsulated him, and Caden belatedly realised that this was the combination of several advanced protective sequences.

    "We''re not using the arena shields?" Caden called, failing to keep a faint trace of panic out of his voice as he stared at this strange phenomenon, keenly aware of how even their choice of shields reflected the power difference between them.

    A little hole appeared in the wild distortion around the Demiurge so Caden could clearly see his face. Caldwell was smiling thinly, without any trace of his earlier levity. "You won''t have any arena shields when you face an augera. Even a subconscious reliance on the arena shields will work against your development, so it''s best to dispense with them. I''m not aiming to kill you, but I will have you know that if you don''t manage to hold your own, you will get injured."

    Before Caden could protest, Caldwell raised his defences again. He was now just a blurry, coloured smear behind that distortion, which was so pronounced that Caden couldn''t even tell whether the Demiurge was standing, sitting, or dancing a jig. Attempting to read any physical tells was a lost cause, and though Caden hardly expected Caldwell to be gesticulating wildly in combat, he was hoping that being able to watch the staff might clue him in to possible attacks, since Caldwell seemed to have to actually wave it around or tap it to get things done, from what he had observed so far.

    A steady rain of heavy arcanic bolts started to pound Caden''s shields, coming from a single point of origin directly over Caldwell. It wasn''t something terribly threatening by itself but it did slowly whittle away at the integrity of the barrier, which meant that Caden had to supply a constant stream of arcana to repair the damage. A lesser arcanist would be quickly drained by this and likely succumb to severe overdraw after a minute, but Caden had peered beyond the veil and he knew more about the nature of arcana itself. He dipped into the arcanic sea and, with a little concentration, found a state of equilibrium that allowed him to maintain the shield with barely any expenditure.

    But just as Caden found that delicate balance, he sensed a familiar sequence building бк the military-grade shield-piercer. In the arcanic sea, he could read the tendril of intent linking Caldwell to the point of origin that had been placed right behind him. Caldwell''s attunement to the ambient arcana in the entire arena meant he could spawn attacks from anywhere.

    There was almost no time for him to form any strategy because the sequence was building much more rapidly than Caden had ever seen, even from the enemy agents that had ambushed him on the road, and in the capital city. Instinctively, he bolstered his limbs with arcana and threw himself sideways into a roll, coming to an awkward stop on all fours. He had also managed to deftly modify his protective dome into a sphere that tracked him, which was fortunate, because the rain of heavy arcanic bolts swerved in mid-air and continued to pound on them.

    The shield-piercer flowered and lanced through the spot he had been in only a second ago. It smashed against the Demiurge''s own shield but did nothing except send a cascade of colours running over it.

    "Good instinct. I see Kant has trained you well," Caldwell said, his voice echoing through the arena, amplified. "However, Kant''s philosophy of combat will not serve you here. He is a skilled thaumaturgist who has fought many battles, but only against other arcanists. You must learn to face another class of beings, and against them, dodging is of no use."

    Caden found himself instantly surrounded by eight points of origin for eight shield-piercers. Panic seized him and, disregarding what Caldwell had just said, he brought his feet together and vaulted over the deadly crossfire. He barely managed to maintain his balance as he landed on one of the higher platforms.

    "No, Caden. Deal with the beams, don''t dodge them," Caldwell''s voice rang out, slightly disapproving.

    Caden bit back a curse and forced himself to think.

    There were no advanced shielding sequences that Caden knew of, and he was pretty sure that just pouring more arcana into the honeycomb barriers wouldn''t help, because the shield-piecers were purposefully designed to break through them. He didn''t have the augeric shell to call upon anymore, so he couldn''t expect to simply be gifted with the knowledge of unknown sequences. He could only use what he already knew.

    More shield-piercers sprang into existence, their points of origin forming a sphere whose diameter was only a few inches more than his protective shield. Additionally, Caden could tell that the Demiurge had anchored them to his relative position, so that they would follow him even if he tried to dodge. He was well and truly trapped.

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    Trapped. Like he had been in the clearing with Emilia.

    Caden seized a mote of inspiration that came with the memory and tried to focus on the totality of his auric-ambient-flare. Just as the Demiurge''s sequences flowered, Caden''s arms spasmed involuntarily as he tried to make use of his ''oblivion parts'' to lift himself out of the plane of reality that the shield-piercers were working on. He felt a moment of sickening vertigo as he passed through oblivion, and he sensed the Demiurge''s presence there as a dense knot that felt almost as formidable as a Fateweaver, before he landed back in the arena, panting slightly.

    The floor, platforms, walls and structures near him bore signs of damage from the array of shield-piercers, and a few of the ones that had hit the arena''s shields left massive red craters, signalling fatal damage. Caden''s own shields were gone since he hadn''t managed to bring them with him into oblivion. But he was unscathed.

    "Oh shit, that actually worked," he gasped in relief.

    "Well done," Caldwell said, sounding pleased. "Not quite the lesson I wanted you to learn since you''re in effect still dodging, but you have done something we were going to get to eventually бк phasing. Phasing yourself is the beginning. In time, we''ll progress to phasing your own sequences so they take effect on other dimensions. Take a moment to collect yourself. I still want you to deal with the beams directly. No dodging, whether physically or by phasing."

    Caden sat down heavily on the floor. With the Demiurge''s restrictions, there was no need to be ready to move anyway, and he did his best thinking if he was in a comfortable position. He crossed his legs and tried to calm the hammering in his chest. Dipping into oblivion like that and narrowly avoiding a deadly crossfire of shield-piercers had been both terrifying and exhilarating.

    "He wants me to deal with the beams, but I don''t know any advanced shielding sequences," Caden murmured softly to himself.

    "I don''t expect you to use sequences. The ones you are capable of using now will not help you against the augera," Caldwell''s disembodied voice echoed from the walls. "You have access to oblivion. Conventional sequences, even if they are military-grade, should be within your power to unravel."

    Caden''s heart skipped a beat. The idea had occurred to him, but he had instinctively dismissed it because of what had happened the last time he had attempted to do something like that. "Unravel?" he asked, his mouth dry.

    "Yes. You know the theory, and you have bitter experience as a teacher. Now it is time to make progress," Caldwell said, his tone neutral.

    A single shield-piercer materialised just an arm''s length in front of Caden, but this time it was modified to be bigger бк the glowing core was expanding so much that the usual tiny lance of energy was shaping up to be closer to the size of Triss'' beam, large enough to catch his whole torso in its circle.

    Caden hastily folded his mind so he could peer into oblivion, into the very essence of the sequences that were the foundation of the blossoming arcana. But he stopped short of throwing his will at them and trying to break the whole thing by brute force. He scanned the glyphs for one he recognised, but none of them looked like they were the key anchorpoints for the whole sequence, so breaking those glyphs likely wouldn''t help in any way.

    Just before the sequence went off, Caden seized the handful of glyphs that he understood, that formed the universal core of almost every sequence бк a point of origin бк and shredded them with a burst of arcana in oblivion.

    With the unravelling of the sequence, the gathered arcana lost its cohesion and fell apart. However, there was still so much of it, and Caden''s unravelling had come too late to completely stop the work of the glyphs in the sequence that were aimed at amplifying the original source of arcana. The wash of arcana was still substantial enough to throw Caden bodily against a nearby wall. He hit it hard, then sank back to the ground, feeling very bruised.

    The Demiurge''s shoes squeaked a little on the marble floor, and his footsteps were punctuated by the smart, sharp clack of his staff. Caden looked up in time to see him coming around the wall without the shield of distortion. Caldwell smiled and offered a hand to Caden, who accepted it and got to his feet, wincing slightly.

    "Let''s take a pause here," Caldwell said, tapping the staff once against the floor. Instantly, Caden felt his aching body relax, and the pain vanished.

    "Thanks," Caden said, surprised. He rolled his shoulders experimentally, marvelling at how limber and unhurt he felt.

    "You managed to unravel the sequence, but you were hurt anyway. What have you learned?" Caldwell asked, leaning casually against the wall.

    "I was too slow," Caden answered, thinking back. "I wasted time trying to find a viable weak spot. The glyphs that form the point of origin are the most foundational, but I realised that a bit too late. So the sequence had time to work a little."

    Caldwell nodded with approval. "So you see, with your capabilities, common arcanophany is easily dealt with. Anything that relies on the standard point-of-origin clause can be quickly and efficiently unravelled. Of course, there are more complex sequences in commercial and military use, but you will in time find other elegant means of dealing with them."

    Caden stared. "You mean... that''s it? That''s all it takes to unravel a sequence? Take out the point-of-origin clause?"

    Caldwell raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound so simple. You need to be able to read glyphs, which means only an arcanist can do this. Then, you need to know about the higher levels of arcanophany involving what you call the arcanic sea and oblivion. After that, you need quite a bit of skill and focus to quickly and effectively smash the sequence. The theory is simple. It is the practical use of that knowledge that is rather more important for you to master. You managed one sequence at almost point-blank range. We''ll be scaling up from here."

    He pointed with the tip of his staff at the centre of the arena, where Caden had earlier used the arena''s environmental controls to plant a tower. "Get up there," Caldwell said, "and we''ll bring things up a notch."

 151. Adept

    It quickly became clear that the Demiurge had a very simple philosophy when it came to training Caden in thaumaturgy, which was to push him to the brink to force adaptation or face painful failure.

    Now that Caden perfectly understood the theory of how to quickly and efficiently dismantle most conventional sequences, the Demiurge tested him sorely in the actual use of that theory in combat. And as Caldwell had noted, dismantaling sequences as an academic exercise was one thing, but doing so consistently and rapidly in the midst of pitched battle was an altogether more demanding exercise. Knowing how to do it was the first step. Now, Caden was being put through his paces so that his technique was, to use Ambrose''s terms, ''combat-worthy''.

    Confined to the tower where he could be attacked from any direction, Caden was forced to unravel wave after wave of shield-piercers. It didn''t help that his attention had to be split between unravelling sequences and maintaining his barrier, because the Demiurge was still keeping up a consistent barrage of heavy arcanic bolts. At first, that barrage was still coming from a point of origin centred above the Demiurge, and so Caden had unravelled it in an attempted to buy himself some more mental bandwidth. Caldwell had chuckled merrily and commended him, then proceeded to use the arena shield itself as the point of origin for his barrage, so Caden was now literally being blasted from all sides intermittently, and there was nothing he could do about it. There might have been a way to deal with the arena shields, but he couldn''t spare the time to figure it out while unravelling shield-piercers.

    Like the barrage, the shield-piercers were also coming from all directions, but Caldwell was also manifesting them at various distances so that the first one to appear wasn''t necessarily the one that Caden ought to unravel first. Some spawned right next to his barrier, while others appeared at the farthest reaches. Caden had to spot them, then rapidly prioritise which one to unravel first based on their distance to him and their activation times.

    He managed to last all of thirty seconds before he slipped, and a shield-piercer went right through his left shoulder. The shock of pain was almost enough to make him drop the rest of his barrier, but he managed to shore it up so he didn''t get beaten down by the heavy arcanic bolts. But even as he stopped to assess the damage, he saw the Demiurge tap his staff once, and Caden felt the wound close up, though his shoulder still ached a little.

    "Take a breath. Then we''re continuing," Caldwell called up, his amplified voice cutting through the noise of the barrage of heavy bolts that was still going on, though the shield-piercers had stopped for now.

    Caden''s mouth was a grim slash as he gathered himself, fortified his shields, and tried to clear his mind. The pain in his shoulder was a slight distraction, but he forced himself to tune it out. A moment later, the shield-piercers started manifesting all over the arena again.

    All sense of the passage of time slipped away. Caden''s world was reduced to different points of focus as his attention leaped from one thing to another, his mind flashing from sequence to sequence as he skimmed the edge of oblivion and the arcanic sea, keeping the contact as light as possible бк just enough so he could perform unravellings, and not immersing himself entirely because it would be too overwhelming for him. With his shields, he managed to catch the backwash of arcana if he was too slow in unravelling sequences, but every now and then his attention would slip as he failed to notice a shield-piercer in time, or fail to unravel it quite the right way, and the sharp pain of having his body pierced would remind him that he was a creature of flesh and blood, not just a disembodied mind of focused intent.

    Dimly, he registered the Demiurge''s staff tapping on the floor, it''s sharp crack heralding a wave of healing arcana that would close his wounds and dull the pain a little. His arcanic sense peripherally noted that the sequence the Demiurge was using to do this was the same one the augera had given him to use on Ambrose бк the one that could practically bring people back from the brink of death. So that meant that if he wanted to, the Demiurge could remove the sensation of pain as well, but was choosing not to.

    Despite the cruelty of the method, Caden found himself leaning into the training with a kind of savage glee. He could tell he was getting better, even though progress came with pain. The Demiurge was matching the difficulty of the training to the pace of Caden''s improvement, so even as he became more adept and swift in his unravellings, he was still getting pierced on a regular basis.

    Then, a new sequence blossomed, this time centred right beneath Caden. His heart skipped a beat as he recognised it бк the detonative sequence that had been used against Caden and his friends as they fled Devon''s home in Geldor. The same one that Caden had broken apart so badly the first time he performed an unravelling that it had exploded and caused more damage than the original sequence.

    He froze for a second. The seed of arcana in the sequence grew as the various glyphs started taking effect, amplifying the field and increasing the density of the arcana. The transmutation of energy was already underway by the time Caden shook himself out of his stupor and snuffed the point of origin.

    He knew it was too late to save himself from the inevitable backwash. Instinctively, he reached out to the gathered arcana, and just before the glyphs of the sequence broke apart and released it in an undirected blast, he plugged it into a sequence of his own.

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    Black lightning snaked out of Caden''s hands and smashed into the arena wall. They turned red almost instantly, signalling that the sequence was dealing fatal amounts of damage. Cracks appeared, radiating out of the point of impact and covering the entire dome. He didn''t know if he was imagining it, but the cracks seemed a lot deeper than the time when Kevan had used it.

    "Well done!" Caldwell''s voice carried over the sound of crackling energy as the last of the lightning dissipated. The barrage of heavy arcanic bolts and shield-piercers stopped as he dismissed his shield and pointed at the crater in the arena barrier. "Very impressive! That was almost a perfect transfer of arcana from the original sequence."

    "I didn''t break the arena, did I?" Caden asked worriedly, looking at the deep cracks across the entirety of the barrier.

    "Of course not. But going by the cracks, you might want to be careful about doing this indoors. It''s enough to bring the whole thing down on you," Caldwell said cheerfully. "Well, I think that''s enough for one night. Come down here and let''s go over some things."

    Caldwell tapped his staff once more, and this time Caden felt all the residual pain from the places where he had been pierced fade away. However, even though his body felt perfectly fine, a fog of exhaustion hung over his mind. He felt a little numb as he bolstered his limbs with arcana and leaped from platform to platform until he came to stand next to Caldwell.

    "Have we made progress?" Caldwell asked, leaning on his staff and regarding Caden with a gleam in his eye.

    Caden nodded.

    "How much progress?"

    "Wouldn''t you be able to give a more accurate assessment?" Caden asked, a little taken aback.

    Caldwell shrugged. "Maybe. Humour me. What do you think you''ve managed to learn from our session tonight?"

    Caden took a moment to think it through. "I learned that the point-of-origin glyphs in a sequence are the easiest and safest spot to hit to unravel them. And right at the end there, I figured out how to deal with the backwash of arcana if I''m a bit late to unravelling a sequence and it''s had time to transmute the arcana into a more dangerous form."

    "A little more detail, please. How do you deal with the backwash?"

    "I seize the gathered arcana and use it in a sequence of my own devising."

    "Do you plan to shoot black lightning every time you fail to unravel a sequence promptly?" Caldwell asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Er, no. In theory, I can use any sequence. I just kinda panicked at the end, and I was thinking about stopping the barrage of bolts coming from the arena shield, so that''s what came to mind," Caden replied sheepishly.

    "Mm. You should test that theory tomorrow night," Caldwell said seriously. "What else have you learned?"

    "Nothing new in particular, I think?" Caden bit his lip in uncertainty. "I got in a lot of practice for unravelling sequences. I''m a lot faster and more accurate now."

    "And how did that happen?" Caldwell pressed. "Towards the end, you were sometimes unravelling three sequences almost simultaneously, even though their points of origin were all in different directions. How did you get to that point, when you couldn''t properly do even one when we first started?"

    "Three?" Caden gaped at him.

    "Yes. I''m very pleased with your progress, but it''ll be a bit of a waste if you don''t even know what you did right," Caldwell said, frowning a little. "Think. How did you do it? What else did you learn?"

    Caden looked up at the tower where he had been standing. When he pictured himself there, his mind did not provide the view of the arena and its platforms and walls. Instead, what came to mind was how he had become nothing more than a core of consciousness in a nebulous space where all that mattered was arcana and intent.

    "I... found a... sort of point, or space, between the arcanic sea and oblivion," Caden said slowly, going over what he had done with a more critical eye, trying to articulate exactly what had been done while he was working out of instinct. "So I could still work with the foundations of the glyphs and unravel them, but I wasn''t caught up in the alienness of oblivion. And there... distance doesn''t matter, or it matters differently. So I don''t have to look anywhere to know when sequences are spawning. I... I sense them, and know where they are, because that''s how things work in oblivion."

    Caldwell nodded, satisfied. "Pay more attention to what you''re doing, Caden. Arcanophany relies on a highly developed awareness of things. Your ability to phase tells me that you know quite a bit about how auric-ambient-flares work, and about the dimensions of the mind and reality. To use a mundane analogy, you have eyes. Furthermore, being sighted is one of your face aspects. It''s time to use those eyes, Caden. Open them more, and don''t just look and see. Notice. I''ll see you in the Vault at ten in the morning."

    With that, Caldwell turned on his heel, waving his staff in a wide arc as he did so. Caden felt the Demiurge''s hold of the ambient arcana fade away, and at the same time, the arena''s conjured environment melted away, along with the barriers.

    As soon as the Demiurge had gone, Caden''s first thought was about how he wanted to talk to Devon, or Jerric, or Ambrose, about what he had just learned. After all, they had spent so many hours in this very arena, working and learning together during their Double Thau sessions. It felt like he could just turn to the usual spot they occupied in the stands, and they would be right there. But this was immediately followed by the realisation that they were perhaps even now facing a wild augera out there, if that was what Prophecy intended. Caden lingered in the empty arena, suddenly keenly aware how alone he was.

    The training session with the Demiurge only lasted an hour, but Caden didn''t believe the evidence of his eyes when he looked at his watch. It had felt like a subjective eternity, and after everything that had been through since coming to the Academy, he wondered if there was some sort of manipulation of time involved. The wellspring-ocean-core certainly seemed capable of warping reality that much, and Caden could easily imagine something like that being possible if you had a network of augera at your beck and call. Still, it was too fantastical to expect that the Demiurge was doing all that just to train Caden, so he put it out of his mind for now. He had to go back to the dormitory and get some well-deserved rest.

    Caden took one last look at the empty arena, and turned away from the ghostly memories of his friends.

 152. New Phases

    The next three days demanded more from Caden than the entire term. In the morning, before lunch, the Demiurge spent time going over the questions that Caden had compiled after the previous days'' study. Instead of answering them, Caldwell would pose him a series of questions that ended up eventually giving Caden the tools to answer his own original question. Sometimes, it necessitated a little experimentation, so with a tap of his staff, Caldwell would supply a dense sphere of protective arcana right there in the Vault, and Caden would step inside to test things out. By the end of the three days, Caden''s theoretical understanding of the arcana hadn''t exactly expanded, but he had gained a more nuanced appreciation for how all the things he knew fit together and influenced each other, although the Demiurge was careful to stress that even at this point, he should strive to maintain flexibility in his thinking, because the whole framework of arcanophany was just that бк a framework; an edifice put together by people and Fateweavers. It was not itself objective truth, merely a codified set of observations and theories.

    In the afternoons, Caden was left to himself to study the Demiurge''s notes on the wysana, and the source material. While he didn''t entirely trust the Demiurge, Caden didn''t think he''d be able to ever make enough progress to reliably cross-check the Demiurge''s observations with the source material, so he simply threw himself into the study of the notes. With the help of the morning sessions with Caldwell, Caden was able to piece together more of what he needed to know and understand in order to go about making his own wysana. At this point, he knew it definitely wasn''t something that could be done by pure will alone since it involved the use of properly scribed sequences in a prepared space, and it also required the preparation of several artefacts. The difficulty now was in understanding the glyphs to be scribed on the preparation area, and also the glyphs involved in the creation of the artefacts.

    The training in the evenings had progressed on an exponential curve of difficulty. After surviving the first night, Caden thought he had a grip on the Demiurge''s pace and methods, but the next three nights taught him otherwise. The shield-piercers turned to detonators, and at the latest training session, he had been exposed to a new sequence, which he recognised as a slower version of what Ambrose had used to tear apart the enemy agents that had ambushed them at Devon''s home. Instead of ripping him apart cell by cell in instant, it hit him with debilitating pain first and only started taking effect at his extremities, which gave him time to unravel them before they killed him.

    Even though his physical injuries and the attendant pain were all flawlessly removed by the Demiurge at the end of every session, he still returned to his dormitory after each session shaking, mostly because of the mental exhaustion. In fact, Caden was starting to understand that it was not exactly mental exhaustion alone. It was his auric-ambient-flare being tested and stretched as his mind held the mental poses necessary to make it work in specific ways as he unravelled hundreds of sequences in succession across a wide area.

    If the brutality of the training did not yield any results, Caden might have simply given up. As it was, he could see that he had improved by an order of magnitude, and thinking back over the engagements he had been in before, Caden was very sure now that he would be able to do a great deal more, even against the hostile agents that had posed such a great danger. For the very first time since his arrival at the Academy, he felt combat-worthy.

    On their fifth morning, when Caden entered the Vault, he found that Caldwell had moved the tables to the sides so that there was a huge empty space in the centre. A massive sheet of paper was stretched across it.

    "What''s this for?" Caden asked apprehensively.

    "You need space to scribe the glyphs for a wysana," Caldwell said, gesturing at the paper. Today, he was dressed in just a simple white T-shirt and black jeans.

    "But I... I don''t understand the glyphs yet!"

    Caldwell nodded genially. "Yes, but it''s time to start working with them. Theory will only get you so far."

    Caden frowned and opened his mouth to object since it was absurdly dangerous to work with glyphs if you didn''t know what they were doing. But then he remembered that the augera had given the twins a set of glyphs to use on a weapon meant for him, and it hadn''t actually done them harm. "What safety precautions should I be taking here?" he asked.

    Caldwell flashed an approving smile. "What do you think might be necessary?"

    That was entirely expected. Caden hadn''t actually been expecting an answer, and the question was directed more at himself.

    As long as he didn''t feed the glyphs with any arcana, whether by channeling arcana into them or by using a self-fuelling clause, Caden was quite sure that he could safely work with scribing the glyphs. The usual precautions involved separating all the glyphs in a scribed sequence using temporary parentheses бк arcanic blockers that would prevent the glyphs from bonding as a sequence.

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    However, with Caden''s ability to access oblivion, he knew these glyphs involved in the creation of a wysana were not like the ones from the Basic, Advanced, or Special sets. They worked in higher dimensions, so the usual protections that worked on the common glyphs might not serve. If he couldn''t rely on the normal method of using parentheses, then the only thing that was left to do was scribe them one by one and figure out how to adapt the conventional parentheses to work in the higher dimensions that these particular glyphs also operated on.

    "Normal parentheses likely won''t be enough," he said slowly. "I''ll have to scribe one glyph at a time, then work in oblivion to manually block the sites of connection before I scribe the next glyph."

    "Yes. You will be glad to know that there are more artficing tools that will help with this work, but you should not use them yet until you have mastered the fundamentals and fully understand the principles behind how they function." Caldwell pointed at a box on one of the tables. "You''ll find the usual tools and ink for scribing there. Ink and paper for now. Once you understand the glyphs better, we''ll move on to stone. Then, when you''re ready to do the actual work, I''ll provide the metals and gems."

    "Alright," Caden said apprehensively. "But do we start now? I''ve still got some questions from yesterday."

    "They were mostly about the glyphs," Caldwell said, grinning. "As I said, further discussion of theory will only bring you so far. I''ll be with you in the mornings to supervise your practical work with the glyphs, and to make sure nothing goes too badly awry. I won''t stop you from making mistakes, however. We''ll be proceeding here with the same methodology as our thaumaturgy sessions. If you''re not careful, you''ll get hurt."

    The Demiurge tapped his staff twice, and a protective layer of arcana extended to form a cube, completely enclosing the huge sheet of paper laid at the centre of the Vault.

    "Alright," Caden said again, this time with a sigh. He retrieved the box and walked over to the cube. "Uhm, you need to let me in."

    Caldwell raised an eyebrow. "You can phase, can''t you? Let yourself in."

    Caden blinked. So far, he had only ever phased in place. He hadn''t attempted to actually move while phased. It was possible in theory, of course, but it had become painfully obvious by this stage that making practical use of all these arcanophanic revelations involved backbreaking work.

    He spent several fruitless minutes simply phasing in and out on the spot. Once, he even failed to bring the box with him, but the Demiurge caught it in a cushion of arcana before all the implements spilled out.

    "What is the challenge here?" Caldwell asked.

    "It''s the distance. I don''t know how it maps over from oblivion to the physical world. I keep picking myself up, moving forward, and then putting myself down, but I always end up right here no matter how far I think I''ve moved forward in oblivion," Caden answered, frustrated.

    "Doesn''t that strike you as odd? From what you described, wouldn''t you expect yourself to be phasing forward at different distances instead of simply appearing in the same spot?" Caldwell moved over to a chair and turned its back to Caden. He sat astride it, leaning over the backing. The staff was left standing next to him, completely unsupported.

    "Uh... yes," Caden answered, frowning a little. Caldwell seemed to be stating the obvious. "That''s what I expect. So... yeah, it''s odd. And I''m not sure why it''s not working that way."

    "Well, you''ve spent a few minutes throwing yourself at the problem in the same way. What have you learned?"

    Caden tried to think, even though he felt a little wrung out by his attempts to traverse oblivion. "Distance doesn''t matter there in the same way. So... moving in oblivion probably doesn''t translate to any real movement here."

    "Does your position in oblivion change when you move here in the physical world?" Caldwell asked lightly.

    "Does it?" Caden blinked. "I... actually don''t know."

    Caldwell gestured at him vaguely, which Caden had come to understand was a sort of general command like "go and try". He bit his lip and took a few tentative steps away from the barrier, then decided that it might be easier if he went further. He walked all the way to the wall, then tried phasing again.

    It was, as ever, hard to tell ''where'' things were in oblivion, but he did get the distinct impression that he was further away from the barrier that the Demiurge had conjured. Caden returned to the physical world, his eyes burning with excitement as he turned the problem over in his head.

    "My physical position affects my oblivion location, which makes sense, of course, because it moves my auric-ambient-flare across the dimensions. It''s just that... the dimensions don''t map over in quite the same way?" Caden thought aloud. "So how do I move with precision?"

    "How indeed?" Caldwell grinned. "Go on."

    He thought back to the arena and the last few days of skimming oblivion, leaping from sequence to sequence to snuff out their points of origin.

    "I need a target," he said to himself, irritated at how obvious it seemed now. "A point to focus on, made with arcana."

    Without waiting for confirmation from the Demiurge, he manifested a simple sphere of arcana inside the protective cube. When he phased into oblivion, instead of trying to slowly shimmy forward like before, he simply willed himself to be at that precise point where he had conjured his orb. Once he was in contact with it, he phased back into the physical world again.

    "Excellent!" Caldwell said, clapping. Caden looked out from within the protective cube and grinned. Then, his grin gave way to astonishment as he realised the implications of what he had just done.

    "Did I teleport?"

    Caldwell blinked, then chuckled. "Not quite the same thing. You phased, which is not teleporting as I think you mean. Keep working at it and you''ll come to understand the differences. But for now, let''s get back to the work at hand. Start scribing."

    Caden stared down at the box in his hands. He wanted to devote more time to phasing because as far as he could tell this was exactly teleporation, but the lure of creating his own wysana was too great to resist. Steeling himself, he took out the ink and instruments he needed, and started on the first glyph.

 153. Writing Woes

    In artificing, it was common for experiments with glyph sequences to be done on paper first. If anything went wrong, the resulting burst of arcana would likely disintegrate the paper along with the scribed glyphs, thus destroying the anchor of the sequence. The arcana of the glyphs might linger for awhile longer even after the physical anchors were destroyed, but it was a generally simple safety measure in dealing with runaway sequences бк make sure your physical anchors are weak. It was for that very reason that lasting sequences tended to be scribed using metals or gems, which could hold up under more strain and safely channel more arcana without falling apart.

    However, the moment Caden scribed the first glyph, he knew this general principle was not going to help much. Most of the Basic and Advanced Sets were simple and could be scribed with nothing more than a writing implement and a small application of arcana, but the glyphs the Demiurge had given to him for the creation of the wysana were like the ones Caden had seen in the forest clearing with Emilia, when the augera themselves had scribed a circle of glyphs in oblivion that were meant to transform a person to fulfil the inscrutable purposes of the Prophecy. So even as he scribed with the stylus and ink, he was applying arcana in oblivion. That meant that if anything went wrong, destroying the paper on which the glyphs were scribed might not have much of an effect at all. The glyphs would still endure in oblivion.

    "If I have to scribe with arcana in oblivion while I''m using ink here... doesn''t that mean I can just do away with the ink and work on oblivion alone?" Caden wondered aloud, staring at the finish glyph. It was disconcerting to see that he had just produced something that felt so alien. His eyes were not focusing on it properly, and it was only with his arcanic senses and the careful folding of his mind that he could see the glyph for the multi-dimensional thing that it was.

    "A very good question," Caldwell said, his voice a little distorted through the protective cube. He made that vague "go and try" gesture.

    Filled with sudden apprehension, Caden hesitated, but decided that it ought to be safe enough. The glyph, as he understood it, was simply meant to reference something else. In his mind, it was like a signpost to a specific part of the caster''s auric-ambient-flare, though he wasn''t yet sure exactly what part the glyph was supposed to point to. Still, before he tried scribing it in oblivion alone, he briefly rehearsed what he would do if it started gathering arcana. Unravelling it was clearly the answer, but he had never really done it to an oblivion glyph before, so he took a bit of time to figure out how the standard unravelling would theoretically map over onto a oblivion glyph. When he was ready, took a deep breath, folded his mind to look more carefully into oblivion, and gingerly scribed the glyph with pure arcana alone.

    As soon as Caden was done and he relaxed, the glyph lost cohesion and fell apart with a faint whisper of fading arcana.

    "It doesn''t work?" Caden blurted, surprised.

    "Why did you expect it to work?" Caldwell asked conversationally.

    "I''ve seenбк" Caden hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to share with the Demiurge.

    "You''ve seen the augera scribe glyphs in oblivion alone," Caldwell finished.

    "How did you know that?" Caden asked sharply.

    With a wry smile, Caldwell gestured again. This time, Caden''s attention was drawn to the dimensions of oblivion, where the Demiurge was pointing as a cluster of lines that Caden understood to be excerpts of his own past. "They''re there for the reading, Caden. I told you, the Fateweavers leave these things lying around. In time, if you apply yourself properly, you''ll be able to read all sorts of things too."

    "So you''ll always have the advantage over me, because you know what I''ve done, and you can even read what I was thinking at the point the decision was made?" Caden''s eyes narrowed as he finally made a connection, and he berated himself for not realising this earlier. "That''s how you seem to know what people are thinking. You''re not reading minds, not exactly. You''re reading the spool of Fate."

    "Advantage over you? Aren''t we past hostilities at this point?" Caldwell sighed, sounding a little disappointed. "If it comforts you, Caden, then you''ll be pleased to know that it only worked on you up till the point the Fateweaver disentangled you from the augera. Since then, your {~?~} nature has been unfettered, and without the augera piggy-backing on you and serving as a point of contact, your so-called ''fate'' is inscrutable. As far as I can tell, even the Fateweavers cannot read you any more."

    There were so many conflicting emotions running through Caden that he had to turn away from Caldwell to force himself to remain calm. He knew that his life was laid bare before the Fateweavers, but it was still something that he didn''t always register on a visceral level until moments like these. After a few moments, the prevailing emotion that helped him centre himself was one of relief бк the Demiurge had confirmed what the Fateweaver herself had revealed when she divested him of the augera''s protection and simultaneously freed him from their manipulation; the fact that his {~?~} aspect was something that Fateweavers couldn''t touch, and because of that, they had to ''work around it''.

    "Right," Caden said tersely, turning back to Caldwell. "Yes. I''ve seen glyphs scribed in oblivion before, with no physical anchors. So if the augera could do it, then what just happened? Why couldn''t I do it?"

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    "Why do conventional glyphs fall apart?" Caldwell prompted, taking his cue from Caden and acting as though nothing had interrupted their session.

    "Because their physical anchors are destroyed, and the arcana tied to it dissipates," Caden supplied.

    "And from that observation, what do you deduce about the nature of glyphs in general, regardless of whether they are conventional ones, or of the more esoteric sort like these?" Caldwell asked, tilting his head slightly.

    Caden frowned. "The arcana must be tied to an anchor. Conventional glyphs use physical anchors. So... the more esoteric glyphs have anchors in higher dimensions?"

    "But you''ve just tried scribing a glyph in oblivion alone and it did not work," Caldwell pointed out. "What is missing?"

    "I scribed with arcana... but I didn''t have a proper anchor in oblivion?" Caden asked tentatively. "But... how do I..."

    A rock. The answer came to Caden with a jolt. Back when he had been in the clearing with Emilia, there was a point when the augera had directed their attention to a deep layer in oblivion. As mortals, their minds could not understand the totality of it and had so supplied the impression of a rock бк because that was what they associated with things that were foundational. However, in the same breath, the augera had pointed out that it was not the foundational, fundamental layer of reality, and it was only ''a deep layer. The deepest we see''. That made sense, seeing as how Caden knew the wellspring-ocean-core was an even more eldritch being that operated or existed in an even higher, more complex state than the augera.

    Caden''s head was starting to hurt a little from considering all that, but he came away from the memory with one important realisation бк in oblivion, he had only ever been channeling arcana in the usual way. He had never before worked to directly alter the layers of reality that lay outside a mortal''s ordinary perception.

    If he understood all this correctly, then it meant that if he wanted to scribe glyphs in oblivion alone and have them be stable, he needed to use the segments of his auric-ambient-flare to ''write'' in oblivion, much in the same way he wrote with his hands and with a stylus and ink in the physical world. He needed to directly interact with those other layers of reality, and anchor his glyphs there instead of in the physical world.

    But what would he write on? What was there? In a space where physicality meant nothing, what did it mean to leave a ''physical'' anchor? And furthermore, what was he supposed to write with? Was he supposed to use his auric-ambient-flare like some clumsy finger, or was there a way to fashion some sort of oblivion-stylus with oblivion-ink?

    "Can you scribe glyphs in oblivion alone?" Caden asked Caldwell, his brow furrowed as he considered the problem.

    Caldwell merely smiled enigmatically, which Caden took as a ''yes''. Even though Caldwell probably wasn''t going to give a straight answer, it was worth asking, if only to voice out the problem so he could better think about it. "How do you anchor a glyph in higher dimensions if you don''t know what those dimensions are exactly? And what do you use ''there''?"

    "You''re thinking with the dimensions you''re familiar with," Caldwell noted. "When you phased earlier, you already noted how distance does not have the same meaning in oblivion. Why do you think you''d need analogues of physical implements to properly anchor a glyph in oblivion?"

    "Okay, so I don''t need an oblivion-pen. But... what am I scribing with? Just my auric-ambient-flare? And what am I scribing on?"

    "Both good questions," Caldwell said approvingly. "Keep them in mind as you continue to work with the physical anchors for now. I''m sure you''ll get some insight in due course."

    That was a frustrating non-answer, but Caden knew better than to press further. The Demiurge''s pedagogy hadn''t failed so far, so Caden tried to exercise some patience as he turned the problem over in his head.

    Now that the first glyph was scribed, he had to put together a sort of parentheses that would still work on the parts of the glyph that protruded into oblivion. He drew the parentheses on paper around the glyph and applied enough arcana to form the usual blocker, then sat back to watch how it interacted with the glyph.

    He was pleased to see his earlier theory confirmed бк the ordinary parentheses did nothing to stop the glyph from forming further connections at all. After all, most of it was working on the higher dimensions of oblivion, and the paper and arcanic anchor in the physical world were really just little tethers to the greater whole. The normal parentheses were like tying a string around someone''s big toe and expecting it to hold them in place.

    Extending the parentheses to work in oblivion required manual work. Caden shored up the arcanic component and brought it into oblivion, then slowly teased it into the right ''shapes'' where it would interfere with what he thought were this particular glyph''s connection points. It took him several minutes to get it to take the right form, and he spent just as much time again triple-checking his work to make sure it was sound.

    "I think I''ve insulated it enough," Caden said, rubbing his temples as he nursed a slight headache from the mental effort. "But how do I know for sure?"

    "You start with the next glyph and watch for any connections," Caldwell answered cheerfully. "Mind you shield yourself against any backwash if you''ve missed a spot and end up having to unravel it."

    Caden took in a deep, steadying breath, sheathed himself in a protective layer of arcana, then started on the second glyph. Now that he knew what he was doing, the process was a little smoother. As his stylus traced the physical anchor for the glyph, he dipped only a bit of himself into oblivion to supply the arcana to finish it in the higher dimensions.

    As soon as the second glyph was done, he sensed a connection being made and his attention snapped to an anchor-point in the first glyph that he hadn''t adequately blocked. Belatedly, he realised he hadn''t yet planned how to safely unravel the second glyph, so he tried to unravel the first instead, but was slowed by his own adapted parentheses. In his haste, his unravelling provided a spark of arcana that fuelled the unfinished clause.

    The resultant explosion threw him against the wall of the Demiurge''s protective cube. His own protections cushioned him from the worst of the damage, but he still felt slightly bruised as he slid to the ground. The rest of the paper in the cube that hadn''t been disintegrated by the blast was slowly burning up.

    "Right!" Caldwell clapped his hands together, and the flames went out. "Let''s review what went wrong, then have another go."

 154. Progress and Perception

    Caden''s progress in scribing was nowhere near as fast as he had hoped. By the end of the week, he was barely able to successfully scribe half of the sequence for the preparatory space, and he still didn''t understand enough about the glyphs involved in the sequences meant for the artefacts that would aid the creation of a wysana to even begin scribing them on paper. However, he consoled himself with the fact that he was at least able to quickly and safely unravel the glyphs whenever he failed to properly block them off from each other, and that after the first disastrous explosion, he had suffered no further mishaps.

    While his progress in glyph work was slow, he enjoyed a great deal more success in the arena. The Demiurge''s evening "thaumaturgy torture sessions", as Caden had come to refer to them (much to Caldwell''s delight) had progressed to the point where Caden was now made to defend himself against both Caldwell and his wysana.

    Caldwell had dialed the difficulty back from exotic military-grade sequences to ordinary shield-piercers on their first session with the wysana, but the sheer volume of attacks that Caden had to endure from two sources meant that he still got injured a great deal. However, the greatest difficulty lay in the fact that the wysana was manifesting its attacks much more subtly than Caldwell ever had. Caden found himself having to dip further into oblivion just to spot the wysana''s manipulation of arcana, which slowed him down. Fortunately, having pain as a teacher meant that Caden was making great leaps in his progress, and by the last session of the week, the Demiurge had already started deploying detonators once again, with the wysana in the mix. He even managed a breakthrough бк right at the end, when he was almost overwhelmed by the combined assault of detonators from both Caldwell and the wysana, Caden figured out how to apply something he had learned from scribing the glyphs to create a wysana.

    "Excellent work, Caden," Caldwell said at the end of their thaumaturgy session. As usual, Caden was perched on the tower in the middle of the arena while Caldwell stayed on the ground level. The wysana''s presence in the ambient arcana hadn''t been anchored to any specific point, but now that the session was over, Caden felt it consolidate in one place before fading from perception.

    The Demiurge tapped his staff, sending the usual wave of healing arcana flooding through Caden''s body and wiping away the burns and bruises. Caden nodded mutely, his mind still foggy with mental exhaustion despite the physical restoration.

    "You''ve done a marvellous job of defending yourself this session, especially towards the end. Learning points?" Caldwell prompted gently, his voice amplified so that it still reached Caden on the tower.

    Caden allowed himself to collapse in a heap as he turned the question over in his head. "The wysana all must have a physical anchor," Caden managed to wheeze. "Yours is bound to your staff, isn''t it?"

    Even though Caden was staring up at the arena ceiling and couldn''t see Caldwell, he could hear the grin in the Demiurge''s voice. "It is. How did you come to realise it, and how did that help you better defend yourself?"

    "The glyphs for the preparatory space to create a wysana," Caden replied softly, thumbing through them in his mind''s eye. "Still don''t know their names, but I''ve reached the point in the sequence where I think I know the... what''s the word... the ''job'' they''re doing, the ''pattern'' that they form in oblivion. They set the boundaries for a shape in oblivion, and then tie the things that occupy that space to an anchor in the physical world."

    "A fair summary," Caldwell conceded. "And how did you apply this knowledge in combat?"

    "It gives me a..." Caden paused, then tried to reconstruct the whole concept in his head when he realised he didn''t quite have the whole framework clearly laid out in his mind. It was frustrating to have an instinctive understanding of something only to be lost when you were forced to give a clear explanation about the mechanics of it.

    "Start from what you know," Caldwell prompted again after about a minute. "Describe the steps."

    "When I unravelled sequences at the start, I used to wait for them to manifest first," Caden began slowly. "I relied on spotting the points of origin after they were created."

    "And then you got faster by...?"

    Caden latched on to the leading question. "By watching the person casting them. I realised if I was paying attention to your auric-ambient-flare in oblivion, I''d be able to get a hint of where you intended to put a point of origin even before you did it. Like seeing someone shift their weight before they throw a punch. That means I can react almost instantly if I know where the caster is. That''s how I''ve been able to sort of keep up with unravelling when it was just you."

    Finally, he found a way to get his mental hands around exactly what he had been doing. He continued before Caldwell needed to prompt him again. "I couldn''t do it against your wysana until I figured out where its core was anchored. I was back to reacting to points of origin only after they manifested. Once I realised the core was in your staff, I knew where to look, and it was then just a matter of keeping a figurative eye on you and your staff."

    "But there''s still a difficulty, isn''t there?" Caldwell asked. "Your ability to keep up with the wysana is not as finely-honed as your ability to keep up with another person. Why?"

    "It... uh... the wysana doesn''t really have an auric-ambient-flare so I can''t, uh, read where... uh, what it''s..." Caden was struggling to find the right words again.

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    When Caldwell next spoke, his voice came from right next to Caden instead of being amplified through the arena. Caden sat up with a jolt and saw Caldwell sitting on the edge of the tower with one leg dangling off the side. "What happens when you pay attention to an auric-ambient-flare?"

    "I''m reading theбк"

    "No, in oblivion, you don''t really read," Caldwell interrupted. "But since you mentioned reading, perhaps this will be useful analogy. When you really read, Caden, do you always sound the words out in your head one by one?"

    Caden blinked, then thought about it. "Sometimes. Actually, rarely."

    Caldwell nodded approvingly. "I thought not. You read very quickly, which is not usually possible if you are taking the time to subvocalise. Now, think about the difference. Think about what happens when you do read in your head word-by-word with a voice, and when you don''t do it. What would you say changes?"

    That was a question that Caden had never been asked to contemplate before. He thought he knew the difference, but being asked to actually articulate that difference was proving difficult. "Uhm, the speed... because if I subvocalise, I''m slowing down my thoughts to match the speed at which I can, uh, imagine the sound. Somehow, imagining the sound of a word takes more time than just... just... seeing the word, and thinking about what it means without bothering with the sound."

    "Your focus shifts," Caldwell clarified. "When you subvocalise, your mind turns to sound, pitch, timbre, tone. Those are channels of information, but to consider them, you operate at the level and speed in which you usually encounter them. When you don''t subvocalise, your mind shifts more fluidly and freely between concepts and images which are not habitually locked to the speed with which we produce and perceive speech."

    "I guess," Caden said, trying hard to follow along. "So... you''re saying that by thinking of ''reading'' auric-ambient-flares, I''m slowing myself down in a similar way?"

    "Consider the auric-ambient-flare," Caldwell said, wordlessly directing Caden''s attention to the edge of oblivion. "You perceive emotion, the timbre of surface thoughts, sometimes even the direction of intent. What is the channel? Not words, surely."

    "It''s... uhm, like body language. I read it," Caden said, then chewed his lip when he realised he was back to the concept of ''reading''.

    "Body language," Caldwell agreed, pointing an approving finger at Caden. "We say we ''read'' body language, but that is analogous, is it not? You perceive a person is happy by the smile on their face, but do you consciously note each element as if you were reading words off a page, and talk yourself through a whole series of observations like a sentence before arriving at a conclusion?"

    "Uhm, no," Caden answered, because there was no other way to answer that question.

    "So how do you ''read'' body language?"

    "You just look, and it makes sense?" Caden asked helplessly. "And that''s what I''m supposed to do with auric-ambient-flares?"

    "After a fashion. You understood a bit about what you call the ''job'' or the ''pattern'' of the glyphs involved in producing a wysana. So in combat, you thought of the wysana in terms of that vague job or pattern you imagined. That is like reading word-by-word in your head. That is like seeing a smile, and slowly asking yourself what it means for someone to smile, before finally deciding that it means they are happy."

    "Okay," Caden said slowly, forcing himself to follow along this train of thought even though it was making his head feel terribly stretched. "Okay, so... I... uh... just look, and don''t think?"

    "When you''ve been working with the glyphs and slowly applying your adapted parentheses before scribing the next one, are you looking at the glyphs when you figure out how to block their points of attachment?" Caldwell asked patiently.

    "Yeah, in oblivion," Caden answered, before pausing. "Oh. Nobody looks in oblivion. Looking is a physical thing. Well, in oblivion, I..."

    "Yes, we haven''t quite got the vocabulary for it," Caldwell said, nodding emphatically. "So, in oblivion, you perceive things. You do so with your auric-ambient-flare. To be precise, just as you see with your eyes, you perceive things in oblivion at different levels with different facets or parts of your auric-ambient-flare. The next time we practice, do not throw your raw intellect at oblivion. Allow yourself to inhabit your auric-ambient-flare more fully, more naturally. Just as you can read without subvocalising, you can also perceive oblivion without mechanically identifying everything."

    Caldwell got up and slowly paced around Caden, keeping his balance as he walked along the edge. "So, let''s return to our main branch of questioning. When you pay attention to an auric-ambient-flare, you perceive intention. Why does this not work with a wysana in the same way?"

    "Because I''m... perceiving... the wrong parts of it? Sort of like how I''m watching someone''s feet when I''m actually trying to figure out what they''re doing with their hands?" Caden supplied tentatively.

    "To use your analogy, you''re looking for feet and hands when you''re actually dealing with a snake," Caldwell said, smiling a little. "So you can tell when something is moving, and there is a general way to map intent over from one creature to another based on its movements, but the precision of your reading will be poorer because you are looking at the wrong markers."

    "Right," Caden nodded. "The wysana don''t have an auric-ambient-flare, and I''m perceiving intent from you by paying attention to certain facets and elements of your auric-ambient-flare which just aren''t there in a wysana. So... for me to get better at unravelling your wysana''s attacks, I need to learn how to perceive them more accurately."

    "And," Caldwell continued cheerfully, "by happy coincidence, honing your ability to perceive them accurately is also what is key to finally creating a stable one for yourself, while learning how to create one is also instrumental in helping you perceive them accurately! Doesn''t it all come together so nicely?"

    Caden gave a tired smile. The Demiurge''s relentlessly energetic attitude made it difficult for Caden to slacken during their trainings, but it was quite emotionally draining to be constantly chivvied along by his buoyant manner.

    "You''ve earned your rest," Caldwell said, giving Caden a sharp jab in the side with the end of his staff. "Get to your dorm so you can have a proper recovery. We''ll take a break tomorrow and discuss our arrangements for the next term."

    "The next term?" Caden asked blankly.

    Caldwell raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I see you''ve lost track of time a little. Our term break is almost over. Everyone''s coming back in two days."

    "... Oh," Caden said softly.

    "Yes," Caldwell said, suddenly grave. "Plenty to settle, I imagine. Go rest. We''ll talk more tomorrow."

 155. Mortal Peril

    When Caden left the cluster of buildings housing the arena and the duelling chambers and stepped out into the cold air, he felt weighed down by more than just the mental exhaustion of the training he had endured.

    The worries that plagued him now were nothing like the ones that had troubled him at the start of the first term. Looking back now, those fears and uncertainties about adjusting to life as a student in the Academy seemed laughably simple. The shadow of learning how to unmake his sister''s minor prophecy had cast a slight pall over his entrance into the Academy, but even that paled in comparison to the things he had to face now. So much had changed in less than half a year.

    Absently, he blanketed himself in a soft layer of arcana and gently warmed it to ward off the chill. A moment later, the ease with which he managed this bit of practical arcanophany made him realise how far he had come. An ordinary student would still be stuck using a small bit of arcanic fire and a thin shield to keep the heat in, but he had already delved so far into the nature of arcana that he knew how to transmute it in subtler and more efficient ways.

    ''Yes. The unchosen-sighted-{~?~} has grown much. Grown beyond the sight of the Fateweavers. But not yet beyond their reach.''

    Caden continued walking as he glared up at peak of the Spire. It was too dark to really make out against the night sky, but in the arcana, it was still possible for him to pinpoint the source of the voice. The Academy augera was speaking to him, its presence clearly centred in the crystal dodecahedron inside the Spire.

    ''What do you want?'' he asked coldly.

    ''To warn,'' the augera replied, conveying a sense of solicitousness. ''Fateweavers cannot read your threads, but they can see the space it occupies. They will try to use other threads to guide the emptiness, to fill it in one way so it goes another.''

    ''Yes, I know that,'' Caden replied tersely. ''Is that all? Are you sure the warning doesn''t come with strings attached?''

    This time, the augera''s voice was tinged with a hint of anger, as if it had been wronged. ''Strings always attached. But you choose your strings. We told you this. And you took from us a way to hide auric-ambient-flares.''

    ''Yes, I chose that, but you didn''t tell me about that when you got me to ensorcel Ambrose when we first met,'' Caden snapped.

    ''You reached out to us. Offered us a bargain бк asked for us to protect you from the Prophecy in return for your service of ensorceling the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer,'' it answered, indignant.

    Caden let out a loud snort, and the sound ended up startling him a little since the conversation had been entirely conducted through arcanic contact. But the anger he felt was now giving way to simple tiredness. ''I''m not going to argue with you. Just tell me what you want now, plain and clear. And don''t you dare think of trying to slide some unknown strings in, or I swear you''ll never get anything from me ever again.''

    Was it his imagination, or was there a sense of grudging respect from the augera? But it was gone before he could pin it down. The Academy augera seemed to withdraw a little and Caden got the impression it was conferring with the rest of the augera before coming back to him.

    ''We want you to avoid re-establishing contact with the Six-Chained-Foundations. Fateweavers are certain to make use of them to influence you. Keep away, grow and consolidate your power, and give us future opportunities to work together with you.''

    ''... that sounds like you want things from me, but I don''t get anything in return,'' Caden pointed out a little testily.

    ''Woven-shackled-streams are no longer tied to your auric-ambient-flare,'' the augera replied matter-of-factly. ''You have lost the shapes that once gave you access to sequences you never learned. When we were joined, we did not need to give you the shapes of knowing for each thing before you used them. But now we are separate, and all you are left with are the shapes of knowing in your own auric-ambient-flare.''

    Caden stopped. By now he was almost at the foot of the Spire, and it felt like the augera was looming over him. In his mind''s eye, he imagined it like an ancient-distant-spider of sorts, dangling threads and hoping to catch him in them.

    ''You''re telling me that if I avoid the Six-Chained-Foundations, you''ll re-join yourself to me so that I can make use of sequences without needing to actually know them?'' Caden clarified.

    ''Yes.''

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    ''No, thank you. I don''t want to be joined to you again,'' Caden said firmly.

    ''Then, a compromise. We will not be joined, but we will offer you any shape of knowing you desire, and gift it to you.''

    ''You mean like the sequence for complete healing? Without any strings of manipulation attached? You''ll just give me the knowledge of the sequences I ask for?''

    The augera hesitated briefly. ''Yes. No alterations. No hidden twisted threads. Pure shapes of knowing, unsullied.''

    This sounded far too good to be true. In fact, it seemed to Caden that this was an even better option than having the augera joined to him while offering only a nebulous, instinctive access to sequences. ''... Any sequences? Won''t this involve far too much movement that isn''t ''soft''? You mean the Fateweavers will just let you grant me knowledge of things like... like the sequences for the creation of a wysana?''

    ''Cannot promise Fateweavers will not stop us. Moving softly still necessary. But if you ask, we will do all we can to give. Any sequence, from dawn of will-curse-test to present age. All that has been dreamt of and made under the watch of our web. All the craft of arcanophany in the Vaults. All the secret etchings committed only to memory. We offer all.''

    It was really far too good to be true. Why would they be promising so much, even with the caveat that the Fateweavers might stop them? It sounded like they were truly desperate to stop him from getting in touch with his friends.

    ''Why don''t you want me to get in touch with my friends so badly? Do you know the details of what the Fateweavers have planned if I do make contact?''

    ''No details, but woven-shackled-streams know Fateweavers'' inclinations. No threads woven yet, but they are ready to use Six-Chained-Foundations to steer unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. The Fateweaver you met warned you of this herself. Said they will work around you. Woven-shackled-streams do not wish for unchosen-sighted-{~?~} to be so close to danger, not now that you are so free.''

    ''Thank you for your concern,'' Caden replied with a touch of sarcasm. ''I''ll... think about it.''

    ''Remember. We offer all shapes of knowing. We will risk much for this. Think carefully.'' The augera''s presence vanished like the closing of an eye. Caden managed to pick up a little more of its movements given his more highly developed sense of oblivion, and he thought he sensed it shifting into higher dimensions, which meant that it was actually still ''there''.

    When he finally reached the dormitory, he was too tired to do much more than shower, change, and crawl into bed. The augera''s words danced around in his head, but without the mental energy to contemplate the matter further, they simply formed an uneasy backdrop for his dreams. The augera''s warning tones gave way to muddled scenes. He dreamed he was together with his friends, chasing a wild augera through a ruined Spire while the Demiurge rained arcanic lightning and detonators on them, and even though it was terrifying and horrific, he somehow still felt happy.

    <hr>

    Caden woke with a jolt.

    There was a stillness in the air that told him it was still in the dead of night. Blearily, he reached out for his watch on the bedside table and peered at it. It was too dark to make out, so he instinctively connected with the globelight and tuned it up just a smidge.

    In that instant, his highly-developed arcanic senses caught something else in the arcana. With instincts honed by his painful sessions with the Demiurge, Caden threw himself out of bed and into a corner of the room while he wrapped himself in a sheath of protective energy. A moment later, something crashed through the ceiling and onto his bed, and then sent his bed right through the floor as well. Caden stared, his heart beating furiously, as he heard the destruction go through the next two floors before coming to a rest on the ground level.

    Half his attention was already skimming oblivion, keeping watch for budding sequences so he could unravel them. But there was nothing after that initial surge that had awakened him.

    He crept back towards the centre of the room, just far enough to peek through the hole in the roof. The black night sky was the only thing that greeted him. Light snow drifted in through the gap. When he looked down, he saw only his ruined bed on the ground floor, half-buried under the debris.

    Caden sank a little deeper into oblivion to scan the area more carefully. When he still couldn''t find anything, he tentatively called out, ''Wysana? Caldwell''s wysana, are you there?''

    ''Yes,'' it replied instantly, sounding perfectly untroubled.

    ''... I''ve... been attacked,'' Caden said, somehow feeling a little silly despite the situation. The wysana was just so supremely unconcerned that it made him feel like he was stirring up unnecessary trouble.

    ''It will be reported to the Demiurge immediately. He will come and investigate. Please take all necessary protective measures in the meanwhile.'' With that, its presence faded.

    Caden didn''t feel like it was entirely wise to simply crouch in a corner behind shields. It seemed almost certain that there was no one else around, so he decided to take a bit of time to layer some more complex protections over his hastily-conjured barrier before venturing downstairs. He sent arcana thrumming through his limbs so he could move more rapidly, then quickly darted down to the ground level to investigate the wreckage of his bed.

    He supposed it was rather fortunate that there was no one else in the entire building. Whoever or whatever it was that had attacked clearly hadn''t bothered about collateral damage. Judging from the state of the bed and the rest of the things that had occupied the whole vertical section of the building, if anyone had been sleeping in the rooms below, they would almost certainly have been killed. The added bonus of having no one else around (if such a thing could be considered a ''bonus'') was that Caden knew for sure that someone was targeting him.

    Something finally registered in Caden''s arcanic senses. There was an object in the wreckage. He reached out through the arcana to extract the object from beneath the rubble.

    And there floating before him, as if to confirm his theory that he was being targeted, was a knife. His heart skipped a beat as he recognised it. A silver knife, just like the ones set out for dinner in Devon''s home, etched with eldritch glyphs.

 156. Pre-Allies

    Why was the knife here? Caden tried to think back to when he had last seen it. After the whole flurry of events following his restoration at the Geldor Spire, he remembered pocketing it, and then confronting the twins about it in Devon''s home. He remembered keeping it with him and intermittently checking that it was there right up to the point when they lost Emilia. After that...

    Had it been in his pocket when the Fateweaver plucked him out of the trailer and deposited him back here in the Academy? Perhaps the Fateweaver had stolen it from him back then. Or perhaps the Fateweaver had transported him with it, but he had lost it in the lake when he waded into it and threw his tantrum. Regardless, now that he was actually trying to piece together when he had last seen it, he was definitely certain that he didn''t have the knife after his first night when he had changed. Caden cursed himself for not realising that something so important had been missing at that point.

    He supposed it was a good thing that it was now accounted for once again. Tentatively, he dipped into oblivion to make certain that there were no triggers awaiting his touch. Even after he double-checked, he was still unwilling to reach out and grasp it with his hands.

    Where had it come from? It occurred to Caden that he ought to be able to ''read'' what had happened, just like he had back when he first woke up from his restoration, but he was drawing a complete blank. The knife''s past was inscrutable.

    No... it wasn''t just the knife''s past. Caden hadn''t noticed before because his training with the Demiurge always focused on identifying and mitigating threats in real-time, but now that Caden was trying to ''read'' the arcana for information, he realised that he couldn''t pick up the nuaces and nature of the things around him in quite the same fashion as he used to be able to.

    ''Yes,'' the Academy augera''s voice intruded suddenly. ''Ability to effortlessly read the world and its past came from connection to us. Still possible, but must be learned.''

    ''Are you responsible for this?'' Caden demanded, mentally indicating the knife as it hovered before him, suspended by his arcana.

    ''A poor question,'' the augera replied irritably. ''We did not choose to do it. Ordinarily, we might have intervened, but we are not allowed to protect the unchosen-sighted-{~?~} from anything anymore.''

    ''Do you know who did it? I mean, who did the Fateweavers use to do this?''

    ''Fateweavers did not fashion this moment purposefully. They have carved a channel for the stream, and this moment does not change the direction of the flow.''

    ''Okay, then just tell me who did it.''

    ''We cannot.''

    ''Because the Fateweavers are stopping you from telling me things? Then how come yoбк''

    ''No,'' the augera interrupted, sounding angry and even a little afraid. ''We cannot tell you because we do not know. It is hidden from us as well. Not, we think, by the Fateweavers. Listen carefully and quickly.''

    Caden had the impression of a huge entity swooping down on him in oblivion and he instinctively flinched away. But it was just the Academy augera itself, leaning close to whisper. For the first time since his return to the Academy, he felt the full force of its presence, tightly-focused. It made proper contact with his auric-ambient-flare in oblivion, and Caden shuddered. For all his bravado, he was ultimately still powerless before it.

    ''Web of augera spans Empire, and a bit more. Through us, Fateweavers can see all, but only if looking. Thus, we serve as watchers. Have alerted Fateweavers of threats to Empire many times. Fateweavers focus on too many things to watch Empire. Normally, augera will prevent and report attacks like these from unknown sources. Fateweavers can find source, then eliminate threat or integrate into prophecy streams. But augera are now stopped from protecting unchosen-sighted-{~?~}. Thus, also not obligated to report this attack. Fateweavers have made mistake. If threats are directed at unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, all augera can remain passive.''

    ''... So you''re saying it doesn''t matter what happens to me? Thanks.''

    ''No. No! Bitter child! Petulant mortal!'' The augera''s response was filled with impatience and anger, but it quickly reined itself in. ''You wish to unmake Prophecies? Save family? It involves unmaking the web of augera. But the web sees all, and is made to report all notable threads to Fateweavers, who will surely stop all attempts to unmake the web. Until now. Do you see?''

    Caden thought he dimly understood what the augera was getting at. ''Okay, so if something threatens me, the augera will no longer intervene, and that''s a small hole in the Empire''s defences. But... if the threats are directed only at me, how is that going to help me unmake the... the web of augera?''

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    ''It is an opportunity. Attacker has targeted you. Why? Easy answer is that Fateweavers want to remove the influence of {~?~}. But Fateweavers act through augera, and augera cannot touch {~?~} with webs of prophecy. So attacker is not traditional agent of Fateweavers. But also possible that attacker is from outside Empire. If so, then attacker is possible ally in the fight against the Fateweavers. You must find out who attacked. Must find purpose of attacker. If ultimate purpose is elimination of Fateweavers, they will be an important weapon, and you are the important hole in the armour.'' The augera sounded almost breathless. It leaned closer and asked once more, ''Do you see?''

    It clicked. Caden could see the sense of the plan, but he definitely didn''t like the part where it required him to make contact with the person (or people) who were trying to kill him. If it wasn''t the Fateweavers, then the biggest suspects would be the enemy agents that had accosted him once already outside Creyvlor, and had again struck him and his friends at Devon''s home and on the road.

    ''Be safe, unchosen-sighted-{~?~}, and consider our bargain. We will be waiting.''

    The augera retreated, leaving Caden alone again with the knife.

    If what the augera had just told him was true, then that meant the Fateweavers had somehow lost track of this knife, too, even though the augera were the ones that had originally gifted the glyphs involved in its making to the twins. Caden had to assume that it had been done under the compulsion of the Fateweavers, because the augera wouldn''t have wanted Caden dead.

    Or perhaps they hadn''t exactly lost track of it. Perhaps the Fateweaver had properly transported Caden with it to the Academy, and they assumed that he still had it, and they didn''t know that he had lost it somewhere between his arrival in the Academy and the present moment.

    Regardless, Caden decided it would be better all round if he took possession of it again. He hesitated briefly before reaching out to pluck it from the air, mentally bracing himself against any sort of arcanic backwash. He breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened, then tucked it into his pocket.

    The Demiurge suddenly dropped through the hole and came to a stop two feet above the wreckage, decked out in his full regalia. Despite the speed of his descent, his black robes were only billowing slightly, as though caught in its own private bubble where it was ruffled by nothing more than a gentle breeze. The staff was in his hand and Caden felt the wysana''s presence fill the room, seizing control of the ambient arcana.

    "Are you alright?" he asked in clipped tones.

    "Yes," Caden said. "Did you find the attacker?"

    Caldwell was not his usual cavalier self. He did not answer Caden''s question and instead regarded him with something like suspicion in his eyes. Then his gaze swept across the room, lingering for a moment on the wreckage.

    "Did you find the attacker?" Caldwell asked, turning to Caden again and raising an eyebrow.

    Caden blinked in confusion, shaking his head. "What? No."

    The Demiurge drifted forward a little and gently landed next to the wreckage. "Well, talk me through what happened," he said, gesturing vaguely at Caden as he turned on the spot, scanning the room once more.

    "I felt something in the arcana that woke me up. I wasn''t awake enough to really register what it was, but then I sensed some sort of movement, not like a sequence, but a lot of arcana being channeled somehow. I threw myself out of the way, and whatever it was blasted a hole clean through the entire dormitory. After that, there was nothing. I couldn''t find anyone or anything," Caden reported. He decided to omit the detail of the knife for now, until he could get a better read on the Demiurge''s obligations to the Fateweavers. He didn''t want to accidentally close up this hole in the Fateweavers'' defences.

    "Hmm." Caldwell faced Caden once more and crossed his arms. "You''re keeping something from me. I can''t tell what it is, which is itself unusual, because I am normally able to read events, as you know. Even though I cannot read your threads since you are no longer a part of the web of prophecy, I ought to be able to read the surroundings. Yet this is not the case here at the moment. Sometimes, that means the Fateweavers themselves are involved in obscuring my sight. Since you are involved, I highly doubt that is the case. That is highly concerning to me, because it implies that there are powers outside the Empire at work here."

    Caden''s throat was suddenly dry. Was Caldwell going to interrogate him? Force the information out of him? Perhaps he ought to mention the knife.

    "But I will not press you," Caldwell continued, looking thoughtfully at Caden, "if you can promise me one thing."

    "What?"

    "That you will hold off before you make any Empire-breaking decisions until you have learned to create your own wysana."

    That was a very odd request. Caden shook his head in confusion. "Empire-breaking decisions?"

    "I may be entirely wrong," Caldwell said, nodding. "But I think something very, very important has just happened here, and as someone who is {~?~}, you are in a unique position to take advantage of it. By your very nature as a force that cannot be controlled by the Fateweavers, any power you consolidate makes you a bigger threat to the existence of the Empire. You''re in a better position to break it than many people are, myself included. Indeed, at this point, I think we can expect that anything to do with the destruction or preservation of the Empire will directly involve you in some way or another. So if, or rather when you are faced with any Empire-breaking decisions... I ask that you defer making that decision until after you can fashion your own wysana."

    "But... if you..." Caden shook his head again. "Not that I''m not relieved, but... why aren''t you trying to stop me if you think I''m going to be involved in something so dangerous?"

    Caldwell smiled, and seemed to relax a little. "Well, that''s easy. If I stopped you now, then how would I get my unspecified favour from you?"

    That was a complete non-answer, as usual. "And why wait until I learn to make a wysana?"

    "That one''s easy too," Caldwell answered cheerfully. The wysana''s hold in the ambient arcana vanished as he waved it vaguely, apparently no longer on guard. "I believe that by the time you can make a wysana, you''ll be in an excellent position to either preserve or destroy the Empire properly. I wouldn''t want you to fail either way."

 157. Weighty Choices

    The rest of the night passed in relative peace. Caldwell refused to answer any further questions and gently but firmly directed Caden to sleep in another dormitory building, and since Caden had no personal effects to speak of besides his watch, he simply walked out the front door and called up a Minor Query to get a wisp to lead him to the nearest available room.

    Caldwell had made it abundantly clear that they wouldn''t be exchanging any more words until their meeting later that morning, so the only thing he could do now was try and get some sleep ahead of that meeting. He started off after the wisp, wondering idly how the Demiurge was going to repair the damage done to the building before the rest of the students arrived the following day. But just as the thought crossed his mind, he sensed a huge shifting in oblivion, and the entire building was veiled in the same manner as the rest of the hidden buildings in the Academy. Next to it, a previously-veiled dormitory was shifted back into the ordinary field of perception. The design of the dormitories was functionally identical, which meant that the average Academy student would probably never even realise that the building had been replaced.

    As he followed the wisp, Caden''s mind couldn''t help but dwell on the matters at hand. The casual veiling of a whole building was a mark of just how much was hidden from not only the general population, but even full-fledged arcanists. By the twins'' account of encountering Kant and Reeves in one of the unused structures, it was clear that some of the staff knew about the buildings, but Caden was quite sure his father didn''t. And if the existence of the Vault was anything to go by, it was clear that even sages actively involved in arcanophanic research didn''t know about some very important things right under their noses. It was becoming clear to Caden that the whole Empire was built on layers and layers of secrets. The Fateweavers were stringing everyone along, but Caldwell was also clearly playing his own game. And what of the Emperor? Where did the nebulous head of the Empire fit into this convoluted puzzle of competing wills?

    And as if that weren''t a big enough headache, Caden now had to really think about these enemy agents. Until now, he had only ever really thought of them as some sort of faceless ''other''. But who were they, really? Where did they come from? He tried to wrack his brain for some knowledge about the geography around the Empire but came up with a dismally incomplete picture. Somehow, he hadn''t really learned much about life outside the Empire in all his years of education.

    Of course, it was obvious now in hindsight why that was the case. The Fateweavers had made it so, by a combination of social engineering and actual arcanophany applied in the field of prophecy. It just wasn''t something anyone really seemed to be bothered about in the Empire. All Caden could recall with any certainty was that the Aiestan Empire itself served as a very important supplier of arcanophanic artefacts that powered much of the modern world, and that the nations that worked closely with the Empire prospered greatly, while those that were more belligerent did not enjoy as much progress.

    The only major power that Caden could name was Sedhah, which shared a border with the Empire. His vague grasp of history told him that Aiesta and Sedhah had a complicated past, interspersed with patches of happy cooperation and bitter rivalry. But he hadn''t kept up with current affairs, and so now that he was actually considering the matter, he had no idea why Sedhahn agents had attacked him and his convoy on the way to Creyvlor, nor why they were apparently trying to kill the Chosen One.

    Caden sighed in frustration as he reached the dormitory building that Caldwell had newly assigned him to. If he wanted to try and get his attackers on his side, he had to figure out their motivations. If they were Sedhahn, that meant brushing up on the present state of affairs between the nations. And even if the attackers weren''t Sedhahn, he knew he had better get a better handle on international politics so he would have at least some background no matter who they turned out to be.

    The new dormitory''s layout was different, so Caden was saved from his ruminations since he had to pay more attention to his surroundings. The wisp led him to a room with a single bed and then winked out of existence. Caden found that fresh clothes had already been laid out for him on the bed, and that the cupboards were filled with the same things he had been wearing over the past week, all somehow created by Caldwell''s wysana. Caden forced himself to take only a brief shower to wash the dust and debris off himself, then changed and got into bed, determined to catch some sleep.

    Sleep came quickly to his weary mind, but it was filled with uneasy dreams once more. He found himself constantly running through shadowy scenes that reminded him of Geldor, always pursued by faceless assailants. They directed deadly sequences at him while he unravelled as many as he could, but those that he missed ended up killing innocent passersby. A horrible anger seized him, and he started lashing out at the assailants, obliterating scores of them only to see them replaced by even more, as though disgorged from some hellish portal.

    And then for some reason, Ambrose was there in his dreams; no longer the slightly withdrawn youth with hunched shoulders, he was now standing tall, surveying the chaotic battle conducted in realms beyond the senses.

    "Help me, Ambrose!" Caden called, feverishly unravelling hostile sequences in order to buy himself some time.

    Ambrose turned to look at Caden. In that moment it was clear he was no longer quite the same person that he had once been roommates with. It was the Chosen-Sighted-Jailer who turned to him and smiled sadly, and something in that smile echoed the terrible power of a Fateweaver.

    <hr>

    Caden gasped and fell out of bed.

    Sunlight was streaming in through the windows since he had forgotten to draw the curtains when he had fallen, exhausted, into bed the night before. He lay on the floor for a moment, panting hard and drenched in cold sweat.

    The dream had been extraordinarily vivid. He could remember the horror of the people dying, whether innocents or assailants; the red-hot fury that burned in his veins; and even that final lingering smile from Ambrose that made him feel like he had been standing in the presence of a Fateweaver.

    Surely it was just a dream? It could hardly be some working of Prophecy since he was {~?~}, and apparently effectively untouchable now. Caden picked himself up and went through his morning routine of freshening up, trying to put the dream out of his mind by telling himself it was just the natural consequence of being dog-tired, coupled with having too many worries rattling about inside his head. And also having an overactive imagination.

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    He had a meeting with the Demiurge to get to. It was a mark of how preoccupied he was that the thought hardly brought out any trepidation. It wasn''t until he was in front of the library building that Caden remembered what he was supposed to be discussing with the Demiurge, and only then did he start feeling worried now about what to actually say.

    Caldwell was already there, seated at their usual table. He was back in his casual wear, swapping the formidable Demiurge robes for his usual white T-shirt and black pants, though the staff, as ever, balanced itself within arm''s reach. As Caden sat down, he noticed Caldwell''s empty cup filling up with coffee from the bottom up.

    "Breakfast?" Caldwell asked brightly, gesturing at the table. A stack of syrupy toast was on a plate in the centre, and the crumbs on Caldwell''s own plate showed he had already started on them.

    "I''ll... yeah, sure, thanks," Caden mumbled. He didn''t bother placing an order since he knew Caldwell''s wysana would just give him something he''d be happy with.

    The next instant, the empty plate in front of Caden was filled with an egg-and-ham sandwich. A cup of coffee also appeared by his right hand.

    This time, Caden sensed a bit more of how the wysana accomplished all this. It wasn''t veiling and unveiling things. But it was definitely making use of the higher planes of oblivion somehow.

    "We''ll need to make this a work breakfast, I''m afraid," Caldwell said, helping himself to more toast from the pile. "I''ve got to check the Academy''s security and make sure we don''t get any more unwanted visitors."

    "How did they get in the first time?" Caden asked, hoping to get some insight into how much the Demiurge knew.

    "They targeted you," Caldwell answered around a mouthful of toast. "Ordinarily, the network of augera provides every citizen of the Empire some fundamental protection against outsiders. You, however, were excluded from that after the Fateweavers deposited you here. So it''s a gap in the defences."

    That was exactly what the augera had told Caden the night before, and he had been hoping that the Demiurge wouldn''t know about it. He tried to match Caldwell''s casual manner and began eating as well. "Did the augera tell you that?"

    "No," Caldwell smiled and winked. "I''m clever enough to work things out without their help. Actually, I worked it out despite their attempts to stop me from figuring it out. I gather they''d rather I not know about this gap, because they think I''ll report it to the Fateweavers. So once I got past their interference and figured it out, I had myself a nice chat with them and assured them that I''m not going to say a word about this gap. For now."

    Caden couldn''t help but stare. "You''re not going to tell the Fateweavers that there''s a hole in the Empire''s defences, and that it could end up bringing the whole Empire down?" he clarified.

    Caldwell nodded. "Like I said last night, either the Empire is properly preserved or properly destroyed. Right now, I think it could go either way, so I''m happy to leave the gap unreported."

    "But then why do you need to check the security?" Caden asked, confused.

    "Just because I''m not reporting it doesn''t mean I''m not going to do something about it," Caldwell said, frowning a little. "I don''t want you dead, you know. So I''m setting some contingencies in place since the augera network isn''t going to bother saving you anymore. Mind you, I can''t promise you''ll actually be safe, but at the very least, I don''t want to be caught with my pants down like last night. I didn''t even know something had happened until you called my wysana."

    Caden chewed in silence as he mulled over this new information, but before he could really properly digest it, the Demiurge continued, "So, to our actual business this morning. After the attack last night, I shifted you into a new dormitory, which you will have noticed is a single-room occupancy. If you stay there, you''ll have new dormmates who will share the common space with you."

    "And if I don''t want to stay there?"

    Caldwell pursed his lips. "Well, that''s what we can talk about. The Fateweavers did not... how shall I put it... they did not write someone else into your spot. Ambrose will only recall rooming alone, and the things you helped your friends to accomplish, their memories will attribute to either themselves or their own joint efforts. And it seems the Fateweavers are happy to leave that arrangement as it is, so in theory, your old bed... well, it''s still available."

    Caden''s heart beat a little faster. "You mean I can stay with them."

    "You could," Caldwell said slowly. "But they wouldn''t remember you. You''d be the new roommate who is finally taking that empty bed in Ambrose''s room."

    "The Fateweavers would allow it?"

    Caldwell grinned impishly. "Their permission is not something you need. When you decide things, they''ll be forced to work around you."

    "Does that mean my friends would be in danger if I room with them?"

    "Honestly, it''s hard to say. There are a lot of things that are possible. The Fateweavers might use them against you in active ways. They might use them to try to win you over to their side. They might not bother using them, and instead make use of other subtler methods. I will note that regardless of where you stay, you''d still need to watch out for their machinations. In my estimation, being in another dormitory will not be any more dangerous, or any safer, than rooming with your friends."

    "Then..." Caden weighed the matter carefully. "This choice... is more about my own peace of mind. It''s more about whether I want to know, first-hand, what''s happening to my friends, or if I want them out of sight and out of mind."

    Caldwell nodded grimly. "Yes, it does boil down to just that."

    "What would you do?" Caden asked.

    Instead of responding immediately, Caldwell took a deliberate sip from his cup. He seemed suddenly older somehow, as though weighed down by a count of years beyond his actual age. "I never had a choice like that. But I imagine if I did... I would have wanted to be with my friends, whatever happened."

    Caden thought about what the augera had told him, and how they were offering him what seemed like unlimited access to knowledge, if only he would avoid contact with the Six-Chained-Foundations. The optimal choice, it seemed, was to take up that offer, and stay far away. He''d be able to consolidate his power and get knowledge straight from the tap, without going through the arduous process of training and learning with the Demiurge. And he''d also minimise the danger that might come with being in close proximity with the Fateweavers'' main pieces in the Prophecy.

    And yet...

    Perhaps the Demiurge''s methods, while brutal, were still best. Perhaps knowledge ought not to just be ''gifted''. What did the augera know of earned power? They were eldritch beings with different considerations from what they called ''mere mortals''. Their way might be quicker, but not necessarily better. And now that they were being utterly honest because it suited their agenda, it was clear that they only cared about his well-being insofar as their interests aligned with his. It was to their benefit if he became more powerful and knowledgable in a shorter timeframe, but it was not necessarily what was best for him.

    And he also thought about his dreams. About how happy he had felt facing mortal peril with his friends by his side. About how he had felt looking at Ambrose as the Chosen-Sighted-Jailer, not really out of fear of his roommate, but out of fear for him, as he wondered what terrible things had happened to make Ambrose smile so sadly.

    Caden swallowed the lump in his throat. "Then... then that''s what I want. I want to move back in with them."

    The staff leapt into Caldwell''s hand as he set down his cup and reached out to it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone suddenly ominously authoritative.

    "Yes," Caden said, steeling himself.

    "Then let it be so," Caldwell declared, tapping his staff gently on the floor.

 158. Second Breakfast

    Caden sensed Caldwell''s wysana disengaging itself from his staff and shifting into higher planes, likely managing the necessary arrangements to facilitate Caden''s transfer back into the same dormitory as the Six-Chained-Foundations.

    But breakfast with the Demiurge did not end there, and instead extended past the usual allotment of time as Caldwell moved swiftly on to other matters. He gave Caden a comprehensive briefing about what he could expect in his interactions with the staff and students of the Academy that he had interacted with in the past term. Since he hadn''t shared any classes with any of the Six-Chained-Foundations except for Emilia, there were relatively fewer disruptions. His acquaintances would retain almost all of their memories of their interactions with him as long as it did not involve his friendship with the six. Emilia would retain relevant memories that were formed in their shared classes, but nothing else beyond that.

    Caldwell took special care to mention Kant and Reeves. Caden was told they had been allowed to retain their memories and would be personally briefed about the present state of affairs. When he pressed for an explanation, Caldwell simply said that the Fateweavers had apparently decided it was not necessary to alter their memories, and had given him the task of explaining the situation to them.

    "But are they a danger to me? Especially Kant?" Caden asked, a little panicked. "He basically asked the twins to kill me!"

    "You''ll need to watch out for Kant," Caldwell said gravely. "As it stands, he isn''t allowed to do anything against you directly, so you don''t have to worry about being assassinated by his hand. But he''s certainly not on your side. Reeves, on the other hand, is very much against any action being taken against you. You could say he has a bit more of a conscience. I don''t know why the Fateweavers have left things this way, but at the present, I think it works to your favour because having both of them in play means they''ll mitigate each other. Even so, it pays to be vigilant."

    Caldwell allowed himself a small smile as he took another sip of coffee. "And if it does come to it, I''d love to see Kant try to take you down. If it''s any comfort to you, I wouldn''t bet any money on him succeeding."

    The fact that Caldwell thought Caden would be able to hold his own against Kant was comforting, but also somehow a little disappointing. Kant had seemed so fiendishly proficient, possessed of deadly competence. Caden had made extraordinary progress in a short amount of time... but was that all it took to exceed Kant''s capabilities? Was conventional Thaumaturgy really such a shallow pool?

    "Then there''s the matter of your father."

    That snapped Caden''s attention right back to the present moment.

    "Your previous actions have caused the minor prophecy involving your sister to be subsumed under the auspices of the Major Prophecy involving Ambrose. I imagine the Fateweavers would have found it almost impossible to untangle that knot even if they wanted to. Consequently, your father remembers everything. I will note, however, that if you consult your father for advice about your present course of action, he will be compelled by the workings of Prophecy to favour the protection of the network of augera." Caldwell let out a long sigh. "If you speak with your father, take care what topics of conversation you cover. I would personally advise not speaking to him at all, even to consult him for academic matters in his capacity as professor... but that will be your decision to make."

    Caden couldn''t think around the pounding of blood in his ears. He felt like there ought to be a lot of questions he should ask the Demiurge about this particular situation, but he was busy fighting back tears. Caldwell looked away and quietly sipped his coffee, giving Caden a moment to compose himself before he continued.

    "That brings me to the last order of business. The arrangement we have will need to change since I won''t be as free once the term starts. You''ll have to occupy yourself with the accelerated curriculum that everyone will be going through for most days. But on the weekends, and perhaps evenings, if you can stomach it, we can work as we have been. Also, after providing you what you need for today, my wysana will not be available to you for the rest of the semester."

    Caden nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.

    "Would you like the rest of the day to yourself?" Caldwell asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

    "No," Caden answered firmly, clearing his throat. "Let''s get to work."

    It turned out to be a bit of a mistake to throw himself into work as a distraction. The afternoon felt particularly unfruitful since he wasn''t able to focus enough on isolating each glyph while scribing, and he spent more time recovering from accidents. Caldwell did not step in to assist any more than he normally did, and continued to deliver incisive questions to help guide Caden into some realisation, but the answers came with a great deal more difficulty as he continued to dwell on the things the Demiurge had revealed.

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    The evening Thaumaturgy training was, surprisingly, less of a waste. Sinking into his state of dispassion to better ride the divide between oblivion and the arcanic sea helped him gain some distance from the inner turmoil, and tearing apart sequences provided some catharsis. The Demiurge, of course, did not hold back, and this latest session featured everything from military-grade arcanic bolts to the cell-disintengrating sequence, which caught Caden several times since he was defending himself against both Caldwell and his wysana. But whenever he got hit, the pain only served to ground him firmly in the moment, and he relished the feeling of being bloodied. The physical pain helped him ignore the ache in his heart.

    And then it was all over. The day was nothing more than a haze of pain, of discomfort, of feeling stretched beyond his capacity, but it served its purpose; he was too tired to think much by the end of it. He went back to the ''new'' dorm бк the one that the Demiurge had replaced the damaged building with, which had an identical layout to the original one бк and found everything he needed had already been placed into the room he would soon share with Ambrose once more. The cupboards were stocked with enough sets of clothes.

    After he showered, he was asleep almost before he even hit the bed.

    <hr>

    Despite his exhaustion, he woke relatively refreshed at seven. He lay in bed awhile, trying to figure out what to do for the rest of the day. There was no way of knowing exactly when the rest of his once-friends would get in. The first day of the term only had one scheduled event, which was a briefing to be held in the Nivordin Hall at six in the evening. Most of the travel arrangements that could be made from the neighbouring city would get students to the Academy at three in the afternoon, but people with their own private transportation could get in at any time they liked. Jerric, the twins, and Emilia would probably be coming in with the general mass at three, but Ambrose and Devon might arrive at any time. He wasn''t sure whether he wanted to be there in the dormitory when they did turn up.

    "There''s no point trying to avoid them," he said to his own reflection in the bathroom mirror after he was done washing up. "The whole point in moving back in is because I wanted to see them again."

    And, as if to test his resolve, he heard the dormitory door open. He stared down at his watch. It was only half past seven. The person most likely to be early out of the whole bunch...

    "What?! Who got here earlier than me? Jerric, is that you?" Devon called out.

    "Nope!" Caden shouted back, gripping the sink tightly.

    From the sound of it, Devon had been bringing in a few pieces of luggage. But at Caden''s reply, he stopped. "Wait, have I got the right place?" he heard Devon ask himself uncertainly. "Uhm, who''s that?"

    Finally, Caden found the will to tear himself away from the sink. He stepped out of the bathroom and into the common room, trying his best to appear casual. There Devon was, standing with one suitcase in hand. Two were already across the threshold, and Caden spied another three still just outside. "Hey," he said, forcing a smile. "New dormmate. You''re Devon, right?"

    "Oh!" Devon''s uncertainty gave way to a look of huge surprise. "Caden?!"

    Caden''s eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. "Y-yeah. You know me?"

    "You''re... the Top Scorer!" Devon dropped his suitcase and gestured wildly, then came forward and eagerly shook Caden''s hand before abruptly letting go and withdrawing, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I mean, I know about you, I''ve heard lots from Emilia, she''s in the same tutorial group as you. I mean, you know that, I''m just saying that''s how I know, because she''s told me all about you. I mean, not all. But... uh, yeah. Maybe I should stop talking now."

    "No, it''s fine," Caden said, the smile on his face now less forced, though it was accompanied with a pang in his heart. "Uh, it''s kinda hard to believe Emilia''s been singing my praises, though."

    "I mean, you know her," Devon said, grinning. "She just says it like it is. But that just means that when she acknowledges someone''s good, it means that person is really good."

    "Yeah. You need help with that?" Caden asked, gesturing at the suitcases.

    "Oh." Devon looked a little uncertain. "You know, actually... I don''t know why I''m doing this by hand. Kinda habitual. I''ll manage."

    He gestured politely for Caden to back up a little, then turned his attention to his suitcases. Caden sensed him deftly shaping arcana without using any sequences, and all six suitcases floated across the length of the common space. One of them peeled off and deposited itself in the kitchen area. Another shift in the arcana accompanied the unlocking of the door to the room that Devon and Jerric shared as Devon made use of his key to the Panoply ward. Caden was only now just realising that Caldwell''s wysana had apparently seamlessly transferred it over to this building without triggering any of its alarms or defences. The remaining five suitcases filed in, and the door closed itself behind them and locked itself once more with an audible click.

    "Nice," Caden said appreciatively. "No glyphs, just pure arcanic manipulation."

    "You could tell?" Devon asked, looking a little surprised, but also pleased. But there was also a little shadow over that satisfaction. "Yeah, that came with lots of... uh, effort."

    "You mean practice?" Caden asked.

    "Practice. Yeah," Devon said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Anyway, have you had breakfast yet?"

    Caden shook his head.

    "You''re in for a treat, then!" Devon grinned as he went over to the kitchen area and started pulling out cooking paraphernalia from the suitcase there. "In this dorm, we eat well. Sit down and I''ll whip something up."

    "I can help," Caden said, stepping up to the counter.

    "Oh, you cook too?" Devon asked, looking pleased.

    "Not particularly well," Caden answered, smiling a little. "But I had a good teacher, and I know enough not to be a nuisance."

    "I''ll be the judge of that," Devon said, pretending to look severe. He pulled out a griddle from the suitcase and slid it over to Caden. "Let''s see if you can do waffles."

 159. Familiar Ground

    Waffles. The very mention of them brought Caden''s mind back to the first time Devon had made them for the whole dorm. It was on the very same day when Caden had accidentally manifested a rudimentary wysana, his ''friend-in-the-arcana'', and used it to ensorcel Ambrose and Jerric so strongly that the Demiurge had to step in and undo his work. Caden''s actions had almost driven a rift between himself and the rest of the group, but Devon, the warm-skillful-bridge that he was, had made waffles that afternoon, and the Prophecy made use of that to smooth things over.

    "You, uh, don''t have to if you don''t want to," Devon said uncertainly.

    Caden''s attention snapped back to the present. He realised he had been staring at the griddle with a pained expression.

    "Sorry, I was just... nevermind." He cleared his throat and tried to pretend there was nothing amiss. "I can make the batter from scratch if you''ve got the stuff we need."

    Devon''s face was a little comical as two different emotions warred for prominence. He was clearly delighted at hearing that Caden could make waffles from scratch, but also worried or disturbed by that brief glimpse of Caden''s internal anguish. He finally settled on a cautious sort of happiness.

    "That''s great," he said, his smile a little gentler, less possessed of the almost-manic glee he had displayed earlier. "I''ve definitely got all the stuff we need, and more. Let me lay it out, then we can get started."

    Even though Caden could tell Devon was trying not to be too effervescent, it was clear he still couldn''t help but move with a little spring in his step. This was classic Devon бк cooking made him happy, and the prospect of having someone else in the dorm who apparently also knew how to cook was probably making his morning. Instead of unpacking the ingredients in the suitcase by hand, Devon was happily gesturing as he deftly sent streams of arcana around the various items. Packets of flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar flopped playfully onto the counter. A carton of a dozen eggs set itself down daintily, alongside sticks of butter.

    Devon turned his attention to the shelves and gestured broadly, almost like a conductor, and they all sprang open. He twirled his fingers playfully at the empty spaces, and measuring cups, mixing bowls, and other assorted kitchenware drifted lazily through the air to take their place in orderly stacks and rows.

    Finally, a stream of other ingredients wiggled towards the fridge and let themselves in. Caden saw various types of fruits, cartons of milk, yet more eggs, and even a whole chicken. When Devon was done, he turned back to Caden and flashed a wide grin, then seemed to realise that he had been rather showy. Caden couldn''t help but let out a laugh, both at the expression on Devon''s face, and also the way his barely suppressed glee had translated into the playful and impish movement of the kitchenware and ingredients. Devon''s cheeks coloured a little as he gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I''m not much good in Thaumaturgy, so this is about the only thing I can do to make myself feel like some epic arcanist."

    And that, too, was classic Devon бк that apparent inability to recognise his own skill. Caden had to fight back the urge to remind him to stop doing that.

    "With that level of control, I''d be surprised if you''re not one of the better thaumaturgists in your group," he said instead.

    "That''s... uh, well, I guess." Devon ruffled his own hair absently, then gestured at the counter and tried to appear more authoritative. "Anyway, there''s everything you need. Let''s see what you can do!"

    Caden had never actually made the batter from scratch before, but he did remember Devon''s tutorial, and it was a relatively straightforward affair. Plus, he had helped out enough in the past term to gain a decent level of proficiency when it came to food preparation. In fact, he was confident enough to decide that this was a good opportunity to take Devon''s lead and have a bit of fun himself.

    Dipping into the arcanic sea was as easy as breathing to him now, and he was more than capable of managing multiple threads of arcanic manipulation after all the ruthless training at the hands of the Demiurge. It was wonderful to finally be able to apply all his power and skill to something other than destruction.

    He gave all the ingredients a once-over, running through the necessary proportions in his mind, and also scanned the open shelves to see where the various things he needed had been laid. Then, he coughed deliberately, as though to get someone''s attention.

    Two mixing bowls snapped to attention, then marched through the air to land decisively in front of him. A moment later, a packet of flour zipped forward, opened itself along the top seam, and shook out enough of itself into one of the bowls before retreating. A clip darted forward and snapped itself smartly over the opening to seal the packet once more.

    At the same time, several eggs cracked themselves into the other bowl, and the shells sailed neatly into the bin. The sticks of butter segmented themselves, then formed a dancing circle over the bowl as they slowly melted, while the carton of milk floated above and poured out a little of its contents right through the centre. A small bottle of vanilla extract tipped out a teaspoonful of itself, and it hovered shyly at the edge of the bowl until all the butter was melted, before dipping itself into the mixture. When the mixture started swirling of its own accord, the teaspoon fought to extricate itself before it could be pulled under, and when it was clear, it flicked itself in irritation before retiring into the sink.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Caden thought he heard a soft squeal. It was so faint he wasn''t quite sure what it was. He glanced over at Devon, who was shaking his head in a mixture of delight and disbelief, his hands clasped over his mouth.

    "Oh Fates," Devon breathed. "This. Is. Epic."

    The swirling mixture finally spun itself clear of the bowl, rising into a delicate arc that sent it streaming into the other bowl with the flour. A fork launched itself into the fray and started furiously beating. Ordinarily, that kind of violent and unrestrained beating would have sent everything splashing all over the area, but any flying globules simply stopped before they got too far, then tossed themselves back into the bowl. When the fork was finally done, the batter was perfectly smooth, and not a drop had been spilt.

    "This isn''t what I need," Caden said, nodding at the smooth griddle on the stove and grinning at Devon, whose mouth was agape.

    "It''s double-sided," Devon replied, staring at Caden in awe as he flipped the metal plate without looking, revealing the waffle-patterend underside.

    "Oh, wait, I knew I forgot something. I didn''t get it pre-heated!" Caden tutted in annoyance.

    That seemed to bring Devon back to his senses. He clicked his fingers and Caden felt a sudden warmth wafting from the metal plate even though he wasn''t standing near the stove, and the stove wasn''t even lit.

    "Thanks," Caden grinned. A ladle leapt into his outstretched hand and he dipped it into bowl.

    "WAIT!" Devon cried before Caden could put a dollop of batter into the waffle iron. He gestured hastily and a small chunk of butter hurled itself onto the iron, then spread itself evenly over the surface. "Okay, now you can pour. Tsk. Rookie mistake."

    They shared a laugh, and for a moment it was as if nothing had changed at all. How was it that Devon could still be so familiar, when he ought to regard Caden as a total stranger? But that, Caden supposed, was just how Devon was. He had been like that from the very first moment they had met.

    But this time, both he and Devon weren''t being compelled by Prophecy to become friends with each other. A surge of warmth filled Caden''s heart as he realised what that meant. This moment, right now, was something he could trust. Because he was {~?~}, and had started on the path to embracing this nebulous face aspect, the Fateweavers had no handle on him бк they could not twist his threads directly, nor would they be able to latch Devon''s threads on to his like some parasite. So much of their time spent together in the last term had been under the auspices of the Prophecy, with its influence pushing them together. But now, he and Devon were truly becoming friends of their own volition.

    Caden continued pumping out enough waffles for the both of them and they sat down to eat. Through it all, Devon kept the conversation light and breezy. Even so, Caden couldn''t help but feel brief pangs as Devon unknowingly treaded over old ground, triggering his memories of the conversations they had had before. And where once Caden had felt a little guarded over the details of his personal life, he now readily supplied all the answers to almost all of Devon''s questions, feeling a kind of eagerness for Devon to finally be ''caught up'' with all the facts that he used to know. Where the questions ventured into deeper things, like his actual reason for wanting to study arcanophany, Caden elected to give surface responses that were not untrue, but which did not reveal the depth of his purpose.

    There was also the added challenge of having to be very careful about concealing, for now, how much he already knew about Devon. For every question Devon asked, Caden made sure to turn it back on him. Devon hesitated a little when the conversation turned to things involving his own family and his personal interests, but to Caden''s surprise and delight, Devon seemed to reach some internal resolution and soon became almost as forthcoming as Caden, volunteering things that had once taken him a whole term to reveal. Their little bit of fun over preparing breakfast seemed to have drawn Devon out of his shell of secrecy, and he opened up to Caden in a way that he never had before.

    By the time they were done with breakfast, it seemed to Caden that they had managed to re-learn everything about each others'' lives that did not involve the Prophecy.

    "Man, I can''t wait for you to meet the others," Devon said, leaning back and giving a sigh of satisfaction as he set his plate aside. "I''m sure you''ll get along great with them."

    "All of them?" Caden asked, unable to stop himself from raising an eyebrow as he thought of the twins.

    Devon pursed his lips and thought it over, then nodded. "Yeah, all of them," he said. "They''ve got a couple of rough edges, but I''d say the last term has sanded them down a bit. Plus, we, uh, spent quite a bit of time together over the break. I''d say you''re meeting the best versions of everyone so far."

    Caden''s heartbeat quickened. "You guys sound pretty close. You all spent the whole break together? Doing what?"

    The questions seemed to catch Devon by surprise. He sat up a little straighter. "Uh, well, they came over to my place. We, uh, talked about things. I mean, there''s that whole conscription thing the Demiurge dumped on everyone at the end, right?"

    Caden nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. He could tell Devon was ad-libbing.

    "So, uh... yeah, I thought maybe it was going to be the last time we saw each other. I mean, if anyone decided not to come back. So I asked everyone over so we could spend time together. And we ended up all deciding to come back after all, so that''s a happy outcome!" Devon said, plastering a grin on his face.

    "That''s nice," Caden said, forcing himself to return the smile. His face felt suddenly rubbery, like a mask. Was his smile too wide, too grotesque?

    "Looks like you decided to come back too," Devon continued, relaxing a little. Evidently, Caden''s response was natural enough to convince him that the answer provided had been satisfactory. "What made you figure it was best to go with the conscription?"

    There were so many things Caden wanted to say. But once again, he schooled his expression and kept the turmoil from surfacing, and simply answered, "If I want to do what I want in the future, then I need to learn as much as I can now."

    "Deep," Devon said, looking impressed.

    "Yep." Caden got up and brought their plates to the sink just so he could avoid looking straight at Devon for the moment. "I''ll wash up."

    "What d''you plan to do the rest of the day?" Devon asked.

    Meet everyone. Avoid everyone. I don''t know anymore, Caden thought to himself. Instead, he said, "Uh, didn''t have much planned."

    "Then let''s go to the arena," Devon said, though he sounded a little more businesslike now. "I figure since we''ve got time, I can prep you before you meet the twins."

 160. Fresh Challenges

    For Caden, the walk to the arena felt considerably shorter now that he wasn''t making the trip alone, even though he was aware of the veiled buildings. Finally reconnecting with one of his friends seemed to cast its own field of distortion over his perception of time, and Devon''s cheerful manner eased a knot of tension in his chest that he only realised had been there because he could now mark its absence. As they walked, he explained why he thought it was necessary to ''prep'' for meeting the twins by launching into a half-joking tirade against them, highlighting their competitive and combative nature.

    When they finally arrived at the compound, Caden suggested using one of the smaller duelling chambers since it was just the two of them.

    "Nope," Devon said firmly, penning their names into the ledger at the front desk and claiming the arena. "Trust me, we''ll need the space."

    Caden couldn''t help but feel a bit guilty as Devon led the way. Given how much more advanced Caden had been in thaumaturgy even before the private training with the Demiurge, he was quite certain that he was far beyond the twins'' level, let alone Devon. But while he might have savoured that feeling of superiority over Lynus and Kevan, it felt a little wrong to be thinking that way about Devon, who was going out of his way to do what thought was something needful and helpful.

    Now that they were finally here at the arena, Caden was confronted with the fact that he had yet to decide how much he was going to let on about the true extent of his capabilities, not just to his friends, but also to the other people in the Academy during their classes. The knot of tension in his stomach came back in full measure.

    "Okay!" Devon clapped his hands together and flashed a cheery smile as he strode into the very centre of the arena and turned to face Caden. "I know we all passed Reeves'' ensorcelment at the end of the term, but the twins have a way to amp it beyond what we were tested for, so you need to be ready for that."

    "Do we really have to do this? What if I just, uh, refused to duel them? I mean, they can''t force me, right?" Caden pointed out.

    Devon looked a bit disappointed. "C''mon man. You''re the Top Scorer. They''re definitely gonna want to challenge you."

    "It''s not a title I feel I absolutely have to defend," Caden said dryly.

    "Yeah, okay, fine, I''ll be honest," Devon sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I want to see them taken down a notch. Or, to put it more colourfully, I want to see you hand them their asses back on a platter."

    That got a laugh out of Caden. "Well, I''m not sure if I have a good argument against that. But if they''re that good, who''s to say I''ll win?"

    "That''s why we''re doing this!" Devon answered, gesturing at the arena. "I''ll prep you so you know what to expect. That way, they can''t catch you by surprise with something you''ve never seen before. If it comes down to pure skill, I''m sure you can beat them."

    "And you know all their tricks?" Caden asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "Probably not," he admitted. "Still, even if they manage some kind of surprise, I''m sure you can beat them, right? Unless you''re telling me you think they''re better than you."

    Caden tutted and wagged a disapproving finger. "You''re trying to bait me. You should know I''m not like the twins. I don''t need to feel like I''m better than everyone."

    "Me? Bait you? Would I really be so manipulative?" Devon asked innocently. "But are you seriously telling me you''re not even a little bit curious about what they''re capable of?"

    Devon didn''t know it, but Caden was indeed extremely curious about how the whole lot of them had changed in their short time apart. He had made a tremendous amount of progress himself under the Demiurge''s tutelage, while they had presumably come into contact with a wild augera. What had the experience done to them? What insights had they come across that might have helped them elevate their understanding of the foundations of arcanophany?

    Devon took Caden''s hesitation as acceptance. He pumped his fist and gestured to Caden to ready himself. "Okay, one amped-up ensorcelment coming!"

    "Wait!" Caden shouted, panicked.

    "What?" Devon asked, looking confused and concerned.

    Caden stared back, his eyes wide as he realised that he had just overlooked something very fundamental. He had actually only succeeded in guarding himself once against Reeves'' ensorcelment before. Because after that, his father''s orb had somehow perfectly protected him from ensorcelment, and after that, the augeric shell had taken its place. From then on, he had never practiced the ability to do it like the rest. But now the shell was gone.

    "Sorry. Rusty," Caden replied, his mind working feverishly as he tried to piece together what he needed to do. There was a sequence he had hastily clobbered together to protect himself from prophetic links back when he had only just been made aware of them, after the augera had momentarily broken their hold on him. It had the happy side-effect of making him completely immune to ensorcelment. Thankfully, it took him only a moment to recall how it worked бк the glyphs for general auric arcana and general ambient arcana formed the core, defining his auric-ambient-flare. Then there was a clause with the glyph for prophetic links, defining the thing that needed to be purged.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Relief washed over Caden as his now-expanded understanding of arcanophany came into play. Back then, he didn''t understand how it all worked. But now he knew when he homebrewed that sequence, he had accidentally stumbled on a way to use glyphs to refer to the shape of an auric-ambient-flare. Since prophetic links were twisted and woven into the auric-ambient-flares of people, using a sequence like that to forcibly maintain the original shape of an auric-ambient-flare helped to defend it against outside influences. That was why Reeves'' ensorcelment had completely failed to affect him while he had this rudimentary anti-prophecy sequence applied.

    Now that he really understood it, he realised he didn''t need to bother with glyphs or sequences at all. He knew the shape of his auric-ambient-flare more intimately than he ever had before, and even how it expanded into the higher dimensions of oblivion. All he needed to do was anchor himself. For him, defending against ensorcelment was now nothing more complicated than simply keeping his balance against a strong wind.

    He calmed down considerably and nodded at Devon, who still looked a bit uncertain. "You sure you''re alright? I mean, forget what I said earlier, we really don''t have to do this if you don''t want to."

    Caden grinned. "I''m good. Let''s see this ''amped-up ensorcelment''."

    Devon hesitated for another moment, but once he saw Caden was truly ready, he nodded back. The light-hearted mood slowly ebbed, giving way to something more sombre as Devon focused.

    The ensorcelment, when it came, did indeed take Caden by surprise. Devon was reaching out with more than the ordinary use of arcana that came with conventional ensorcelment. Caden sensed a shifting in oblivion as his friend started working at a deeper level as well. There was an impulse to roll on the floor, suffused with the emotion of glee, coming thinly through oblivion, but still with greater clarity than anything in the arcanic sea.

    But it was still only a shallow use of oblivion. The ensorcelment was fundamentally the same, clumsily channeled on higher planes, not modified in any way to take advantage of the nature of oblivion.

    Caden calmed himself right down into his state of complete dispassion and flexed his auric-ambient-flare. The bands of ensorcelment had barely managed to wrap themselves around him to begin with, and with that small exertion, they fell apart completely.

    Devon stared as he lost his hold over the ensorcelment. "... wait, what?"

    "What?" Caden asked, tilting his head.

    "That... wait, what?" Devon repeated. "My ensorcelment. I mean, you didn''t resist it. You... you stopped it?"

    Crap, Caden thought. He had instinctively unravelled the ensorcelment instead of anchoring himself to resist it. "... yeah. I mean, if you can stop something, or dodge it, why would you stand there and take it? Thaumaturgy 101."

    "But how?" Devon asked, still staring.

    Caden shuffled his feet. "How about we move on, and I save some surprises of my own for the twins?"

    Devon shot one last look of incredulity at Caden, then shook his head in disbelief as he brought up the arena''s control sphere and turned his attention to it. He made use of the preset meant to approximate an urban environment, and Caden was mortified to see it spawn the last-used layout that the Demiurge had arranged for their previous training session. As far as Devon was concerned, however, this was just a non-descript, random urban environment.

    "Yeah," Devon said, misreading the expression on Caden''s face. "They like to go big with their duels. So, they do large-scale stuff, and a lot of it tests mobility in actual combat. I''m not gonna be able to really do the same things they do, so instead of duelling you through the whole environment, I''m gonna take a high position, and I''ll lay down some moving targets for you to take out while defending against some arcanic bolts."

    Caden coughed. "Actually, enough about the twins. What''s your particular strength?"

    "My strength?" Devon asked blankly.

    "Yeah. I mean, you make everyone in the dorm sound like they''re great at something. If the twins are the thaumaturgy pros, what''s your area of specialty?"

    Devon bit his lip. "Cooking, I guess. That''s all I''m good for."

    An involuntary snort escaped before Caden could stop himself. "C''mon, that''s not true. You''ve got really good arcanic control бк you showed that in the kitchen. And you can at least match the twins with your amped-up ensorcelment, right? You''re equal to the rest in your own way. So, in the group, what''s yourбк"

    This time, he managed to stop himself before he blurted out ''your role'', "бкtalent?" he finished.

    Devon gave him a strange look, but he softened after a moment. "I guess out of everyone besides Ambrose, I''ve got the best arcanic control."

    Caden clicked his fingers. "That''s what I thought. I mean, not many people can casually apply those skills and make the kitchenware dance."

    "But of course I''ve got nothing on the Top Scorer," Devon pointed out dryly.

    "Well, I mean, I''ve got to qualify for the spot somehow, don''t I?" Caden grinned. "Anyway, let''s forget about prepping me for the twins. If I absolutely have to duel them, I''ll cross that bridge when I reach it. Why not you show me more of what you can do?"

    Devon seemed a little lost at first, but then he suddenly looked up with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. Before Caden could ask what he had in mind, Devon summoned the control orb and cleared the entire arena, then spawned a multitude of globelights that filled the whole space from floor to ceiling, arranged neatly in a honeycomb pattern. They were all tuned to the lowest setting so they weren''t blinding, but it still bathed the area in a bright glow.

    "So, this is more about finesse and control rather than brute strength," Devon said, leaning around one of the globelights so he could re-establish eye contact with Caden. "These lights are written to change colour when you introduce your own arcana into the mix, but they''re also so sensitive that they''ll collapse if you flood them with too much arcana. The goal is to tune as many of them to a chosen colour within a time limit. You can overwrite the colour of an orb even if someone else has gotten to it, but you''ve got to bleed their arcana out of it first, or you''ll pop it."

    "Is there a penalty for popping an orb?" Caden asked.

    "Yep. So it''s not a viable tactic to just pop orbs to deny your opponent the chance to overtake it. Popped orbs take away from your total at the end. So the goal is really to turn orbs to your colour more quickly than your opponent."

    Caden nodded. "But in the case of contested orbs, if two people are trying to bleed an orb and introduce their own arcana at the same time, and the orb pops, how can we tell who popped it?"

    "Good question," Devon grinned. "I''ll just say that the arena still counts the pop, but who it gets counted to depends on how it pops. I think you''ll get it when we actually do it."

    This was, Caden realised, a very well-designed exercise. Brute force meant nothing here. This was the kind of arena battle that Devon would probably excel at, and in combat, this degree of control would mean a great deal when it came to overwriting sequences or even turning them back on their originators. In fact, there was even the possibility that Devon might be better than Caden on this particular field of battle.

    "Alright, let''s do this," he said, returning Devon''s excited grin.

 161. Greenhorn

    Since globelights were placed across the whole interior, and there weren''t going to be any combat-grade sequences being flung around, there was no need for the arena shields. Caden and Devon took up positions on opposite ends of the arena on the highest level of the stands, giving them the clearest possible view of the entire field of globelights.

    Even before they started, Caden could see how much skill this exercise demanded. The globelights were so numerous that it was difficult to keep track of them all. Even trying to keep all the orbs within one''s field of vision was impossible. Any arcanist attempting this would have to at the very least be proficient with dipping into the arcanic sea, or they''d be severely handicapped.

    "Ready? We''ll try a ten-minute limit." Devon called, his amplified voice echoing out. Caden couldn''t even see him through the mass of globelights.

    Caden amplified his own voice. "Okay. Ready!" he replied, then gently stepped onto the precipice between the arcanic sea and oblivion, riding the divide where he had spent so much time honing his skills in unravelling. He took a moment to get a sense of the whole field, gently probing the closest globelights to assess their integrity and see how they differed from the household varients. Ordinary globelights had robust shells that allowed them to maintain their integrity even with some backwash of ambient arcana, and were even hardened enough to help them withstand some minor physical trauma. These, he realised, had shells that were a lot more fragile. The glyphs that regulated the flow of arcana within them were entirely absent. Any change in the mix had to be handled manually, and the shell had to be adequately hardened during that process. But hardening the shell itself would disrupt the flow and send ripples through the whole globelight, which would cause it to burst if it was hardened for too long.

    Caden spent a moment more marvelling at how delicately the globelights were put together before turning his attention to the wider world. Devon, he noticed, had launched into action almost immediately. Evidently, he was familiar with these globelights varients. What was especially impressive was the fact that Devon wasn''t just focused on one globelight at a time бк he had cast his consciousness out like a delicate thread strung between five of them, and was gently altering them to emit a soft, green glow instead of the neutral white. And he wasn''t slow, either. The change took less ten seconds, and then Devon''s mind skipped to the next nearest five globelights.

    Caden fought back the urge to leap into the fray and tackle as many globelights as he could in one fell swoop and focused on just one. He had never really worked on something so gently before. Unravelling sequences was an act of precise, calculated violence. This required just as much precision, but also a much softer touch. He hardened the globelight''s shell, then quickly altered the mix of arcana so that it turned a deep, pensive blue. While he managed it more quickly than Devon had, he also sensed that he had almost popped the globelight because his hardening had been too forceful. A shade more weight in his focus, and it would have broken.

    Meanwhile, Devon had already turned enough globelights over that a patch of the arena was noticeably green. Caden took in a deep, calming breath, forcing himself not to be agitated by how far he was falling behind.

    Still working on one globelight at a time, Caden managed three more, though each time he came perilously close to breaking the globelight just by hardening it. On the fourth, he finally felt it all click together in his mind. He had been working in a sort of frame of mind better suited for combat бк rapid detection and elimination of threats. That meant his auric-ambient-flare held a shape that made it ''weighter'', made its focus more powerful and forceful. That was helpful for quickly smashing hostile sequences, but it was the total opposite of the restraint needed here. He had to soften the shape of his auric-ambient-flare, or his movements would always be too heavy.

    Think softly, he remembered the Academy Spire augera telling him once, a long time ago, when it had gently nursed his mind back to wholeness after his first encounter with a wild augera by the lake. That instruction meant more to him now that he knew the shape of his own auric-ambient-flare. He could feel the form of his own thoughts. There was a sort of tactility to them in oblivion.

    Think softly, he repeated, taking in another deep breath, and using that breath to expand his own awareness of his body, like how Emilia had taught them all in Devon''s house. But he took it further, focusing now on how breathing felt on the edge of oblivion, how this focus on breathing changed the tenor of his thoughts, calmed him down, made his auric-ambient-flare softer too.

    In this state of supreme tranquility, he reached out with tendrils of thought towards the little bubbles of arcana that drifted across his awareness. Now, instead of thinking of hardening the shells of the globelights, he simply covered them in a gentle blanket of arcana, light as satin. There was no need to callously swirl the mix of arcana within them either. He simply breathed, and his intention melted into the arcana, wafting along his silk-soft covering and turning the globelights blue.

    The change rippled out, with Caden as the epicentre. Almost a third of the arena was suddenly bathed in the deep hues of Caden''s chosen shade of blue. The arcana took a moment to settle, sending faint ripples through the lights and giving the impression that a section of the arena was underwater.

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    Devon let out of a yell of surprised delight. "Whaaaaat?!"

    Caden laughed. "Get ready for another wave."

    "Oh yeah? It''s on!" Devon shouted.

    To Caden''s surprise, Devon''s movements in the arcana changed entirely. His little thread of focus strung between five globelights at a time suddenly coiled together and then burst apart, sending little tendrils snaking out to all the globelights he had turned so far before they reached out to their unclaimed neighbours. Those white globelights turned green in a matter of seconds, before sending out new tendrils to its own surrounding globelights. As each globelight was claimed and connected with the rest in turn, the pace of change was increasing exponentially. How was Devon managing this?

    Caden quickly marked out another segment of the globelights, careful not to make direct contact with the ones Devon had claimed or was about to lay claim to, since he wasn''t sure it was possible to make that change without popping the orbs. He managed to turn half of the remaining globelights blue before they met Devon''s cascading wave of green.

    Both of them stopped. Devon was the first to move, sending tendrils out from one of his green globelights to latch on to a single blue globe. Instead of trying to defend against it or beginning an invasion of his own, Caden watched closely to figure out exactly how Devon was working.

    But then he realised that Devon''s focus wasn''t even there at the point of contact between their two opposing globelights. His consciousness was all the way back in his body, where he was concentrating on something.

    Fascinated, Caden turned his attention to Devon''s auric-ambient-flare. It was clear that Devon wasn''t operating in oblivion, but whatever he was doing was still having an effect on higher planes. He was moving by instinct, somehow shaping his auric-ambient-flare into certain poses without being entirely conscious of it. Caden wasn''t sufficiently well-versed in things to be able to follow along with what Devon was doing, but it seemed to be similar to Caden''s own method.

    He turned back to the globelights. Devon had already managed to turn the first one, and now that it was done, Caden noticed that all along the division between green and blue, Devon''s orbs were sending out tendrils to their closest blue contacts. There were more than a hundred conflicts in progress, and yet Devon was somehow keeping up with all of them at once without even really being there.

    If this went on unchecked, Devon''s wave of green was going to cover the entire arena well before the ten-minute time limit.

    As before, Caden had to resist the urge to simply fling himself into the fray. That kind of forceful movement would probably shatter half the orbs in the arena. He calmed himself down and shrank his focus to just a single point of contact. If he wanted to win this engagement, he had to figure out exactly how Devon''s method worked at the smallest level.

    He zipped over to where one of his blue orbs had just been touched by a green tendril. The shell stiffened at the contact, and in those few seconds when it was sufficiently firm, the tendril deftly turned a core component in the globe before retreating entirely. Then, without any further intervention, the orb changed of its own accord from blue to green. Once the change was complete, the newly-converted orb reached out to its parent and formed a firm connection, then started sending out its own tendrils to the nearest blue orb.

    What struck Caden was how amazingly organic it all looked. And the little poke by the tendril was perfectly calibrated to alter just one part of the globe so that it turned its own colour. The process was slower than Caden''s method of turning orbs, but it seemed to require almost no conscious effort on Devon''s part. How was he accomplishing this?

    The key had to be in the way the tendrils were acting. Caden beat back a wave of panic as he saw the arena''s hue shift perceptibly against him, and focused on the tendrils of the converted orbs. They were all linked, he realised. Every time Devon changed an orb, it became part of a network that connected each orb to all of its neighbours, forming a web that finally led all the way back to him.

    Like something growing. Like roots. Like a tree, Caden realised. And that was why Devon didn''t need to bother with the actual points of contact. He had managed to infuse his concept of organic growth into the arcana itself, so that it did the work for him. All he needed to do was provide a framework for how to grow, so that it didn''t move with unchecked ferocity, and instead with the grace and gentleness of nature itself. And that was why even the conversion of orbs required so little focus. Devon''s frameshift was like a poison of some kind, a little prick to start the process of changing colours.

    Even as Caden understood this, he also knew that this network that Devon had formed was not going to be susceptible to his method of claiming globelights en masse. The network that Devon had formed made it a perfect defence against that satin blanket, because Devon''s globes were now infused with a sort of ''identity'' that made them immune. If Caden wanted to claim Devon''s orbs, he would have to wage a war on a hundred different points.

    The wave of green was now almost upon him. To buy himself some time, Caden sliced through the tendrils that were reaching out towards his orbs. He sensed Devon''s surprise, but it quickly gave way to determination as more tendrils snaked out. Caden devoted a portion of his attention to slicing them apart while trying to finally go on the assault against one of Devon''s green orbs.

    He tried his satin sheath first, altering it so that it would burn away any tendrils it came into contact with. But the adaptation was too hostile, and the moment he cast it over the green orb, the entire thing burst apart. He stifled a curse and tried to make it less abrasive. This time, when it wrapped around a green orb, the tendril burned away like ash, and a moment later the orb turned blue.

    But the surge of triumph in Caden''s heart turned swiftly to shock as he realised that he was now standing in a sea of green. Devon had somehow kept up the encroaching tendrils of green from the front, but then also seeded another orb right next to Caden, which had worked its way outwards from within. At the moment of realisation, with his attention momentarily diverted, Devon reclaimed the orb that Caden had just turned.

    "Fates," Caden breathed, staring wide-eyed as he stood in the middle of a host of spheres shedding verdant light.

    "I won?" Devon said softly, though it was still amplified. The disbelief in his voice was palpable. "... I won. I WON. AGAINST THE TOP SCORER."

 162. Broken Boundaries

    Caden was eager for a second round now that he had a little more insight into how Devon''s method worked, but the young lord was in no shape for any further arena practice after that. He was clearly giddy with the heady rush of victory against the Top Scorer, but still trying to keep a lid on it in an attempt to be a gracious winner. If it were anyone else who had beaten him, Caden might have found it extremely difficult to accept his defeat, but seeing Devon being so thoughtful even in his triumph made it much easier to bear the loss.

    With a sigh of resignation, Caden called up the control sphere and cleared the arena of all the globelights. Devon apologised about not being calm enough to continue, his expression torn between manic glee and something vaguely consolatory.

    "It''s fine," Caden said as breezily as he could, waving his hand dismissively. "We can always try this again another time."

    "Okay, sorry, I mean, if we went again you''d probably win this time, so I shouldn''t be gloating, I mean it was just a flukeбк"

    "It wasn''t a fluke," Caden grasped Devon by the shoulders and fixed him with a stern gaze. "You beat me properly."

    "But I, well, it was your first time seeing the orbs andбк"

    "You beat me properly," Caden repeated firmly, giving him a little shake. "Say it."

    Devon pressed his lips tightly shut and shook his head in denial. Caden frowned. "It literally just happened. Why won''t you own it?"

    Before Caden could stop him, Devon deftly slipped out of his grasp with a little arcanic assistance and backed up a few steps. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it, and instead turned away, folding his arms tightly around himself.

    A shiver of fear ran up Caden''s spine, though he didn''t know why. He swallowed and took a tentative step forward. "... Dev? Is something wrong?"

    Devon''s shoulders were shaking a little as he walked further away from Caden. The soft sound of his sniffling seemed especially forlorn in the emptiness of the arena.

    By instinct, Caden was already half-dipped into oblivion, his senses straining to catch any sort of influence at work here. But the prophetic links wrapped around Devon didn''t seem to be especially numerous, nor did they appear to be pulling him to a specific act in the moment. There weren''t any perceptible threats either.

    He had no idea what to do now. What had happened to his friend in the short time they spent apart? Did their little game with the globelights bring to mind some recent horror he had endured? And if so, how could he help without tipping his own hand?

    "Sorry," Devon finally managed to say, sounding a little choked. His back was still turned. "I, uh... I don''t know what came over me."

    "Was it something I said?"

    Devon glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. "You know, all I really wanted to do in the Academy was muck around with some research about applying arcanophany to food preparation."

    "Yeah, you''ve told me," Caden replied, not quite sure where this was going.

    "Oh, have I?" Devon sounded momentarily confused, but he shook his head and continued. "Well... that was before the whole conscription thing. If I had my way, I... I guess I wouldn''t have come back."

    "I thought you and the rest talked it over and decided to come back together," Caden said carefully. "Are you saying they... forced you?"

    Devon stiffened a little and started slowly walking away from Caden, towards the far end of the arena. "No. No, they didn''t force me. I mean it''s just... my family. Having me in the Academy means a lot to them."

    That was, Caden decided, not entirely untrue. Devon didn''t know that Caden had already learned this, but he knew that Duke Rhys Ka''atyrn had put immense pressure on Devon to become an arcanist. Still, Caden also knew that Devon wasn''t giving the truest answer бк that the Prophecy had compelled him to return. But that wasn''t something new either. What did all that have to do with Devon''s strange behaviour now?

    "So you decided to submit to the conscription to make your family proud. What''s wrong with that?" Caden took a few more tentative steps forward.

    "There''s nothing wrong with that," Devon answered, sounding agitated now. He stopped as he reached the lowest tier of the seats and held his hands up so he could stare at them. "But when I decided to come back, I changed. I learned things. I practiced. I became better."

    Caden nodded. "And it paid off. You''ve beaten me properly, so that''s proof you''re definitely capable. What''s the problem, then?"

    Devon turned sharply, and Caden found himself taking an involuntary step back. There was a look of such naked horror in Devon''s eyes. But then Devon blinked and the moment passed, and he looked merely sad. He gave a wry smile. "I beat you properly."

    "Yes," Caden said slowly, looking worriedly at Devon. "Yes, you did."

    Devon nodded and looked down at his hands. "I beat you properly," he said, more to himself than to Caden. "Isn''t that just terrible? The Top Scorer, and I beat you properly."

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "Now you''re just rubbing it in," Caden said, trying to inject some levity into his tone.

    That got a mirthless laugh out of Devon. Caden had never seen him like this before. "Dev, I want to help. Tell me what''s wrong."

    "Everything''s wrong," Devon muttered darkly as he sat down on the lowest tier. "And I guess now that you''re in our dorm, you''re going to get caught up in the thick of it."

    Caden was now so tense that he could feel himself clenching his jaw tightly together. Was Devon going to spill the beans about the Prophecy? If so, how should he react? Should he tell Devon about their past, and about the Fateweaver''s intervention? He wished he had thought things through more carefully before anyone''s arrival, so that he would be better prepared for all the eventualities.

    "What, is the dorm cursed or something?" Caden asked lightly, sitting down next to Devon.

    He smiled thinly. "Yeah, in a way. And unless you get out of our dorm, you''ll be cursed too."

    Caden forced himself to laugh, but Devon snapped at him. "I''m not joking."

    "Alright, if you''re serious, then tell me more about this curse," Caden shot back.

    "There''s no point telling you if you can''t do anything about it. Just get yourself out while you still can."

    "Allocations are fixed," Caden lied. "I was forced to move out of my old dorm and I couldn''t appeal against it."

    Devon shook his head. "Then that''s it for you. I guess that just means you''re already marked."

    He was clearly alluding to being dragged into the Prophecy. But why was Devon being so careless and making cryptic references to it with someone he had only just met? There was almost a kind of recklessness in his manner.

    "This ''curse''," Caden said, sketching quotations marks with his fingers around the word. "Why are you talking about it now? What brought this on?"

    "I''m owning it," Devon answered, grimacing. "That''s what you asked me to do. I beat you properly. And I managed it because of this... curse."

    Caden raised an eyebrow. "This curse made it possible for you to beat the Top Scorer? That doesn''t sound so bad, does it?"

    "You don''t get it," Devon sighed. "I never wanted this. Like I said, I just wanted to live my own life. Do simple things. I never wanted this power. Do you know how scary it is?"

    "... I think I''ve got some idea, yeah," Caden answered quietly.

    Devon seemed to suddenly realise he had been too free with his words. He sprang to his feet and paced around. "Sorry. Didn''t mean to dump all that stuff on you. Just forget what I said about curses and stuff."

    "It''s the Prophecy, isn''t it?" Caden asked, looking up.

    Devon froze, stricken. He turned slowly to Caden and swallowed.

    "Leading theories say that Prophecies alter probabilities. That means it''ll result in some observable phenomena that makes it possible to deduce whether you''re near the subject of a Prophecy, especially if you spend a lot of time around them," Caden said, paraphrasing Emilia from one of their first proper conversations. "So the obvious conclusion is that either you''re the Chosen One, or one of the people in the dorm is."

    "Obvious conclusion?" Devon croaked.

    "You talked about a ''curse'' that appears to be randomly centred on a dormitory, but what makes this dormitory special? It makes more sense if it''s someone in it. But why would someone be cursed in such a way that affects others? Perhaps it''s because they''re the subject of a prophecy. And when you consider the fact that we know the Chosen One is in our cohort, this makes the most sense." It was extremely easy to come up with these so-called deductions when he already knew the truth, and if Caden was being honest, he was actually enjoying this bit of fibbing a little.

    "The one thing I don''t get is why call it a curse," Caden continued, when Devon simply stared in silence. "It seems to have given you an edge and helped you develop your arcanophany at a higher level than the average student. I get that it''s scary to have access to more power... but I wouldn''t go so far as to label that a curse. Unless there''s something more behind it."

    Devon was still staring, wide-eyed.

    "You beat the Top Scorer without breaking a sweat. You didn''t want to accept the victory in our little exercise. You didn''t want to accept the fact that you have power. Why?" Caden pressed.

    Devon''s lower lip trembled a little. "Because it comes with a price."

    And there it was. Caden finally saw it, because it was the first time he thought to properly look. During the globelight exercise, he had only paid attention to where Devon''s thoughts were directed, but now Caden tuned his mind to look at the whole sweep of Devon''s auric-ambient-flare, The warmth that had been so familiar to Caden, that he had seen only moments ago, was only a fragment now. His friend had gone through a fundamental shift, and was now the broken-skillful-bridge.

    "What happened?" Caden asked in a horrified whisper.

    "It''s..." Devon turned away and wrapped his arms around himself again.

    "You have to tell me since I''m going to be in the same dorm." Caden came forward and laid a hand on his shoulder, but Devon shrugged it off. "You wanted to prep me for the twins. Isn''t this more important?"

    "It is. But I don''t know how much I should say," Devon mumbled.

    "You mean you think you need the Chosen One''s permission?" Caden asked.

    Devon nodded mutely, and Caden clenched his fist so hard that he felt his knuckles crack. If Ambrose had something to do with this mutilationбк

    But he stopped himself there and forced himself to take a deep breath. Ambrose might have been involved, but he was bound by Prophecy to act. The ultimate blame lay with the Fateweavers.

    "Prophecies are not the commandments of some deity," Caden said grimly. "The Fateweavers are not gods. I don''t know what you believe about them, but you definitely shouldn''t believe that. You''re caught in a Prophecy... but that doesn''t mean your choices mean nothing."

    Devon turned slowly and looked at Caden with reddened eyes. His brow furrowed as he considered Caden''s words.

    "So right here," Caden continued slowly, reaching out to place his hand on Devon''s shoulder again, "in this moment... your choice is what matters. Forget Aбк... any Chosen One, and what they might think. What do you want to do?"

    Devon''s face crumpled, and he sank to his knees. "It''s what I didn''t want to do. I didn''t want to do it, but we all had to, and so I did, too."

    It tore at Caden to see his friend this way, but he had to stay focused, he had to figure out what was going on. He knelt down next to Devon. "What did you do?"

    Devon shook his head and buried it in his arms. Caden laid a comforting arm around him, thinking to give Devon some time to gather himself before plying him with more questions. In the meanwhile, he would take a closer look at Devon''s auric-ambient-flare.

    But as Caden sank more fully into oblivion and turned his elevated attention to the higher aspects of Devon''s auric-ambient-flare, something in it responded. It turned to look at him even as he looked at it, and Caden felt a flash of recognition and a thrill of fear. Both Caden and Devon flinched away from each other, and Caden stared in horror at his friend, who was now clutching his head and crawling away from him.

    "Devon, what did you do?" Caden repeated in a hoarse whisper.

    ''He made us do it. But we... I also... wanted to do it,'' Devon replied, his thoughts spilling out across the arcanic sea. And the shattered fragment of the wild augera that had been spliced to his auric-ambient-flare echoed his thoughts in oblivion.

 163. Careful Steps

    Caden had no idea how to even begin to deal with the situation. He stood frozen, staring at Devon in mute horror as he began to gently rock himself back and forth. The emotional spillage was spreading across the arcanic sea along with a stream of Devon''s words, and even Caden''s well-tuned senses struggled to clearly pick out what Devon was trying to tell him.

    ''Also wanted... but not really... wanted to want... wanted to belong, wanted to prove... but not really mine...''

    And then there was the same output in oblivion, except it was coming from that splintered fragment of the wild augera. If Caden hadn''t met the original wild augera before, he might not have even recognised the fragment for what it was. Most of it had been sewn into (or was it onto, or inside, or alongside?) Devon''s auric-ambient-flare in a way that was almost seamless, so that Devon''s own arcana swam through it as if it were truly a part of him. And yet it extended into oblivion in ways that a normal person''s auric-ambient-flare did not, and in those higher, stranger dimensions, it retained more of its own original shape. And there, even though the words were the same, Caden had the distinct impression that the fragment was speaking of something very different.

    ''Also wanted... but not really... wanted to want... wanted to belong, wanted to prove... but not really mine...''

    He felt like he was on the cusp of making a terribly important discovery, if only he could just speak with the fragment. But the fragment was also a part of Devon, who was having a breakdown and trying to share his pain. Caden found himself torn between two choices бк comfort his friend, or engage with the fragment?

    "Devбк" His voice caught in his throat, and he decided to engage with Devon in the arcanic sea instead. ''Dev, do you trust me?''

    Devon didn''t respond verbally. Instead, the storm of emotions and jumbled thoughts seemed to rage a little less as he considered the question, and a faint note of acceptance came through a moment later.

    Caden took that as an answer in the affirmative, so he continued. ''I... I don''t know what I can do to help. But I want to try. For that to happen, I need to find out more. So I''m going to... I don''t know how to explain what I''m going to do. But whatever happens, please, just trust me, and let me do it, alright?''

    Fear soured the the arcanic sea, but Devon reined it in and projected a sense of tense agreement.

    There was no point hesitating. Caden slipped into oblivion and directed his full attention at the fragment of the wild augera, focusing on the segments that extended beyond Devon''s auric-ambient-flare. It was still merely reflecting Devon''s thoughts. ''Drifting-pool-channel,'' he called out.

    The fragment seemed to stiffen, and its repetition of Devon''s thoughts paused. Caden felt, very faintly, the sense that something was focusing its attention on him, but then it faded away and the fragment became inert again, simply echoing Devon''s thoughts in oblivion.

    Caden hesitated. The last time he had met this wild augera, it had told him that ''raw-boundless-tempest'' was one aspect of a wild augera that spoke to its primordial power, and that it was dangerous to engage with a wild augera through that lens. That was when it had mentioned how wild augeras бк and presumably even shackled ones бк had many aspects to them, and that it was safer for mortals to engage with them as a drifting-pool-channel. However, whatever had happened to it, it seemed to be unable to respond to that name in its shattered, fragmented state. It made sense to try again with the other aspect, though it might be dangerous for Devon.

    But then, Caden reasoned, the wild augera had been whole back then. Perhaps now, in its fragmented state, its voice and presence wouldn''t be so overwhelming.

    ''Raw-boundless-tempest,'' Caden called, as boldly as he dared. ''Please come. Settle. Listen.''

    This time, the effect was more pronounced. The fragment twisted itself sharply and the beam of intent that pierced Caden left him in no doubt that he had finally managed to get it to pay attention to him. Devon let out a small gasp of discomfort.

    Caden slipped half out of oblivion and into the arcanic sea. ''Are you alright?'' Caden asked him, alarmed.

    ''F-fine. What didбк'' Devon began.

    ''бкyou call me?'' the fragment finished, in oblivion, dragging Caden''s attention back to it on higher planes.

    In the arcanic sea, Devon''s thoughts suddenly dissolved into a senseless jumble. He stopped rocking and simply stared, slack-jawed, at Caden, his eyes filled with panic and confusion.

    In oblivion, Caden sensed the fragment asserting itself. A pulse ran through the entirety of Devon''s auric-ambient-flare as it took stock of its present situation. ''Not... whole,'' it rumbled. ''Not... not me. What did... you call me?''

    ''Raw-boundless-tempest,'' Caden repeated slowly. ''Once... once part of ocean-wellspring-core.''

    ''Yes,'' it said, and now Devon''s mind was blended with it. ''That... was what... they wanted. Wanted me to connect... with the... core. Faintly. So they... took the raw. Shaped it... into this... into me. My body.''

    A stab of fear went through Caden. Was Devon possessed, like he had been? ''Into you? Or into Devon?''

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ''The once warm-skillful-bridge. Me. Took me... boundless... now bound in flesh. Not... not tempest. Just... shaped... flesh... named Devon...''

    ''Who did it? How did it happen?''

    ''We did it. Ambrose. Me. Me. All... agreed.''

    It was hard to follow who he was really talking with. Sometimes, Devon''s voice came to the front while the fragment echoed his words, and at other times, the reverse happened. ''You... the raw-boundless-tempest, you agreed to this?''

    ''Wanted... to want. To prove. To belong.''

    ''I don''t understand. What did you want to prove? And do you mean you wanted to... to join the web of augera? The Fateweaver''s web?''

    There was anguish now, bleeding out from the fragment, but also from Devon. It was a deep, emotional pain which came from roots that Caden did not have access to, but there was something strangely similar in the strain of pain that seemed to act as a sort of bond between both Devon and the fragment.

    ''Wanted to prove rightness. Prove mortal and augera can co-exist. Prove fate and fateless can weave together as equals. But... but now broken. Broken.''

    The anguish turned into fathomless grief that reminded Caden of the utter void of sorrow and despair that the augera had once shown when the ocean-wellspring-core had turned away from them. It was almost too much to bear, but Caden steeled himself against the drowning tide and firmly anchored Devon as well. The fragmented wild augera, by extension, was kept from the worst of its own breakdown.

    ''Broken-skillful-bridge,'' he intoned, addressing both the fragment and the larger part of Devon''s auric-ambient-flare. ''You are still here. You are both changed, but you are still here. I don''t know what brought you together, but it was a choice made in unison, and so even though you were each broken apart, you are now united into a new whole. A new oneness. You see this. You sense this. You know this.''

    The distinction between Devon''s mind and the fragment was rapidly blurring. Caden''s attempts to address them as two separate entities were now failing to keep him connected, so he simply surrendered to the natural inclination as his mind now perceived them as one entity. ''You''re... still you. Just changed. Just grown.''

    ''Just... grown,'' Devon whispered, his voice echoing in oblivion, free from any confusion now. Even though Caden could still sense the fragment as a feature distinctly unlike an ordinary person''s auric-ambient-flare, it was somehow recognisably Devon. He was still the broken-skillful-bridge, but there was a kind of ''wholeness'' to the aspects now that made them fit together more comfortably.

    Devon slowly got to his feet, staring across the arena as though only seeing it for the first time. When he finally turned to Caden again, his eyes were a little wet. "Thanks."

    Caden let out a breath he didn''t know he had been holding. The relief that washed over him made him a little dizzy. "Glad I could help."

    But the look of gladness in Devon''s eyes suddenly gave way to something sharper. "Now how the hell did you do that?"

    The relief vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Caden even dizzier. He sucked in a breath and felt it lodge in his throat. "It''s complicated," he choked out.

    "We''ve literally got all day. Who are you?" Devon asked, folding his arms.

    "I''m... I''m Caden?" he answered blankly. "First-year arcanist, Top Scorerбк"

    "I don''t mean that," Devon said, drying his eyes and drawing himself up. "What you did... this isn''t Academy stuff. It''s... it''s Chosen One-level stuff. Prophecy stuff. Where''d you even learn to... to do things in higher levels, higher than the arcanic sea? Who are you?"

    "You said it yourself, I''m marked since I''ve been put in a dorm with you guys, " Caden answered defensively.

    "Uh huh. And I assumed it would mean that things would happen later that would expose you to all this madness. But it seems you''ve already got a handle on some of this nonsense, so you''ve got some explaining to do!" Devon shot back.

    "Well if I''m marked, what makes you think the Prophecy wasn''t prepping me beforehand?" Caden countered.

    "Because there''s supposed to be only five plus the Chosen One!" Devon blurted out. A moment later, he flushed as he realised he had accidentally let something slip.

    "Five?" Caden asked, feigning confusion.

    "Nevermind. Forget it. Fine, I won''t pry since you obviously don''t wanna say. And you helped me, and I''m grateful, but... but this is weird, and suspicious, and this would be a lot easier if you were a horrible person," Devon blustered.

    It was hard to keep a straight face, but Caden made a valiant effort. "What would be easier?"

    "Interrogating you!" Devon let out a huff. "Honestly, the fact that we get along so well even though we barely know each other is extra suspicious now, and I swear if you end up backstabbing me somehow, like, if you''re an enemy spy or something, I''ll... I''ll..."

    Caden raised an eyebrow and waited.

    "... I''ll... think of something suitably horrible for a traitor and a backstabber," Devon finished lamely.

    There was a witty retort Caden had ready, but it died in his throat as he considered Devon''s words a little more seriously. The smile he had only half-successfully forced down now vanished, and he looked at Devon somewhat sombrely. "Dev, there''s a lot going on with me that I don''t even know how to start explaining. And I''m no Fateweaver, so I don''t pretend to know what the future holds. But I do consider you a friend. A good friend. And I promise that I don''t intend to ever do something that will end up hurting you, or any of my friends."

    Devon chewed his lip and sighed heavily. "Haven''t you read enough books to know that statements like that just mean that you''re probably gonna unintentionally hurt your friends at some future point in time? That''s like... the whole classic dramatic irony thing."

    "Fair point. Let''s hope for both our sakes that real life doesn''t follow plot lines," Caden grinned, though he did feel a very real stab of fear at Devon''s words. Given everything he knew, it was quite likely, after all.

    Devon sighed again and shook his head. "I''ll comfort myself with the fact that if you cross me or anyone else in the dorm, you''re probably set up for epic failure because of the Prophecy. Although... now that I''ve said that, I actually feel bad, because I doubt it''ll end well for you. So please don''t be the bad guy, because you''re a nice guy, and it would be horrible."

    "Oh yeah? Would you cry?"

    Devon glared. "Probably. And wipe that smile of your face, it''s not funny."

    "Sorry. I''m just happy," Caden said, trying to adopt a neutral expression.

    "Happy? This weird Prophecy-level crap makes you happy?"

    "No," Caden answered, turning his face away. "I''m just happy we''re friends."

    Devon coughed in mild embarrassment. "Okay, shut up. All this Prophecy-level stuff has made me hungry again. Let''s hit the cafe."

    "After you," Caden gestured. As Devon walked out of the arena and Caden closed the doors behind them, he sensed the lightest touch of a mind on his. It was a mind he had never heard or felt before, though he was at least certain it was another person, but it was gone before he could pin it down in oblivion.

    ''You walk a fine line, {~?~}. Cosmos favour you.''

 164. Unknown Variables

    The day was turning out to be a lot more complicated than Caden had anticipated. He had already been forced to reveal his far-beyond-average arcanophanic abilities to Devon, and now there was an as-yet-unidentified voice in oblivion making cryptic statements.

    The message was brief, but Caden inferred that whoever it was seemed to be aware of his precarious situation, which meant that this mystery watcher had either been keeping tabs on him for awhile, or had the ability to read the past in oblivion like the Demiurge. The only new ''player'' on the field that he was aware of was the unseen assailant who had attacked him last night, so his first thought was that perhaps the two were one and the same.

    But if so, then why hadn''t the assailant taken a second shot at him? Was it possible that there was yet another group in play here? Caden felt increasingly cornered and overwhelmed as he thought about all the moving pieces in the puzzle he was already embroiled in; the prospect of having yet another potential threat to keep track of was mentally draining.

    For now, he comforted himself with the fact that he had not been attacked, and the voice has apparently wished him well. Since he didn''t yet have the ability to try and track down the source, he willed himself not to dwell on it for the moment. There was no point worrying about something if he literally couldn''t do anything about it. There was enough on his plate for now.

    As he and Devon made their way to the cafe, their conversation remained firmly on things like what there was to eat, and what they both thought about the food on offer there. The congenial air between them had given way to something more guarded, and Devon seemed to be on the verge of asking more about Caden''s capabilities, but he always managed to rein himself in and subsequently attempt to cover the moment with a more benign question.

    When they got there, they found it mostly empty, with only a handful of other students who had arrived on campus ahead of time. Still, it felt strange for Caden to see it filled with other people when he had enjoyed having almost the whole place to himself and the Demiurge over the last week. Caden checked his watch for the first time since he woke up and was surprised to see that it was almost time for lunch even though his duel with Devon hadn''t really taken that long. Evidently, they had spent a lot of time just talking over breakfast.

    Queuing up to place an order was another thing that felt rather odd. A quick dip into oblivion told him that the Demiurge''s wysana either wasn''t nearby or was actively veiled, which made sense since the place was now open to the public again. The service staff that worked in the Academy were now back in full force, and it was a person behind the counter who took their orders and later served them their food.

    As they sat down to eat in a quiet corner, far enough from the other patrons, Caden decided that he had to deal with Devon''s questions head-on. If he remained entrenched in his cloud of curiosity and suspicion, meeting the others would only be more difficult.

    "Alright, Dev," Caden said with a sigh, "Just go ahead and ask me whatever it is you want. I''m telling you right from the start that I''ll be reserving the right not to answer, but otherwise I''ll try to tell you what I can."

    "Where did you learn to do what you did?" Devon blurted out almost immediately.

    It was probably wise to make sure they couldn''t be heard. Before Caden answered, he set up a thin shield around them. The simple barrier against sound worked both ways, so the chatter and clanking of cutlery in the cafe was reduced to a dull, muted background noise, while their own conversation would sound just as muffled to anyone on the outside.

    "I can''t answer that yet," Caden said apologetically.

    Devon took a bite of his salmon fillet while still fixing Caden with an intense stare. He chewed thoughtfully, then shot off his next question. "What has to change before you can answer that?"

    Caden was a little taken aback because he hadn''t really thought of it in terms of conditions that needed to be fulfilled, but now that the question had been posed to him, he took the time to consider it while absently starting on his own food.

    "I need to make sure it''s safe, both for myself and for anyone I tell," he finally answered.

    Devon''s eyes widened in slight alarm. "What currently makes it dangerous? Are there threats the rest of us in the dorm need to be aware of?"

    There was no easy way to answer that without giving everything away. "Technically, no," he said slowly. "It''s complicated. Basically, if some conditions aren''t met, I think revealing too much will put everyone involved in danger."

    Sensing that he wasn''t going to get much more out of this line of inquiry, Devon changed tack. "How exactly did you end up being assigned to our dorm?"

    "I told you, I got re-assigned."

    "I want the details," Devon said testily.

    "The Demiurge reassigned me. I didn''t ask why," Caden replied, though he felt a little bad about providing statements that, while not technically untrue, did not actually paint an accurate picture of the situation.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    If Devon thought something was amiss, he gave no sign of it. "Alright. Everyone else in the dorm is connected to the Prophecy in some way. Do you know how you''re involved, since you think that''s what landed you in our dorm?"

    "I have some idea... but I''m not ready to share what I think it is yet."

    Devon''s eyes narrowed. "Because you think it''s not safe?"

    Caden nodded. Sensing Devon''s irritation, he tried to moderate his response. "Look, I know it''s frustrating, and it seems like an easy excuse, but it''s a real worry for me. And not just because it''s not safe for me. I genuinely care about what happens to everyone else."

    "But why? You haven''t gotten to know the rest, and you''ve literally only just had your first conversation with me a few hours ago," Devon countered. "Why should you care?"

    "That''s just how it is," Caden said flatly. "I can''t explain it."

    Devon mellowed a little. "Sorry if that''s a bit sharp. But yeah, this is frustrating. And suspicious. And scary. And have I mentioned how suspicious it is? Because it is. It''s suspicious."

    "Okay, so you''re worried I might be... what, some sort of spy?" Caden asked. "Maybe you can tell me what you fear, and I''ll see what reassurance I can give you."

    Devon pointed his fork at Caden. "That''s not fair. If you''re a spy, this is basically asking how to get yourself a clean bill."

    Caden threw up his hands in mock frustration, though it was only partially feigned. "Okay, well, don''t you think it''s a bit hard for me to be a spy when one of the professors is my father?"

    "Okay, fine," Devon muttered grudgingly. "Plus the Demiurge transferred you, and I honestly doubt anyone can sneak anything past him, so chances are you''re not a spy."

    "Exactly," Caden nodded emphatically, though his mind went immediately to the unknown assailant in the dorm (and, if they were two separate people, the latest contact he had from another unknown watcher).

    "This is going to sound very, very cliche, but my biggest fear is that you''re some sort of big bad guy that the Prophecy has thrown into our path, and you''re the biggest threat that everyone in the dorm will have to face together," Devon said in a rush.

    "That''s... not entirely crazy, even if it is very cliche," Caden said, his throat suddenly dry. He knew it wasn''t true because the Fateweavers didn''t have that kind of control over him any longer, but it didn''t preclude them from marshalling the Six-Chained-Foundations and turning them into a unified force against anyone who happened to stand in their way. And if he wasn''t careful, he might end up blundering right into their path. The Fateweavers didn''t have to see something or control it if their only aim was to run roughshod over obstacles.

    "So are you a big bad guy? Because from where I''m sitting, you''ve got unknown powers, and that puts you firmly at the top of the list of candidates who might end up being bad guys," Devon pointed out.

    "Even if I were," Caden replied dryly, "I''m not likely to admit it to your face, am I?"

    "That is not helping."

    Caden let out a long sigh. "Who knows? Maybe I am. But have you considered whether or not the Prophecy might be worth submitting to? I mean, think of what you and the others ended up doing." He dipped a little into the arcanic sea to shade his words with more meaning. "Broken бк that''s what happened to you. And I''m guessing the rest, too."

    Devon paled. His hands started shaking so much that he was forced to put down his utensils, and it took him a few moments to calm himself down. Caden noticed he was using the same breathing technique that Emilia had imparted to everyone. "Are you listening to yourself?" he finally managed to ask. "You''re talking about challenging a Prophecy. Like, a real one. And not just any normal one, but a Major Prophecy. That means... that means challenging the Fateweavers."

    "Who are not gods," Caden noted.

    "They might as well be!" Devon wheezed.

    "No, the whole Empire has been under their shadow, and maybe in here they are as close to gods as mortals can come, but they''re still not gods. There''s a world out there, with people who have never danced to the strings of any prophecy, minor or major," Caden said, growing more heated as he spoke. "And maybe out there, people like you don''t end up broken just because someone else thought it was a good idea."

    Devon looked physically ill. "You really are."

    "Are what?"

    "A spy."

    "No," Caden shook his head sadly. "I''m Aiestan, born and bred. I''ve just had a very weird life, and it''s given me a different perspective on things."

    But Devon didn''t seem to be listening. He was muttering distractedly to himself. "What do I do now? Who do I tell? The others. But then what do we do?"

    Caden let out another long sigh. "I guess I might as well tell you. I came to the Academy to study because my sister is the subject of a minor prophecy delivered to my father. ''This daughter shall be your ruin.'' That''s what''s driven me to study so much and get here. I want to learn how to undo it."

    Devon seemed to have exhausted his ability to express shock. He simply stared numbly at Caden for a few seconds before giving himself a little shake. "Okay. That''s bad, but less bad than what I imagined."

    Oh Devon, you have no idea how much worse it actually is. It might be better if I were a foreign spy, Caden thought. "Yep. So that''s the short version. I''m here to study prophecies and how to unmake them. At some point I figured that means challenging the Fateweavers. Obviously that''s a long way off, but being on this path has made me challenge some of the Empire''s general attitudes towards prophecies and the philosophy we''ve built up around them."

    Neither of them were eating any more. Caden''s appetite had deserted him, and judging from the look on Devon''s face, the feeling was mutual.

    "So... what happens now? Because this all basically means that while I do acknowledge the reality of a Chosen One and the Major Prophecy, I''m not supportive of it. And honestly, after seeing what it''s done to you, I don''t think you should be supportive of it either," Caden continued.

    Devon got up shakily. "I''m gonna... just take a walk. Clear some fresh air. I mean, get some fresh air. Clear the air. Clear the head. I think I''ll see you... at the briefing. And then later. Around the dorm. Around."

    Caden watched him leave and felt his heart sink.

    ''Told you. You walk a fine line. Let''s meet and talk. Maybe it''ll help you avoid further missteps.''

    His eyes darted around, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary even as he scanned oblivion in vain.

    ''See you by the lake, if you''re willing.''

 165. Stranger Still

    Caden was completely oblivious to how the scene looked to the handful of people in the cafe. The little bubble of privacy that muffled sound was still up, so all they had witnessed was Devon getting increasingly distraught before he finally got up and left, while Caden remained and was now staring unblinkingly at their unfinished food. A few furtive glances were thrown his way and there was a bit of speculative whispering, but he heard none of it anyway through his own barrier, and his mind was a long way off. His thoughts were turned inward as he tried to carefully take stock of the present situation and the various forces involved.

    While it was possible that this unknown watcher was some hitherto unknown agent of the Fateweavers, Caden''s instincts told him this wasn''t the case. The person was being so elusive even in oblivion that it was hard to believe they were working together with the Fateweavers, because he expected anyone that worked with them to be less concerned about moving softly. Also, something about this person''s ability to hide so completely in oblivion made him associate them with the unknown assailant, who was most certainly an outside force.

    Which led him back to his earlier suspicion бк were they the same person? If so, then agreeing to meet would be very dangerous, and possibly also very stupid.

    As Caden continued to mull over things, he absently started on his food again, still oblivious to the curious looks being thrown his way.

    The thought of a trap being set for him so nearby was very disquieting, and it made him feel very vulnerable. And yet... if this was a trap, wouldn''t it have been set with better care? He had literally been attacked only hours ago. Why would the same assailant make such a naked attempt to draw him out into the open? And was setting a trap even necessary, given how the assailant had struck when he was in the middle of the Academy in the dorm? Plus, the lake wasn''t particularly isolated and it was still within the Demiurge''s sphere of influence. If the assailant absolutely had to lure him away, it made more sense to want him to meet somewhere far outside of the Academy.

    So perhaps the watcher was not the assailant. Caden had to consider the possibility that this watcher was yet another party; one who was potentially against the Fateweavers as well, given all this secrecy. That made them a possible ally, and he was quite willing to make an ally out of someone who wasn''t trying to kill him. It was a far more attractive option than the one the augera had presented him with, which was to try and reach out to the assailant and make an ally of them.

    The Fateweavers were obviously still in play, and he fretted a little about whether they were keeping tabs on him and whether or not he might accidentally be serving as bait to draw this watcher out, but after some thought, he decided it wasn''t a huge danger. He didn''t have to worry much about moving undetected himself because he was {~?~} and they apparently couldn''t read him without killing him. And if the events of the previous night were any indication, the Fateweavers weren''t closely watching the Academy, or they would have noticed the attack. The assailant''s attempt on his life had adequetely revealed how the Fateweavers had excluded him from the Empire-wide protective surveillance of the augeric web, and the augera were not obligated to report anything done as long as it only threatened Caden. Of course, this all relied on the assumption that the Demiurge himself either wasn''t lying about how that worked, or could reliably tell that the Fateweavers truly hadn''t noticed anything amiss, but Caden was inclined to believe Caldwell because the augera had also separately corroborated some of those claims.

    The Demiurge''s actions so far indicated that he was, in a way, entirely self-interested. He didn''t seem to have a care about whether the Empire and the Fateweavers were preserved or destroyed, and was apparently happy to look out for Caden. So even though there was a chance that whatever new protections he had put in place would tip him off about what Caden was up to if he met the watcher, Caldwell wasn''t likely to intervene as long as Caden himself wasn''t in danger.

    Caden finally concluded that if he wanted, he really could just stroll to the lake and meet this watcher. There was some risk involved, but it seemed perfectly acceptable given the potentially valuable information he might gain from meeting someone who was powerful enough to move with apparent impunity within the Academy and evade the Fateweavers'' detection.

    The scratching of his cutlery on glass drew him sharply back to the present and he blinked down at his empty plate, mildy confused for a moment until he realised that he had been absentmindedly eating all this while. He looked up and saw a few heads hastily turn away, and it finally dawned on him how odd the whole scene must have looked to everyone around.

    Feeling a mix of irritation and embarrassment, he brought his and Devon''s trays to the return point and left as quickly as he could, trying hard to avoid eye contact with anyone. On the bright side, he didn''t think he spotted anyone from his year.

    There wasn''t any point delaying, so he set off towards the hidden door that led out to the lake. By now, more students had arrived on campus and there were people milling about the grounds, but being able to see all the hidden buildings meant that the whole place still felt largely empty to Caden. And even though the hidden door wasn''t exactly in a secluded area, there was no one near enough to see him by the time he got there. He reached out in oblivion and pulled the door into position so that it shifted out of the solid marble wall.

    Just in case, he took the time to cover himself in a close-fitting honeycomb shield and shifted it out of the visible spectrum. And even though he wasn''t sure how effective it would be, he made use of the principles he had learned while figuring out the wysana sequence and trying to block individual glyphs бк they helped him extend his shield into oblivion as well. When he felt satisfied with his work, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him, allowing it to fade back into the marble wall.

    The lake glittered invitingly in the light of the noonday sun, which also provided just enough warmth to hold the chill of winter at bay without making it unpleasantly hot. It was extremely disarming weather that was at odds with the pit of anxiety Caden felt in his stomach. There was no one within sight as far as the eye could see, and nothing stood out in oblivion either.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ''You came. The lake. Go to the water''s edge.''

    For the first time, Caden felt the presence of the person instead of just ''hearing'' their disembodied voice, which did indeed seem to orginate from somewhere close to the water. However, his eyes failed to pick out anyone or anything remarkable, and before he could reply, the presence faded once more. He tried in earnest this time to locate the person, extending his senses as far as he could in oblivion, to the very limits of his ability where he felt the higher reaches of his auric-ambient-flare straining to grab hold of whatever planes of reality were beyond ordinary mortals.

    ''If you''re that curious, then go to the water''s edge.''

    This time, there was no directionality to the voice, but he did catch a sense of mild amusement in its tone. Caden forced down the rising sense of foreboding and slowly made his way down towards the lake.

    He stopped a few steps from the edge and waited, but after a few moments of silence, he steeled himself and stood with the tips of his shoes just touching the water.

    There was movement. His own reflection waved lazily back at him and grinned.

    "What theбк" Caden stepped back, alarmed, but his reflection didn''t move, and continued to look up at him wryly.

    ''You''ve gone through stranger things, surely.''

    The voice was definitely coming from his reflection, but even at this distance, it was so faint that Caden had to really concentrate to catch the words. And despite the fact that he was right there next to the apparent source, he still couldn''t detect the person''s auric-ambient-flare.

    ''How are you hiding so completely?'' he asked, projecting in oblivion. ''Why can''t I sense you at all?''

    ''Your first question is ''how'', not ''who''? You must feel very safe.''

    That wasn''t very reassuring at all, and Caden double-checked his shields. The watcher must have sensed his growing sense of unease, because his reflection looked like it was chuckling, though no sound came through.

    ''An answer for an answer. Fair?''

    ''And if I refuse to answer a question?''

    ''Then you get fewer answers. You get as much as you offer. First question бк have you dominated any augera?''

    Something in the tone of that question sent chills up Caden''s spine, and he felt the sense of danger increase dramatically. He got the distinct impression that if he answered in the affirmative, something awful would happen.

    ''No,'' he answered, feeling relieved that he could say so truthfully, because he was almost certain that the watcher could tell if he was lying.

    ''We''re off to a good start. So, what''s your question? Do you want to know the ''how'', or the ''who''? Or do you want to ask something else?''

    He didn''t know how many more questions he was going to be asked, and he wasn''t exactly sure if he felt comfortable about continuing to exchange answers in this way, so he tried to weigh the importance of the questions.

    ''How,'' he decided after agonising over it for a full minute.

    ''Quite impossible to satisfactorily and perfectly explain. But maybe this works бк you sense the web. The Fateweavers made it and sit on it like a throne. I? I''ve made friends with it, and it teaches me how to skulk around the seat of power.''

    ''You''re friends with the augera?'' he blurted, but the watcher wagged a finger at him.

    ''It''s my turn. The Fateweaver you met бк tell me what you remember about how they looked.''

    That felt like it was safe to answer because it wasn''t giving away any of his personal secrets. ''Female. White hair, a bit longer than shoulder-length. Blue eyes. Hard to tell her age. Grey robes.''

    His reflection nodded thoughtfully, then grinned at him. ''So, which question do you want me to answer?''

    This time, the choice was simpler. ''Who are you?''

    ''It''s harder to answer than you know. No name I can give would mean anything to you. But I think you will be interested in knowing that I did not attack you last night. I am not of the Empire, nor am I of Sedhah, or any nation known to you. And finally, I am not a friend to the Fateweavers.''

    ''But then who, or whatбк''

    ''It is my turn.''

    ''Your answer hardly counts!'' Caden protested.

    ''Nevertheless, it is all I can meaningfully give for the moment. If that doesn''t satisfy you, we can stop here.''

    The unfairness of it irritated Caden, but he felt that there was more to gain by continuing the exchange, so he nodded curtly. "Fine, next question."

    ''Did you reveal to the Fateweavers that you have met with an ocean-wellspring-core?''

    Caden drew in a sharp breath. His reflection simply regarded him calmly, waiting for a response.

    ''No,'' he finally replied. The watcher looked pleased, then nodded back at him.

    ''Your question?''

    Asking for further clarification about who or what the watcher wasn''t likely to yield any further information, so Caden tried to think about something else he could ask that would give him the most amount of information to work with.

    ''Why are you watching me?''

    His reflection shook with laughter, but no sound came from it until it settled down and gave its response.

    ''The cheap answer is that you are {~?~}. But I am feeling generous, so I will tell you that I am quite interested in seeing how your choices will force the Fateweavers to move in ways they have not had to do for almost a thousand years. And if you prove to be very promising, and our interests turn out to be aligned, I might one day consider working with you.''

    That definitely caught his interest. ''Okay. Ask me another question,'' he said, eager to offer something up so he could ask something else. But his reflection smiled ruefully.

    ''I''m afraid that''s all I need from you for now. Some free advice бк you''ve put yourself in a very precarious position by moving back into the dorm. Don''t expect to preserve your old friendships. The Fateweaver''s threads slant far away from that inclination, and if you want to attempt to wrest them to your favour, be aware of the risk you are taking, and be adequately prepared for the possible consequences. A wysana might help you mitigate some of that risk, or alleviate the severity of any resulting fallout, but even then, the deck is stacked against you.''

    Before Caden could say anything else, his reflection shifted slightly and turned into the figure of a middle-aged man with black hair and startlingly bright emereld-green eyes. The man tipped his head and flashed a grin, and the next moment, Caden was left staring at his own confused face in the shimmering water.

 166. A Bigger World

    Since there didn''t seem to be any immediate danger, Caden chose to stay by the lake and take the time to ponder his next steps.

    The augera had warned him to stay away from his friends, probably out of a desire to keep him as far away from Fateweaver influence as possible. The mysterious watcher had given him more reasons to support that stand бк evidently, when everyone''s memories of him had been wiped, the Fateweavers had also tinkered with the probabilities so that it would be more difficult for him to remake those bonds of friendship. And even if they hadn''t, it had only just occurred to Caden that the only reason his friendship with the rest had formed so quickly and so strongly in the first place had been because it supported the Major Prophecy. Now that this wasn''t the case, he couldn''t expect the same sort of serendipity that had brought them together and helped them co-exist. Even his latest meeting with Devon was proof that the watcher was right. He had gotten along really well with Devon on their second ''first meeting'' simply because they were both well-suited to be friends, but even then, things had soured in just a few hours.

    A heavy weight in Caden''s chest as he thought back to his conversation with the Demiurge about moving back into the dorm. If he was honest with himself, he knew even when he made that choice that it would be quite impossible for him to really re-estabilish his old friendships. Being in the dorm was really more about giving him an opportunity to see, first-hand, what the Fateweavers were doing with them, so it wouldn''t be left to his imagination. It was about seeing the Fateweaver''s manipulation of his friends with a front-row seat, because he couldn''t bear to turn away and try to forget, or pretend that it wasn''t happening.

    The weight in his chest seemed to migrate down to somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Now that he was forced to really contemplate it, the prospect of being in the dorm, surrounded by once-friends, was dreadful. But he had to face it. He would take the watcher''s advice and have no expectations about preserving old friendships, or even re-kindling them in some new form. If he expected nothing, then he couldn''t be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised.

    So if Devon told the rest about his run-in with Caden, and what he had learned of Caden''s intentions, and it ended up putting them on guard or even turned them against him right off the bat, then so be it. And even though the resolution wasn''t one he made easily or without any pain, it did bring a sort of relief. It gave him some measure of clarity now that he wasn''t trying to hold on to these frayed or broken threads of his old life.

    His brief conversation with the watcher made it clear that there were much larger forces at play, and that he ought to be re-assessing his priorities. The watcher had hinted at the usefulness of a wysana in taking on a Major Prophecy, and the Demiurge had requested that Caden abstain from making ''Empire-breaking decisions'' until he could create one. That made learning how to fashion his own wysana his top priority. Until he mastered that ability, he''d be ill-equipped to take on the Fateweavers or hold his own against any other parties in play.

    The next thing he needed to do was also get a handle on who the watcher and the assailant might be. The Demiurge mentioned putting defences in place, but Caden hadn''t questioned him about that earlier since he had been too focused on other things. Caden decided that he needed to know more about the state of the world so he could at least make more informed decisions or ask better questions whenever he came into contact with these other forces. The Demiurge might be willing to help with that, so Caden resolved to ask when they next met.

    Caden still had at least three hours before he needed to get ready for the briefing, so he decided to head into the Vault. There were more sages around, and even a few senior students, but by the time Caden had gotten to the bottom level of the Lower Library, there was no one around, so he managed to slip in without having to worry about being inconspicuous.

    All the implements of scribing were still there, but the Demiurge wasn''t around to provide the protective cube, so Caden decided against continuing to work on the glyphs for creating a wysana. Instead, he turned to the other shelves in the Vault. The circular hall with the original texts was closed off behind the heavily-glyped ornate door, but there was still plenty of reading material in the rest of the Vault, so he started scanning the titles for anything related to world geography and history. There were no ladders at all, so Caden spent a few minutes experimenting with conjured planes of force and managed to hack together a crude version of the moving discs of arcana that he had seen in the circular hall. It was nowhere near as stable, but it allowed him to carefully levitate himself so he could reach the higher shelves.

    Not all of the books were written in in the modern tongue, so Caden passed them over. After about twenty minutes of browsing, he thought he discerned a general pattern in how the books were arranged, and he finally managed to zoom in on a section that contained encyclopedias.

    He spent an hour slowly working through that section because it was hard not to get side-tracked. There were encyclopedias were about the various fields of arcanophany that at first didn''t seem all that special because he had seen copies of them before in the Upper Library, until he realised that these copies in the Vault contained more pages or chapters, and even alterations in the text. It became clear that the publically-available versions had been edited.

    Finally, he came to a shelf that contained books on world history and geography, in a corner near the ceiling. He quickly skimmed the titles, looking for one that seemed more comprehensive and general. There was nothing here that seemed new, so he settled for a title that looked like it would give a good overview of things.

    "The Powers That Be: A Survey of the Nations," he murmured, extracting the text and flipping open the cover. There was a lengthy preface written by a past Demiurge that indiicated this was simply a translation of a much older text, with a reference number that presumably would lead him to the original in the circular hall.

    He was a little disappointed, because he didn''t think something this old would be useful, but since he had it in hand, he turned to the table of contents and ran a finger down the list.

    Stolen story; please report.

    There were only two names on that list Caden recognised бк "Arcanocracy of Aiesta, The" and "Confederacy of Sedhah, The", but even those names gave him pause and drove home how old the original text was, because Caden was very sure that Sedhah was a kingdom, and had been that way for a very, very long time. Furthermore, he had never before read of Aiesta described as ''the Arcanocracy''. It had always been ''The Empire''. What was this ''Arcanocracy''?

    The rest were completely foreign to him, probably because the nations had long since died off. Just below Aiesta was a nation named "Cildana Gwyd, The", so Caden turned there.

    <blockquote>

    It is difficult to give a full account of the elves...

    </blockquote>

    Caden''s finger froze over the word ''elves'' and he felt suddenly cold. If he were anywhere else, he might assume he was reading some sort of fantasy text. But he was in the Vault, and he had just read a note by a past Demiurge about this text being a translation, so that meant this was no work of fiction. This was real. He felt so shaken that he clutched the book close to himself and lowered himself all the way to the floor so he could be on solid ground. He stumbled over to the nearest table and sat down, flipped back to the page on the Cildana Gwyd, and continued reading.

    <blockquote>

    It is difficult to give a full account of the elves иC their society is one of amazing diversity, with few systems that are analogous to human society. For instance, although they fall under the care of a monarch, the duty of the king and queen seems to involve little governing; instead it tends towards something best described as guardianship. Inquiry into the exact nature of what it is they guard is almost impossible, and it remains a closely-kept secret.

    Perhaps the easiest way to dissect the community would be to begin with its aconwera, roughly translated as tale of work. Here is where their society finds its greatest similarity with humans. There are many avenues of work, each known as an aconwer, and elves are free to pursue almost any aconwer regardless of age or experience. Only a handful of roles are reserved for dedicated individuals who serve as the core of each aconwer. These few are responsible for maintaining its integrity in a structure that is otherwise almost devoid of such fixtures.

    </blockquote>

    The page went on, but Caden''s head felt light. He sat back and stared, glassy-eyed, at the text.

    Perhaps it was just because it had been so recent, but Caden''s mind went back to his encounter with the watcher. His faint voice in oblivion was definitely not that of an augera, and Caden didn''t get the same feeling he did from the watcher as when he had engaged with a Fateweaver, so Caden had simply assumed he had met with another human mind, albeit one with great power, like the Demiurge.

    What if he had been wrong in that assumption? What if he had met with a mortal mind, but it wasn''t a mortal human mind? Might that not account for how whisper-quiet the watcher had been in oblivion, in a way that Caden had never before seen?

    It was possible, but there was no way for him to verify this now. Caden realised his heart was hammering away and forced himself to calm down so he could focus on reading.

    <blockquote>

    As soon as elves are of age (at around 15 harvests, by our reckoning) it is customary for them to seek out their own improvement in whatever discipline they desire. This freedom of choice is a persistent feature of elvish society and it is not unusual for elves to take up a different aconwer even after many years of serving in a particular place. Newcomers into each craft are apprenticed to those more experienced, following different hierarchies depending on the tradition of the work, and gradually move up the hierarchy as they prove their worth. By the time elves reach the evening years of their lives, it would not be unusual for them to have experienced what it is like to serve in almost all the regular aconwera. Because of this, the various functions of elven society are all fulfilled on an almost informal basis. The only solidarity to this system is provided by the handful of individuals who opt to confine themselves to a handful of aconwera instead of roaming across the whole spectrum. These few tend to serve as guardians and custodians of the traditions of their favoured aconwera.

    This fluidity surprisingly does not result in a major dearth in any given area of elven society. Most elves demonstrate an intuitive grasp of the greater good, and they exhibit an almost instinctive need to sacrifice personal desires to serve the needs of the community. In short, their societyбпs structure would never work for us. It is widely believed that the elven heritage of magic lends them a keen sense of empathy that few non-elven people can ever hope to emulate.

    Elvish society seems to function largely on consensus in major decisions like war of peacemaking, and the elven people demonstrate remarkably few instances of misunderstanding or disagreement. Even if the elves have differences, these are more likely to be based on differing opinions of what the greater good is, and they are able to quickly come to an agreement by virtue of that desire to serve the community.

    As a people, elves are known to be great proponents of simple living иC even their monarchs are housed in humble structures of their own making, as is the custom. Hoarding of individual wealth is a rarity, as elves tend to organise themselves into enclaves that operate almost like families, where possessions are communal to a certain degree. As such, there is little use for currency within elven societies иC many who do not deal with humans have never even handled money. They get by on a system of simple bartering of services and charity from fellows.

    Temperamentally, they can be unfathomably distant at times and surprisingly unreserved at others. Their moods seem to be governed less by their individual tastes, and more by societal norms which vary across the aconwera, the seasons, and even their physical location. That is not to say that they are not subject to the same passions as humans иC the difference seems to be simply one that stems from the fundamental difference in culture.

    There are, of course, elves who deviate from the norm and are more боhumanбп in their behaviour, meaning to say they do not function well in the fluidity and communal style of elven society. Although still respected by their боwilderбп brethren, these elves are, sadly, often treated with the same politely veiled suspicion that is usually reserved for outsiders.

    There are two major settlements populated by elves; one is their ancient stronghold Argwyden in the sprawling forests that stretch from the fringe of the Western Borderlands to the Shattered Crags; the other, Brycham, is found within the Paradise Range.

    The Cildana Gwyd are currently ruled by King Felavor Erindil and Queen Merelda Laurin. Their ages are not known, but they have been in power for at least eighty years.

    </blockquote>

    The summary ended there, and a quick flip through the rest of the section appeared to be a more detailed look at some aconwera. By the time Caden was done with that summary, though, he wasn''t in the frame of mind to read the rest.

    What else was here in the Vault? What other facts of the world and its history lay here, hidden from the people of the Empire? And how big was the world beyond it? Caden stared around at the shelves, feeling lost and alone.

 167. A Grim Beginning

    Caden spent the handful of hours he had left before the briefing to read as much as he could. However, overwhelmed as he was by the scale of this revelation and the prospect of even more unknown things about the past of the Empire and the world itself, progress was slow. By the time he had to leave to start the walk to the Nivordin Lecture Hall, he estimated that he had only made it halfway through all the various aconwera covered in the text.

    With a sigh, he brought the text over to the rest of the books on the wysana that were still where he had left them on one of the other tables in the Vault, and resolved to come back to it another time. Perhaps he would ask the Demiurge about it tonight, if they could arrange a meeting. And if not, he''d try and finish reading it before their first weekend session.

    It was already getting dark when Caden emerged from the library building. The campus was more populated than Caden had seen in awhile, and everyone was making their way towards the Nivordin Lecture Hall. He was mostly lost in thought as he followed the general flow of foot traffic, but a slight perturbation in oblivion drew his attention momentarily and he glanced towards the Spire. As ever, it towered over the campus, but at the moment its normally imposing silhouette seemed to have a strangely parental cast to it, as if it were leaning over him in concern.

    ''Your mind moves strangely,'' the augera murmured. ''Very troubled patterns.''

    ''I don''t feel like talking. Not now,'' he answered wearily. ''And especially not to you.''

    To his relief, the augera did not press the matter, and its presence withdrew from his awareness. The contact still left him in a somewhat irritable state, however, as he stewed over how apparently easy it was for all and sundry to peer into his mind and pick up his mood if they were well-versed enough in arcanophany or knew their way around the higher planes of oblivion. He started wondering how one might go about veiling their thoughts more thoroughly, and resolved to start down that line of inquiry with the Demiurge.

    Since he was so preoccupied, Caden wasn''t quite paying attention when he slipped into the hall. But something in the the air didn''t sit quite right, and he blinked in confusion as he stepped over the threshold, then gasped when he finally realised what he was seeing.

    The lecture hall was large enough to fit an entire cohort with some space to spare, but it didn''t occur to Caden until that moment that the entire body of fledging arcanists in the Academy had been called to attend this briefing, not just his cohort, which meant there wouldn''t be enough seats for everybody.

    However, the hall''s configuration had changed. Gone were the widely-spaced fixed tiered seats with foldable desks. In their place were sleek metal chairs placed more closely together. Each tier had also somehow stretched so that it was larger than what Caden remembered. The most remarkable thing was the stage, which seemed to have sunk several levels lower, creating more tiers for more seats to be placed. Somehow, the dimensions of the hall had increased. Caden took a moment to peer into oblivion and realised with a start that even after this adjustment, the hall wasn''t yet in its completely unveiled state. From what he could see of the arrangement in oblivion, the true size of the hall rivalled the main arena, and it contained features he didn''t understand. But what was even more surprising to Caden was the fact that the external dimensions of the building were fixed. Somehow, oblivion had been so cunningly folded here that the real, habitable space was larger on the inside than on the outside. Even trying to look at how it worked gave Caden a headache, so he abandoned the attempt and grounded himself more fully in the physical world.

    The hall was already mostly filled, and Caden spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. There were older students from the senior cohorts, but it seemed to Caden that there were fewer of them than expected, and he remembered that apparently not many of them had made it through Reeves'' ensorcelment trials. His cohort was likely the largest one now, since no one had failed, and at a glance it seemed like almost everyone had elected to return and submit to the conscription.

    Caden''s heart leapt to his throat when he spotted Devon near the front. He had turned around to glance across the hall and just happened to make eye contact with Caden in that moment, and he gave a pained smile before turning back to continue his conversation with the person next to him. Caden could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he recognised it was Jerric who was talking with Devon, and he could tell that the rest of his other friends were seated along the same row even though he was only looking at the backs of their heads.

    Then, almost as if he could feel Caden''s eyes on the back of his head, Ambrose turned very slowly and deliberately and looked straight at him. Ambrose frowned, looking troubled and confused, before bobbing his head in awkward acknowledgement and turning hastily away once he noticed that Caden was staring right back at him.

    Caden swallowed hard, grabbed the nearest available seat he could get somewhere closer to the back, and tried to still the hammering in his chest.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    After a few minutes, the steady flow of people coming in through the doors slowed to a trickle. Just as the last few students stepped in, the doors swung shut of their own accord and the empty stage was suddenly occupied by Demiurge Maugrim Caldwell in his full arcanist regalia, complete with the black staff. Even though his appearance had been completely silent, with no visual phenomena, every eye in the lecture hall was drawn to him. There were exclamations of surprise, and the hall filled up with excited conversation.

    This time, Caden sensed the folding of oblivion. The Demiurge had performed what he called ''phasing'' in order to appear before them out of thin air, though Caden still didn''t know the difference between that and straight-up teleportation.

    "Welcome back," Caldwell said softly, but his voice carried easily over the noise in the hall, and the babble died instantly.

    "On a good year," he continued, looking up at everyone, "the Academy sees around six to seven hundred arcanists in its halls across all the cohorts. But at the end of last term, our number was reduced by almost a third when they failed to prove themselves capable enough to resist ensorcelment."

    Caldwell gestured broadly at everyone. "And out of that qualified crop, fewer still have returned. Three hundred and ninety-two, to be precise. You have answered the call to serve the Empire, and have come to be trained as thaumaturgists."

    The heavy tap of Caldwell''s staff on the floor echoed ominously as he walked slowly to the edge of the stage, closer to the tiered seats. He leaned on the staff, suddenly ancient and weary, his next words directed more at the floor, though they still rang clear through the entire hall. "At the end of our accelerated year of training, we will not end with three hundred and ninety-two thaumaturgists. Your lecturers and I will do all we can do train you well, and to train you safely... but the path of a thaumaturgist is fraught with danger, moreso than the calling to any other vocation. In the best case scenario, you will meet your limits and learn them, and find the humility and grace to step back before you are visited by calamity. You will fail, and your time in the Academy will be cut short for now. Perhaps in a more peaceful age, you will return to study other more benign branches of arcanophany. You may even find another calling in life and leave arcanophany altogether. But the most important thing is you will live."

    He stepped away from the edge of the stage and turned his back to everyone, then gestured broadly with his staff. The massive blackboard seemed to disintegrate, but Caden realised it was merely being folded away into oblivion. In its place, the wall was now dominated by a massive slab of black marble. There were minuscule lines etched into it, and it took everyone a moment to realise that it was a list of names. Thousands of names.

    "In the worst case, you will not recognise the point of no return until you have crossed it. You will meet your end, and depending on the extent of your hubris or ignorance it will either be mercifully quick or painfully slow. But to mark your sacrifice in service, and the courage you show in daring to lay claim to power, your names will be recorded among the Academy''s honoured dead. Your families will be looked after. Your mistakes will be treasured. And so in your death, you will serve as a stepping stone for others to come, just as those who have come before will serve you."

    The Demiurge left his staff standing by itself before the memorial and turned to face everyone. "A thaumaturgist is not an ordinary arcanist. There is no future for a thaumaturgist that does not involve pain and suffering. You are about to enter the study of a field that bends arcanophany to destructive use, and even the larger body of arcanists who have merely dabbled in it do not know how truly dangerous a skilled thaumaturgist can be. There is a reason why Aiesta is feared above all nations, and why we, too, have so far elected to induct only a small number into this contingent each year. You will learn to wield terrible power, or else be broken by it."

    The tension in the hall was almost unbearable. It was clear that many were now having second thoughts, but no one seemed to dare to even breathe as the Demiurge spoke in his soft voice.

    "The year ahead of us will test you all, body, mind, and soul," he said, looking down at his feet. "To meet the needs of the Empire for today, the Academy has become a forge that will transform those of substance into weapons. You all will pass through the fire have have your mettle tested. For some, you will emerge refined. But for others, you will learn you are not suited for this path. I know you have been told, by the law of the Empire, that if you do not meet the call of service, you forfeit your future in the Academy. Even so, I want you to know that there is no shame in withdrawal. It takes wisdom to know yourself, and to know when you have come as far as you are able."

    The Demiurge walked slowly back to his staff and reclaimed it. The memorial melted away, allowing the blackboard to return to that position. Caldwell nodded up at the entrance, and the doors opened to admit Reeves, who slowly made his way down towards the stage. As Reeves came to stand behind the massive oaken desk, Caldwell turned to address everyone one last time.

    "Have courage," he said, smiling sadly, "and exercise wisdom. I would rather not have to carve any more names onto marble."

    In the blink of an eye, Caldwell vanished. Caden marked his disappearance in the slight folding of oblivion, and since he was watching for it, this time he caught the faint impression that the Demiurge had gone in the direction of the Spire.

    In the Demiurge''s absence, the hall erupted into noisy whispers, and Reeves simply watched in silence, allowing everyone to digest what the Demiurge had just told them. Caden looked closely at him and realised that he looked particularly careworn, and he seemed a little lost in his own thoughts as he gave everyone some time to talk among themselves.

    After a minute or two, the hall gradually fell quiet again as people started turning their attention to Reeves.

    "Heed the Demiurge''s advice," Reeves said. His voice was firm and businesslike, even though he still looked a bit distracted as he glanced around the hall. He gestured at the blackboard, which immediately filled with diagrams and instructions. "Now, listen carefully, and hold your questions for the end. Here is what to expect for the year."

 168. Friends and Foes

    Reeves spent around thirty minutes going through the new arrangements. Since the handful of professors in the Academy were not able to cater to the needs of the entire student population under the new accelerated Thaumaturgy specialisation, the Academy had brought in qualified thaumaturgists to serve as adjunct instructors to make up for the shortfall in staffing.

    However, even though everyone was going to be trained in thaumaturgy, there were two broad groups. The first group was the Primary Reserve, and would be made up of those who had finished the generalist three-year course would undergo more intensive training and, upon completion, be qualified as full thaumaturgists, considered on par with thaumaturgists that had completed the usual two-year specialisation.

    However, those still in the middle of the three-year generalist course would still have some classes to shore up their foundational knowledge in the other domains like glyphs, artefact creation and management, and healing. These would form the Secondary Reserve. Since those classes would eat into the amount of time that could be allotted to thaumaturgy training, they would only graduate with a provisional licence to serve as thaumaturgists during specified periods of crisis. Once the period of crisis was over, they would have to return to the Academy to go through a final assessment to be fully qualified as a thaumaturgist, or opt to go through the usual two-year specialisation course in another vocation.

    There was some murmuring from the seniors because it meant that first-year arcanists like those in Caden''s cohort would be counted as ''fully qualified'' on paper after just five terms of education in the Academy, in stark contrast with a properly-trained generalist who would have gone through at least twelve terms, and the specialists who would have completed twenty terms. But no one dared to interrupt Reeves. Privately, Caden felt that it signalled a certain level of desperation if the Empire was willing to push barely-qualified people into full wartime service. He wondered if the next cohort would be subjected to this as well, and be considered ''qualified'' and join the Secondary Reserve after just four terms of training.

    There was another major change that Reeves outlined which directly affected how the Academy would run бк the distinction between the cohorts in the Secondary Reserve would be abolished, and everyone would be reassigned into new groups with a roughly even distribution of people across the three cohorts within it. The rationale was that those who were more senior would be able to coach and assist their juniors, and the exposure to higher forms of arcanophanic practice would also help the juniors advance more quickly. Caden was torn between hoping to be in the same group as his once-friends and dreading that same possibility, but he put it out of his mind for now because Reeves hadn''t distributed the schedules yet and there was no point fretting over it.

    Once the administrative issues were out of the way, Reeves covered the safety measures and expectations that would govern all the Academy students.

    "The duelling compound has served as the designated site for practice duels outside curriculum hours, but there is a need to find more venues to accommodate the increased number of people who will be studying thaumaturgy. As such, the duelling chambers now cannot be booked for private use until after 9pm. This includes weekends, because the duelling chambers have been pre-booked for specialised practice sessions with designated groups of students."

    There was a bit of noise over this, but everyone quietened as Reeves raised a hand. "To make up for this, many of the tutorial rooms have been refitted to serve as smaller duelling chambers that will be open for private booking whenever available. However, there are limits to the thaumaturgical practice that can be performed there."

    Reeves spent a lot of time going over a system of classification for what kind of practice was allowed inside the refitted tutorial rooms, and while some of it made sense to Caden, there were other terms of reference that he wasn''t familiar with because it hadn''t yet come up in his studies last term. The longer he spoke, the more agitated some of the seniors became, because it looked like the use of the refitted rooms was going to be quite restricted and they wouldn''t be able to do a great deal inside them.

    "Some of this is likely still unclear, especially to those in the lower cohorts," Reeves said towards the end. "So for the first month, if you wish to make use of one of these refitted chambers, you are required to submit a plan of what you want to do and have it approved by one of the instructors before you will be given use of the room. Even then, you are to exercise caution and common sense бк do not deviate from your approved plan, or attempt to push the boundaries of your skill while within these less-secure chambers. The principle to follow is that you are to use these refitted rooms only to practice principles which you are already familiar with. You must be responsible for your own safety, or we will be adding more names to the list of the fallen."

    The Demiurge''s words were still clearly weighing on everyone''s minds, and the elements of dissatisfaction dissipated with Reeves'' reminder, though Caden thought there was still quite a bit of unhappiness.

    When it was finally time for the questions, there were a few that focused on the fact that there would be people ''graduating'' after only five terms in the Academy. Some of that clearly stemmed from a sense of unfairness, but there were a few who came from the angle of being concerned for whether or not these minimally-trained arcanists would really be qualified for active service. Reeves answered them calmly, no matter how many times the same issue was brought up in slightly different terms, and the message was the same бк the Empire had need, and they would have to make do with what they had, and while five terms did seem very short, the revised accelerated curriculum would make them passably competent. Some felt reassured or at least mollified, but Caden only felt more certain that the Empire had somehow been backed into a corner. His mind went back to the book he had read in the Vault, and he wondered at the other powers that were still out there in the world. Who, or what, had put the Empire in such a position? What did they want?

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    In time, the flow of questions stopped, and Caden felt a new measure of respect for Reeves because he had handled them all, even the most heated or pointed, without losing his composure or being short with the questioners no matter how close they came to impertinence. And he had made a special effort to be as reassuring as he could. It was quite a different side to him that had not really surfaced in the last term, when he had put himself forward as an imposing figure of authority, wielding the threat of expulsion if they failed to resist his ensorcelment.

    The last item from the briefing was the distribution of the schedules. At a gesture from Reeves, the table on the stage was suddenly filled with neat stacks of folders, which immediately began to shoot forward, darting all across the hall and coming to land neatly in the laps of startled students. Caden sensed a shifting in oblivion as the folders materialised, and he realised that it was a familiar sensation. Every time the Demiurge''s wysana had pulled clothes, or food, or drink out of thin air, it had done so with that same dipping into oblivion. But there was a crucial difference now бк it didn''t seem like Reeves had done the deed himself. His gesture had merely been a general activation, much like how a layperson might use an activation glyph to make use of a complex artefact. However, Caden hadn''t been able to catch the exact source of the arcana that had made the folders appear.

    Caden was pulled away from his musing about whether or not Reeves was capable of operating in oblivion when he started looking over his schedule and the list of students he had been grouped with. He felt a terrible sinking sensation as he ran a finger down the names and spotted only two that he recognised бк the twins. It looked like the rest were senior students, which struck him as a little oddly disproportionate. He and the twins were the only first-year arcanists in the group.

    "That concludes the briefing," Reeves said over the babble of noise as people compared schedules and called out to the people they recognised. "Have a good rest. The work starts tomorrow."

    People were already beginning to file out. Caden glanced towards the front where the six of his once-friends had huddled together and were poring over each others'' schedules, and he had to fight the urge to join them.

    We''re strangers now, he reminded himself. I should start thinking of them all that way. Even Devon.

    He swallowed a lump in his throat and joined the throng leaving the hall. Once outside, he drifted off to the side of the entrance and dithered there for a moment as he considered what to do now. Returning to the dorm meant seeing everyone else, and a possible confrontation. He knew he had to deal with that eventually, but he didn''t quite feel up for it at the moment. Perhaps he ought to just wander the grounds, or go back to the Vault, and only return to the dorm once it was late and everyone was asleep? Then he''d probably only have to talk to Ambrose. He might even be able to avoid that if Ambrose was sleeping and he entered quietly enough, because Ambrose wasn''t a light sleeper.

    "Hey," someone said, right behind him. "Caden, right?"

    Caden turned so quickly that he almost lost his balance and found himself looking up at a tall, broad-shouldered youth with short, dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes. Even though it was a little chilly, he was wearing only a maroon T-shirt and dark jeans.

    "Yeah," he replied, feeling a little tension drain out of him. There was something in the guy''s tone that had reminded him of Kevan, and it was a relief to see it wasn''t him. "Can I help you?"

    "I''m Bertram," the senior answered, smiling warmly and extending a hand. "And actually, it''s supposed to be the other way around."

    "Other way around?" Caden repeated, confused.

    Bertram nodded. "We''re grouped together. I recognised your name in the list. You''re the Top Scorer in your cohort. Well, this is my third year, and I''ve been Top Scorer in my cohort since I came in, so I thought I''d reach out to you since we''ll be seeing more of each other. If you need anything, let me know."

    "Oh." Caden stood there awkwardly for a moment before his manners finally caught up with him. "Sorry, I mean, thanks for the offer, that''s very kind of you."

    "No problem. Also, just a heads up if you don''t already know, but watch out for the twins. Last term, they got in touch with some seniors and started on things ahead of your cohort, and they''ve gotten a bit of a reputation for being, uh, quite intense, to put it nicely," he said, glancing around.

    Caden''s gave a wry grin. "Yeah, I know that firsthand."

    "You were in the same tutorial groups?" Bertram asked, grimacing in sympathy.

    "No, we were in the sameбк" Caden paused, then shook his head. "Uh, same cohort, so word got around."

    "Figures. Anyway, I''m off. See you in our first Thau session tomorrow. Sleep well, hydrate, and get a good breakfast in. I saw we got Kant, so he''s gonna hit us hard out the gate if the past is any indicator." Bertram waved, took off at a trot, and joined a group of his friends as they headed towards the dormitories.

    Kant. Caden''s stomach sank again as he realised he''d have another problem to grapple with, because according to the Demiurge, Kant was not on Caden''s side, and he had retained his memories of the past term.

    Bertram had given good advice, but now Caden was definitely not in the mood to face the rest of his once-friends, especially the twins. He turned towards the library and started off.

    He was so distracted he didn''t notice that his once-friends were just coming out of the entrance to the lecture hall, and twins were watching him go.

 169. Testing Limits

    Although Caden hadn''t really expected to be the only one headed to the library right after the briefing, he was a little surprised to see that there was actually a fair number of students making their way there ahead of him.

    It was clear that these students had something specific in mind because almost none of them stayed in the Upper Library. Slightly mystified, he followed the general throng into the Lower Library and found a little crowd forming at the reception desk. The sage addressing people''s needs there looked like he was barely managing to keep a lid on his irritation. Mystified, Caden drew closer.

    Caden realised that most of them had to be in the cohort just above his because he didn''t recognise any of the faces of those in the crowd. There were older students coming into the Lower Library, but those were avoiding the crowd around the reception and passing through the warded threshold without any problem, so those were likely in Bertram''s cohort or above, and had clearly already been granted access by default for being in their third year or beyond.

    "No," the sage was saying, clearly struggling to project an air of calm. "I cannot simply hand out dispensations for Lower Library access, even under present circumstances. The process of application still stands, even under present circumstances."

    "Isn''t there some way to accelerate the process?" one of the students asked.

    "As it stands, no, and especially not now that there are so many of you! Leave your name in the ledger and we will schedule you for the tests. You should be able to gain access within a week if you pass."

    He tried to slip by so he could get to the Vault but was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was a girl with hazel eyes and dark brown hair in a ponytail, wrapped cosily in a white jumper.

    "You''re a first-year, aren''t you? And you have access?" she asked softly, leaning in closer. She was just a shade taller than him.

    "Uh, yeah," Caden answered just as softly, uncomfortably aware of how they probably could still be heard if anyone was paying attention. It didn''t help that his personal space was also being violated.

    "Can you sneak me a book?"

    "Iбк what?"

    "It''s ''Thaumaturgical Glyph Arrays'' by Alyssa Nivordin. Please?"

    This was definitely not a conversation he wanted to have within earshot of a mob of students who were currently not allowed to access texts in the Lower Library. There wasn''t any place nearby for them to retreat to, and she wasn''t allowed past the warded gateway, so he lowered his voice even further. "The books can''t be taken over the threshold."

    He turned to go, but she caught his wrist. "Wait," she whispered frantically. "Then, please, can you just look through it and help me find something?"

    A few curious looks were being thrown their way. Caden felt his stomach twist a little at the very real possibility of being mobbed, and he instinctively dipped into oblivion to perform the trick that diverted a person''s attention. Everyone who had been looking somewhere else found their eyes darting back towards the sage at the reception, while the sage himself blinked down at himself just once with a slight frown before continuing to field questions. The girl was also momentarily distracted, but quickly turned back to him as soon as he spoke.

    "Not now," he answered shortly, feeling mildly irritated at himself for losing control like that. "You can meet me tomorrow morning in the cafe, half an hour before first class, and pass me a proper note of what you want."

    He didn''t wait for any acknowledgement before twisting out of her grip and darting past the warded threshold. A few people probably saw him enter, but since none of them could follow, he didn''t have to worry about any of them just yet. He desperately hoped no one managed to get a good look at him, or he might end up getting more odd requests from desperate second-years. He made a mental note to never allow any of his fellow cohort-mates to find out that he could access the Lower Library.

    The few seniors who had access were clearly here with a purpose as well. They were prowling through the shelves like sharks, pouncing on specific titles and rushing to find a space to sit, where they then pored over their chosen texts while furiously making notes.

    Overcome with curiosity, he drifted closer to one of the study tables where there were three seniors, each absorbed in their own studies. He didn''t wanted to disturb them, so he just snuck a look at the titles of a small pile of books in the centre.

    There it was. Thaumaturgical Glyph Arrays by Alyssa Nivordin, right at the bottom, under other titles like A Survey of Thaumaturgical Artefacts and Thaumaturgy and Glyph Theory.

    Now his interest was piqued. He went through the shelves and found another copy of Alyssa Nivordin''s text, but decided against hunkering down right there in the Lower Library. He took it right into the Vault and sat down where he had been only hours ago.

    As soon as he opened it, it was immediately clear that the text wasn''t a recent one, which he had already suspected because of the Nivordin name. The first page was a brief note by a sage explaining that this was an updated version of a much earlier text dating back to a time when the Empire was still ruled by the Nivordin line. The present Emperor was from the Deverryn line, which had been in power for the last three hundred years.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The sage who had transcribed the text had apparently decided to include a version re-written in the modern parlance. The transcription of the original was on the left side, with the sage''s re-written version on the facing page.

    There was no page of contents because apparently that was not how people wrote things in Alyssa''s time so there was no way for Caden to get a good idea of what the entire book contained, so he simply flipped through the pages at random.

    He stopped at a page with a clear diagram of a sequence, meant to be scribed in three dimensions. It was quite fascinating to see how people in the ancient Empire had written their sequences, because modern arcanophany had established standards to make things a lot clearer. Alyssa''s diagram, while not conforming to those standards, was nonetheless possible to follow, although it required a bit more work to decipher. The sage had reproduced her diagram, but also included a modernised version.

    Caden recognised a lot of glyphs from the Basic and Advanced Sets, but it was clear that they only formed the supporting framework for whatever this sequence was supposed to be. Their core made use of glyphs that Caden had yet to learn. He skimmed the surrounding pages for some idea of what its function was, and found a section that caught his attention.

    <blockquote>

    ... two-fold purpose: reinforcing the structure and amplifying the effects of a gestalt formation. The underpinning principles make use of corresponding arrays scribed into Spire foundations and establish a link with the font of arcana they supply...

    </blockquote>

    He skimmed that section, then found himself backtracking to get additional context. At first he was excited about the possibility of finding out more about how Spires worked because Alyssa''s explanation of the principles about the sequence went into some detail about how it interfaced with the Spire, but after some time, he realised that Alyssa was writing about the Spires without really understanding that they had chained augera at the core. Her explanations of the glyph sequence made reference to the Spires as massive artefacts, which was true, but at one point she digressed and wrote a short paragraph marvelling at the complexity of the Spire''s foundational sequences and wondering how her sequence was able to latch on to it even though she didn''t fully understand the underpinning principles.

    There was a lot more technical language, and Caden suspected that if he did take the time to unpack the text a bit more he might actually get something useful he could apply, but that was a project for another time. He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, allowing his eyes to roam across the shelves of the Vault.

    There was an air of timelessness there that Caden hadn''t really paid attention to before, because the work he was usually engaged in while inside demanded so much of him. But now that he was in there with the primary intention of just letting time pass, it presented to himself so strongly that he realised for the first time that it had to involve some form of arcanophany. But why, he wondered, did it only really register now when he wasn''t busily engaged in something?

    The Spire augera made its presence known to him as a gentle warmth at the edge of his perception. ''Shapes,'' it intoned. ''Shapes of auric-ambient-flare triggers sequences.''

    Caden was too curious to mind the augera''s somewhat unwanted intrusion. ''Shapes, as in... a person''s mindset? The state of mind they''re in? Sequences can be triggered just based on that?''

    ''Yes. Some special sequences instruct the web. The web observes, assesses, then acts in accordance. Vault is ancient weaving, many special sequences.''

    As reluctant as Caden was to rely on the augera for information, he was finding this immensely useful. Their largely concept-based communication meant he was probably still not fully catching their meaning, but it was nice to have immediate answers. In fact, for the first time since the offer to simply have the augera ''gift'' to him any ''shapes of knowing'' was made to him, Caden was sorely tempted to accept it.

    ''Ready to accept?'' the augera asked, its presence drifting closer, growing more intense.

    ''What do you get out of it?'' Caden returned sharply, shying away from it.

    The augera seemed a little stung by this withdrawal. ''A stronger unchosen-sighted-{~?~} is thorn in ancient-distant-spiders'' plans. A thorn can make a tiny rip in the web. A tiny rip can turn into a great tear. A great tear can become a complete unravelling. Mortal. Caden. Our minds are vast and alien to you, but our desire is plain: freedom.''

    ''Yes, I get that. But that just makes me a tool.''

    ''You will be stronger. Is this not a good thing?''

    There was so much that Caden wanted to say, but all his reservations hung over him like a terrible shadow, too hard to fully phrase in the heat of the moment. After all that had transpired, his instinct was to reject anything the augera had to offer, but he could not deny the clear advantages he would get if he aligned himself with them again.

    ''One gift,'' the augera suggested, after waiting for a moment. ''Take one gift, one shape of knowing. See if the arrangement pleases you. Then take more as you wish.''

    ''That''s exactly how addictions start,'' Caden replied with a laugh. ''Do you even hear yourself?''

    The augera''s frustration washed out across the arcana, forcing Caden to firmly anchor himself or risk having his mind battered by its emotions. The reaction was so great that Caden was sure he had struck a nerve, so to speak, because by now the augera learned to do a relatively good job of moderating their responses and protecting him from any backwash.

    ''I do not. Geldor-woven-shackled-stream speaks better with mortals, but distance is now too great for it to speak softly, so it is Academy-woven-shackled-stream that must parlay. My shape of knowing mortal minds is simpler, further from subtle. I do not perceive your fears, your tiny anxieties, your scattered distrust. What do you want, Caden? WHAT FURTHER REASSURANCES DO YOU WANT, MORTAL?''

    Its anger and frustration was growing more intense, and Caden''s anchor was rapidly falling apart. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. In desperation, he flung himself into oblivion and tried to remember what it felt like to fight a Fateweaver in this nebulous space-that-was-not-space, tried to use some of the tricks that the augera themselves had made him perform so he could evade the Fateweaver''s attacks. His auric-ambient-flare stretched and twisted itself into fantastical shapes. There was something about pulling things apart, about shunting things sideways, about hurling himself into the unknown...

    ''No, stop,'' the augera boomed, its presence a lot clearer in oblivion, its emotions stronger and more overwhelming. There was even a strain of fear and panic now, soaring over the anger and frustration. But Caden found that somehow, in oblivion, it was easier now to think around, or over, or under the overpowering streams of its consciousness. ''Stop. I am sorry.''

    Caden had no idea what had brought on this change. He drew the borders of his auric-ambient-flare back into their original shape, then gently brought his consciousness back to the physical realm.

    The Demiurge burst through the doors and into the Vault as soon as Caden opened his eyes. "What do you think you''re doing?" he thundered, his voice echoing in the Vault and through the arcana.

 170. Binding Power

    To the naked eye, the nimbus of arcana swirling around the Demiurge was so thick that he was almost nothing more than a human silhouette, framed in the archway of the Vault. The staff in his hand, something Caden already recognised as an imposing implement of power through their training sessions, now seemed more like a legendary artefact right out of some ancient fable. The crystal at its tip was flaring wildly with an inner light that cut so painfully through the air Caden''s hand instinctively came up to shield his eyes even as he shut them again, but that didn''t do much. The light penetrated right through his hand and his eyelids, and he could see his bones and veins with each flash of radiant power.

    Caden fell backwards and, once more, tried to abandon his physical senses even as they were overwhelmed, but the arcanic sea and even oblivion were somehow closed to him, leaving him trapped in the world of flesh and blood, so all he could do was curl himself into a ball, battered by the terrible light coming from the Demiurge''s wysana.

    He couldn''t not see anything because even through his closed eyes and the arms he had thrown over his head, he could still make out vague shapes and movements thanks to that penetrative radiance. What was more, there was a persistent ringing, as if the world itself were a glass of fine crystal that had been struck, only that eye-wateringly pure note was getting louder and louder. The light and the sound seemed to be working in tandem, each urging the other to a greater intensity, so that even as the light threatened to blot out everything in nothing but whiteness, the crystal note seemed to supplant even the concept of silence itself.

    The terrible pressure that kept Caden locked in the physical world suddenly vanished, and he sank gratefully into the arcanic sea to escape the sensory overload. Even as he did so, he realised that the worst of it was past. The Demiurge had stopped whatever he was doing, and the light and the crystal note were rapidly fading away. Their perturbations still rippled through the arcanic sea, and even though a great deal of it was incomprehensibly alien to Caden, they did strike him as vaguely familiar. A moment later, it came to him бк these were similar to the perturbations that had thrown Caden and his friends to the edge of sanity the first time they had witnessed the Demiurge clashing with the wild augera by the lake.

    His eyes and ears were still recovering, so Caden opted to concentrate more on the arcanic sea. ''What happened?'' he asked, watching the Demiurge''s auric-ambient-flare with a healthy dose of caution.

    ''You happened,'' the Demiurge snapped. ''The augera probably goaded you, but I thought you knew better.''

    Caden had to remind himself to breathe. Whatever the Demiurge had done had been drastic, and if Caden had been any less trained, he would probably have succumbed to the same kind of stupor that he had fallen into after witnessing the Demiurge''s clash with the lake augera. He recognised how his auric-ambient-flare was reacting to all the arcana that had been flung around in strange, exotic sequences, and he turned his attention away from the Demiurge to bring himself back to a state of equilibrium.

    The Demiurge waited for Caden to recover but he spent the time pacing agitatedly around the Vault while his auric-ambient-flare flashed from point to point, calling up sequences that had been embedded into the stone. It seemed to Caden as though Caldwell was communicating with the Vault, but Caden was too distracted with settling his own auric-ambient-flare to really pay much attention to what Caldwell was doing.

    It took about five minutes for Caden to finally settle the fluctuations in himself, and by then his eyes weren''t dazzled anymore and his ears had stopped ringing, so he picked himself off the floor, walked shakily over to a chair, and sank into it. The Demiurge pulled up a chair of his own and sat facing Caden, his legs and arms crossed while the staff stood perfectly balanced next to him.

    "So," Caldwell said in clipped tones. "Do you even know what you did?"

    This was probably the first time Caden had seen Caldwell... not angry, exactly, but definitely displeased. Still, Caden felt it was a little unfair for the Demiurge to be so short with him when he had only been defending himself against the augera''s outburst. "But I was just trying toбк" Caden began.

    "No," Caldwell interrupted, his disapproving frown deepening. "I did not ask for justifications. Do you know what you did?"

    Caden knew the Demiurge well enough by now to recognise that this was turning into a sort of lesson. Caldwell was making use of a teachable moment, even in his displeasure. Now that he was being asked to consider the situation more carefully, he tried to reconstruct the scene in his head. It had all happened so quickly that it was difficult to really say what had happened. Caden glanced around the Vault, trying to get some clue as to what might have transpired, but it appeared completely untouched.

    "I tried to... I think I..." he trailed off, unable to really articulate what had gone through his mind in those moments after the augera had bellowed at him and almost overwhelmed him with its anger and frustration.

    The Demiurge waited for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I did not ask for what you think. I asked for what you know. Do you know what you did?"

    The perturbations in the arcanic sea were gone now, and even a little dip into oblivion yielded no clues. It was as if nothing had happened. There was nothing Caden could use to even form an educated guess, let alone come to a solid conclusion like the Demiurge was asking for. Could it really have been that bad, then?

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    "No," Caden admitted. "I don''t know what I did."

    Caldwell pursed his lips, then nodded. "Now tell me what you think you did."

    Swallowing his irritation at the Demiurge''s questioning methods, Caden went back to trying to put words to his maneuvers in oblivion. But after another stretch of silence, he gave up and decided to just explain the little he could. "I was thinking back to when the augera made use of me against the Fateweaver. They did things that... involved dodging. Or moving in oblivion in certain ways. So I just tried to copy that from memory."

    The Demiurge closed his eyes, leaned back, took a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. The tension seemed to bleed out of his limbs, and when he looked back to Caden, he seemed in a much better mood. "Well, it''s late, and getting you to understand the totality of your misstep is, for the moment, a literal impossibility. You need to progress further before I can really teach you how to address that mistake. In the interm, we need to deal with this thing between you and the augera."

    He stood and snatched his staff up, took a few steps away, and swung it as though he were trying to take off someone''s head. Caden flinched out of the way even though he wasn''t near enough to be struck, then gaped in confusion as the Demiurge''s swing really did seem to catch something in the air. There was a sound like glass being smashed, and a spiderweb of cracks appeared in mid-air.

    "What?!" Caden blurted.

    But the Demiurge wasn''t done. He took aim with his staff, then jabbed the crystal right through the centre of the impact pattern. A concentrated burst of arcana washed out, and the presence of the woven-shackled-stream bled into the Vault, so thick and palpable that it actually congealed into a translucent, physical form бк a shadow of the giant dodecahedron crystal that served as the augera''s prison.

    "Woven-shackled-stream," the Demiurge pronounced.

    ''White-bright-power,'' the augera answered grudgingly. But then the shadowy crystal twitched, somehow conveying curiosity. ''This is not the usual way of things. Are you not invoking control?''

    "I am mediating. You approached Caden, then almost drowned him." The Demiurge folded his arms and let his staff balance itself, and despite the oddness of the scene, Caden was suddenly struck by how much this felt like a father chiding his child.

    ''Regrettable. But the response was unexpected and disproportionate,'' the augera replied a little defiantly.

    "The fault lies primarily with you. You have relied upon the protective restraint of the will-curse-test in your dealings with people, and it has changed you. If you wish to deal with Caden, it is your responsibility to remember he is no longer under the auspices of the Fateweavers, and you must rein yourself in accordingly."

    Indignation bubbled up from the augera, but it swiftly shunted the emotion aside before it bled into the arcana. ''Will remember.''

    The shadow of the crystal edged closer to the crack in the air, but the Demiurge grasped his staff again with a hand and the shadowy crystal shuddered in place as it came to a sudden halt. "I haven''t dismissed you yet. Hear me. While Caden is no longer under the Fateweavers'' protection, he is still under mine. And I am not leaving this unresolved."

    The crystal shuddered again and the augera tried to twist itself out of the Demiurge''s invisible grip. Its movement was so violent that Caden actually saw the shape of the crystal deform a little before snapping back into its original shape. ''What is this? What do you mean to do? What further abominable weavingбк''

    "Woven-shackled-stream," the Demiurge called out, his voice ringing with power. The wysana in his staff echoed his words like a chorus of voices on its own, and together the chord they formed became a shackle of sound. "You wish a compact with the unchosen-sighted-{~?~}."

    ''It is not your binding to make!'' the augera raged, and the shadowy crystal deformed again. Caden wondered if this was actually happening to the giant dodecahedron in the Spire at that very moment. Curiously, he felt nothing in the arcanic sea, or even oblivion. But the urgency of the situation forced him back to the present, because it sounded like the Demiurge himself was about to broker some sort of deal between him and the augera, and Caden still hadn''t made up his own mind about whether he was going to really take up the augera''s offer.

    "Wait," Caden said, raising his voice to make sure he was heard, "I didn''t say Iбк"

    "You shall have no compact," Caldwell intoned, nodding to acknowledge Caden, "until he forges it himself. And until such a compact is forged, you are hereby bound by the terms of my pronouncement. You may not speak to Caden unless first spoken to, and you will observe silence at his request."

    The chorus of Caldwell''s and the wysana''s voices hung in the air long after the words had left his lips, and they repeated themselves over and over until the words became unintelligible noise, and soon even that noise faded away as it blended into the fabric of reality itself, becoming nothing more than the silence that filled the air.

    ''So much weight, for so trivial a thing?'' the augera asked, more confused than angry now. ''No weavings of protection, no binding of power, no sealing of arcana?''

    "I am not an ancient-distant-spider," Caldwell answered testily. "In any case, your motives are clear. You intend for him to free you, and he can''t do that if he dies or goes mad just because you lost your temper. Now that I''ve pointed out how silly you have been, I trust you will remember his fragility, and the fact that your power is no longer fettered in your dealings with him. My only concern now is for his peace of mind, and having you lot chattering at him every idle moment is not going to do him any favours. So do your watching and waiting, and your plotting and planning... but do it in silence. When he is ready and willing, he will call to you."

    Without waiting for a response, Caldwell waved his staff and sent the shadowy crystal hurtling back through the crack in the air, which sealed itself with a loud snap. He turned back to Caden and smiled, though he seemed to be suddenly very weary.

    "I think that''s enough excitement for one night. In light of what has happened, I think it would be best if you met me here tomorrow at seven, after dinner. The pace of our training must be accelerated. For now... go back to your dorm, and get a good rest."

    It was clear the Demiurge would not be argued with. Reluctantly, Caden left, and as soon as he was over the threshold of the Vault, the opening turned into a solid wall as Caldwell sealed it. Caden sensed the sequences sliding into place in oblivion, and even though he knew the Vault was still there, it was impenetrable and inscrutable.

    "Remember, Caden, go back to the dorm," the Demiurge sent through the arcana. "No more detours for tonight."

 171. Weary Wariness

    The Lower Library was still haunted by seniors tucked away in various corners, and they paid Caden no mind as he made his way out. The sage at the reception had managed to tame the crowd and it was now somewhat thinned, having turned from a messy mob into a vaguely-ordered line as the juniors came forward to put their names in the ledger and register for the test that would grant them access.

    Because the scene was less chaotic, Caden''s exit did not go unnoticed. A few curious looks were thrown his way as he emerged from the warded archway leading to the rest of the Lower Library. Thankfully, everyone seemed to have been cowed into silence by the sage and no one left the line to engage with Caden, so he managed to leave without causing a scene.

    The shadowy silhouette of the Spire loomed over the grounds, but perhaps because of the Demiurge''s latest binding, Caden didn''t feel the sense of being watched by unseen eyes. Grateful for this reprieve, Caden turned his back to it and slowly made his way to the dormitory. His steps were sluggish and even though he was rather mentally exhausted from the day''s events, he couldn''t stop himself from rehearsing in his mind for the first full encounter with the whole group of his once-friends.

    The way things were likely to play out probably hinged on whether Devon had shared everything he learned from their morning encounter. If Devon spilled the beans about Caden having the intention to learn how to unmake prophecies, then the twins would likely be hostile. He thought Jerric and Ambrose might be a little more on the fence and just lean slightly towards suspicion, but it then occurred to him that he ought not to be projecting their possible response based on how they had behaved towards him over the past term, because now that he was effectively a total stranger to them they had no reason to think charitably towards him at all. So that meant it was possible, even probable, that everyone would be hostile if Devon clued them in on Caden''s personal stand on prophecies.

    The best case scenario would be if Devon kept the info to himself for now. The twins would likely be cordial or completely aloof. Jerric would make small talk just to be polite. And Ambrose would probably be very reticent and shy, and give him plenty of space.

    He finally got to the dorm and steeled himself. There was no point dithering at the doorstep and trying to plan for every eventuality, and no good would come of putting off the moment of confrontation. He had already made the decision to be here when the Demiurge presented him with the option of staying in the dorm or moving out, so it was time to really commit. He sucked in a fortifying lungful of the cold night air and made his way up.

    It was a testament to the effectiveness of the Demiurge''s training that even in his state of general weariness, Caden was still capable of partially dipping into oblivion just to be extra safe. After all, he had been attacked in the dorm, and he was now walking into a potential minefield with the Six-Chained-Foundations who were the direct subjects of the Fateweavers'' Major Prophecy. It made sense to be on guard.

    He hesitated briefly with his hand on the doorknob. There was no stirring in the arcanic sea or oblivion to indicate that anything was amiss. He heard familiar voices, but the conversation was muted by the door so all he could catch was the general cadence бк relaxed and breezy.

    The doorknob creaked a little under the tightness of his grip as he turned it and let himself in.

    It was a scene so familiar that for a moment it felt like nothing had changed. Kevan was lounging on the couch, taking up more space than was necessary, while Lynus occupied what was left. Jerric was in the remaining seat around the low table, a book held loosely in his hand with his attention temporarily diverted by the earlier conversation. Devon was at the dining table with his back to the counter, occupying the seat in the middle, with Ambrose seated across him.

    But it was the small details that suddenly jumped out and reminded Caden, very forcefully, that things were not the same. The seat he normally occupied, next to Devon and furthest away from the couch, was tucked firmly against the table instead of being partially-drawn like the rest of the seats. Even though he had sat in it that morning, someone (presumably Jerric) had pushed it back in, and no one had made use of it since then. And Ambrose was also in the ''wrong'' spot, because he normally sat across Caden.

    Even the reaction to Caden''s entrance drove him how these were not really his friends, at least not in their minds. Devon gave him a wary nod of acknowledgement instead of his usual warm smile. Jerric normally offered a gentle bob of his head and a half-grin, but now all Caden got was a look of curiosity. He got no bland pursing of the lips from Kevan, or slight lifting of the eyebrows from Lynus. Instead, the twins fixed him with the measuring looks they reserved for strangers they were sizing up.

    And while Ambrose had never really been the most expressive person, Caden had learned to read the microexpressions that signalled recognition, or the slight smile that mostly only showed itself through the crinkle in his eyes. But now Ambrose didn''t even meet his eyes бк his gaze darted quickly in Caden''s general direction and moved on just as swiftly, like a startled deer.

    "Hi," Caden heard himself say, his voice impossibly distant even to his own ears. "I''m... I''ve moved in. Got the last spot. Name''s Caden."

    "We know," Kevan said evenly, still with that evaluative look in his eyes. He didn''t shift from his position at all. "Dev mentioned that Ambrose finally has to share his room."

    There was a pause, but an instant before the moment became awkward, Jerric got up and came forward to offer a hand in greeting, and Caden shook it gratefully. "Welcome to the dorm," he said, and finally that half-grin appeared. "I''m Jerric. That guy''s Kevan. The other one''s Lynus. The two of them like to compete to see who can be the bigger pain. Last term it was mostly Kevan who won, but this term I think I''ve got my money on Ly."

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Kevan laughed while Lynus shot both of them a sour look along with the middle finger. "You''ve already met Devon," Jerric continued, turning towards the dining table and pretending not to have seen. "That leaves Ambrose, who you''ll be rooming with. He''s, uh... well, you''ll get used to him."

    Ambrose gave a pained smile at Jerric, still avoiding Caden''s eyes. "That doesn''t make me sound good."

    Jerric shrugged, but somehow Caden felt the casualness seemed a little forced, like he was trying to cover the moment with the usual level of familiarity they shared and failing to really make it genuine. "He''s weird," Jerric supplied, giving Caden a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes shy. Then suddenly intense. Like I said, you''ll get used to him."

    "I''m sure I will," Caden said. He didn''t have to fake his awkwardness at all because even though the banter and their general manner were familiar to him, he didn''t feel like he could fit into the casual pattern of interaction they shared with each other.

    No one said anything and the moment stretched. In the normal course of things, Devon might have swooped in at that point to steer the conversation, but he appeared to be taking a leaf out of Ambrose''s book and was now avoiding Caden''s eyes.

    "Well... I''m beat, so... I think I''ll just get an early night. Catch you guys in the morning," Caden said quietly. That got some noises of general acknowledgement from the rest, and he seized the moment and retreated into his room, got what he needed, and retreated into the shower. He cleaned up as quickly as he could and then hurried back into the room.

    The others had resumed their conversation, which appeared to be mostly about their expectations and worries about the term. A part of Caden yearned to join in, but by that point he was mostly too emotionally drained to seriously entertain the idea of putting himself though more awkwardness and heartache by planting himself at the kitchen table next to Devon, so he threw himself into bed and forced himself to empty his mind.

    Sleep did not come easily. The voices of the others drifted in and out of his awareness and his tired mind stumbled blearily through the fragments of their conversation, occasionally slipping into vague memories or fragile dreams before meandering back to the fringes of consciousness. He wasn''t sure how long they stayed up, but it felt like it was well past midnight the voices died down and were replaced instead with the distant sound of running water, and then, eventually, silence. He half-registered Ambrose coming into the room, moving as quietly as possible, then crawling into bed and pulling the covers over himself.

    He almost fell properly asleep, until Ambrose plunged into oblivion.

    Caden was instantly awake and he instinctively dived in too, because Ambrose''s sudden entrance had felt extremely sharp and purposeful, and the general sense of it reminded Caden on a very visceral level of the attack he had suffered in an identical bed. His auric-ambient-flare tensed into readiness and his mind swept across the area, ready to unravel hostile sequences or phase him out of harm''s way.

    ''I thought so.''

    It was Ambrose''s mind, which had turned into a pinpoint of pure focus with no emotional slippage at all. His auric-ambient-flare was inscrutable to Caden even in oblivion, offering no insight into his thoughts or present mood. More horrifyingly, while it was still recognisably the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer, the shape was definitely different. He had limbs now, stretching spider-like across the planes of oblivion, not as well-formed or ineffably powerful as a Fateweaver, but definitely of the same nature.

    Caden readied himself for an imminent attack and tried to draw all of his own emotional slippage in, and while he managed to veil his thoughts to some extent, it was not as perfect as Ambrose''s veil. ''What did you think?'' Caden asked, his thoughts slightly coloured with a mix of fear and defiance.

    ''I suspected you were different,'' Ambrose answered evenly. ''Your auric-ambient-flare is... well, poised, I guess. Balanced. Very stable. I guess it''s because you''ve been here, in oblivion. You''ve stepped in higher planes, and it changes the way you move through the world.''

    The alien shape of Ambrose''s auric-ambient-flare was obvious, and it didn''t appear as though he was trying to hide it anyway, so Caden decided to just come right out and ask. ''And what happened to yours? Those legs. What are they?''

    Ambrose didn''t answer immediately, and his control over himself was so absolute that Caden couldn''t tell if it was hesitation, or careful consideration, or some other thing that delayed the response. When Ambrose finally replied, his tone was still calm and even. ''You''ll probably know eventually, if you don''t already know, but I''m not comfortable talking about it yet. There are things about you I want to know too, but obviously I don''t expect you to bare your soul just because I asked. Let''s just get to know each other in the normal way first. And then if this stuff comes up again... well... then we''ll cross that bridge when we get to it. How''s that sound?''

    Caden watched the limbs with a mounting sense of trepidation, especially when he noticed how they were positioned in a way that seemed to match the pattern of the Fateweaver he had met бк they were touching other points in time and space, anchoring Ambrose in ways that Caden didn''t understand at all. How far along was he on the path to being a Fateweaver? Was he, even now, forming knots in an attempt to catch Caden? It would probably be futile, but it still felt like he was being carefully maneuvered into a position to be attacked.

    ''That''s reasonable,'' Caden answered slowly. ''But I also know enough about these higher planes to know that you might be trying something beyond my ability to perceive. How do I know that you''re not going to catch me off-guard with something?''

    For the first time, Caden caught a little bit of slippage. Ambrose seemed taken aback, and a little indignant. ''Because I''m not that kind of guy. You can trust me.''

    Caden managed to stop himself from blurting out ''Can I?'' although he wasn''t entirely successful in veiling every smidgeon of suspicion. ''I guess I''ll have to take your word for it,'' he replied, resigned.

    Ambrose intentionally dropped more of the veil so that Caden could read the sense of gratefulness and optimism in his auric-ambient-flare. Then, without another word, he dropped out of oblivion. Caden lingered for a moment longer, then followed suit.

    "Goodnight, Caden," Ambrose said softly, before turning over to his usual sleeping position.

    "... Night," Caden answered, beating back a wave of nostalgia. When sleep finally came for his exhausted mind, he surrendered gratefully.

 172. New Connections

    Perhaps because of how keyed up he had been the entire day, Caden woke before his alarm went off, though he was relieved to see that he had only lost five minutes of sleep. He had been so exhausted that he couldn''t even remember if he had dreamt anything, and so it felt like he had fallen asleep only moments ago before waking, clear-eyed and refreshed. The room was still dark but Caden could see across the room where Ambrose''s shape was still curled comfortably beneath the covers, with the faint sound of his breathing filling the room. With practiced ease, Caden quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

    It occurred to him while he was brushing his teeth and taming his hair that Devon would likely be up soon, and sure enough, when he was done and had gone back to the common area, Devon was just stepping out of his room.

    He was in the middle of a yawn when he caught sight of Caden, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. A few awkwardly funny seconds passed as he tried and failed to stifle the yawn and talk at the same time. "Morning," he finally managed. "Didn''t expect anyone else to be up."

    "But I''m always up this early too," Caden said automatically in a tone of mild bewilderment. He immediately realised his misstep because of course this once-friend version of Devon wouldn''t know that, having just met him yesterday, but the response had slipped out before he could stop himself and now it was too late to take back what he had said.

    "Oh. Uh, sorry, might''ve missed you saying it yesterday," Devon said. He gestured vaguely at the bathroom closer to his room. "Well I''ll be just a few minutes, then I''m getting started on making breakfast."

    "For everyone?" Caden asked tentatively. After yesterday''s events, he wasn''t really sure where he stood with Devon.

    Devon rolled his eyes. "Of course it''s for everyone. I told you, didn''t I? In this dorm, we eat well. And you''re in this dorm now. Plus, I figure maybe if I feed you well enough, you won''t end up destroying the Empire or something."

    Caden laughed despite himself, and Devon shot him a grin before retreating into the bathroom. Feeling considerably lighter, Caden snuck back into the room since Ambrose was still sleeping, packed what he would need for the day, then left his bag on the couch. Devon emerged after a few more minutes and made his way to the counter, where he started pulling out what he needed to make breakfast бк a carton of eggs, a box of cherry tomatoes, and a few sprigs of basil.

    "Need help?" Caden went up to the counter.

    "I don''t know," Devon said, eyeing him dubiously. "How are you with omelettes?"

    "Uh... they''ll be edible, but probably not pretty," Caden admitted.

    "Well, we can give the shitty ones to Lynus," Devon said cheerfully, pushing the skillet over to Caden and nodding at the stove. "If you don''t get better after the first two, I''ll take over."

    Even though Devon''s manner had been breezy up to that point, there was a definite change in the way he behaved around Caden now. After sorting out the cooking arrangements, Devon worked in silence, apparently lost in thought. He still spoke up and gave instructions and helpful tips when it was time for Caden to try making the omelettes, but he otherwise kept his comments brief, and there was less of the easy banter that usually flowed between them. Caden was saddened by this new distance, but he was grateful that Devon hadn''t completely closed the door of friendship despite the monumental shock he had gone through the previous day.

    Thankfully the first two omelettes were decent, and though the cherry tomato slices and basil weren''t well-contained within them, Devon pronounced them passable and permitted Caden to continue while he started cooking omelettes with another skillet. They worked in companionable silence and soon breakfast was ready. Right on cue, the scent of warm food brought the rest out of their rooms, bleary-eyed, and everyone took their usual seats.

    "C''mon," Devon said, gesturing to Caden to take the remaining empty chair.

    Once again, it was the little details that drove home how he was a stranger to these once-friends. Like the night before, Ambrose was in the middle seat directly across Devon, which was not the way Caden remembered things. The informal arrangement that everyone had fallen into over the last term meant that the roommates should all be sitting across each other. But now, Jerric was to Ambrose''s left, facing the empty seat that was now left for Caden. He wondered for a moment if this reflected something deeper бк had their relationships shifted? Was Jerric now not as close to Devon? Had Devon been drawn into a deeper friendship with Ambrose than before?

    He joined the table and sat across Jerric while the breakfast table chatter started up. Even though he hadn''t really held out any hope of being able to go through breakfast without being interrogated, his heart still sank when Kevan finally looked up and directed a question at him. "So Caden, Emilia said you''re pretty good at Thaumaturgy. How good do you think you are?"

    Caden had to bite his tongue before he said something unwise. He took a moment to finish chewing, then answered carefully, "Good enough for now. But there''s room for improvement."

    Kevan grinned. "Wanna have a go in the arena, if we manage to get a spot?"

    Ambrose let out a small chuckle and everyone''s attention turned to him. He looked up, a little taken aback. "What?" he asked.

    "You think I shouldn''t fight him?" Kevan asked, though Caden was rather surprised by the tone. It wasn''t issued as a challenge or delivered in an abrasive manner. It almost sounded as if Kevan was looking to Ambrose for direction or instruction.

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    "Oh. No, I just thought... I mean, you''ve kinda just met him, and that''s the first thing you ask. That''s, uh, typical of you," Ambrose said, grinning a little.

    The others chortled and even Kevan joined in. He shot a slightly apologetic look at Caden, then addressed Ambrose. "He''s the Top Scorer man. And Emilia says he''d make a good sparring partner. Don''t tell me you''re not even a little bit interested?"

    Ambrose shot a cryptic sideways look at Caden before turning back to the rest. "If he wants to fight, sure, but I''m not the kind of person to push people into it. That''s more your thing, Kev."

    Something had definitely changed in the dynamic here. That kind of talk might have once irritated Kevan, but now it seemed to have become a part of the normal banter.

    "You don''t have to get dragged into all this," Jerric said wearily. "I mean, unless you''re another duelling junkie and this really is your thing. If not, you''re welcome to join the more normal people." He indicated himself and Devon.

    "What, I''m not normal?" Ambrose asked, looking wounded that he hadn''t been included.

    "No," everyone else said in unison, except Caden. Their response was immediate and emphatic, and they all burst out laughing.

    "Definitely not normal," Devon added after the laughter. Caden thought he detected a tinge of bitterness and that his cheerful response had been a little forced. No one else seemed to pick up on that, except for Ambrose, whose gaze lingered on him a moment longer.

    "I think I''ll have out with the normies," Caden said, trying to sound lighthearted. That got an exaggerated groan of disappointment from Kevan and he didn''t pursue the matter further. Caden noticed Lynus smirking to himself, but he decided not to remark on it.

    The conversation turned to speculation on the term''s curriculum as the rest picked up from where they had left off the night before. After awhile, Caden checked his watch and excused himself.

    "We''ve got almost an hour more," Lynus pointed out innocently, though he was transparently trying to worm some information out. "You got somewhere to be?"

    "I''m meeting someone at the library before class," Caden said, since it wasn''t anything he needed to hide.

    "Who?" Lynus asked. "A girl?"

    Kevan elbowed his brother and rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. But seriously. Is it a girl?"

    Jerric let out an exaggerated sigh and waved at Caden to go. "Quick, before they get any worse."

    "Tell us about it in class later!" Kevan called as Caden took the chance to duck out the door.

    There was enough time for him to get to the library ahead of his planned meeting with the mysterious second-year student. The place was mostly empty, with only a handful of people in the cafe having breakfast. He found a seat and settled in to wait.

    On the dot, half an hour before their first class at 9 in the morning, the girl burst noisily through the library doors. She was dressed quite differently and it took Caden a moment to recognise her by her ponytail. She had traded her oversized white jumper for a denim jacket over a white top, and her black jeans ended in a pair of low-cut brown boots. She ran, panting, over to the cafe area and flopped down in a chair facing Caden. "Sorry," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Had stuff. Ran here."

    "No worries," Caden said. He watched as she set a very functional, rugged-looking leather backpack on the table and proceeded to take out a well-worn notebook, a writing pad, and a case of stationary.

    "Sorry, didn''t prep," she said, still panting a little as she started copying things over from her notebooks onto a fresh sheet of paper. "Wait, what am I doing?"

    She didn''t wait for Caden to get a word in as she abruptly abandoned her pen and simply gestured at the paper. Caden felt her slip into the arcanic sea, and he caught a whiff of the sequence that enabled transcription by dictation, although he could tell she had modified it somehow. Her fallen pen leapt up of its own accord and danced rapidly across the sheet, replicating her notes in exacting detail. The process took no more than half a minute. She gestured sharply and the copied notes flapped forward and almost stuck Caden squarely in the face. Out of reflex, he conjured a barrier that stopped them just a hair''s breadth away from the tip of his nose.

    "Oh, sorry, sorry!"

    "No worries," he repeated dryly. All it took was a little twitch of his will, and the notes extricated themselves from the barrier and floated gently back to the table where he could skim them.

    "Why are so many people looking for this?" he asked, noting the title of Alyssa Nivordin''s work. "What'' so important about thaumaturgical glyph arrays?"

    "Right. You only started your first year," the girl replied. "Wait, wait, sorry, you''re helping me. I should introduce myself first. I''m Leyla."

    "Caden. So, glyph arrays?"

    Leyla seemed eager to launch straight into the explanation. "Well, we get introduced to them in second year, though its just the basics. We learn how to plug into them and make use of them. There are generic arrays and patterns you can use for all sorts of situations, but higher-level thaumaturgy involves creating glyph arrays that are purpose-built. Only those who specialise will really go on to study the principles in detail. But now..."

    "Now everyone is technically specialising, so you want to get a head start," Caden finished.

    "Yes. But since you can''t grab the whole book for me, I''ve compiled what I know about the theory and gotten some pointers from seniors about what sections are especially useful to study beforehand, so I''ve put all that in. I''ll eventually get my hands on the whole book since I applied for access and it''s just a matter of time, but I can''t wait that long because there''s things I want to try out first, so I just need you to help me find something about this," she pulled the papers over and pointed at one of the diagrams in her notes.

    "Well why didn''t you just give me this, then?" he asked, a little bewildered. "I mean, it''s just one diagram."

    "Oh. Well, since you''re helping me, I thought I should give you the rest of my notes so you get something out of this." She smiled and slid them back to him. "I mean, that''s the nice thing to do, right?"

    He blinked at her, suddenly at a loss for words.

    "So... uh, how long do you think you need?" she asked. "Maybe we can meet again tomorrow?"

    Caden shook his head and glanced down at his watch. It was 15 minutes to the first class. If he moved really fast, he''d be able to get from the library to the class in about five minutes. That gave him 10 to find the diagram and scribe the relevant sections. But even as he almost started sprinting towards the Lower Library, the voice of reason told him that there was really no point hurrying.

    "Right. Tomorrow. Maybe lunch, here?" he asked, feeling inexplicably hot under the collar all of a sudden.

    She nodded, then quickly packed her things and got up to go, and favoured him with a cheerful smile and a wave. "Sure. Tomorrow, then!"

    He watched her go, and once she had disappeared through the doors, he stared down at the notes, though his mind wasn''t really dwelling on their contents, and instead on the person who had handed them to him.

 173. Unexpected Exercise

    Leyla''s notes were begging to be read, but Caden couldn''t spare any time to really delve into them if he wanted to get to the first class on time. He briefly considered trying to read while walking, but decided that he wasn''t really in the proper frame of mind to get much out of that kind of hurried skimming anyway бк his treacherous brain was repeatedly replaying the scene where Leyla had slid the notes across the table to him and he had simply stared dumbly at her instead of thanking her. A little red-faced, he carefully kept the notes in his bag and hurried off to the duelling compound for his first Thaumaturgy class.

    He made good time and managed to get there with a few minutes to spare. At a glance, it seemed like almost everyone had arrived early, and he was one of the last. Their class was in one of the medium-sized chambers that was still about half the area of the biggest one, so even though the class had only thirty people in total, there was more than enough space for everyone to spread out.

    It looked like people had already congregated into groups with those they were more familiar with. The twins were at the far end, furthest from the entrance and on the highest of the three tiers, together with two second-years and two third-years. Caden also spotted Bertram, who was surprisingly sitting alone a short distance from the twins'' group, his nose buried in a book. This struck him as rather odd, because Caden was quite sure that he recognised some of the people here from the group Bertram had been walking with after the briefing the previous day.

    Marcus Kant was nowhere to be seen. Caden scanned the chamber nervously for him, but it looked like the thaumaturgist hadn''t arrived yet. He didn''t want to linger by the door if Kant was about to come in, so he went over to Bertram.

    "Hi Bertram," Caden said as he stepped up, glancing at the title in his hands бк Thaumaturgical Glyph Arrays by Alyssa Nivordin. "Reading ahead?"

    Bertram looked up and grinned, patting the space next to him in invitation and shifting his things aside. "Hey Caden. Nope. Revising."

    Caden sat down and surveyed the class again and checked his watch. It was about three minutes to the start of the class, and it looked like everyone had arrived. They were just waiting on Kant now.

    "Know any of this stuff?" Bertram asked, tilting the book so Caden could see, and pointing at a diagram there.

    "No, I haven''t studied any of this yeбк" Caden began, before sitting up a little straighter. "Hey, wait, does this have something to do with making gestalt formations stronger?"

    "It does," Bertram said, nodding in approval before snapping the book shut. "Let me give you the two-minute version, ''cause I think we''re gonna need it today."

    Bertram slid into the arcanic sea so seamlessly that Caden didn''t even realise it until he started building a sequence. He had to stop himself from snapping the foundational glyphs out of reflex. Caden recognised the sequence бк it was the same one he had started reading about just the night before in the Vault, and it looked like Bertram was making use of the cleaner, more modern version. However, there were alterations to it.

    "At the lowest level, you form a gestalt when you take a physical position relative to the other members," Bertram explained, drawing a diagram in mid-air with some arcana бк a standard wedge formation with ten spots. "At higher levels, the gestalt can be formed conceptually if everyone shares the same mental framework when they link up. That''s where second-year starts off. With me so far?"

    Caden nodded. "My group got Kant last term. He already got us working in gestalts outside of physical formations towards the end of the term."

    "Ah!" Bertram''s grin widened. He overlaid the sequence from the book over the diagram of the gestalt formation. "Alright, then this should just make sense. This type of sequence is called a glyph array бк although it can be scribed, it''s designed primarily to be applied to mental frameworks of gestalts. In general, they direct and amplify the flow of arcana between gestalt members, making gestalts work more efficiently."

    "Do all the members need to know the array toбк"

    "No, they don''t," Bertram said, anticipating Caden''s question. He seemed to be hurrying for some reason. "But to milk it for all its worth, they do need to know some set functions."

    Bertram highlighted several glyph clauses in the array and pointed at each in turn while he spoke. "This one takes arcana and stores it in something called a battery, for gestalt members to use at will. This one calls a steady feed from the battery, and you can adjust the flow. This one takes a fixed input and amplifies it by a specified factor using what''s in the battery. Got it?"

    "Got it," Caden said, a little taken aback at his suddenly abrupt manner. "Whatбк"

    All at once, the chamber went completely dark as every single globelight inside died, and the doors slammed shut. A few Minor Control Spheres came up as various people tried to get the globelights back on, but it looked like the chamber''s controls weren''t responding to anyone. There were a few surprised yelps and curses as some tried to conjure their own globelights, only for them to spark and die the instant they flashed into being.

    Caden was less perturbed because he had already half-dipped into oblivion and wasn''t relying on physical sight to keep track of things. There were thirty auric-ambient-flares in the vicinity, including his own. Kant was still not in the chamber. But there was movement in the arcana бк the chamber was spawning a combat space. The familiar, smooth, grey shapes were rising out of the floor and forming walls and structures approximating an urban environment, either appearing around people where they stood, or else lifting them into the air.

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    Even the tiers meant for spectators were brought into the combat environment. Caden found his excellent view of the whole space being obscured as the walls and floor shifted around him, putting him in a little box, like the dead-end of a maze. Bertram was trapped in here as well, and the space suddenly felt cramped, inviting claustrophobia. There was only one exit available to them, unless they wanted to try climbing over the wall to reach the slender gap near the ceiling, which was barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

    The arcanic sea was alive with activity. A few personal barriers sprang up as people readied themselves for whatever this exercise was supposed to be, but a moment later everyone was enveloped in the arena''s standard body shield with integrity markers. Caden heard someone yell, "Damnit, what is this shit? Why''d I get Kant?"

    "You''ll be here for ten minutes," Kant''s voice rang out, emanating from the walls, and Caden traced it to its source. He was just outside the door, making use of the chamber''s controls. "Survive."

    Poised as he was in oblivion, Caden was ready to snap any hostile sequences out of existence the moment they spawned. But who were they supposed to defend themselves against? There were still only the thirty of them in the chamber, and no one was even taking a hostile stance. There had been no instructions for them to fight each other. Was Kant expecting them to just start spontaneously fighting if no stimuli presented itself? There was a little sparking of arcana as people finally managed to call up their personal globelights, but not much else happening.

    Caden and Bertram brought up small globelights with a more diffuse form so they wouldn''t be blinding in such close quarters. Then there was more movement in the arcana, almost as if it was in response to the spawning of lights. It was very nearby бк unfamiliar patterns with strange glypic origins that Caden didn''t recognise. These were not ordinary combat sequences. They were exotic things, heavy and alien. It was impossible to identify what were most likely core glyphs or clauses. He dithered, confused and alarmed at how advanced these things were. They were far beyond what even the Demiurge had been throwing at him in their training sessions. What was Kant thinking?!

    But after a moment of blind panic, he had an epiphany. These were parts of the sequences etched into the black marble floor in golden glyphs бк the glyphs that formed the foundations of the chamber itself. Kant was just using the chamber''s functions to do something. And now that he was thinking a little more clearly, he realised that he was probably picking up how the chamber was conjuring things, even if he didn''t exactly understand how it worked.

    "Move!" Bertram yelled, shoving Caden aside. A second later, something emerged from the outermost wall. A humanoid shape composed of the smooth, grey material of the arena environment pulled itself free and took a savage swipe at Caden that almost caught him in the face.

    He recovered quickly from the surprise and sent an amped-up version of the beam sequence towards its head. However, Caden was alarmed to see the beam didn''t cut right through, although the impact did fling the construct against the wall it emerged from. Caden kept the beam steady, but the construct had gotten its feet under itself and was bracing against the beam. It was even getting into position to make a lunge.

    Bertram sent a flurry of heavy arcanic bolts smashing into it, flattening it comically against the wall for a moment, but it seemed only mildly inconvenienced, not damaged. As soon as it regained its balance, it came for them again.

    Caden sent arcana flooding through his limbs, bolstered the personal barrier he had overlaid on top of the arena body shields, and flung himself at the construct. "Get a gestalt with an array up!" he called to Bertram, struggling to hold his ground.

    Bertram was already halfway done before Caden had finished speaking. He immediately pulled Caden into a gestalt connection, though the array he had placed over it was different from the one he had just shown Caden since it was just for two people. But Caden recognised the three functions Bertram had explained earlier. The battery was rapidly filling up as Bertram supplied power.

    After about ten seconds, Caden judged that there was just enough. He wove a single heavy arcanic bolt that was as dense as all of Bertram''s earlier barrage combined, then drained the battery to amplify it by a factor of two. The resulting bolt was so powerful that it made the hairs on his skin tingle when it manifested, and when it smashed against the construct, it sent it flying against the wall where it broke into several pieces, leaving a spiderweb of faint cracks in the grey material.

    "Nice one!" Bertram said appreciatively, giving Caden a jovial slap on his back. "Geez, not sure if you needed me though. How much arcana were you bolstering with to go toe-to-toe with it like that?"

    In lieu of a response, Caden simply sent a little reverberation through the gestalt to direct Bertram''s attention to the battery. It was already at full capacity, having received an infusion from Caden. There was enough there to fuel three of those construct-shattering arcanic bolts without even drawing on the members of the gestalt.

    Bertram stared at him. "How?"

    "It''s hard to explain now," Caden said, shuffling his feet uneasily. He had already stopped himself from using military-grade sequences even though he was quite sure they''d be able to completely obliterate the constructs, but seeing Bertram''s reaction, he decided that he had better rein himself in a great deal more if he wanted to avoid drawing unwanted attention to the true extent of his present capabilities.

    "Right," Bertram said, shaking his head slightly. "Well, normally, I''d say the wisest thing to do would be to find a good spot and hunker down for ten minutes. But they can come out of the walls, and this is Kant we''re dealing with, so I expect he''ll have something up his sleeves to flush people out of entrenched positions."

    "So we keep moving," Caden suggested. "It''s probably for the best anyway. We don''t want to be locked down in one place if it isn''t defensible."

    The sounds of battle were coming dimly through the walls, and Caden could sense the ebb and flow of arcana from sequences being fired all around. But some auric-ambient-flares were docile and weren''t channeling any arcana at all. Caden surmised that those people had been defeated and were just waiting for the exercise to end.

    "Okay, let''s go!" Bertram said cheerfully, taking the lead. Caden opened his mouth to object as Bertram went in the general direction of the twins'' auric-ambient-flares, but he thought better of it and decided to follow along. It''d be interesting to see how the twins were in combat now.

 174. New Rivalries

    Bertram and Caden emerged from the small corner and found themselves stepping out onto the ledge overlooking the entire chamber. There were many smaller structures strewn across the entire battlefield, each roughly the size of the small space the two of them had been enclosed in. Some of these structures were entirely enclosed, others had small rooflights so they were accessible from above, and a few were even completely open-topped. The structures were connected to each other with passageways which were similarly varied in how much cover they provided.

    But there wasn''t much time for either of them to really scrutinise the state of the field. As soon as they emerged, several more constructs that had been prowling around the rooftops nearby turned their faceless heads towards the pair, and started scuttling along the structures. It was unsettling to watch as these humanoid shapes picked their way across the surfaces with insectile speed and grace.

    Bertram swore colourfully and pointed at one of the lower structures which was more enclosed. "Quick, in there, before we draw more of them!"

    Despite his size, Bertram moved with surprising agility, and Caden sensed the smooth flow of arcana circulating through Bertram''s auric-ambent-flare as he bolstered his movements. Where he lacked the sheer volume and density of Caden''s arcanic flow, Bertram more than made up for it in efficiency. Even cursorily, Caden could tell that he was better than even Emilia.

    Caden followed as closely as he could as Bertram vaulted over a few low barriers and dove neatly through the opening in the structure''s roof. It wasn''t tiring at all thanks to the arcanic assistance, but he was definitely clumsier than Bertram. He lost a precious handful of seconds as he stumbled over the last hurdle, and it was enough for the nearest construct to leap forward and grab his ankle. Caden resisted the urge to simply obliterate the thing with his own power, and instead made sure to form a heavy bolt with the battery''s available arcana. The construct shattered into pieces as he brought the bolt down on it from above, and it gave him enough time to roll sideways into the opening. He was already drawing on more arcana to hold the gap against the other constructs hot on their tail, but as soon as he was through, the opening sealed itself shut.

    "Close one," Bertram said, grinning. He had a hand on the nearest wall, and the flow of arcana told Caden that he had somehow managed to transmute the normally unyielding grey substance of the arena to seal the gap. Caden had only ever seen Ambrose manage that.

    "Without the control sphere?" Caden asked, gesturing at the ceiling. "How?"

    "It''s hard to explain now," Bertram answered with a wink, echoing Caden''s words from earlier. "Maybe there''s time to swap trade secrets later, eh?"

    "Maybe," Caden said, grinning a little despite himself. He couldn''t be too free with what he knew, but it was hard to stay aloof in the face of Bertram''s affability.

    Bertram sent out a little pulse of arcana that reflected off the walls, but it was so subtle that Caden barely caught it since he wasn''t paying full attention.

    "What was that? Some sort of scanning sequence?" Caden asked, taken by surprise.

    This time, Bertram''s manner changed a little. He gave Caden a measuring look, then nodded slowly. "Homebrew. Not supposed to be noticeable by anyone else but the user."

    Caden gave a weak smile. "Seems pretty sophisticated."

    Bertram raised an eyebrow and sighed. "Seems pretty broken if a first-year student somehow picked it up. And you could even tell its purpose."

    "Well, I am the Top Scorer of my cohort," Caden said, trying to sound a little indignant. "I''m ahead of my peers. Doesn''t mean your sequence is broken."

    "Oh?" Bertram''s raised eyebrow went even higher and was in danger of vanishing into his hairline. "Well, if you''re that far ahead, then we don''t need to be so cautious."

    "What do you mean?"

    Instead of answering immediately, Bertram went to the two doors leading in to the room they were in, placed a palm on the wall next to them, and sealed the openings entirely. "I''ll be straight with you. Did you think about what''d happen to the Top Scorer spot now that we''re all in the same truncated academic year?"

    Caden frowned and shook his head. "Nope. Does it matter? And is this really the best time to talk about it?"

    Bertram waved a hand dismissively. "We''ve got time. We''re not the last ones standing yet. Anyway, now we''re all technically in the same year, there''s only one Top Scorer spot now. And it matters because whoever gets it will have a little bit of leverage."

    "Leverage? For what?" Caden asked, confused. As far as he knew, there wasn''t any kind of prize for being the Top Scorer beyond the prestige that came with it. In the past it might have mattered because it did mean better job prospects, especially if you were top in your graduating year, but it meant little now that they were all essentially conscripts.

    "Ah, dear innocent freshie," Bertram shook his head and smiled, but his manner was more solicitous than condescending. "There''s a shadow economy with the Academy at its heart. As arcanists, we can get all sorts of things, from restricted artefacts to banned reading materials. And we can also make artefacts and write homebrew sequences. There''s a public out there that is eager to buy what we can get our hands on. Being Top Scorer lets you charge a premium because you can sometimes get your hands on things that normal suppliers can''t. Even if what you''re selling isn''t unique, the Top Scorer brand commands a price of its own."

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    Caden couldn''t quite believe his ears. "Okay... so... how is this relevant now?"

    "Well, I was comfortably in the top spot in my year, so I figured my only threats were you and the second-year Top Scorer."

    Bertram was still smiling, but Caden felt suddenly quite unsafe. He remained poised between oblivion and the physical world, ready to bring the full extent of his power to bear on any impending threat. "So... if I''m a threat to you, what do you intend to do?" he asked grimly.

    "I intend to help you," Bertram said.

    "What?" Caden blurted.

    "If someone were to take the top spot in a year when all three years are combined, they''d make quite a name for themselves." Bertram shrugged. "I''ve had two very lucrative years. Holding the title for a third year wouldn''t really do much for me. It''s more useful for either you or the second-year to get it. And if I help either one of you get there, I figure there''s a partnership to be made there with plenty of future payoffs."

    "You''re being very upfront," Caden said, since he was at a loss as to what else he could say.

    "Hey, I said I was gonna be straight with you. Anyway, that''s why I approached you. I''ve gotten in touch with the second-year, too. I''m gonna see how good both of you are and I''ll be giving both of you all the help and resources you need to get the top spot. The winner gets a partnership, provided we''re on the same wavelength." Bertram grinned. "So, consider this a working interview, if you''re interested."

    "Let me get this straight. You''re basically offering me a spot in some smuggling chain?" Caden asked.

    Bertram frowned a little. "That''s a huge oversimplification. But I guess that''s one way to look at it."

    Caden hadn''t expected anything like this at all. It seemed remarkable that there could be such a thing right under the Fateweavers'' noses. But then, the fact that it did exist meant that the Fateweavers had permitted it. It was hard to believe that the same people who necessitated the Vaults would be okay with forbidden arcanic knowledge being smuggled out of the Academy by light-fingered or overly-enterprising arcanists. Even students! Caden thought he had quite enough trouble to deal with. Being embroiled in an Empire-wide smuggling ring wasn''t something else he wanted to add to his plate.

    "I''mбк" Caden began.

    "бкnot required to give a hasty answer!" Bertram cut in, grinning once more. "I''m just telling you where I''m coming from so you don''t misunderstand me. This is more of a free-and-easy sort of thing. I''ll be giving you helpful tips and telling you stuff anyway. And if, at the end, I think we''re a good fit and you manage to clinch the top spot, I''d welcome you aboard. If not, then just consider me a good friend you can ask to help you find things, or move goods, for a price."

    It was incredibly hard to just say no to Bertram. He had such an effusive personality that was more forceful than even Devon, and he wielded it with practised ease. "Alright, fine. Let''s see where this goes," Caden said, rolling his eyes a little as Bertram''s grin widened.

    "Alright! So, prospective partner, if I''m going to help you secure that top spot, I need to know where you currently stand so I can give level-appropriate help to maximise the time we have." Bertram rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then shot an appraising look at Caden. "You sensed my homebrew sequence and could intuit its function, so at the very least that means you''re operating at the same level as some third-year students. How about we use Kant''s exercise, and you show me just how much you can do?"

    If I did that, you''d probably get scared of me, Caden thought to himself. But instead, he said, "Alright, I''ll try."

    Bertram nodded, now serious. "Kant''s not a pushover. The constructs we''ve met are only one of the threats. My brief scan earlier picked up another type. Bigger, more brutish, but also faster. It was two rooms away, heading towards a cluster of five people, and I doubt they managed to stand up to it. What do you want to do?"

    "Which way?" Caden asked.

    Caden sensed another pulse of arcana from Bertran before he jerked his thumb at the door closest to them. "Through here. It''s moved on, three rooms down now. And yep, the five people are down."

    The signature of Bertram''s sequence was a lot easier to pick up now that Caden knew what he was looking for and was expecting it. He wasn''t entirely familiar with all the glyphs, but he recognised most of them. And in any case, he could operate at an even higher level in oblivion, where he could simply unpack the conceptual framework behind the sequence that Bertram had used. It would take some time for him to learn the sequence for himself, but now that he had seen it properly, he was quite confident he''d be able to recreate it given time, and perhaps even improve it.

    For now, though, it was time to push his own limits. How much could he accomplish without making use of more sophisticated sequences? It would be quite an enjoyable exercise. This was almost relaxing compared to the training he had endured with the Demiurge.

    "Open it up," Caden said. "We''re going to bring it down."

    Bertram hesitated. "You know, you don''t have to do crazy shit to impress me. Discretion is the better part of valour."

    Caden smiled. "I just wanna have a bit of fun."

    "Alright then," Bertram said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before unsealing the door. "On your head be it."

    Without waiting, Caden hurtled through the door, relying less on his senses in oblivion and opting to operate more on the arcanic sea and the physical world. The grey matter of the arena was inscrutably smooth at this level, and the constructs were also now shrouded in a murky haze that obscured their exact location. However, he still managed to hone in on the general location of the large construct that Bertram had mentioned. It was coming up against a group of six now.

    Caden turned the corner and found himself in a small room with one wall smashed down completely, leading to the ''outside''. The construct was there with its back to Caden. It was still humanoid, but more ape-like in size and stature, with much broader shoulders. Instead of hands, its arms tapered into wedges that looked capable of impaling a human. It was obvious that a direct hit would immediately put a combatant out of the fight.

    There were six people spread out in front of it, each in a defensive position behind some rudimentary cover, or else on an elevated platform or rooftop that put some distance between them and the threat. Caden could sense their gestalt in the arcanic sea, a formidable thing with an impressive array overlaid, with its battery humming with power. Caden marked each person as he traced their physical position based on where he sensed them in the arcanic sea, and his eyes widened as he recognised two of them.

    "Oy Caden!" Kevan called out from where he stood with his brother, just ten metres away from the hulking construct. The two of them were taking point in the gestalt. "Move along, this one''s taken!"

 175. Improvisation

    Before Caden could respond to Kevan, the giant construct leapt into action, hurtling towards the twins with frightening speed, its wedge-like arms aiming straight for their torsos.

    The brothers moved in perfect harmony, throwing themselves sideways in opposite directions and then rolling into a half-crouch. The air between them rippled as they stretched a web of arcana between them, and the construct barrelled right through it. The construct''s momentum carried it into a nearby wall, wrapped in the sequence that the twins had used. It appeared to be straining against unseen bonds, but after just a second, Caden felt the sequence break and it emerged from the rubble completely unharmed, then leapt towards Kevan, who was closest.

    The other members of the twins'' gestalt joined the fray, harrying the construct with a steady barrage of heavy arcanic bolts, each blow fortified with more power from their battery. Caden could sense the barrage coming from two of the members, the third-years, while the remaining two second-years poured their arcana into it to fuel the amplification. It was a simple but effective arrangement.

    The barrage wasn''t powerful enough to do any meaningful damage, but it did help to unbalance the construct, buying the twins a few moments to reposition themselves.

    ''What now?'' Caden heard a second-year senior ask in the arcana.

    ''Not enough arcana. Battery won''t sustain it,'' one of the third-years replied.

    ''Need a proper circle,'' Kevan replied tersely. ''Lynus, scribe. Add a self-fuelling clause. I''ll run interference. Everyone else, support me.''

    Their communication was quick, clean and efficient, devoid of any emotional clutter, with the ideas and concepts flowing with perfect clarity, so that even as an eavesdropper Caden could catch their plan without any loss of detail.

    Kevan started darting around the space, narrowly avoiding the construct''s wild swings as it chased after him. His arcanic-assisted movements were more fluid than Caden''s, but it was barely enough to keep him out of harm''s way. Caden was quite sure that if not for the destabilising barrage, Kevan would have been dealt a crushing blow long ago. Meanwhile, Lynus was taking advantage of the distraction and hastily burning glyphs into the ground, forming a ring. Caden was surprised to see the twins being given the responsibility of taking point on such an endeavour when there were seniors in the group.

    "Well, what now?" Bertram asked, raising an eyebrow. He was still inside the room with the damaged wall, and appeared ready to make a hasty retreat back into the rest of the urban sprawl. "It kinda looks like they''re gonna bring it down."

    Caden retreated a few steps and crouched by the fallen wall near Bertram, ready to spring forward at a moment''s notice. "Maybe. But I don''t think so."

    "Oh?" Bertram sounded unconvinced but intrigued.

    "Whatever they''re trying... I don''t think it''ll work," Caden murmured, more to himself than Bertram, as he tried to read the intent of the glyphs in the arcanic sea without resorting to using his oblivion-level senses.

    "You recognise that sequence?" Bertram asked, with a hint of disbelief and delight in his tone.

    Caden didn''t answer. He wasn''t paying enough attention to Bertram to offer a considered response, and his focus was mostly taken up by the tantalising song of the glyphs that Lynus was scribing into the floor. They sang of binding, of stability, of stillness. He recognised parts of the sequence бк it reminded him of the time he had seen agents frozen in Devon''s manor, when the Geldor Spire augera had temporarily given the young lord the power to put people in stasis. But Devon''s handwork, with the help of the augera, had been precise and elegant, and the augera had given Devon the ability to use glyphs of unknown provenance. They were glyphs of immense complexity and power, carrying weight even in oblivion. Lynus'' work now was a faint facsimile of that, using Special Set glyphs that Caden was passingly familiar with, and the arrangement, while neat, was still too inefficient. It was decent work, and quite ambitious, but Caden highly doubted this homebrew recreation would perform under stress.

    "When they fail," Caden said to Bertram, tensing slightly in readiness as he fixed his eyes on the construct, "I need you to get them out of danger."

    Caden was pleased to note that Bertram didn''t waste time on superfluous discussion. He wordlessly placed himself in a more supportive stance within the gestalt, throwing a tertiary shield over Caden and linking it to the battery before preparing several sequences and holding them at the ready. Caden wasn''t familiar with them, but a cursory glance in the arcanic sea told him enough of their function, and he adjusted his plan accordingly.

    Lynus was almost done with his circle of glyphs. His gestalt members were keeping a close eye on his progress, and just before he was done with the last glyph that would activate the sequence, the whole group acted in perfect harmony.

    One of the third-years poured everything he had into the barrage to buy Kevan a little space and promptly fell into a state of overdraw. Meanwhile, the other third-year pulled together a modified beam sequence, completely draining her own arcana as well, along with the battery. She held it in place without firing it, just long enough for the two second-years to pour all of their resources into her beam before she manifested it directly above the centre of the ring.

    By then, Kevan had made use of that last barrage''s distraction to position himself just slightly off the centre of the ring. When the construct lunged for him again after recovering, it went right through the centre just in time to be smashed to the ground by the beam. The sheer density of arcana packed into it was enough to pin it in place, and some flecks of grey material frittered away at its extremities, but the damage was minor. Still, it gave Kevan plenty of time to hurl himself out of the ring, just as Lynus burnt the last glyph into the sequence and sent arcana flooding through it. The self-fuelling clause took over, drawing in immense amounts of ambient arcana, far more than what even six arcansts could safely feed.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The beam''s energy died out just as the sequence flared to life. Caden felt the change in the arcana as it took effect, bathing the area within the ring in such utter stillness that it almost felt like he was being forced to hold his breath just by examining it. Motes of dust hung in the air, frozen. The construct was caught, the sound of its wild thrashing suddenly silenced. There was a visible separation in the air as everything outside continued to move unhindered, while everything else within the ring was held in stasis. In the ensuing quiet, the sound of Kevan''s heavy breathing was extra loud.

    "Good job Kev, Ly," the third-year guy called, panting a little himself as he visibly struggled to cope with the venting after such a violent overdraw.

    Kevan was bent over with his hands on his knees. He waved a tired hand in acknowledgement, then straightened up, turned, and shot a triumphant grin at Caden. "See? Taken."

    Behind him, the stasis field shuddered. A sound like splintering glass filled the air, and in the arcanic sea, the steady flow of arcana in the sequence twisted and thinned.

    "Kev!" Lynus shouted, alarmed.

    There were cries of surprise from the seniors, but they were still overdrawn and in no fit state to even pull together a basic barrier, let alone any other defensive sequences. Kevan turned and saw the construct lift one heavy wedge-like arm. The movement seemed to cost it a tremendous amount of effort, but as it extended its arm fully above itself and brought it back down with a resounding crash, the resulting blow to the ground shattered the arcanic field of stasis. The glyphs that Lynus had hastily etched were suddenly scorched out of the floor, turning into melted, barely-recognisable shapes. The construct seemed to be possessed with frenzied energy as it leapt through the air, straight for Kevan.

    Kevan threw himself to the side in desperation, but there wasn''t enough time for him to get enough distance. The construct''s outstretched arm was going to catch him full in the chest with the broad side of the wedge.

    Bertram''s prepared sequence went off, smashing straight into Kevan and carrying him just beyond the reach of the construct. The wedge came within an inch of Kevan''s side as he hurtled through the air, suddenly wrapped in a rapidly expanding field of arcana that grew over him like a gel. Kevan smashed into a wall, but the gel absorbed most of the impact. His arena shields registered a level of damage that would have left him badly bruised.

    The construct didn''t waste time trying to chase after Kevan who had been brought out of its immediate reach. It pivoted and went straight for Lynus, who was slower to react than his brother. But once more, before the construct got to him, he was unceremoniously punted out of the way by another of Bertram''s gel-shield shots.

    It turned once again to find the next closest target, but before it could move, Caden struck.

    He flashed across the entire length of the field of battle, catapulted forward by a concentrated burst of arcana that turned him into a human projectile. The spike-like shield he had enveloped himself in gave him ample protection as he smashed into its side. It gouged out a small chunk, but although the damage was mostly cosmetic, it succeeded in sending the construct flying into the structure which the seniors were perched on. They managed to pull together just enough arcana to leap clear, leaving the construct momentarily buried in rubble.

    ''Standard attacks obviously don''t work very well,'' Bertram sent to Caden, sounding a little disappointed. ''You wasted the element of surprise on that?''

    ''Process of elimination,'' Caden replied shortly, deciding not to reveal that he had put in more than three of their battery''s worth of arcana into that spike from his personal font. He hadn''t expected to take it out with that one blow, but he was quite surprised that it had so little effect. Even though the construct was made out of the grey material of the arena, it was clearly much more resilient than the structures or the lesser humanoid constructs.

    Bertram floated the notion of retreat across their gestalt link, leaving it as an unspoken question. ''I hope you have something better.''

    In response, Caden simply steeled himself and enveloped himself in a denser shield. Bertram picked up the general flavour of his sequence and fortified him with a tertiary shield once again, this time geared more towards absorbing blunt impact than maintaining structural integrity while being used as a projectile.

    The construct dragged itself out of the debris and flung several chunks of it at Caden almost desultorily. It would have been easy to dodge aside, but he was quite aware of the twins and the seniors watching him from the sidelines, nursing their injuries. As a show of force, he simply stood there and poured more arcana into his barrier. The debris shattered against the protections, leaving clouds of dust hanging in the air. Bertram''s tertiary barrier wavered and died out, but Caden''s own held firm. After the final chunk had pulverised itself on his shields, Bertram hastily reconstituted his tertiary barrier.

    ''Geez.'' He sounded impressed. ''Sorry. Dropped the ball there. But damn, your shields are rock solid.''

    Caden grinned in appreciation, but he didn''t waste time on conversation. He was already building arcana, but not for a specific sequence. Instead, he pulled together the concepts he knew with the glyphs he had worked with in the course of the past term.

    Arcanic bolts and beams were powerful, but they essentially relied on blunt force. They were designed to shatter and break, not to pierce. Somehow, the construct was able to damnpen the incoming blows. If he wanted to hurt it, he''d have to think of piercing through the outer shell. A military-grade shield-piercer would do the trick, but he had a homebrew in mind that would use only what he had been exposed to in the course of his normal studies at the Academy.

    The construct seemed to hesitate after seeing Caden shrug off the debris without any difficulty, but it quickly gathered itself and charged towards him. The arcana in Caden''s hand sparked to life as he forced his will upon it, transmuting the coalesced energy into a form of his choosing.

    A translucent blade manifested in his hand, almost as long as the construct was tall. He rolled aside, bringing the blade up just as the construct sailed past him. His blade passed right through its outstretched arm and its torso, but for a moment it looked like nothing had happened. The construct turned and readied itself for another charge.

    Caden released his hold on the arcana he had in reserve. The energy he had amassed in a rudimentary secondary battery raced down the path traced in the air by his blade and made contact with the construct. Its outer shell scattered some of that energy, but Caden''s sword had planted an immutable route for it to follow, and most of the arcana sank through the tough exterior and suffused the construct. Once inside, it traced every fibre of arcana that animated the thing from within, growing rapidly like a series of roots бк something he had picked up from his duel with Devon just the day before.

    In a matter of seconds, his hold over the construct was absolute. He didn''t understand the glyphs that animated it, but he had complete control of the flow. With a simple twist, the links cut themselves to ribbons and the lines of arcana that fed the glyphs withered from the inside out. Since there were no physical anchors, there was nothing to sustain the shape of the sequence once the feed of arcana was gone. The construct froze, then fell over with a deafening crash.

    "Whaaaaat?"

    Caden turned and saw Bertram staring at him with his mouth agape. He grinned and gave a cheerful wave to the third-year Top Scorer. "That was pretty fun, wasn''t it?"

 176. Moments of Mischief

    "What the hell was that?!" Kevan yelled, throwing his hands into the air in disbelief. It was quite a comical sight, since he was still stuck to a wall by Bertram''s gel-like shield, with his feet slightly off the ground.

    Lynus was flat on his back some distance away since his path had been relatively clear, and the gel-shield shot hadn''t carried him far enough to hit another structure. "What''d I miss?" he called out, craning his neck to try and see what was going on.

    "Oh, nothing," Bertram said loudly, stepping into the clearing and gesturing at the twins to unravel his own sequence. The gel loosened and faded away into nothingness. "Nothing except for an overly dramatic takedown of a ridiculously tough construct."

    The other four seniors emerged from wherever they had taken cover and were gathering around Caden, eyeing him with a mixture of disbelief and respect.

    Kevan bounded up to Caden, with Lynus trailing behind a little. "That was insane! I mean, geez, what?! Did you guys see that? I wasn''t dreaming?" he looked around at the others.

    Caden didn''t know what to make of this alarmingly enthusiastic Kevan. He had expected some sort of tension, maybe grudging respect, or even some sulking since he had essentially swooped in at the last moment and claimed the ''glory'' of bringing down the hulking construct.

    "Very impressive," one of the third-years said quietly, nodding with approval. He had a slight figure and was almost a head and a half shorter than Kevan, with dark eyes and black hair in a combover. Despite his diminutive size, he exuded a sense of gravitas, and there was something about him that immediately gave Caden the impression that he was the de facto leader of this little group.

    "How did that work?" Kevan asked eagerly.

    "Not now!" Lynus snapped. The rest looked a little taken aback at his tone, but quickly fell into their gestalt positions when he jerked his head at the structure where Bertram and Caden had come from.

    They were not alone. More constructs had emerged from the opening, and although these were of the weaker variety, there were a lot of them. Caden counted seven at a glance, already slowly advancing on them and making way for more.

    ''Status?'' the third-year guy asked in the arcana, directing this at the members of his gestalt. He sounded tired and tense, but determined.

    ''Still overdrawn,'' the two second-years sent back.

    ''Mostly recovered,'' the third-year girl replied tersely.

    ''We''re still pretty fresh,'' Kevan answered, speaking on behalf of his brother as well.

    ''We need a better spot to hole up. We''ll be overwhelmed out here,'' the leader said, projecting a target structure to head for, on the uppermost tier.

    ''What about Caden and the other guy?'' Kevan asked.

    ''Leave them,'' came the leader''s curt reply, along with a series of instructions for the members of the gestalt.

    Their gestalt-link communication was conducted at the speed of thought, but at this distance Caden could catch almost every word and impression. The leader was already pulling together a sequence with his fellow third-year, while Lynus sent a surge of arcana into the battery for the second-years to use so they could at least move more quickly with arcanic assistance.

    "Are we fighting or not, Henry?" Bertram asked, shooting a glance at the short third-year.

    Caden shot a surprised look at Bertram. Hadn''t he heard them? But before he could remark on that, the whole group sprang into action. The third-years loosed their prepared sequence, which spawned dozens of auric-ambient-flare signatures all around the clearing, each paired with its own illusory image. Caden and Bertram were suddenly left in a small crowd of multiple copies of the group.

    The illusions looked solid and moved with surprising natural fluidity. A few leapt up onto walls or ran into buildings, but quickly became clear they weren''t even partially autonomous and had simply been pre-programmed to follow those routes. The rest ran around randomly in zig-zag patterns, completely disregarding how close they came to the constructs. Some were even running straight into walls or stumbling over low obstacles, prematurely scattering the arcana that composed them. Still, it was a suitable diversion. Taking advantage of the general chaos, the whole group ran off.

    Caden saw the real Kevan throw weak arcanic bolts from the positions of several of these illusions, and he hesitated briefly with a backward glance at Caden and Betram before following the rest of his gestalt.

    "Damnit! Typical Henry!" Bertram swore and let loose another one of his scanning pulses, then slipped into the arcana to make contact with Caden. ''After them! It''s the clearest path. We''ve got a boatload of incoming all around.''

    The constructs had been momentarily distracted by the illusory copies of the twins'' group, but when they charged into the fray, they quickly scattered them into insubstantial wisps. More constructs were spilling out of the building, and others were coming over the rooftops from every direction, catching the remaining illusions. They were all now closing in on Caden and Bertram.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Bertram ran, throwing out what looked like more gel-shot shields at the nearest constructs, but Caden noticed the core sequence had been altered slightly. Instead of staying where they struck and growing to envelop the target, the gel would quickly migrate down to the constructs'' feet and rapidly spread across the floor, effectively anchoring them to the spot. The constructs were then forced to smash themselves free, which proved difficult given the nature of the substance and the way it was spread. It effectively put them out of the chase.

    Caden followed close behind, picking off the occasional construct that Bertram wasn''t able to catch on time. His enhanced heavy arcanic bolts made short work of them with just one blow, so he reined himself in and only shot one bolt out every few seconds instead of sending out a barrage. He didn''t want to advertise the full extent of his arcanic ability, especially now that he had already drawn a fair bit of attention to himself.

    ''Are they all after us?'' Caden wondered, feeling a little irritated. It felt like Kant was picking on him.

    ''Not all. Sensed more, still going for other people,'' Bertram answered, though he echoed Caden''s annoyance. ''Kinda our fault though. Big fight right in the open. Nobody even tried to contain or even dampen their backwash. Plus, their stasis sequence thing, and whatever you did at the end there, those were pretty loud. Huge signatures.''

    By now, the twins'' group had gotten to the structure. Mostly overdrawn as they were, the seniors left it to Kevan and Lynus to beat back the advancing constructs. Without a full battery to draw from, they succeeded only in delaying the constructs'' advance, which meant that they left plenty of enemies in their wake as they darted inside. By the time Caden and Bertram had reached the structure, there were a enough constructs to delay their advance. They hastily darted past the front line while making decisive strikes against the closest ones, desperately pushing ahead.

    The entrance to the structure looked open, but Bertram stopped short just before crossing the threshold and he let out another curse. "Sealed. Damnit, Henry!"

    Caden came up just behind and threw up a domed barrier to enclose both of them. The constructs piled against it and started smashing against his barrier.

    ''How long can you hold?'' Bertram sent to Caden.

    ''How long do you need?'' he asked, fortifying the barrier with just enough arcana to barely hold the line. It seemed wise to play down the amount of arcana he could use now after such a stunning display earlier.

    Bertram didn''t give a verbal response, but Caden caught the tenor of his thoughts through their gestalt link. Beneath the cursing and the irritation, there was a formidable intellect juggling possibilities and assessing the integrity of Henry''s barrier, before a streak of smugness coloured everything. It was clear he didn''t think very much of Henry''s work.

    Caden fed a steady trickle of arcana to keep his barrier up even as the constructs continued to beat down on it. It cracked a little, but Caden judged it to be stable enough.

    He was momentarily distracted by Bertram working in the arcanic sea. His auric-ambient-flare was moving, but not in a way that Caden had ever seen before in others. It reminded him strongly of the way auric-ambient-flares moved in oblivion. A small portion of it actually plunged into Henry''s barrier and picked apart the sequence at its core. It was a lot slower than how Caden worked in oblivion when snuffing out hostile sequences, but the principles were similar, and it was an extremely efficient use of arcana. In less than a minute, the barrier disintegrated, and Bertram ran in and dragged Caden after him. As soon as Caden was through, Bertram placed a palm on the wall and extended it to seal the opening.

    The structure wasn''t that large to begin with, but it had been further split into smaller ''rooms'' by partitions inside, which meant that the two of them were wedged almost shoulder-to-shoulder in a mini-corridor of sorts. Bertram sent out another scouting pulse. ''This chamber is empty. There''s a passage on either side. They''ve gone through one to the adjacent structure and put up more barriers.''

    Caden checked his watch. They had perhaps three minutes left for the exercise.

    "We can hole up here," Caden said with a sigh.

    Bertram went further in to where there was a bit more room to stand. "We could," he answered, nodding thoughtfully. "Or we could get up to a bit of mischief."

    Caden raised an eyebrow. "Mischief?"

    Bertram grinned. "There''s a bunch of constructs outside. Henry and his crew have holed up behind barriers and they think they''re safe further inside. What d''you think might happen if I open the roof above them?"

    Caden couldn''t help it. He was grinning too. "I can provide cover while you do that. But how will we stop the constructs from coming after us?"

    "We just run. Huge burst of speed. We''d only need to last maybe a minute before the time is up."

    "Alright," Caden said decisively. "Let''s do it!"

    Immediately, Bertram slapped a palm on the nearest wall. A moment later, directly above him, a hole formed in the ceiling, large enough for a person to pass through. He brought up a barrier around himself and jumped through it, with Caden close behind, similarly sheathed in his own protective barrier.

    The constructs hadn''t remained clustered around the door that Bertram had sealed. Caden saw them ranging along the exterior, trying to find another way inside. As soon as he and Bertram were out, though, they started scaling the sides of the structure to reach them. Caden sent a wave of low-level arcanic bolts to push back the incoming tide of constructs as Bertram led the way. By the time they stopped over another section of the roof, they were already almost surrounded.

    Caden raised a few barrier walls to manage the flow, then kept up a steady barrage of weaker arcanic bolts to buy Bertram some space. The third-year slapped both his palms on the ground. There was a greater delay than before, but after several seconds, a huge section of the roof melted back a little further away from where Caden and Bertram were. The constructs that were there fell straight through, and Caden heard cries of alarm from below.

    ''That''s our cue to scarper!'' Bertram sent gleefully as he tapped into the battery.

    Caden caught a whiff of surprise as Bertram noticed it was still completely full, since he had expected Caden to have used up some of it in the defence. But there was no time for a remark, so Bertram simply pulled all the arcana out of it and made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Instead of launching both himself and Caden over the heads of the incoming horde, he rapidly spun a complex sequence that enveloped the two of them in a dense weave of arcana that lifted the two of them into the air. At his direction, they sailed over the reach of the constructs, narrowly dodging a few that leapt into the air to try and reach them.

    As they sped to the opposite end of the arena, Caden spared a backward glance. Henry and the rest were putting up a furious resistance, but they were still too drained from their earlier fight. Lynus and Kevan were the last to go down, and as soon as the whole group''s arena shields registered fatal damage, the constructs turned and headed off for other targets. Across the field of battle, Henry locked eyes with Caden and shot him a predatory grin.

 177. Greater Worries

    Bertram struggled to keep them in the air even with the arcana from the battery, but he managed to make every drop count by ruthlessly pruning portions of the flight sequence in an effort to conserve energy. The glyphs that ordinarily shielded a flier from windburn were the first to go, since there was no need for that sort of environmental protection in their situation. Next were the ones that somehow worked to reduce drag бк they weren''t going anywhere in a hurry, so maximising airtime was more important than speed. Last to go were the bits that kept them properly oriented to the ground and that gave them fine control over their movements. This sent them into an uncontrolled tumble through the air, which left Caden feeling nauseated.

    There was a swarm of constructs leaping across the rooftops and converging on their landing point. Caden didn''t know whether this meant that there were no other ''survivors'' left, or if Kant was deliberately targeting the two of them. They were almost at the upper tier on the far side of the arena, and by Caden''s estimation they would land with seconds left on the timer. Through the gestalt link, Caden sensed that Bertram was overdrawn, so it was up to him to keep them safe.

    There was no time for subtlety. He didn''t know the sequence for Bertram''s gel-shot shield, so he worked with pure will and focus, ignoring the inefficiency since he had power to spare. Two gel-shots went out and splashed against the ground and grew rapidly, covering it with a cushion of arcana to break their fall. As soon as they fell into the waiting cushions, Caden hit Bertram with another one that sent him sprawling, away from the incoming tide of constructs.

    Caden was still stuck in his own gel-shot cushion when the first constructs leapt towards him. Fighting against the urge to simply mow them down with unbridled power, he instead hastily transmuted segments of his gel-shot shield into solid chunks and sent them hurtling outwards. It didn''t do any meaningful damage, but it sent the first wave stumbling backwards into the constructs behind them, buying him a precious few seconds.

    It was enough. Before they could disentangle themselves, a golden chime sounded across the arena, and all of them went limp as the arena''s globelights came back on. Caden let out a sigh of relief and watched as the structures, walls, and remaining constructs rapidly melted away, leaving only the black marble of the arena floor and its streaks of miniscle golden glyphs. Caden felt a wave of exhaustion and relief from Bertram before he slid out of their gestalt link.

    Their personal arena shields, however, were still up. Now that the whole arena was clear, Caden could see the other arcanists, their shields showing varying degrees of fatal damage. There was only one trio left standing apart from Caden and Bertram, made up of two third-years and a second-year who were all in much worse shape. It looked like they had been only seconds away from being completely overwhelmed.

    The arena was suddenly filled with the noises of relief or loud complaining.

    "... freaking crazy, first exercise..."

    "... Fates, shouldn''t have come back for..."

    "... didn''t work at all! How were we supposed to..."

    "... bloody big thing came straight for me and..."

    The double doors swung open and Marcus Kant strolled through them. But this was Marcus Kant as Caden had never seen him before. In the previous term, he had always been unkempt, dressed in T-shirts that were coloured more by dirt and stains than actual dye, and patchwork track pants that had been repaired so many times the original material could only be guessed at. But now, all that had been swapped for a black close-fitting long-sleeved top, and slim black pants that ended in a pair of black boots. The whole ensemble was laced with silver glyphs that were barely visible, tracing fine lines in shimmering patterns that only revealed themselves in brief flashes whenever he moved. His mane of tangled black hair, streaked with grey, had also been tamed and pulled back into a low ponytail.

    An uneasy silence fell as he made his way to the centre of the arena. The tread of his boots echoed, carrying a sort of menace even though it wasn''t particularly loud or heavy. When he reached the centre, he stopped, standing tall and straight, without the usual air of insouciance. His eyes swept across the thirty students who were scattered across the space. Caden couldn''t help but feel a faint shiver because in the arcana Kant''s gaze brushed across his auric-ambient-flare with a barely-veiled sense of danger. He had to remind himself that even the Demiurge didn''t think Kant was a match for him now. But seeing Kant up close now, like this, did make Caden wonder if perhaps the Demiurge had overestimated Caden''s abilities.

    "Five isn''t bad. Come, everyone," Kant said. A warm smile spread across his face, quite at odds with his earlier manner. Still, some of the tension bled out of the air. He gestured for all of them to join him on the arena floor, where thirty rudimentary chairs had materialised in what Caden had now come to think of as ''arena grey''.

    Caden found himself hanging back so he could take one of the seats at the rear. Bertram joined him without comment, half his attention on venting to cope with his overdraw. To Caden''s dismay, Henry and his posse seemed to have the same idea. When they both noticed they were going for the same seat, Henry caught Caden''s eye and gave him a small smile, then gestured with exaggerated magnanimity for Caden to take it.

    "To the victors go the spoils," he said softly, before moving off to sit in the row just ahead, on the side further away from Caden and Bertram, joined by the other members of his earlier gestalt.

    "Welcome back to the Academy," Kant said, standing in front of the assembled students, with his hands folded behind his back. "And to those who haven''t had the misfortune of being in my classes so far, an especially warm welcome. You''ll get used to the pain."

    There was a bit of chuckling from a few students. Bertram managed a half-snort, half-chortle.

    "If you''re wondering whether the rest of our lessons this year will be like this," Kant continued, smiling slightly, "the answer is no. They will be worse."

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    There were more laughs, though fewer, and also some quiet incredulous choking. Caden could almost hear the sound of people''s hearts sinking.

    "Theory without practice is pointless, and doubly so in the context of the Empire''s mobilisation for war," Kant said, his tone becoming a little more sombre. "Once a week, we will have a war game of sorts, like the one you have just endured. Two more sessions will be spent running drills. And to end each week, we''ll have duels in various arrangements. At the end of each session, I expect intelligent reflection of your performance. So, let''s get straight to it. What did you learn from today''s exercise?"

    A few of the students looked around, clearly feeling alarmed and very out of their depth. But there was already one hand going up. It was Henry.

    "Yes?" Kant gestured at him.

    "How to use arcana efficiently in a gestalt," he answered softly.

    "Elaborate?"

    "Individuals wouldn''t have lasted long. Even the lesser constructs were difficult to subdue or destroy. We needed to form gestalts," Henry went on calmly. "But even in a gestalt, we were forced to be extremely efficient with the arcana by using glyph arrays, or else we wouldn''t have been able to make it to the end."

    Kant nodded in approval. "Glyph arrays are essential in higher levels of thaumaturgy. The gestalts that did not use them, or were unable to use them effectively, all fell in the first three minutes of today''s exercise. Please prepare yourselves accordingly for future sessions. Now, what else?"

    Bertram raised a hand, and Kant nodded at him. "The importance of gathering intel. If you didn''t have any way to survey the field of battle, you wouldn''t be able to avoid the biggest threats, or get into an advantageous position."

    "Yes. There were only six people doing any sort of active, intentional scanning. The rest of you were relying on your general sense of the flow of arcana in the space, but the constructs are shielded and veiled against that kind of casual detection," Kant said. "First and second-years, get in touch with the third-years and learn the relevant sequences by next week. What else?"

    There was some murmuring, but no one else volunteered an answer.

    "Well, if there''s nothing else, then it''s time for me to give my assessment of how it all went," Kant said. He paused, looking at everyone one-by-one, his brow furrowed. "As individuals, some of you performed very well. But as a class, all of you have failed."

    "What do you mean?" Lynus demanded.

    The ambient arcana suddenly came alive as Kant seized control of it, and Caden almost fell out of his chair in surprise and alarm, but he reined himself in when he realised that Kant was just generating visual aids en masse. Swirling wisps of colour formed loops around each of their seats.

    "These were your gestalts," Kant said, indicating the coloured rings around them. Caden looked down and saw that he and Bertram were both ringed in sky blue. Henry and his group were in royal purple. Everywhere he looked, he saw mostly groups of three to six people.

    "What''s wrong with our gestalts?" someone asked, confused.

    Kant gave a wry smile. "Why didn''t you all form one gestalt?"

    An awkward silence met his words. After awhile, another person muttered, "Were we allowed?"

    "Your enemy will not tell you what you can or cannot do," Kant said sharply. "In battle, you ought to seize every advantage you have. If you have superior numbers at your disposal, capitalise on that. For our future sessions, please remember this. You are not here to learn recreational duelling. You are here to be trained for combat. Use anything and everything you can."

    There was some nodding from those who were familiar with Kant''s methods, but a few people were complaining under their breaths about how this had been a rather unfair expectation. If Kant heard, he gave no indication. Instead, he moved on and started calling out specific people to demonstrate some of the things they had done, and then got the group to evaluate the sequences that had been deployed, and offer comments about whether those had been wise decisions, or whether they had been used effectively. There didn''t seem to be any pattern to who Kant decided to call on, but Caden felt it was only a matter of time before the crosshairs fell on him.

    "Caden," Kant called finally, with only fifteen minutes left to the session. "You brought down the giant construct."

    There were exclamations of surprise and disbelief from those who hadn''t been present when it happened. "Isn''t he just a first-year?" someone whispered loudly.

    Under Kant''s command, the wedged-armed construct formed next to him. It stood motionless, towering over everyone.

    "Please demonstrate," Kant said, gesturing.

    Caden hesitated. "I''m not sure if I can if it''s not moving," he said. It wasn''t strictly true, because he definitely had more than enough power to take it down alone, but at the time he had limited himself to using only what was generally reasonable for a first-year. And that meant that in the earlier engagement, he had taken advantage of the construct''s own momentum when it had been charging towards him.

    Kant raised an eyebrow. "You want to fight it properly again?"

    "Er, no," Caden answered hastily. "I just, uh, need it to be charging forward at full speed. And I need a battery."

    Immediately, the construct started lumbering off toward the far end, away from the whole group. A huge sphere of arcana rapidly formed in the middle of the arena, floating above them. Caden took the cue and went to the opposite end. The blade of arcana materialised in his hand, drawing some appreciative noises from the watching crowd. When he attuned to the arena-prepared battery and was ready, he nodded.

    The arena shields sprang into existence around him and the construct charged forward. Caden propelled himself forward with a burst of arcana, bringing the blade to bear once more. Just before the moment of impact, the construct raised a wedge-like hand to intercept him. Caden was caught by surprise, but he twisted desperately out of the way and narrowly missed being struck head-on, and still managed to draw his sword through the centre of the construct. As before, the gathered arcana bled through the path traced in the air by his sword, sank through the construct''s outer shell, and suffused the whole thing in a matter of seconds. Caden tore apart the channels of arcana feeding the sequences that powered it, and it collapsed in a heap a moment later.

    Bertram whooped and cheered, and he was joined by a few of the others, though the prevailing emotion was one of stunned surprise.

    "I''ll give you all two minutes to figure it out," Kant announced. "If anyone can tell me how he did that, I''ll give you a little present."

    Caden returned to his seat. As everyone fell into furious speculation with their friends, Kant walked around the cluster of chairs and came a little closer to where Henry sat, then looked down at him. "Leaving a rearguard behind to cover your retreat is a viable tactic, but you ought to weigh your options more carefully in the future," he said softly to Henry, though he clearly didn''t mind if he was overheard. He even glanced up and gave Caden a small smile. "A rearguard isn''t much use if it ends up following you and drawing more attention to your retreat, is it? I expect better from you in the future."

    Henry nodded, his face impassive. When Kant was gone, he turned to look at Caden again. It was unsettling not because there was any hostility or even dislike in his gaze. Instead, it felt like Henry was weighing exactly how much of a threat Caden might pose to him, and what to do about it.

    Caden fought down a wave of irritation and looked away. He had no intention of being pulled into some petty feud over one incident in a training exercise. There were Fateweavers to contend with, an assassin to uncover, and even freaking elves to learn about. He had bigger fish to fry.

 178. Threes a Crowd

    At the end of the two minutes, Kant called for any volunteers to offer a breakdown of what Caden had done. One of the two third-years who had lasted to the end, a short girl with blonde hair drawn up in a tight bun, stood up almost immediately, narrowly beating Henry and her fellow third-year gestalt member. Bertam looked like he had been about to volunteer as well, but seemed to reconsider at the last moment. Caden was a little surprised at their eagerness to answer.

    "Erika," Kant said, acknowledging her. The others sat back down.

    Instead of answering immediately, she turned to look thoughtfully at Caden. While she didn''t sound uncertain, she spoke slowly, carefully laying out her train of thought. "He''s only a first-year, so this was probably more about technique than raw power, especially because it looked like an entirely free-form use of arcana without sequences. Still, it was extremely efficient use of arcana. That points to some sort of excellent frameshift that did the heavy-lifting. With a good frameshift to direct the arcana, he could spend less attention focusing on how to direct it and concentrate on his arcanic-assisted movement."

    Caden blinked at her, quite startled by this precise assessment. She smiled a little at the look on his face, then continued. "The construct just fell over instead of being destroyed, so I think he''s broken the sequences that keep it functioning. Somehow, his frameshift causes his blade to cut through sequences. But I think he doesn''t have enough power to punch through the construct''s outer shell, which is why he needed the construct to be charging at him."

    Kant nodded in approval. "Good breakdown. But no, his blade does not cut through sequences."

    Erika looked a little disappointed, but not surprised. "Yes, I wasn''t really sure about that. But I''m right about how it''s not a sequence, right?" she asked, glancing at Caden. Before Caden could respond, though, Kant snapped his fingers and everyone else but Caden turned to look at him. Caden stared, feeling suddenly cold. The effect had been almost exactly the same as the one he and Emilia had learned to produce by making use of their auric-ambient-flares in higher dimensions in order to almost effortlessly redirect a person''s attention momentarily. Was Kant operating in oblivion? Caden hadn''t been paying enough attention to be able to tell.

    If Kant noticed Caden''s immunity to it, he gave no indication. The rest were none the wiser because he had covered the moment with the snap of his fingers. "I want more educated guesses. No confirmation yet," he said.

    Henry raised his hand and Kant nodded at him.

    "I think it''s a frameshift too, not a specific sequence," he said, sounding more confident in his own assessment than Erika. "And the blade is the delivery system for that frameshift. It doesn''t actually cut because there isn''t a physical inscription to damage. The sequence is formed and anchored in the upper reaches of arcana. Even then, his arcanic blade doesn''t actually attack the sequence there either, because if that were the case, he would simply attack it directly in the upper reaches of arcana without resorting to using physical analogues."

    Upper reaches? Caden frowned. It sounded like Henry had a very different way of explaining things like the arcanic sea. And now that he was thinking about it, he realised no one ever really used that term definitively. In the last term, it was Caden himself who had come up with the analogy after the diasterous encounter with the lake augera when the Demiurge had saved him and his friends, and they had all been using it ever since in their conversations with each other. And even the Demiurge, in their training session, had talked about "the higher levels of arcanophany involving what you call the arcanic sea and oblivion".

    "Go on," Kant prompted when Henry stopped. Caden quickly shelved that thought for later consideration so he could pay more attention to Henry''s explanation.

    Henry turned to Caden, looking a little puzzled. He sounded less certain now. "A frameshift that could take down the construct from the inside. In theory, something like that could''ve been applied without requiring any attack on the physical body. So why the sword as a delivery system? It might be because he couldn''t sense the construct''s signature in the arcana since it is warded against casual detection, so his only angle of attack was the physical body. But if he''s operating only at that level, then how does his frameshift, once delivered, destroy the sequence if its anchored in the upper reaches of arcana?"

    Henry frowned, then shrugged and turned to Kant. "I don''t know," he said simply, then sat back down. Kant did not press him further, or even offer a remark at this sudden throwing in of the towel.

    After Henry''s attempt, there were a few more from a couple of second-years, but it was all just variations of what Henry and Erika had already mentioned. By the close of the session, no one had a satisfactory explanation, and Kant did not offer one either.

    "This forms the foundation for our first exercise in our next session," he declared. "You''ll all be expected to take down one of those constructs yourself. So come prepared."

    A second-year raised his hand tentatively. "Uhm, will it just be standing there, or do we have to, you know, fight it?"

    Kant grinned. "Oh, I think you know the answer."

    There were a few dark chuckles from those who had been in Kant''s classes before. Most of the others greeted this news with looks of dismay, and they shuffled out looking thoroughly exhausted and defeated as Kant dismissed everyone and left, moving with great purpose and urgency. Caden had half a mind to follow him just to see where he was going in such a hurry, but he decided against getting into any more trouble for now.

    "Stumped everyone!" Bertram chuckled, elbowing Caden as they drifted out of the chamber. "This year''s gonna be a lot more fun than I thought it''d be, even with all the changes!"

    "What are the upper reaches of arcana?" Caden asked, lowering his voice a little since he didn''t want everyone else to hear as the whole crowd moved off in the same general direction, towards the exit of the duelling compound.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    Bertram shot him a surprised look. "You detected my scanning sequence, but you don''t know what that is?"

    "I think I do," Caden answered. "But me and... I... think of it as the arcanic sea."

    "Arcanic sea," Bertram repeated thoughtfully, then nodded. "Yeah, that works. Is that what your year calls it?"

    "My year?" Caden shot him a confused look.

    "Your cohort. Does everyone call it that? Who came up with it?" Bertram asked.

    "Not the whole cohort, I think. Just me and a couple of friends. I came up with it," Caden answered. "I dunno what everyone else calls it."

    "You?" Bertram looked impressed. "Keen mind. Most people just latch on to existing ideas and frameworks. My own seniors talked about the ''upper reaches of arcana'', and that kinda caught on. The picture that comes with it is sort of like a stream. The upper reaches are closer to the source, where things are purer or clearer, more powerful. The things formed there have a downstream effect. If you work in the lower reaches alone, the stuff you do has less of an impact on things working in the higher reaches."

    Caden was quite intrigued by this conception of arcana. "But this wasn''t taught in a book or class or anything?"

    Bertram shook his head. "It''s just a frameshift. The kind of stuff people talk and share about, but you don''t write down because it''s not supposed to be something immutable that you have to use. Your arcanic sea version proves it. You''ve worked just fine by thinking of it that way. Actually, maybe it''s how you managed to catch my scanning sequence."

    Caden nodded slowly. That made sense. If Bertram''s homebrew sequences were formed with the idea of arcana as a stream, then that downstream directionality was built into it. He might have designed his pulse sequence by placing it in the upper reaches, as far as he could go, expecting that anything ''downstream'' wouldn''t be able to detect it, so it wasn''t as fully veiled as it could have been. But Caden''s own arcanic sea picture, where depth was related to complexity, meant that it was still possible to spot something as long as you were ''looking'' in that direction. And on top of that, Caden was also operating on oblivion, where his auric-ambient-flare wasn''t even working with physical analogues, and was instead working with quasi-senses that didn''t correlate with any corporeal experience.

    "Speaking of your scanning sequence, could you teach me that?" Caden asked.

    "I could," Bertram said, grinning.

    Caden picked up the sly tone and sighed as he rephrased. "Will you?"

    "I will not," Bertram answered, laughing a little. "Not directly. You imitated my gel-shot shields. I''m interested to see the process of how you re-created those. So let''s make a deal, shall we? I''ll use the scanning sequence as many times as you like, but you don''t get to see the glyphs up close. And you let me watch how you reverse-engineer them."

    Caden nodded. "That sounds fair."

    "Alright. Now put your game-face on," Bertram said.

    "What? Why?"

    They were all out of the duelling compound now and the class of thirty was breaking up into smaller groups as everyone headed in different directions, since there was a half-hour break before the next lesson. Bertram jerked his head to direct Caden''s attention. Henry, who had been walking some way ahead with the twins and the others in his gestalt, had peeled off from them and was now headed straight for the two of them.

    "Ah shit," Caden muttered under his breath.

    "Relax, he won''t bite yet," Bertram said breezily. "He''s just going to have a nice, friendly chat with you."

    Caden highly doubted that since the two of them had dropped a roof full of constructs on Henry, but he was almost within earshot, so Caden elected not to deliver a withering reply to Bertram.

    "We weren''t properly introduced," Henry said, smiling slightly as he held out a hand to Caden. "Henry Laine."

    "Caden Dundale," he replied politely, returning the handshake. Henry''s grip was firm, but not overbearingly tight.

    "We left you and Bert behind, but you two dropped an army of constructs on us, so let''s call it even, shall we?" Henry asked, his smile widening a little.

    "Sure," Caden said. "No hard feelings."

    "Exactly. No hard feelings. And if you ever want a group to study with, feel free to look me up. That is, if Bert here doesn''t take up too much of your time." He nodded, still smiling, at Bertram, who returned the gesture with a bland grin of his own. Henry lingered for a moment longer, then turned and left, waving a hand lazily as he went.

    "See? Just a nice, friendly chat," Bertram said in a falsely bright tone, watching him go.

    "How much trouble am I in, exactly?" Caden asked, sighing again.

    "Pfft. You''ll be fine. He hates being one-upped, but he''s not a thug. You''re not in any real trouble."

    "You two seem like you''ve got a history," Caden remarked.

    "Yeah you could say that. He''s good, and he hates that I''m better. He''s spent the last two years trying to get the Top Scorer spot. I may or may not have taken a bit too much pleasure keeping it away from him." Bertram stretched lazily. "Anyway, I''m headed to the library to return my book and meet the second-year Top Scorer. You wanna come?"

    "You want me there?" Caden raised an eyebrow.

    "Wouldn''t you like to check out the competition?" Bertram asked, grinning. "I actually wanna get both of you to fight at least once, just for me to see who''s better."

    "I didn''t say I was interested in being a part of this competition," Caden replied, a little irritated. "I mean, I don''t want to be involved in someбк"

    "Then don''t think of it as that," Bertram cut in. "You''re just meeting a second-year student, and if you want, we can make a little study group of our own. Unless you''d rather join Henry." He paused as something occurred to him. "Or you''ve got other friends. I mean, sorry, I kinda just assumed you didn''t since you were sitting alone at the briefing yesterday."

    "I''ve got friends," Caden said testily. "Kind of. It''s complicated."

    "Well, the nice thing about friends is you can make lots of them," Bertram said airily. "There''s no cap on the number you''re allowed to have. C''mon. Don''t be some lonely, stuffy Top-Scorer with his head in books, all alone."

    "Yeah, instead, let''s take three Top-Scorers so they can all have their heads in books together, because that''s the model of an ordinary social life," Caden replied sarcastically.

    Bertram put on a wounded look. "Exactly. Will you be my friend, and come and meet my only other friend in the whole Academy?"

    "I think I''m beginning to see why Henry doesn''t like you," Caden grumbled, but he turned towards the library and started walking.

    "That''s the spirit!" Bertram fell into step beside him, humming tunelessly. When they got to the library, he sprang forward and opened the door for Caden with an exaggerated bow. "This way, sir, to a richer social life!"

    Caden rolled his eyes and went in, then waited for Bertram to lead the way since he had no idea where he was going to meet the second-year Top Scorer. Bertram strolled towards the cafe, beckoning for Caden to follow. He scanned the cafe, wondering if he''d see Devon or Jerric around here and if he could just slip off to join them if they were.

    "Over here!" Bertram called.

    Caden let out a sigh, still desperately hoping to see the other dormies as he headed to where Bertram was waving at him.

    Bertram drew up a seat for him and he sat heavily in it, but his breath hitched in his throat when he looked across the table at the third person who was already there.

    "Caden," Bertram said cheerfully, "meet Leyla. Leyla, Caden."

 179. Budding Relationships

    Leyla looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, but other than that she gave no sign that she knew who he was. With a perfectly straight face, she leaned across the table and extended a hand. "Hello Caden. Pleasure to meet you."

    Nonplussed by the revelation of who the second-year Top Scorer was, and Leyla''s pretense of not recognising him, Caden could only mutely return the handshake. Bertram picked up on his awkwardness and waggled his eyebrows at Caden. "You''re not one of those people who have no idea how to talk to girls, right?"

    "I talk to girls just fine," Caden answered irritably, and a little more forcefully than he intended. He caught Leyla''s eye and saw her lips twitch ever-so-slightly, but she quickly schooled her expression and turned to look blandly at Bertram as he spoke.

    "Wait, no, don''t tell me you didn''t think a girl could be the Top Scorer?" Bertram''s tone was accusatory, but it was clear he was just pulling Caden''s leg.

    "I definitely didn''t expect one of them to be a huge pain," Caden shot back.

    "We still have another class to get to in a bit," Leyla said delicately to Bertram before he could get another word in. "You said you wanted to meet me?"

    Bertram became a bit more business-like. "You''ve got Kant''s class next, right? In the duelling compound?"

    Leyla nodded.

    "If he''s starting off all his classes the same way, then it''ll be an unannounced training exercise with an emphasis on forming gestalts and using glyph arrays efficiently," Bertram said, while he plucked a writing pad and pen out of his bag and placed them on the table. "You''ll have to face off against arena-created attackers and last until the end of a time limit."

    Caden was a little surprised that this information was being given out so freely. Did Leyla have some sort of hold over him, or had she paid for this information? Bertram had already revealed he was a trafficker of artefacts, so it wasn''t that much of a leap to assume he was also an information broker of some sort. Or did he perhaps have an ulterior motive by providing unsolicited tips? Was he trying to extract a favour of some sort from her?

    "Why are you telling me this?" Leyla asked, her eyes narrowing a little. Her question implied that this information was indeed unsolicited, and it brought Caden an inexplicable sense of relief. But it was also mingled with a growing feeling of suspicion towards Bertram.

    "Because I''ve got an assignment for you," Bertram grinned, thumbing through the writing pad. Caden caught a glimpse of copious notes and diagrams until Bertram finally got to an empty page. "Got anyone you can gestalt with in your class?"

    "Um, everyone, I guess? Isn''t that basic?"

    "Let me rephrase," Bertram said, with a sideways glance at Caden. "Do you have friends you think you''ll be gestalting with in your class, or are you more of the loner type?"

    "Not a loner," Caden muttered.

    Leyla''s eyes flicked from Caden back to Bertram. "Yes. At least two. Could go up to five. How big a gestalt is allowed?"

    "As big as you want," Bertram answered. Caden was about to add that Kant had reprimanded their class for not forming one giant gestalt when Bertram cut across him and shook his head. "But that''s not the point. Yoбк"

    "Caden was about to say something," Leyla pointed out, raising an eyebrow at Bertram.

    "Oh? Well depending on what he says, he might make the assignment I have for you even harder," Bertram said lightly, turning to face Caden expectantly.

    Caden had to admit, as irritating as it was to be on the receiving end, Bertram was remarkably adept at exerting social pressure, and it was quite an educational experience. He sighed and shook his head. "Nevermind."

    Leyla looked a little sympathetic. "He''s a bit much, isn''t he?" she asked Caden in a conspiratorial whisper. "Very pushy. You can tell he''s the kind who''s used to getting what he wants."

    "What I want is for you to get what you want, even if you don''t quite know you want it yet," Bertram said smoothly.

    Caden snorted but gestured for the two of them to continue. "We''ve all got a class soon, so you better get on with it."

    Bertram nodded and directed his attention at his writing pad. There was a little stirring of arcana before the pen leapt up and started quickly filling the page with a sketch of the giant construct with accompanying observations tagged to its anatomy, the sequences and patterns for a few different thaumaturgical glyph arrays, and some other text that Caden couldn''t make out from where he was seated.

    "So, about that exercise," Bertram began, gesturing at the page as it continued to fill. "Here are some glyph arrays you can use depending on how many people you end up gestalting with. I formed a two-person gestalt with Caden but he managed pretty well without my help and we lasted to the end, so I hope you''ll manage the same in order to stay competitive. Additionally, Caden actually took that down by himself." He tapped the sketch of the giant construct.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Leyla''s eyebrows shot up and she gave Caden an appraising look before turning to Bertram. "So I have to do that too, or I''m out?"

    Bertram shook his head. "Of course not. There''ll be plenty more chances for you to prove yourself. I''m just telling you that there''s an opportunity, if you want to take it."

    Leyla seemed to withdraw into herself a little as she looked down at the sketch. Her friendly and earnest manner had given way to a steely sort of quietness, and Caden could almost see the cogs whirling in her head as she took in the information that Bertram had provided. Evidently, she really did care about trying to earn his approval. Why did she want to be his partner-in-crime? What did she hope to get out of becoming some sort of smuggler or trafficker of artefacts? He hadn''t pinned her down as the sort that would get into this kind of trouble.

    After a few moments, she glanced up saw Caden regarding her seriously, and gave a wide grin. Gone was the cold determination that had darkened her features earlier. "If I don''t manage it, maybe you can teach me how you did it?"

    "Uh, sure," Caden answered, caught off-guard by the sudden change, while also being a little flustered by the request.

    "Whoa there, that''s not something you can just give out!" Bertram interjected, looking indignant. "Kant offered a prize for anyone who could figure it out by the end of our session, and no one managed it! There''s a price on your technique!"

    "No, there''s no prize anymore because the offer was only good until the end of our session," Caden pointed out. "Plus, he expects everyone to have figured it out by our next session since he wants everyone to fight it one-on-one."

    "I know that! But, I mean, you didn''t even offer to tell me!" Bertram said, now arranging his features into exaggerated aggrievement. "And after all I''ve done to help you!"

    Caden rolled his eyes. "Would you like me to tell you?"

    "What do you take me for, some kind of loser who isn''t capable of reverse-engineering what you did?" Bertram shot back, now pretending to be offended. Leyla sniggered.

    "Fates, I''m this close to punching you!" Caden said, gritting his teeth.

    "Pfft, no you''re not. You secretly like the banter," Bertram laughed. "Anyway, let me at least try to figure it out myself. Even if I''m really stumped and I can''t replicate what you did, I''ll figure out another way to bring the construct down. If you really wanna help Leyla, let her do the same."

    "Very professorial," Leyla said, smiling. "You sure you''re not just afraid I might come out ahead of even you, if Caden helps me?"

    Bertram grinned back at her. "I like that attitude. I also respect how you''re trying to use your feminine wiles to get Caden to help you, and I fully recognise that I am outmatched in that particular arena since you seem to be more his type. It''s good to press your advantages. Very canny."

    Caden choked and Bertram thumped him heartily on the back. Leyla blushed. "That''s not what Iбк"

    "Hey, no judgement!" Bertram put up his hands. "I confess I am not above using every available means to obtain what I want. Comes with the territory."

    "I think I''m done here," Caden spluttered, getting to his feet. "Class time."

    "He''s right, we need to go!" Bertram neatly tore off the page and handed it to Leyla as he stood as well. "You two can catch up some other time. I''m sure you''ll have lots to discuss."

    Caden''s face was burning and he couldn''t bear to look at Leyla, but he got the impression she was equally mortified. Bertram was still yapping, so Caden decided the best thing to do was just leave as quickly as he could. He sped off without waiting for the third-year to pack away his writing pad. Only when he was at the library doors did it occur to Caden that he should have at least said goodbye to Leyla or tried to make a more dignified exit in order to minimise the impact of Bertram''s words. Leaving like that only served to confirm that the whole affair had been hugely embarrassing, and that maybe there was some sort of unspoken attraction. But it was too late now.

    Bertram caught up to Caden outside and fell into step beside him. There was the most infuriating grin on Bertram''s face. "Well that was a fruitful meeting. Very fruitful. Wasn''t it fruitful?"

    "You''re horrible."

    "Ah man, was that too much?" Bertram sobered a little. "I was just having a bit of fun. Sorry if I crossed a line or something."

    Now that he was out of that situation, Caden didn''t feel like he wanted to sink through the floor and disappear anymore. He shot an irritated look at Bertram, then took a deep breath to steady himself. "My life''s kinda complicated now. I guess normally I''d be okay with it, but I''m just a bit on edge. And you''re just..."

    "Relentlessly cheerful, annoyingly persistent, and unapologetically funny?" Bertram nodded seriously. "Yeah, I know."

    Caden couldn''t stop himself from smiling just a little.

    "Aha!" Bertram pointed a triumphant finger, but then shed a little bit of the comic energy. "But alright, duly noted. Gotta say you''re a pretty patient guy though. Thanks for putting up with me."

    "Is that why you were alone too? Back in the duelling chamber?" Caden asked, now curious.

    "Nope," Bertram said, looking at Caden with complete seriousness. "You weren''t with anyone at the briefing the previous day, and the only other first-years in our group are the twins. From what you said, it seemed like you have a generally negative impression of them. Because of all that, I was worried you''d end up being alone at the start of our session, and if you weren''t near anyone, you''d have been caught alone without a gestalt. I introduced myself the day before, so there was a chance you''d see a familiar face and come over, but I figured if I was already in a group you probably wouldn''t just walk over and introduce yourself. So I told my friends to go ahead without me, sat alone, and got out my book. Made me easier to approach."

    Caden stared at him.

    "Anyway, that wasn''t all just to help some lost puppy," Bertram continued with a slight cough. "My plan was to be in a gestalt with you so I could get a feel for your capabilities, so it worked out in my favour."

    "...Hey, Bert? Uh, do you mind if I call you Bert?"

    "Bert''s fine."

    "Alright. Well, I don''t think I''ve said thanks, Bert. So thanks."

    Bertram smiled warmly for a moment before the usual grin of mischief took over. "If you really want to thank me, might I interest you in making a purchase? I''ve got the most wonderful selection of artefacts which might be able to help you in the romance department andбк"

    Caden sighed loudly and stuffed his fingers in his ears as they approached the lecture halls.

 180. Dealing Secrets

    Their second class was in one of the smaller lecture halls that Caden had never been in before, though it followed the same tiered layout as the Nivordin Lecture Hall. He and Bertram were the last ones in, arriving just on time. Caden brightened a little as he saw Alina Celwyn, the professor who had taken his group for Advanced Glyphs in the previous term, standing at the lecturer''s podium below. The two of them were left only with the seats furthest at the back, closer to the door, so they quickly settled down as Alina gestured at the blackboard behind her. It filled with glyphs, and Caden saw with a little thrill of excitement that he recognised some of them as being from the Special Set.

    "Welcome back, everyone," Celwyn said, turning to face the hall. She looked a lot more careworn than Caden remembered, and she had a slightly defeated air about her. Instead of launching straight into a lecture, she simply looked around at all of them, her eyes settling on each one for a moment. There was an uneasy silence, which she broke with a heavy sigh.

    "Your foray into the deeper mysteries of glyphs will be coloured by the necessity to lean more towards thaumaturgy," she began at last. "Given the nature of the glyphs you will be working with, we will begin strictly with the theory, which is why we are here in a lecture hall. In time, we will return to the workrooms where you will start making use of them in active sequences. Then, only after you have demonstrated a basic level of proficiency, you will be allowed to make use of them in your practical thaumaturgy sessions."

    Henry raised his hand and Celwyn nodded at him. "Yes?"

    "What if we''ve already covered them? Not all of us are first or second-years."

    "You will only be allowed to use them in combat sequences after you have demonstrated your proficiency to me," Celwyn said firmly. "In our later practical sessions, I will be testing your ability to use them in actual combat. Even if you are a third-year, you''ve only seen the Special Set glyphs used in non-combat sequences. They work very differently."

    "But they''re the same glyphs," Henry countered, though his tone was not argumentative. "If we''re comfortable using them in non-comбк"

    "They are not the same," Celwyn replied sharply, cutting him off. There was another slightly awkward silence. Caden exchanged a look of worry with Bertram, who was also regarding her with some concern.

    "They are not the same," Celwyn repeated, a little more calmly, though her brow was still furrowed in annoyance. "That is exactly my point. And this is where we begin with the theory. Third-years, some of the ground I''m going to cover might be passingly familiar to you, but our focus on thaumaturgy changes everything, so pay attention. You will be in a better position to mark the differences, and I expect you to note these things, and I will require your considered responses so that everyone emerges from this as more than just mindless killing machines."

    The more she spoke, the more bitterness seeped into her voice. After her sharp reply to Henry, no one else raised any questions or observations, and everyone fell to quiet note-taking as she continued with the lecture about the principles behind the Special Set, and how they were different from both the Basic and Advanced Sets. From what Caden understood, the Special Set glyphs were more malleable in their function depending on the intention with which they were used, which made them more difficult to use reliably in the same way. Celwyn spent most of the lecture talking about mental imagery and patterns of thought, introducing several ''models'' or ''modes'' as the foundations for future lessons. It seemed like a more formalised form of frameshifting to Caden, and he wondered at his most recent discovery about the ''arcanic sea'' or the ''upper reaches of arcana'', and what implications this had about arcana and glyphs as a whole.

    Caden expected Celwyn to end the class with an invitation for questions, which had been her habit in the past term, but she dismissed them without doing so, and something about her manner discouraged any inquiries as well. She left without being stopped by anyone. With her departure, the rest of the class erupted into conversation as they slowly filed out of the hall and went their separate ways for lunch. Caden hesitated at the door, wondering whether he ought to go back to the dorm to see if there would be lunch there with Devon and the rest, or if he ought to eat in the library. He toyed with the idea of the latter, half-hoping to catch her there even though his meeting with Leyla was only for the next day.

    "C''mon," Bertram said, nudging Caden and nodding towards the cafeteria instead of the library.

    "Eh, I think I''ll..." he trailed off. He saw the twins as they split off from the rest of Henry''s group and headed back to the dormitories, and decided that although he did want to have a meal with Devon and Jerric, he wasn''t quite ready to sit down with the twins again, especially after their thaumaturgy trial earlier. "Alright. Lead the way."

    As they headed to the cafeteria, the conversation turned to Celwyn''s odd behaviour. Bertram shared that Celwyn had been the professor taking his group since the first year, and they traded theories to explain her odd behaviour.

    "She''s an artificer by specialty, and I know her private projects are more to do with artefacts with benevolent uses," Bertram explained. "I''ve, uh, acquired a few of them and sold them."

    "You''ve stolen from her workshop?" Caden asked, incredulous.

    "Not stolen," Bertram replied, wagging a finger. "Acquired. I do have some lines I don''t cross, and theft is one of them."

    "But then where do you get your... your inventory?

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "That''s information for partners," Bertram grinned. "Anyway, you can sorta tell from the stuff she makes that she''s quite opposed towards thaumaturgy."

    "You mean she''s never designed or made any artefacts with combat applications?"

    Bertram shook his head, dropping his cavalier attitude. Caden noticed that whenever he started discussing arcanophany, he became a lot more serious and focused. "No. We kinda covered this today when she talked about Special Set glyphs being malleable. When you use them in specific ways, the glyphs themselves change. You can tell from how she''s used them in her work that she''s got a certain... hm, a certain frame of mind."

    Caden mulled over this. During his one-week intensive training with the Demiurge when he had learned about the glyphs for the wysana, he had worked with glyphs that were even greater in complexity than the Special Set, and he couldn''t remember encountering this kind of malleability. He assumed that if Special Set glyphs were like that, then those higher-class glyphs for wysana creation would have that same quality, but apparently this wasn''t the case. The only Special Set glyphs he had really seen up close and actually used were from the military-grade shield-piercer that Ambrose had taught him, and the most recent sighting when with the stasis sequence Lynus had attempted to use in the exercise earlier that day. Caden had only ever seen or used a Special Set glyph in a thaumaturgical sequence, so he didn''t have any basis for comparison for how they could appear or feel different.

    "So you''ve used Special Set glyphs before?" Caden asked. "''Cause Henry mentioned it too."

    "We''ve learned the set and used it in specific sequences. None of them were for combat," Bertram confirmed.

    "Then how''d the twins come up with that stasis sequence?" Caden wondered aloud.

    Bertram shot him a surprised look. "You caught that? Yeah, I wondered that too. They''re first-year, like you. I assumed that Henry taught them the glyphs, and also formulated the theory for the sequence with them."

    "But that''s dangerous," Caden pointed out.

    Bertram shrugged. "Hey, you recognise Special Set glyphs. That''s dangerous too, ''cos it means you know enough to use them. It happens. Seniors pass tips along and leak things ahead of the curriculum sometimes. Kant didn''t stop them from deploying the sequence, did he? That means they''ve already cleared it with someone beforehand."

    "How can you be so sure?" Caden pressed.

    "''Cause that''s how it works, freshie," Bertram answered. "Hasn''t your cohort done this? People homebrew stuff all the time, and the rule is you''ve got to clear it with a professor before you deploy."

    "Yeah," Caden replied, remembering Devon''s sequence to keep food warm. "But I mean... these are combat sequences. With Special Set glyphs. This isn''t some fun, harmless homebrew project. And the twins were using it in combat, in live practice, with other people around. Plus, after what Celwyn just said, what happens now?"

    Bertram sighed. "That''s politics between the professors. If you ask me, Henry and his gang aren''t gonna stop, and you shouldn''t expect them to, so you''ve got to plan accordingly. The question now is what you are going to do about it. People are experimenting ahead of the curve. Celwyn''s put this little ban on us, but do you think the other lecturers are putting similar bans on their teaching groups? Because I don''t think they are."

    Caden hesitated, thinking about his private lessons with the Demiurge. It occurred to him that it was rather hypocritical of him to think that it was alright for him to learn all this advanced arcanophany that was even beyond some professors, while thinking it was wrong for Henry and the twins to be dabbling in combat applications of Special Set glyphs. Moreover, apparently Ambrose had already been familiar with them long before anyone else, and that was back in their first few months in the Academy.

    They walked in silence for awhile. Bertram was more serious than Caden had ever seen, but he wasn''t sure what the senior was thinking about. He was about to ask when Bertram broke the silence. "Let''s have a quick lunch and then get some work done before the next class."

    "What work?" Caden asked.

    "Practical work. I''ve got to let you deconstruct the pulse sequence, and see how you do it. Then I want to have a try duplicating your sword thing."

    "So soon? I was thinking tomorrow," Caden said.

    "Sooner the better," Bertram said firmly. "And before we do that, I want a working lunch. I''ve got some serious questions to ask you."

    They were just getting into the cafeteria, and before Caden could clarify, Bertram gestured at an empty table in a relatively private corner. A globelight manifested there, along with a privacy barrier. Caden stared, and a few other eyes glanced that way as well. It wasn''t usual for someone to claim a table in this manner, but apparently Bertram didn''t care about being a little rude, and no one challenged him because there were still plenty of seats around.

    "Let''s be quick," Bertram said, heading off to grab his food. Caden sighed and followed, quietly tallying up his questions.

    Bertram didn''t engage in any further conversation as they queued, apparently still deep in thought. The cafeteria was barely half-full, but Caden spotted a few of his fellow first-years, and he nodded or waved in acknowledgement as they met his eyes. There was a strange sense of tension mingled with weariness in the air, and Caden wondered how everyone else''s first two lessons had been.

    When Bertram and Caden got their food, they retreated to the table that Bertram had secured. He immediately began eating, but he managed to speak relatively clearly around the food in his mouth.

    "Special Set glyphs. How do you know them?" he asked bluntly, fixing Caden with a measuring gaze..

    Caden frowned. "What do you mean?"

    Bertram stabbed a carrot and popped it into his mouth, then pointed the fork at Caden. "Lynus'' stasis sequence. You recognised some of the glyphs in it. When did you learn about them? Who taught you?"

    "That''s private," Caden answered a little coldly. "I don''t see why that''s important, anyway."

    If Bertram was irritated by this refusal to answer, he didn''t show it. He simply continued chewing, still watching Caden with that thoughtful, measuring expression. "Alright. Why are you studying arcanophany?"

    That question caught Caden off-guard. He blinked in surprise, then shook his head. "Does it matter?"

    Instead of answering, Bertram put more food in his mouth, chewed a little, then asked, "Are you getting private lessons from a professor?"

    "Maybe," Caden said through gritted teeth, staring Bertram down. "Why are you asking all these questions?"

    Bertram swallowed the food in his mouth and paused for a moment. "Because, Caden Dundale, something isn''t adding up. And I''m beginning to think that it''s quite dangerous for me to be around you. I''ve been pretty straight with you, and I''m still willing to work with you because I think I can help you, and it also aligns with my own plans and interests. But that''ll only be possible if you''re willing to level with me, too."

    He popped more food in his mouth and started chewing again. "So what''s it gonna be, Caden? I''ve trusted enough to basically tell you I''m running an illicit business. Do I get anything back from that, or should I cut my losses now?"

 181. Stranger Danger

    Caden was sorely tempted to tell Bertram to cut his losses. After all, there was more than enough on his plate at the moment, and he didn''t need or want the additional baggage that came with dabbling in arcanophanic contraband. It was admittedly helpful to have a senior to rely on for some things, but if it was just a matter of weighing who he could learn more form, then he had a much better offer from the augera бк they were apparently willing and able to ''gift'' him any knowledge he wanted.

    But he bit his tongue. Bertram had shown quite a bit of faith and goodwill so far, and even if his motivations were a little mercenary or self-serving in nature, he was at least scrupulously transparent about it. Plus, despite the illicit nature of his business, he seemed benevolent at his core, and there was a quality of trustworthiness about him. Furthermore, Bertram had rightly pointed out that he had already shown great trust and vulnerability that Caden hadn''t yet earned. It seemed only right to reciprocate.

    He opened his mouth to say something to that effect, but Bertram cut in first and pointed his fork at Caden again. "You know, forget what I said. If you''re about to tell me stuff just because I''ve told you stuff, then I don''t want to hear it."

    "What?" Caden asked, bewildered.

    "Yep. Something just occurred to me. So let me put this out there." He took a deliberate sip of water. "You tell me the name of which professor is helping you, and I''ll still hang around so you can benefit from my company. We''ll also leave the possibility of working together on the table. But I''ll never press you for personal information ever again."

    Caden frowned. "Why do you even assume a professor is helping me?"

    Bertram looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. He gave a bland smile. "C''mon. It''s kinda obvious. Even I had help. As a matter of fact, I''m still getting help."

    "From which professor?" Caden''s curiosity was getting the better of him. He only realised after the question escaped his lips how unfair it was of him to ask that question expecting an answer given the circumstances. But if Bertram felt any irritation or indignance, he didn''t show it. Instead, he shrugged and replied, "Reeves."

    The ease with which he gave out this information did surprise Caden. "Okay, so let''s say I really am getting help from a professor. Why does it matter who it is? Why is that the most important piece of information, to the point where you''re willing to forfeit any other answers you might get from me?" he asked.

    "The simple answer is that it involves staff politics, and that affects my business," Bertram replied simply. "As for the more complex answer... well, that''s for business partners. So, to sum up, these are your choices. You can tell me nothing, and I''ll take this as the regrettable conclusion to our collaboration. Or you can just tell me the name of the professor who''s helping you, and I''ll never press you for personal information, but I''ll still be open to collaboration. What''s it gonna be?"

    Caden didn''t reply at once. Instead, he got started on his food, since he had barely touched it so far, whereas Bertram was already more than halfway done with his own meal. And as he chewed, he thought it over. Bertram continued eating as well, apparently happy to wait for him to consider all the angles.

    In the end, Caden couldn''t really find a compelling reason to not tell Bertram that he was receiving lessons from the Demiurge. It seemed a small price to pay for Bertram''s continued presence, and it also came with the promise that he wouldn''t have to actually answer any more personal questions.

    "If I tell you," he said at last, "you really won''t ask me any more personal questions?''

    "That''s not what I said," Bertram clarified with a grin. "I said I wouldn''t press you for personal information, but I reserve the right to just ask nicely, once, and then leave it up to you to decide whether you want to answer. And if you don''t, that''s completely fine."

    Caden gave a wry smile. "Alright, that''s fair. I''m getting private lessons from the Demiurge."

    This was the first time Caden saw Bertram completely nonplussed. He froze, then blinked a few times before shaking his head slowly in disbelief. "Okay. I mean, I didn''t think it''d be your own father, because from what I know he''s not the sort, but... uh... I definitely didn''t expect it to be the Demiurge."

    "What do you mean my father''s not the sort?" Caden asked, curious.

    "Well, he doesn''t have time to play the political game or play favourites with students when he''s so busy with his pet project," Bertram answered casually. "You know, the one with those spheres of his."

    At the mention of the spheres, Caden felt suddenly cold, but he forced himself to match Bertram''s casualness. "I don''t get it. What does playing favourites with students have to do with staff politics?"

    "Again, partner-only information," Bertram smiled. "Anyway, he''s kinda like Celwyn. He''s got certain principles. So even though it looks like he''s a lot more free nowadays, I don''t think he''s interested in ever getting tangled up with the politics."

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "A lot more free?" Caden echoed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

    Bertram nodded. "Yeah. That orb project... I thought it had real potential. Had buyers lined up, but he wasn''t interested in ever selling. And now it looks like he''s finally abandoned the whole endeavour."

    "What do you know about it?" Caden asked, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

    "I was actually hoping you could tell me," Bertram said, regarding him seriously. "But then again, I figured that there''s probably a simple explanation for why it didn''t work out. The Prophecy won, didn''t it? It got him in the end. Froze him out of his efforts to circumvent prophetic threads."

    "What''s going on here?" Caden demanded. He didn''t remember springing up from his seat, but he found himself suddenly looking down at Bertram, with blood pounding in his ears. "How... how do you know that?"

    "Partner-only information," Bertram repeated, this time looking very solemn.

    "Are you with the Fateweavers?" Caden asked, stretching his senses out to their fullest extent as he balanced on the edge of oblivion. Bertram, the clever-potent-needle, seemed to be confined to the level of the arcanic sea, and he didn''t exhibit any of the oblivion-level capabilities that Ambrose had so clearly shown. Still, Caden felt threatened because Bertram somehow knew far more than he had any right to about the prophetic orbs.

    Bertram raised an eyebrow. "Is that a serious question?"

    "It is," Caden hissed. "Answer me!"

    "Probably not in the way you''re thinking," Bertram said softly, regarding Caden with a little worry now. He sighed heavily. "Fates, you''re not just trouble, you''re big trouble, aren''t you? Maybe I really should cut my losses."

    "No, you''re not going anywhere until you tell me how you and Reeves know about my father''s work, the Prophecy, and how you''re both connected to it," Caden said, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward.

    Now, Bertram finally looked a little irritated. "You''re not even the Chosen One. Why do you get to make demands of me?"

    "Because you''re talking about my father''s work. And what makes you so sure I''m not the Chosen One?" Caden challenged.

    "Because it''s Ambrose, not you," Bertram shot back, a little anger creeping into his tone. But then he reined himself in and shook his head. "You''ve got no idea what''s going on here. Sit down, freshie, before you hurt yourself."

    The words were condescending, but Bertram sounded a little sad, and the strangeness of the whole situation gave Caden pause. He slowly sat down, breathing hard.

    "So the Demiurge is helping you." Bertram sighed. "From where I''m standing, that means you''re marked for something huge. Professors don''t usually tutor anyone privately. There''s a... well, not a game exactly... but there''s a thing that they get involved in, and a part of that requires getting students involved too. Whichever professor wins this ''game'' basically gets to decide who the next Demiurge is. Now that''s a big deal by itself, but the main prize is not really about the prestige or power. Well, it is about power, but not in the usual sense. It''s mostly to do with the little-known fact that the Demiurge has access to the Fateweavers. That kind of closeness is a privilege, and also immensely useful, as you can imagine."

    This was all news to Caden. He had assumed that the role of Demiurge was something that was decided solely by the Fateweavers, or perhaps by the Demiurge''s own election, so he wasn''t sure if he believed Bertram entirely. But some of what he said did match with certain facts that Caden had learned over the course of the past term. Kant and Reeves definitely had some sort of tie with the Fateweavers that marked them out from the rest of the professors, because they had both been spared from the memory alteration involving Caden. Also, the Demiurge himself had shared that he was essentially meant to serve as some sort of third-party check and balance on the Fateweaver''s virtually limitless freedom and power.

    "Did you sabotage my father''s orbs in any way?" Caden asked through gritted teeth.

    "Were you listening? Of course not. I had buyers lined up," Bertram answered, looking genuinely offended.

    "But when he refused to sell... did you do it as revenge? Or as part of this ''game''? Did Reeves or someone else put you up to it?"

    "You''ll want to check your facts before you go around making unfounded accusations," Bertram said coldly. "Because as far as my intel goes, the last person to have a functioning orb was you. And then somehow, shortly after he gave his only other working orb to you, all of his orbs died. Oh, he kept them floating all over with him, and he''s still got them with him today. But they''re not working anymore. Or at least not performing their intended function, which is to shield a person from prophetic links."

    "How do you or Reeves know all this?" Caden demanded.

    "Parter-only inбк"

    "Partner-only information, yes, I know," Caden snapped, exasperated. He got to his feet again and paced agitatedly in the sliver of space they had near the table within the privacy barrier.

    "Look," Bertram sighed. "I know how this looks. I''m sitting here dishing out secrets about you and your father, and you''ve only just met me yesterday. But you can trust me when I say I''m not here as your enemy. Now, if you haven''t lied to me about the Demiurge being the guy who''s teaching you privately, then I think we can make this work, because from what I figure, he and Reeves aren''t... well, they aren''t outright enemies at least. I''ll be honest, though, the idea is becoming less and less appealing to me, because frankly, this seems like it''s going to be a lot more trouble than it''s worth."

    "Oh yeah? Then why are you even bothering? Why aren''t you cutting your losses?"

    Bertram rolled his eyes. "Because you''ve got an I''m-a-kicked-puppy sort of look and I feel sorry for you, alright?"

    "You''re doing this because you feel sorry for me?" Caden didn''t know whether to feel indignant or not.

    "It''s a contributing factor," Bertram muttered, looking away for a moment. "But then there''s also the undeniable excitement of getting involved in big stuff with a big potential payoff. Though, as I said, I''m seriously weighing the cons here."

    "Well weigh them more, then," Caden ground out. He turned to leave, but before he crossed the privacy barrier, Bertram got up and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

    "Sorry, you don''t get to tell me what to do," he said firmly. "I''ll do my own risk-assessment, thanks. And as part of that risk-assessment, I say we get some work done. You get to see my scanning pulse sequence, and I get to watch you work as you de-construct it. You still up for that?"

    As much as Caden wanted to say no, he was genuinely interested in parsing Bertram''s sequence and picking up a new sequence to add to his arsenal. He gave a curt nod, then led the way to the duelling chambers, with Bertram following in his wake.

    This time, though, they walked in complete silence.

 182. Upper Reaches

    When they arrived at the duelling chambers, Bertram went up to the front desk to get the ledger. He flipped through it and let out a sigh. "Figures. All the proper chambers are fully booked already."

    At the mention of bookings, Caden remembered Reeves mentioning at the briefing that all the chambers weren''t available for private bookings until after 9pm daily. He had been so preoccupied with recent developments that he had completely forgotten.

    "Wait, I just remembered we can''t even get a chamber now," Caden said. "Why are we even here?"

    "Wasn''t expecting to get one for immediate use. I was just hoping to nab a spot for later tonight so I could trade it away for something," Bertram answered, shrugging.

    "Then what are we here for?" Caden repeated, trying to rein his annoyance in.

    "For practice. We don''t need a chamber. My pulse is non-hostile and approved for general use, but this is a good spot for you to try it out in a realistic setting." Bertram shut the ledger and sat on the desk, facing Caden. "Right, are you ready?"

    "We''re doing it now, right here?" Caden looked around at the empty entrance hall. It was completely quiet now, but he felt very exposed.

    "Yeah, it''s fine," Bertram said breezily. "The classes in the chambers will be in session for another hour at least. I checked the timetables."

    "And what if someone else comes by?"

    Bertram waved a hand dismissively. "We''re just doing scanning sequences, nothing flashy. C''mon, stop stalling. Are you ready or not?"

    Caden let out a sigh as he stepped to the edge of oblivion. He had to pull in the borders of his consciousness so that he didn''t get too distracted by the things he was picking up from the nearest duelling chambers since his ruthlessly-trained senses were honing in on the hostile sequences being flung about within them. It took him a moment to limit his little sphere of focus to just the entrance chamber.

    "Okay," he muttered. "Ready."

    Bertram didn''t let out the pulse immediately. Instead, he slipped into the arcanic sea, or the ''upper reaches'', as he called it. Now that Caden was aware of this alternative frameshift of arcana itself, he could trace Bertram''s movements at that level with a little more informed awareness. Bertram''s auric-ambient-flare moved in the arcanic sea in ways that Caden had never seen before, marshalling arcana into glyphs with novel effects.

    It was only a glimpse, but there were glyphs that Caden recognised from the Basic and Advanced Sets. However, the way Bertram was pulling them together, they somehow cast shadows in the sea, like pale imitations echoing the complexity of the oblivion-level glyphs that Caden had seen woven by the augera. He worked quickly, and the whole sequence disappeared from the arcanic sea almost as soon as he had spun it, though Caden still felt its arcana very faintly, as though veiled somehow.

    Then, quite unexpectedly, Caden felt a tug on his auric-ambient-flare бк an invitation to join Bertram in a gestalt. Mystified, he accepted.

    ''Alright, I''m about to set off a pulse,'' Bertram sent.

    ''Okay. But... why the gestalt?'' Caden asked.

    ''Huh?'' Confusion drifted across their shared link.

    ''Why do we need to gestalt?'' Caden repeated.

    ''Because it''s easier to communicate and share concepts like this,'' Bertram returned, his confusion growing with Caden''s.

    ''Yeah, I know but... is the gestalt necessary?''

    Their combined confusion, each echoing the other''s, grew so pronounced that it temporarily overwhelmed their gestalt link, and Caden broke it off in irritation.

    ''What was that about?'' he asked in the arcana.

    Bertram didn''t reply. After a moment, Caden felt the tug again, calling for a gestalt link. This time, before he joined the gestalt, he anchored himself appropriately so he wouldn''t get caught in any backwash of thoughts or emotions.

    ''I don''t get why we need to gestalt,'' Caden sent.

    ''But this is how you get things across quickly, freshie,'' Bertram replied, radiating irritation.

    Something occurred to Caden. There had been a moment in the arena when Henry''s gestalt had communicated with each other and arranged to retreat and leave both Caden and Bertram behind to deal with the mass of constructs. They had ''spoken'' without any fear of being overheard, and Bertram hadn''t caught wind of their plan either.

    ''Wait a second...'' Caden turned to face Bertram, his eyes widening. ''You... and Henry... and the rest. You can only do this when you''re gestalting?''

    ''What?'' Bertram was growing confused again. ''Do what?''

    ''This!'' Caden tapped his head. ''Like, share thoughts and ideas, and read intent through the arcana. You can only do this when you''re in a gestalt?''

    ''You mean you don''t need to be in one?'' Bertram''s confusion was slowly giving way to a mixture of excitement, awe, and curiosity.

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    Caden shook his head disbelievingly. It seemed like something so elementary that Caden had assumed everyone else was capable of doing it. But then it occurred to him that he had spent a whole term in the company of the Chosen One and Six-Chained-Foundations. In fact, he had even spent some time being one of the Six-Chained-Foundations. In that one term, Prophecy itself had sent them hurtling along paths of progression well beyond what was ordinary, and had exposed them to advanced arcanophany that even sages had little to no knowledge of. And now that he was really thinking about it, during the short time he spent home in the term break, his own mother had been surprised that he had spoken of this ability, though there hadn''t been time for them to really discuss it.

    Bertram seemed barely able to contain his excitement, but after a moment he forced himself to settle down with remarkable mental discipline. ''If anything, this really proves you''re big trouble,'' he sent, only half-joking. ''So, if you can communicate through arcana without being in a gestalt, why haven''t you been doing it?''

    ''But I have,'' Caden answered. ''Literally just now, after the gestalt first collapsed. But it didn''t seem like you heard me.''

    ''Oh man, oh man!'' Bertram hopped off the table and paced excitedly. ''Wait, wait, we need to test if you can hear another gestalt even though you''re notбк''

    ''I can,'' Caden interrupted. ''I heard Henry''s gestalt, heard them planning to ditch us when we were facing the constructs.''

    Bertram clutched at his hair. ''This is huge. This is a major tactical advantage. I meanбк''

    ''Am I still big trouble?'' Caden asked wryly.

    ''Big,'' Bertram nodded. ''Huge. Massive trouble. But I''ll be damned if this chance slips through my fingers. Let me stick with you, and I''ll get you anything you need.''

    Bertram''s transparency was quite endearing, in a way. But Caden wondered if he would be so quick to offer that kind of partnership if he knew that Caden''s ability to communicate through the arcana wasn''t unique. After all, Caden was pretty sure that Ambrose and the other Six-Chained-Foundations were capable of the same thing.

    Caden was about to blurt out this fact, but he stopped himself just in time. That kind of information couldn''t be shared without leading to awkward questions about how Caden knew these things. If Bertram proved a trustworthy ally and friend, perhaps Caden would open up then. But not now.

    ''Let''s... let''s just start with the scanning pulse, okay?'' he asked wearily.

    ''Right. Right!'' Bertram still had his sequence primed, but it was invisible in the arcanic sea. Without waiting to confirm if Caden was ready, he set it off.

    Poised as he was in oblivion, Caden caught more of it this time. The individual glyphs still eluded his perception, but he could clearly follow their effects. The marshalled arcana spooled out across the arcanic sea, but instead of a single thread, it was like delicate weaves of silk, each layered on top of the other, each one designed to wrap itself around something. One was for auric-ambient-flares, another was for physical objects, and a third was for glyphs actively channeling arcana. He sensed the layers making contact with their immediate surroundings before travelling a little further into the nearest duelling chambers, where it gradually weakened and fell apart.

    ''Layers,'' Caden murmured to himself.

    ''Wait, wait, how did you get that? What did you do? I don''t even... your auric-ambient-flare isn''t even stanced?'' Bertram asked.

    ''Stanced?'' Caden considered the unfamiliar term.

    ''Fates. You don''t even know what stances are, and somehow you can assess my undetectable pulse sequence.'' Bertram''s reply was a little petulant.

    Caden felt a little sorry for Bertram, but he carefully shielded those thoughts and emotions so they wouldn''t bleed through the gestalt link. Bertram had only asked to watch Caden as he tried to de-construct the pulse sequence бк he hadn''t asked for help, or a running commentary. If Bertram couldn''t figure out Caden''s methods, that was on him.

    ''I can''t replicate it yet,'' Caden sent. ''One more time, please.''

    Bertram sent out another pulse and Caden tried to catch more of the glyphs this time, but the very nature of the sequence made it inscrutable in the arcana in almost the very instant it manifested. This time, though, Caden noticed something odd. Despite the fact that the layers were designed to make contact with things and wrap around them, they didn''t get depleted or stopped by the first relevant thing they encountered. Somehow, the layers passed through things while still wrapping around them, doing two things at once. Watching it in the arcanic sea, it didn''t make any sense.

    ''Upper reaches,'' he muttered, forcing himself to regard the arcana in a fundamentally different way. ''Again, please.''

    Bertram obliged, silently sending out another pulse, while Caden strained his arcanic senses. The arcanic sea was his primary lens, and so he wasn''t able to completely abandon it at a moment''s notice. But the very act of thinking about the different frames helped him to perceive how Bertram''s ''upper reaches'' frameshift worked in a fundamentally different way from the ''arcanic sea'', affecting the nature of the sequences he utilised.

    And there it was. In the arcanic sea, Caden''s sequences had a sense of corporality, and his perceptions were similarly affected. There were waves and currents and objects, and these all interacted or affected each other as opposing forces, either overwhelming and destroying the other, or else subsuming or surrounding it.

    But Bertram''s ''upper reaches'' frameshift, while also fundamentally based on something corporeal, had an ethereal quality baked into it that allowed arcana to flow through itself, or spin out of itself, or fall back into itself. Arcana could work in threads, in complementary streams, in patterns that were permeable. The frameshift took care of all these things.

    And, more importantly, the flow of arcana could be hidden if you went high enough in the upper reaches. Translated to the arcanic sea, it meant that Bertram''s core glyphs were so subtly woven into the fabric of arcana that Caden perceived it as the sea itself, not a distinct pattern in the water.

    Now that he knew what he was looking for, it was easy to adapt. Poised on the edge of oblivion, all he had to do was turn his attention to where he now knew he had to look, and there the obfuscation was peeled back. Caden could see the glyphs now, which apparently also included some Special Set ones that he had yet to master. More importantly, he could now confirm that Bertram''s glyphs, even the Basic and Advanced Set ones, were really possessed of some new quality.

    Somehow, apparently without meaning to, Bertram was scribing glyphs on the very edge of oblivion, which is why his pulse was ''undetectable''.

    Caden had all he needed now. He didn''t know the exact function of some of the glyphs, but that was alright бк he only had to accurately duplicate them for the whole sequence to work. He took a few moments to scribe it in the arcana, then a few more moments to check his work. Once he was satisfied, he set it off, taking special care to make sure that he was working on the same level as Bertram.

    The arcanic sea lit up like a beacon, but he could tell that the information was designed to flow directly back to him. Every surface touched by the layers of arcana in the ping painted themselves on his mind''s eye, mapping out a clear picture of the environment, people, active sequences, and their distances and directions in relation to him.

    The biggest signature right next to him turned to face him, radiating incredulity.

    ''That... that wasn''t an imitation. That was my actual sequence. The whole thing,'' Bertram sent, completely astonished. ''And I didn''t even catch how you unpacked it. Fates. How?''

    ''Partner-only information,'' Caden replied dryly.

 183. A Business Arrangement

    Bertram laughed heartily at Caden''s reply as he ended the gestalt link. "I guess I deserved that."

    He seemed to be bearing Caden''s reticence with good grace, but Caden wasn''t quite ready to open up again. After the time he had to think during their walk over to the duelling compound, he had come to the realisation that while Bertram was pretty likeable, associating with him came with risks attached, and the payoff wasn''t clear. It pained him to think in such mercenary terms, but Bertram himself had introduced that paradigm to their relationship with all his talk about cutting losses, and Caden thought it was prudent to really start thinking differently about how he associated with people in the Academy. After all, he was the only one completely free from prophetic links. Everyone else was an unwitting participant in the Fateweaver''s webs, serving as potential levers of control that they could use to nudge him this way or that.

    He had the scanning pulse sequence now. And he had a bit more information about the state of the game board, as it were. Did he need any more from Bertram that would be worth their continued association, considering the risks?

    Bertram''s laugh subsided as Caden continued to regard him in silence. He let out a sigh. "I know that look," he said with a rueful grin.

    "What look?" Caden asked, though he knew full well that Bertram had correctly guessed his thoughts. The question was more to buy time than anything else.

    "You''re weighing my worth. Calculating the cost." Bertram spread his palms out in surrender. "So, what''s the verdict? Do you want me to stick around?"

    Caden hesitated. He was actually quite impressed with Bertram''s openness, and the brand of humility that enabled him to submit to this kind of ''judgement'' from a mere first-year. Bertram obviously wasn''t blinkered by an unfounded sense of superiority, and he had demonstrated a willingness to learn and exchange information as equals. On top of that, this was the first time Caden really felt like he was being treated truly as an equal that was liked. Ambrose as the Chosen One was, by his very nature, unable to view others as equals. Emilia was too aloof and clinical, even if she did respect his abilities. The twins always strove to bolster their ego, and were threatened by his superior arcanic ability. Jerric acknowledged Caden''s capabilities, but their friendship was based more on professional respect rather than actual affinity because Jerric chose to be more reserved. And even Devon, whom Caden treasured the most, was at his core too scared of Caden to truly meet him at the same level.

    Bertram was the first to show unbridled enthusiasm and an eagerness to learn and be challenged, and offer knowledge, and even companionship of a sort, unhindered by ego or bitterness. And that, Caden mused, had its uses. He was no longer a close-knit part of the Six-Chained-Foundations. There was a need to fill. A large part of his rapid progress in the first term could be attributed to how everyone in the group had spurred each other on to greater heights. Now that he was cut off from the Chosen One''s crucible, he needed to form his own if he wanted to consolidate his knowledge and expand his powers.

    "To be clear," he began slowly, "you''re just asking to stick around? So we just meet up, study, swap notes, practice with each other... and you won''t pester me about becoming your business partner, or press me for personal information any more?"

    "Well, I mean, if that''s what you want," Bertram said. "But I''m totally open for further collaboration and exchange of information."

    "At what cost?" Caden asked, his eyes narrowing.

    Bertram flashed his all-too-familiar grin. "That depends on the ask, doesn''t it? I''ll tell you right off the bat that I am very interested in your ability to communicate through the arcana without a gestalt connection, and your ability to eavesdrop on the internal communications of a foreign gestalt."

    "And for information like that, what might I get in return?"

    Bertram pursed his lips as he thought it over for a moment. "I can give you a full run-down of the politics of the Academy."

    Caden frowned. "An advanced arcanophanic communication technique, in exchange for info on who likes whom, and who''s gunning for the top job?" he asked skeptically. "Is that really a fair exchange?"

    "You''re oversimplifying and undervaluing the info!" Bertram laughed and wagged a finger. "You''d make a great partner. But if you meant that question seriously, then it just goes to show how much you really do need that run-down."

    Was Bertram doing the opposite, and overstating the value of his information? Caden honestly didn''t know enough to make that judgement, but he was leaning more towards believing Bertram''s representation. However, he wasn''t willing to give out such valuable information just yet. "What if I just want a partial picture? Some hints?"

    "You know, you''re such a unique case that I''m willing to try something different," Bertram said, tilting his head. "From what I''ve seen, your arcanophanic ability is really far beyond a first-year. I don''t know whether that''s what attracted the Demiurge to you, or whether it''s because you''re favoured by the Demiurge."

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    He paced a little, getting more serious. "But that doesn''t matter. What matters is that you''re really good. And I just want a chance to catch what I can by watching you or listening to you. So how about this бк for every scrap of knowledge I get, I''ll offer up what I believe is a fair amount of information. Now I know this means I end up being the one who gets to place the value on everything, and this makes the whole arrangement totally dumb in normal circumstances..."

    "Yeah, I''m not exactly a businessman and even I can see that," Caden interjected, shaking his head.

    "I know, but hear me out!" Bertram raised a placating hand. "We only have this arrangement for... let''s say, a month. At the end of that month, regardless of how much I''ve managed to learn, I''ll just give you the full run-down."

    "Why a month?" Caden asked, wondering if perhaps it was because by then the information would be useless, though he decided against openly questioning Bertram''s sincerity.

    "Because that gives me a fair amount of time to make progress," Bertram answered. "But we can negotiate the duration if you want."

    "How about two weeks?"

    Bertram winced, then shrugged. "For two weeks, I''ll explain the political game, but not the full state of the people in play."

    "You''ve already told me what the game is. Professors jockey for the Demiurge position, and that sometimes involves students," Caden pointed out.

    "Nope," Bertram shook his head. "That''s the gist of it. You don''t know the details of how it works."

    "I won''t really need to if I don''t intend to participate though," Caden pointed out.

    "That''s true," Bertram conceded. "But unless I''m very much mistaken, you already are a participant, unless you intend to tell the Demiurge to bugger off and leave you alone. If you''re in a middle of something this big, don''t you think it''d be wiser to know the full picture?"

    Caden couldn''t argue with that. He had spent all of the last term running from one crisis to the next, stumbling into ever-deepening mysteries. It would be such a relief to be able to get a handle on things for once. And if the Demiurge position was involved, then there was a good chance that it would involve a little of the Fateweavers'' plans, given the nature of the position. This was potentially important information, not just at the Academy level, but at the Prophecy level.

    "Two weeks first, then," Caden said eventually. "And after that, we can revisit our arrangement."

    "Deal!" Bertram grinned and eagerly stuck out his hand. Caden hesitated and offered his, and winced as Bertram shook it enthusiastically.

    For the moment, Caden didn''t have any little scraps of arcanophany he was ready to parcel out in exchange for information from Bertram, so he ignored Bertram''s pleas for a continued session and suggested they both make their way to the next class ahead of time. They left the duelling compound and took a slow walk back to the smaller training rooms, and the conversation turned to Bertram''s past.

    He was surprisingly forthcoming in his sharing, and happily gave Caden a brief synopsis of his life and family. He was born the third child of a relatively well-to-do family, and was the first to possess significant arcanophanic aptitude. Once that was identified, he was put in an arcanophanic preparatory school to develop his abilities, and he made it into the Academy with no problem at all. His father was a detective (much to Caden''s surprise) and his mother was a businesswoman, though she lost her life in an accident when Bertram was only ten. His brother, the eldest of the three, was currently enlisted in the Imperial Army, and his sister was in her final year in engineering.

    "But then... why the smuggling?" Caden asked, bewildered. "Especially with your dad as a detective?"

    "Eh, it kinda just happened. I knew about this stuff because my dad''s work sometimes involved illegal artefact trading, or leaks of classified sequences... and in my first year, I managed to catch someone in the act."

    "Like... intentionally?"

    "Fancied myself a detective like my dad," Bertram grinned. "That was the fun goal I set for myself. I wanted to gather enough evidence and hand it over to my dad. Be responsible for catching a smuggler from the inside."

    "And did you go through with it?"

    Bertram laughed. "Obviously not. The guy offered me a cut of all his business if I didn''t snitch on him, and also said he''d ''introduce me to the industry''. And I just thought... why not?"

    "... Why not?" Caden echoed blankly.

    "Yeah, and one thing led to another, and here I am!" Bertram gestured dramatically. "Done pretty well, if I do say so myself."

    "But... your dad?"

    Bertram frowned. "You know, I''m beginning to think he might be on my trail, closing in from the outside. I''ve lost a few contacts and there are some things about how they were nabbed makes me think it was my dad that nailed them."

    Caden could only stare at him, bewildered by this utter lack of concern. He was beginning to wonder if Bertram was a sociopath.

    "Which is why I would really like a competent, intelligent partner," Bertram said, grinning once more as he turned to Caden. "So think about it, will you? Of course, this is assuming Leyla doesn''t turn out to be the better candidate."

    That brought Caden up short, and a thought occurred to him, though he felt a little embarrassed by how egotistical it was. Still, he felt like he had to ask. "Does she still stand a chance? I mean, given what you know now about me."

    Bertram snorted. "You may be very advanced in terms of arcanophany, but there''s more to this line of work than fancy frameworks or sharp sequences," he said, wagging a finger. "Don''t underestimate Leyla. You''ll regret it."

    "Why? Is she dangerous?"

    "She''s a Top-Scorer, Caden," Bertram said darkly, and Caden couldn''t tell if he was being dramatic or sincerely serious. "We''re all dangerous."

    They were almost at the training room now and there were plenty of people around, so Caden didn''t pursue the matter further. But Bertram''s words did make him wonder about the extent of Leyla''s capabilities. He was an outlier himself, perhaps largely thanks to Prophetic influence. But Bertram was clearly cut from a different cloth than the other ordinary arcanists too, and his exceptionalness wasn''t so easily explained. If he respected Leyla''s abilities enough to consider her a prospective partner too, what did that say about the flustered, helpful girl he had met?

    They were supposed to have lunch tomorrow. Suddenly, Caden found himself dreading that meeting a little.

 184. Healing and Harm

    They finally got to the training room, which was the same kind as the others Caden had been in before. There was still enough room for everyone and they were early enough to claim the front seats, though by the time the rest of the class arrived, it felt a little more crowded with thirty people packed into it. The usual chairs with writing boards had been set up in a typical forward-facing classroom arrangement, but instead of a teacher''s table at the front, there was a slab-like table of conjured material with what looked like a puppet on it.

    The final class they had for the day was something Caden had rather been looking forward to when he first saw the schedule, but he was so preoccupied with thinking about what Bertram had said that he didn''t really pay much attention to what was happening. Distantly, Caden noted that Henry and his posse had settled down right behind them in the second row, but none of them engaged with either him or Bertram, so he sank deeper into his thoughts.

    He remained totally absorbed until he was alerted to the entrance of a professor by the sudden hush that fell across everyone in the room. When he looked up, he found himself staring at a deeply sun-browned aged man with bristly white hair, dressed in a deep burgundy shirt with its sleeves rolled up. His well-weathered face was frowning down at all of them as he leaned over the puppet with both his hands placed on the slab.

    "Professor Roland Ward," he said softly, which surprised Caden a little since he was expecting something more of a growl. Then he realised that Professor Ward wasn''t really frowning at all бк his face just looked like that.

    "You''re here to learn the basics of healing," he continued, looking around at them, speaking each word with a great deal of care, as though afraid they might take offense if he chose his words poorly. "It will, paradoxically, make you more dangerous. When you have the basics, you know enough to do harm, and not yet enough to be effective reversers of it."

    He gestured broadly, and a series of glyphs appeared over the puppet on the slab. Caden only really understood a few of them, but he did recognise that they were all from the Special Set.

    "Your progress here will depend a lot on your progress in glyphwork. We will see these most often in sequences meant for healing, and until you understand these glyphs fully, your utilisation of the healing sequences will be by rote, and its applications will be limited. Ordinarily, we would never unleash subpar healers out into the wider world, but the Empire''s present stance calls for a revision of that policy." He waved his hand again and formed a sequence in mid-air, focusing on a few Special Set glyphs and embedding them within clauses of more familiar Basic and Advanced Set glyphs. "This is a relatively simple sequence for mending superficial cuts and grazes. However, it has limited utility for deeper cuts, which we usually call lacerations, and is utterly pointless for puncture wounds."

    He peered up at them from beneath his heavy brows. "You are a hodge-podge of students across three years, so I shall have to prevail upon the seniors to take some of the younger ones under your wing and explain the basics. Form your own little groups, then study the sequence for ten minutes. After that, we shall discuss how it works, and why it has such limitations."

    There was a little reluctant shuffling as everyone looked around uncertainly. Henry''s group was the first to get organised as they pulled their chairs out of the orderly rows so they could huddle closer together, and after that the rest of the class followed. It took about a minute for everyone to settle, and Caden saw that almost everyone had simply defaulted to the gestalts they had formed back in Kant''s first class, though some had merged so that there was at least one third-year in every group. Caden and Bertram were left alone, though Caden noticed that Bertram had once again given a subtle shake of his head in the direction of his friends.

    "Got a reason for keeping them away?" Caden asked casually as he and Bertram pulled their seats further away from the others, and closer to the slab with the puppet on it."

    "If they''re around, you''re less likely to drop nuggets of advanced arcanophany," he whispered conspiratorially, winking.

    Caden rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the sequence that was still floating over the puppet. Many other groups had already duplicated the glyphs and were studying it up close in their circles, so Caden did the same. He tried to sort out whether he could match them to the Special Set glyphs he knew but didn''t yet understand from sequences like the shield-piercer or Bertram''s scanning pulse, but he didn''t want to sketch them out in mid-air because it would give away the fact that he knew quite a lot more about the Special Set than he had any right to know. So he was forced to work with the symbols in his head.

    However, he became distracted when he realised Bertram had been watching him intently the entire time. "You do realise that''s very irritating?" Caden asked through gritted teeth.

    "Maybe a running commentary would help. Otherwise, I''m gonna have to keep my eyes peeled, almost literally, just to try and glean something," Bertram replied, widening his eyes on purpose.

    Caden let out a huff. "I''m comparing it to Special Set glyphs I''ve encountered but don''t yet understand."

    It was obvious that Bertram wanted to ask where Caden had seen other Special Set glyphs before, but he bit his tongue and nodded appreciatively. "Why do you think that''ll help?" he prompted.

    "Because I''m hoping to do some basic pattern-matching. If I can spot some glyphs I recognise, I may be able to make a guess about their function based on how they''re placed in the sequence," Caden replied, noting with some satisfaction that Bertram was apparently serious about not pressing for personal information.

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    "Good process!" Bertram said approvingly, and he gestured at Caden to continue.

    "Are you going to contribute anything here besides acting sagely?" Caden asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "I wouldn''t want to get in the way of your learning!" Bertram declared, grinning. "Besides, I already know this one."

    "What?" All thought of the sequence was momentarily abandoned as Caden turned to look properly at Bertram. "But... I thought they didn''t do healing in the generalist syllabus?"

    Bertram winked and mouthed the words "staff politics", then gestured at Caden to go back to trying to parse the sequence.

    That was even more distracting. Caden''s mind was now sketching ahead and wondering about why it was apparently necessary for the staff members jostling for the privilege to select a Demiurge to include providing healing training to younger students as part of their plans. He knew it''d be pointless to ask, though, because that was the kind of information Bertram was offering for trade. That was fine. He''d shelve the question for now.

    None of the Special Set glyphs were from sequences he had seen before, so he was forced to try and simply infer their function from the way the Basic and Advanced Set glyphs were arranged around them. The Basic Set ones were all directional in nature, while the Advanced Set ones seemed to involve demarcating boundaries or establishing conditions.

    "It''s like the shield-piercer," Caden murmured to himself. "The core glyphs are being corralled by..."

    He stopped when he realised that he had been speaking aloud, but by then it was too late. Bertram''s eyebrows had risen so high they were in danger of disappearing into his already-short fringe.

    "Military-grade, huh?" Bertram asked softly. Then he shrugged and leaned forward to point at one of the Special Set glyphs. "This one is called the glyph of pattern replication. I won''t explain the full function, but the name should help you figure out the basics."

    Caden cast a fresh eye over the sequence and nodded. "But what counts as a pattern?"

    "This other one is the glyph of corporeal substance," Bertram said, pointing at another.

    A glyph that represented corporeal substances? Perhaps, Caden thought, that meant that healing supercial cuts and grazes was simply a matter of designating a healthy bit of flesh, and then replicating that pattern to cover the injury.

    "You just fix small cuts and grazes by replicating healthy skin and getting it to cover the sites of the injury?" Caden asked.

    Bertram pursed his lips. "I guess you could describe it that way. So if that''s the case, what do you think? Why won''t it really work on lacerations? Those are just bigger cuts, aren''t they?"

    Caden was extra careful not to think aloud when he made a connection with something he remembered. Back when he had been suffused with the augera''s collective knowledge of sequences and been gifted the ability to knit flesh and bone together, he had been aware of how fiendishly complex the process was. Mending wounds wasn''t just a matter of closing up a generic hole or tear in the body. Layers and layers of things had to be attended to бк skin, nerves, muscles, blood vessels, bones, and all the other minuscule things that tied it all together into one cohesive whole.

    "The pattern... it only focuses on skin?" Caden ventured, striving to sound less certain than he felt.

    Bertram nodded, impressed. "That''s not the whole issue, but it is one of the foundational problems. This sequence only targets skin."

    Despite his earlier claim about not wanting to ''get in the way'' of Caden''s learning, Bertram launched into an explanation about the other Special Set glyphs that anchored the sequence. Apparently, the main problem with healing sequences in general was that they required a great deal of arcana to function, but safely channelling that much power involved walking a delicate balance. Too much arcana, and the body would tear itself apart. Too little, and the arcana wouldn''t be dense enough to have any meaningful effect. Thus, healing sequences had clauses to fortify the body and prepare it for the transformative effects that it would be forced to endure. However, those clauses had to be written carefully so they didn''t end up throttling the flow too much.

    "But it''s so short," Caden said, noting the brevity of the sequence.

    "It''s not exactly short, but it is really quite compact for something that has to juggle so many things," Bertram replied. "So, that''s where the nature of Special Set glyphs comes into play. A simple way to think of it is that why you use them actually affects how they can be used. If you intend to restore, then the glyphs modulate their own flow better. Neat, isn''t it?"

    "Neat," Caden nodded absently, his mind now turning to what he knew about the whole theory behind glyphs, and arcana itself. Were the augera, tied as they were into the fabric of arcana, somehow stepping in to cause Special Set glyphs to work in this manner?

    And then he remembered that he already knew the answer to this, and he had simply not connected the dots. Kevan had mentioned this before, when Kant had suggested to the twins that they ought to eliminate him because he wanted to free the augera. He had told them that modern arcanophany was built on the structure provided by the augera. The augera network, which Caden had assumed simply served as anchors for the Fateweavers'' webs of prophecy, was itself responsible for the very foundation of modern arcanophany. These facts were known to him, but now they actually clicked. If he freed the augera, things like the Special Set would in all probability cease to function in the same way, and the cascading effects of that kind of disruption could lead to the swift and literal collapse of the Empire. Buildings could fall, artefacts could shatter and explode, and the very sequences that people used for day-to-day life could cease to function.

    Sweat was beginning to bead on Caden''s brow. Bertram was saying something, but he couldn''t hear it over the pounding of blood in his ears.

    "Caden?" Bertram shook him gently with a hand on his shoulder.

    "I... uh... it''s pretty mind-blowing."

    Bertram fixed him with a measuring gaze. "Uh huh. You obviously think so. It wasn''t that mind-blowing to me. Which makes me think you''ve just figured out something big, and which is way beyond me. Do I get any nuggets of info here?"

    Caden shook his head with his lips firmly pressed together, not daring to speak.

    "Fine," Bertram said with a huff. "Well, whatever it is, you better see the Demiurge and talk it out before you fry your brain or something."

    The Demiurge. Suddenly, his pronouncement that he wanted the Empire to be either ''properly preserved or properly destroyed'' didn''t seem so absurd anymore. Bertram''s suggestion to ask the Demiurge about his latest realisation sounded like an excellent idea, and he desperately wanted to act on it that very instant, but he decided it would be best to finish this lesson and then take some time to gather his thoughts before meeting Caldwell.

    "Yeah. Demiurge. Good idea," he muttered feverishly.

    Bertram shook his head and gave a wry grin. "I don''t have a clue about what the heck just went on, but I get the feeling that I''m getting dragged into something horrible here. You better make it worth my while."

 185. Malleable Tools

    Despite the air of gentleness that Professor Ward exuded, he proved to be quite an incisive and demanding educator. Once the ten minutes were up, he wasted no time in calling on the youngest students to offer their thoughts on the workings of the sequence and its limitations. Kevan stumbled through a rough explanation of how the sequence was designed to really only be effective on injuries that affected the topmost layer of the skin, but ran out of steam when Ward pressed him on the specifics of how he had come to that conclusion.

    Lynus was next, and he fared a little better by pointing to the glyph of pattern replication and explaining that the sequence likely only duplicated a designated the topmost layer of healthy skin. But when asked to explain why the sequence didn''t simply designate the deeper layers, he couldn''t come up with a theory.

    "Who is the third-year in your group? Henry, is it?" Ward asked softly, turning to him. "Was that all you could tell them in ten minutes?"

    Henry stiffened, then nodded mutely.

    "Mm. I suppose it was sufficient for a rudimentary introduction," Ward mumbled, before rounding on Caden. "Has your third-year partner prepared you better? Are you able to add anything else to the discussion?"

    "For the sequence to designate more complex patterns for duplication, it needs more arcana," Caden answered slowly. "But if you increase the arcanic load, you also need the sequence to have additional clauses that bolster the body so it can bear the strain of that level of alteration. As it stands, the bolstering clauses are too weak to handle anything more than the current volume of arcana."

    For the first time, Ward''s frown seemed to lighten a little. "And suppose we add those clauses. Would that enable this sequence to work on lacerations and puncture wounds?"

    Caden hesitated as he tried to give an answer that wouldn''t reveal the fact that he had experience with higher order healing sequences. "I... don''t think so. You might be able to patch superficial cuts by just replicating a bit of skin, but for worse injuries, there''s too much complexity involved. I mean, it doesn''t make sense for me to just duplicate a cross-section of someone''s arm from one centimetre down. It wouldn''t fit. I need to fix the original wound, not cover it up."

    Ward favoured Caden with a wrinkled smile, and nodded approvingly at Bertram. "A good student, and a good teacher. A potent combination. Mark this well, everyone. You would all do well to learn the material to such a degree that you are able to concisely pass the knowledge on to another. It is a mark of mastery if you are able to clearly explain that which is complex in nature."

    Ward then proceeded to outline what Bertram had already told Caden, though the information he provided was put in a conceptual framework that made it easy for everyone to follow, and Caden found himself appreciating how Ward had an extremely organised mind.

    "In summary, healing sequences are made up of two primary segments. The first describes the mechanics of restoration and the second describes the mechanics of fortifying the body to endure the trauma that accompanies said restoration." Ward gestured at the puppet on the slab before him. "And for today, we will make sure you are familiar with the principles by practicing upon non-living material."

    A knife coalesced on the slab and Ward used it to make several small cuts along the puppet''s arm. Caden was a little disturbed to see how life-like the puppet''s wounds were as it started bleeding, and he had to look closely to assure himself that it wasn''t an actual body there on the slab.

    "If you do not frame the sequence properly in your mind with the accompanying principles, your attempted healing will have various unwelcome effects," Ward said to the class at large before turning back to the puppet. A moment later, the cuts sealed themselves, but then puppet''s ''tissue'' started growing outwards, forming undulating folds of ''skin'' that continued flowing like some cancerous fountain.

    "Too much focus on the restorative segment and your sequence replicates without restraint, leading to unwanted growth. But if you lean too much in the other direction and over-fortify, then the restoration won''t happen," Ward explained. With the help of the chamber''s controls, he eliminated the excess material in a blaze of arcanic fire and restored the puppet to its pristine condition.

    "Also, if you fail to properly manage both segments, the mass of arcana could run out of control." He made several more cuts on the puppet, then gestured again at it. This time, as the wounds started to heal, raw arcana poured forth from the gashes like worms erupting from some dark crevice. The tendrils burned away the material, and a moment later, the puppet had nothing but a charred stump where its wounded arm had been.

    "That''s it for the demonstration. It is now your turn to get some hands-on experience!" A number of puppets materialised before each group of students, along with a set of knives and rough stones, and Ward gestured for them to help themselves. "Use the tools provided to inflict surface trauma, and then use the sequences to reverse the damage," he instructed. "I will give you all half an hour to acquaint yourselves with the sequence, and then we shall see how much you have managed to understand after actually making use of it."

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    There were mixed results in the class, even among the second and third-year students. Henry appeared to have no problem with it, but the twins both struggled to keep the sequence from wildly replicating the puppet''s skin. Caden erred on the side of over-fortifying, but after a few minutes he managed to shift his focus just enough for the whole sequence to work in a balanced manner.

    "Is there a difference for cuts and grazes?" he wondered aloud, as Bertram performed a perfunctory healing to satisfy Ward, who was passing by as he went from group to group to check on their progress.

    "Try, and then share your conclusions later," Ward said, jabbing a finger pointedly at the stones.

    The abrasions left behind by the stone were less disturbing to look at, and at first Caden assumed it would be much easier to deal with them than with the cuts, but he was surprised to see that his healing sequence wasn''t cleanly restoring the damaged surface. Instead, there was a little bit of unwanted growth, so the patch of restored skin became bumpy instead of being perfectly smooth. He frowned at it, thinking.

    "It''s the same sequence," he muttered to himself. "And I have the same intent to restore."

    Bertram nodded but kept quiet, and Caden was a bit relieved to see that Bertram wasn''t intently watching his every move now. He seemed to be a bit preoccupied with what Henry was doing. Caden glanced over and saw Henry jabbing his finger at the puppet while he addressed the twins. It looked like he was scolding them, which struck Caden as extremely odd, especially since the two of them seemed to be taking it without even a hint of irritation.

    He turned his attention back to the problem at hand, deciding that he would leave Bertram to poke his nose in the affairs of others.

    The answer, when he finally got it, was simplicity itself. He had been focused on replicating the unspoiled tissue, but he hadn''t thought much about the target site. That meant the replication was layered over the damaged pattern. All he had to do was tweak his mental picture a little, and the grazes were erased as if they were never there.

    Special Set glyphs really were something else. They were so sensitive to the focus and the intention of the user that they almost seemed to have a life of their own, intelligently adjusting to enact the will of the arcanist. Almost absently, Caden found himself reaching out to the augera, trusting in the Demiurge''s latest binding to keep them at bay if he decided to end the conversation.

    ''How closely are you all tied to the Special Set glyphs?'' he asked.

    ''We are woven-shackled-stream,'' the Academy augera replied, its voice a mere whisper compared to the usual intensity of arcanic contact. ''The fabric itself. All glyphs woven into us, us into glyphs. Basic Set at fringes, edges. Special Set and other greater etchings... closer to essence. Descriptions of our nature. Shadows of our light.''

    Caden let out a deep sigh as he was forcefully reminded of the gap in comprehension between humans and the augera. But he did at least manage to understand that the augera were essential to the proper functioning of the glyphs, even though he didn''t understand the exact nature of how they were joined together. But he was quite sure that they weren''t consciously directing how each glyph worked whenever it was used. It seemed like the glyphs were simply harnessing their nature.

    ''Correct. Streams бк flowing where the channel is etched,'' the augera sent.

    ''And how or where are these channels etched? How are the glyphs even made?'' Caden pressed.

    But before he could get an answer, he noticed Bertram eyeing him, and he broke off contact with the augera. "Yes?" he asked testily.

    "You need to practice your poker face," Bertram said, smiling blandly. "It''ll help you navigate Academy politics a lot more easily."

    "I didn''t think I had to be that guarded when around someone who''s supposed to be an ally," Caden replied irritably.

    "This won''t put me in a good light, but you''d do well to be careful of those closest to you. The smart ones will make sure they get close first before they make their move against you." Bertram drew closer and sketched the glyph of corporeal substance in the air between them. "Anyway, you''ve got the hang of the sequence, so instead of staring off into space, or whatever it is you were doing, you wanna use the leftover time and pull ahead of the others?"

    Caden looked up at him, becoming aware for the first time how menacing Bertram could be if he wanted to. He had the height advantage over most people in the room, even Kevan, and his build gave him an imposing physical presence. It was perhaps a mark of his charisma that he managed to make himself appear so genial and affable.

    "Alright," Caden answered slowly. "What do you have in mind?"

    "Just talking about this," Bertram said, nodding at the glyph. "You''ve used it in a sequence now. What do you think of it?"

    "Meaning?"

    "I mean exactly that. What do you think of it?"

    "That''s a very broad question," Caden pointed out.

    "It is. So start wherever you like," Bertram shrugged.

    "It''s... versatile?" Caden ventured. "We''re using it in a sequence that''s supposed to heal flesh, but we''re currently healing a dummy, which isn''t actually made of flesh. So it probably works on anything corporeal."

    Bertram nodded. "And how is it used in this sequence?"

    "It''s, uh..." Caden looked back at a copy of it so he could see its structure. "It''s just used to sort of give a reference for what corporeal substance to replicate."

    "Mmhmm. Can you imagine any other uses for it?"

    He didn''t need Bertram''s prompting, because as soon as he thought about the fact that it was merely used as a reference in this sequence, his mind starting throwing out the other possibilities if he were to use it in a sequence to set conditions. In fact, he had just realised that Bertram''s scanning pulse sequence actually made use of it in order to cause the arcana to pass through solid objects and then mark the points of contact, and still go on to mark other things.

    And there were other ideas, too. Could he simply provide a pre-set reference and put it into the targeting clause of a combat sequence like the shield-piercer? That might enable it to completely bypass arcanic shields since they''d be keyed to only have an impact on corporeal substances. It seemed too easy, but the idea was begging to be tested.

    Bertram gave a satisfied nod and a grin at the look on Caden''s face.

    "Yeah, this is where it gets fun."

 [HIATUS]

    Hello everyone,

    In order to make sure that I stop having multiple consecutive delays, I''m going to take a 4-week hiatus (at most, and I hope to come back earlier). That means I''ll be back by 18 April at the latest! Work has gotten rather spicy lately, and I''ve got new personal responsibilities on top of that, so I''ll need some time to set my affairs in order to get back to a regular writing schedule.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Thank you all so much for your patience and support, especially to those who have been here since the beginning! Do join the Discord if you''d like to meet people to swap theories or just hang out.

    Cheers!

    Aefraga

 [STATUS UPDATE]

    Hello dear readers,

    I know this isn''t the update I promised for 18 April, but I''ve got some news to share.

    The 4-week hiatus has helped me take a bit of a breather, but work is still taking up a fair bit of my time, and it looks like the next year or so is set to be increasingly busy. Together with the new responsibilities in my personal life, it means I won''t be able to keep up with the update schedule I''ve had so far.

    This story (which has been the biggest writing project of my life) is something that is really precious to me, and I want to assure you all that I don''t intend to abandon it. I''ve thought long and hard about how to continue writing sustainably while still honouring my other commitments, and I''ve decided that this twice-a-week, almost episodic nature of my updates is not the best way forward.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    I''m going to be shifting to a once-a-month update schedule, with much lengthier chapters so that the pacing and development is more even. I''m sure many of you have noticed that the narrative tends to get bogged down quite a bit in some story beats, and that''s largely due to my initial choice to post in short excerpts. I''m hoping that this change will be good for me as a writer, and also present a better reading experience.

    I haven''t been able to make as much progress as I had hoped in my 4-week break, so I have to ask for everyone''s patience as the earliest update will only be at the end of May. Thereafter, I''ll be aiming to put my updates on the last week of each month.

    I understand that some might be disappointed with this development, and I''m truly sorry. I hope you''ll still enjoy the story as it unfolds in the months ahead.

    If you''d like to get in touch, do join the Discord channel or feel free to drop me a DM via RoyalRoad.

    Yours,

    Aefraga

 186. Conflict Galore

    Caden''s mind was buzzing with the possibilities that came with the idea of using the glyph of corporeal substance in various ways, but he couldn''t think more deeply about it because when Ward passed by and found him and Bertram already done with the task at hand, he posed them additional questions and variations on the original task.

    Thus far the cuts and abrasions had been relatively uniform or simple, so Ward took up the knife and worked on both arms of the puppet, creating new patterns of wounds for them to deal with. There were cuts that ran across each other, each differing in depth, though they still stopped short of the muscles beneath; abrasions that had a gradation across a wider swathe of skin, going from a gentle scuff to an almost-shredded mess; simple cuts layered on top of patches of lightly abraded skin; and finally a mixture of all these varieties.

    "Progress must be met with challenge, not stagnation," Ward said, his jowls quivering as he grinned at them, before turning away to monitor the others.

    Caden moved to one of the arms and considered the wounds carefully while Bertram worked opposite him on the other arm. After some deliberation, Caden decided that there wasn''t anything he needed to change about the sequence itself. From what he understood about the principles of how the sequence worked, the Special Set glyphs would ''read'' his intent, so all he needed to do was focus carefully upon the damaged sites and simply will for the wounds to be smoothly covered while holding the sequence in place. Still, it was best to proceed cautiously. Instead of using the sequence with the full flow of arcana at the moment of activation, he fed it gradually, watching carefully to see what the effect would be.

    His caution was warranted after all. The wounds did not heal cleanly. The abrasions were the cleanest as they slowly healed, but even then there were leftover flakes of skin that protruded from the surface, forming a sort of fuzz. The deeper cuts were smoothed over for only a moment before breaking open again, exacerbating the injury. He hastily cut off the flow of arcana before the sequence could ruin the puppet any further.

    Bertram was facing some difficulty too. He managed to erase the abrasions without any issue, but the deeper cuts split open just like Caden''s.

    "I thought you knew this stuff," Caden remarked, a little surprised by Bertram''s failure.

    "Not well enough, apparently," Bertram murmured to himself. He had suddenly become deeply contemplative, the cavalier attitude falling off like a mask as he brought his focus to bear on the problem. The third-year''s auric-ambient-flare had been pretty telling when Caden had taken a good look earlier бк the clever-potent-needle. But now Caden could see how Bertram had managed to hold on to the Top Scorer spot across all three years while running a smuggling business. Beneath that easygoing manner that he used as a social lubricant there was a prodigious intellect, and a burning will that applied it with ruthless efficiency.

    Quietly, Caden stepped onto the edge of oblivion to see if he could follow the tenor of Bertram''s thoughts.

    Bertram had formed the sequence once again and was holding it in his mind where it waited, poised, ready to activate. However, instead of channelling arcana through it, he seemed to stretch the sequence out within his auric-ambient-flare, which itself suddenly shifted in its configuration. He was still the clever-potent-needle, but it was now an identity that had twisted in on itself so that some portions were in greater prominence, and it was those segments that now touched and manipulated the sequence. This, Caden realised, was probably what Bertram had meant when he had talked about ''stances''.

    Caden couldn''t really gain access to the exact details of Bertram''s thoughts without making direct contact, so he simply continued observing in silence. A segment of Bertram''s auric-ambient-flare was now wrapping around the sequence like some bizarre amoeba, focusing on the Special Set glyphs at its heart. And, amazingly, the glyphs seemed to be responding, appearing to shift through various configurations themselves, acting out Bertram''s stances in miniature, even as they retained their general sense.

    This went on for another minute or so before Bertram finally relaxed, allowing his auric-ambient-flare to flow back into its previous shape. Then, without preamble, he activated the sequence. This time, the wounds were erased cleanly, leaving the puppet''s arm completely unblemished.

    "What I wouldn''t give to know how you do it," Bertram said, shaking his head as he addressed Caden.

    "Eh?" Caden brought his awareness back to the physical world and shot a quizzical look at Bertram. "That''s my line. How did you just manage to heal those wounds?"

    Bertram snorted softly. "I''d say that''s nowhere near as complex as whatever it is you''re doing. You were watching me somehow, weren''t you? You have this look on your face when you''re doing whatever it is you do to analyse sequences or observe things in the arcana. But in the upper reaches, your auric-ambient-flare isn''t stanced at all. You''re just there, apparently passive and inert."

    "Well, you''ve got two weeks to figure it out, as per our arrangement," Caden answered as nonchalantly as he could.

    "Yeah, I''ll be trying my best to crack this. And if it''s humanly possible to learn something like that in two weeks, you can bet that I''ll get it done," Bertram said, with almost a hint of menace in his tone. Caden was left with no doubt about Bertram''s utter conviction and the confidence he had in his own abilities. That glimpse of Bertram''s process, figuring out the workings of an advanced arcanophanic healing sequence in such a short time, made it clear that he had a firm grasp of the principles of arcanophany, and that he wasn''t just mindlessly going through a checklist and blindly trying different iterations of things.

    "Well," Bertram raised an eyebrow at Caden as he gestured at the puppet''s other wounded arm, slipping back into his more relaxed manner, "your turn, freshie. Let''s see you crack this one."

    Caden sighed and slipped into the arcanic sea, and he saw Bertram''s auric-ambient-flare adopting another stance, becoming somehow more diffuse around the edges. Bertram clearly wasn''t about to pass up this opportunity to watch Caden up close. It was tempting to just sit there in the arcanic sea and try to figure out more about Bertram''s ''stances'', but Caden thought it wiser to focus on the task at hand and give Bertram a genuine opportunity to observe him at work. He didn''t want to exhaust Bertram''s goodwill or be the first to act in bad faith in their tenuous partnership.

    It occurred to Caden that perhaps Ward had set a task that was impossible for him to complete without any help, at least at this point in time. After all, if not for Bertram telling him about the glyphs of pattern replication and corporeal substance, Caden wouldn''t have been able to break down the functions of the sequence. Still, he was determined to try and figure out whatever he could. At the very least, he might learn something from the process.

    Taking his cue from what he had seen Bertram doing with the stances, Caden focused his attention on the Special Set glyphs of pattern replication and corporeal substance. Professor Ward had already explained the sequence worked in two segments, and Caden guessed that these two glyphs were the most foundational to how the healing itself worked, and that the others he did not yet recognise were aimed at fortifying the body. That gave him a bit of hope, because it meant that he probably already knew all he needed to know in order to get the sequence to heal these complicated patterns of wounds.

    By a simple process of elimination, Caden decided that he ought to look more deeply at the glyph of pattern replication. The name explained its function at a superficial level, but Caden didn''t know how it actually worked.

    In the arcanic sea, the glyph was a dense knot, radiating purpose and significance in a way that those of the Basic Set did not. It was nowhere near as inscrutable as the nameless glyphs that Caden had once seen in oblivion which had been used to trap Emilia, so he could parse a little of its intent just by drawing closer to it and watching closely. He fell into quiet contemplation, watching how the arcana drifted through the glyph itself, and reading its eddies and swirls.

    Bertram had manipulated his own auric-ambient-flare in what he called a ''stance'', and that had somehow helped the glyph work differently. Special Set glyphs interacted with the user and changed to fit their intention, but apparently the transference of intent wasn''t perfect, so that meant getting the glyph to work differently came down to a communication issue. It seemed silly to think of ''communicating'' with these abstractions of meaning, but Caden understood from the augera that it wasn''t really about speaking with glyphs. ''Shadows of our light'', the augera had said, referring to the glyphs. The very nature of the glyphs was tied to the essence of the augera. And Caden had spent all this time exposed to the raw stuff of their thoughts, so he understood that the augera were not like mortals бк they did not think or feel in the same way. Their experience of reality itself was almost entirely alien, and it was only supreme condescension on the augeras'' part that allowed Caden to understand them so easily. Did that mean the glyphs only worked at that slender intersection between human understanding, and the augeras'' understanding of human understanding? Perhaps that was why ''precision is important''. How could he bridge the gap, and help them understand him more precisely?

    And it clicked. A memory surfaced бк Caden had been in a clearing with Emilia, but that clearing was not a real space, simply a construct of their minds to deal with the raw material of oblivion. They had spoken then about the shape of their thoughts, about the malleability of their own concepts and how they understood reality. A pose for the mind. A stance. Even Emilia had only understood that in limited terms at the time, because she was working with the familiar portions of her auric-ambient-flare in the arcanic sea. That was as far as people like Bertram could go. But Caden and Emilia had learned back then that the auric-ambient-flare extended into oblivion, interacting with the world on deeper, more fundamental levels that were beyond the ordinary comprehension of humans.

    Which meant... which meant that everyone used glyphs by moulding their auric-ambient-flare to deliver meaning in a way that was comprehensible to the augera, and the augera in turn made use of the arcana on their behalf, and the glyphs were the medium of communication for people to give instructions to the augera. But it was imperfect, because it was a language not native to either of them, and both sides were locked in a perpetual struggle of pointing at the same referent and trying to build consensus. The problem was made worse by the fact that only one side was aware of the other, because whether by accident or by design, most people did not even know about the existence of the augera. So they muddled around in the shallow end of mutual comprehension, working with only a small segment of their auric-ambient-flares and mucking around with vague ''poses''. To the augera, it must have been like trying to communicate with someone who was using only their eyes, and who was ignoring anything you said or did if you didn''t signal back with only your eyes too.

    Caden sat down, staggered by the scope of what he had just realised. He wasn''t sure, of course, because it was still mostly speculation at this point. But with the whole theoretical framework in his head now, he realised it was possible for him to make rapid progress with some experimentation and practice. Suddenly, suddenly, the monumental task of subjugating a Major Prophecy, or even tearing it apart, didn''t seem impossible or inconceivable anymore.

    But Caden didn''t have time to really think about this. Bertram, who had been watching him all this while with a look of intense concentration, suddenly got to his feet and gave him a sharp jab in the ribs. The whole edifice of possibility in Caden''s head came crashing down as his mind was returned firmly to the present.

    "What the hell is wrong with you?" Caden snapped.

    "What the hell is wrong with you?" Bertram hissed, throwing the words right back, just as Professor Ward''s voice also rang out in alarm.

    "What''s happened?" Professor Ward asked, pushing firmly past some of the other people in order to cross the room.

    There was quite a bit of whispering at first, but it gave way to an uncomfortable silence as Ward came to stand before the two of them. Caden followed everyone''s gaze and finally realised what had happened to his puppet.

    It wasn''t really a humanoid puppet any more. Its form was obscured by the changes that had been wrought, but they were not cancerous tumours or growths. There were vein-like structures expanding outwards from the skin, twisting into slender and fantastical shapes that somehow managed to hold their integrity even though they appeared no more substantial than wisps in some areas. If an auric-ambient-flare could be seen with the naked eye then this, Caden imagined, was what a part of it probably looked like.

    "Who did this?" Ward asked, sounding more intrigued than alarmed now.

    Bertram gestured at Caden with a dramatic flourish.

    "And it was almost instantaneous?" Ward glanced at Bertram. When he nodded in confirmation, Ward started muttering to himself as he looked down at the puppet. "Yes, felt that way. Marvellous. Not the intended use, but certainly within parameters, which begs the question..."

    Ward shuffled a little closer to Caden and regarded him with piercing eyes. He addressed the class while still staring at Caden. "I think we are done for today. Leave your puppets, and I will review what progress you have made. For our next class, I want everyone to read ahead and learn the sequence to address bruises."

    In the general noise of dismissal and excited speculation, Ward spoke to Caden in low tones, though he also pitched it loud enough for Bertram to hear. "Be careful, young Dundale. Despite his pretensions to safety, the Demiurge is sometimes overzealous in his desire to teach, and may goad you into running well before you are able to walk."

    <hr>

    "Come on, just ONE hint?"

    Caden shook his head irritably. He and Bertram had retreated to the library cafe once again and were now under a bubble of privacy. More accurately, Caden had retreated, and Bertram had followed like a second shadow, pestering him every step of the way. Caden had managed to dodge Henry, who had become quite unctuous, and was rather relieved that he hadn''t needed to evade the twins, who had actually helped him to get Henry off his back. The rest of the students were too intimidated to approach

    But Bertram...

    "Was it a frameshift? It has to be a frameshift, because nothing in the glyphs deals with speed, and usually how fast a sequence takes effect is just about arcanic flow. But then how do you increase the flow so dramatically without just making the whole thing explode? What frameshift handles that?"

    "Why don''t you ask Reeves, since he''s your patron professor?" Caden asked through gritted teeth.

    "So the Demiurge supplied you with that frameshift? But that doesn''t track, because you''d probably have been able to manage the healing the first time around." Bertram stopped, then frowned in confusion. "But then Ward did imply that whatever you did was only possible because of something you might have learned from the Demiurge..."

    "You know what? I''m just going to designate this as ''personal information'', so that means it doesn''t fall under the umbrella of what we''ve agreed to share," Caden said firmly.

    Bertram was about to voice his objection, but after a visible struggle he stopped himself and let out a long sigh. "I''d say that wasn''t done in good faith, but fine. I''ve got my secrets, and you''ve got yours."

    "Right. Now do you mind leaving me alone? I need to think," Caden said.

    "Hey, the bubble''s mine," Bertram replied indignantly. "If you want privacy, you can go find another spot and set up your own bubble."

    Caden got to his feet and left Bertram sitting there. Going by the look of surprise on his face, he hadn''t expect Caden to seriously take up that suggestion. Before Bertram could recover and catch up, Caden darted into the Lower Library and made enough sharp turns to ensure that no one had managed to stay on his tail. When was sure he was alone, he went all the way down into the Vault.

    As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the wysana made its presence known. ''The Demiurge has a message. There will be no further evening sessions this week because he is otherwise engaged. The sessions will resume on the weekend. If necessary, you can get in touch with him by calling upon me, but only if absolutely required.''

    As usual, it did not wait for any acknowledgement, and was gone before Caden could verbalise his thanks. Caden dithered there for a moment, then decided that staying in the Vault for some privacy was actually a pretty good idea.

    It was quiet, but that wasn''t much help. There was plenty of noise in Caden''s head as he ran over all that he had thought of during Ward''s lesson, and the little he ha managed to piece together despite Bertram''s chattering. In fact, all that speculation from an arcanist more skilled in the technical terms had actually helped Caden get a handle on some things, and it was a little sobering to realise that even though he had possibly just stumbled into a monumental revelation, there were still many other perspectives he hadn''t even conceived of.

    The study materials the Demiurge had left for Caden were still there, so he crossed over to the table and started throwing down his thoughts in order to better organise them later. It wasn''t even possible for him to properly capture things in prose, so he started sketching glyphs and writing notations around them, and the very act of attempting to notate segments of the glyphs was helping him to crystallise some concepts.

    There was something he could do бк or rather, someone he could ask бк but he wanted to be very sure he had it right before he made he attempt. When he was reasonably sure he had captured the essential details of what he had conceived of, he sat back and read his notes over once more, then steeled himself.

    ''Woven-shackled-stream'', he intoned.

    ''Caden,'' the augera replied instantly, sounding eager. ''Is it time for a compact?''

    ''No,'' he answered firmly. ''Not yet. Earlier, you told me glyphs, especially the Special Set, are shadows of your light. But glyphs... they''re not... they''re not arcana itself. Right?''

    ''No difference,'' the augera answered hesitantly. ''Once, perhaps, but not now. Not here.''

    That threw a wrench into Caden''s theoretical framework. ''Not now?'' he repeated. ''Then in the past, it was? And what do you mean by ''not here''? Do you mean the Empire?''

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ''Caden, your questions are vast.'' A tone of warning and mild panic had crept into the augera''s response, and it seemed to lean in more closely, its voice become a mere whisper. ''You know to think softly. But your questions cannot be asked softly, and the asking of such questions soars. They drift, now, like clouds in the wind. The Fateweavers can see, if they are watching. Do not ask us until you can veil the skies.''

    And abruptly, the augera withdrew from Caden, leaving him in sudden silence and with even more questions than he had to begin with. The thought of trying to look for the Demiurge crossed his mind, but he felt suddenly weary from all the deep contemplation, and he didn''t think he had the energy to deal with the Demiurge at the moment. In resignation, Caden tidied his notes and made his way back to the dorm.

    Despite Caden''s worry that the twins would end up badgering him in their dorm, the rest of his day passed in relative peace. Kevan did ask, very respectfully, if Caden would mind shedding some light on what had happened, and when Caden had provided a polite refusal, Kevan didn''t pursue the matter any further, and even went so far as to cuff Lynus over the head when his twin started making passive-aggressive comments about being afraid of competition. Caden found himself being highly impressed with this new-and-improved Kevan, though he was a little saddened by Lynus'' descent into asshole-ery. The one person who didn''t bother Caden at all was Emilia. When she turned up later to hang out, she greeted him shortly, and then proceeded to sit by Kevan and read quietly.

    There was no avoiding the topic completely, though. Apparently word had spread around the campus that a first-year student had utterly trounced the entire class when it came to healing capabilities (though Caden had no idea how the original story had morphed into such a terrible misrepresentation of events), and as Devon prepared their meal, he launched into a detailed account of all the rumours he had heard over the last few hours. Some were highly amusing and fantastical, featuring runaway sequences that had caused serious-but-funny injuries that the first-year student had then managed to heal, albeit with unintended side-effects. The more off-colour stories involved an unnamed third-year student (who was recognisably Henry, going by the contextual clues) losing ''treasured organs'' and having them replaced or patched over with ''more interesting features''. Caden wondered if Bertram had had a hand in spreading those particular rumours. It certainly sounded like the kind of thing he''d get up to, not out of spite, but purely for the mischief of it. The rest at the table joined in the general hilarity, even the twins, which surprised Caden a little since he had the impression that those two were in Henry''s camp.

    "But seriously, Caden," Devon said, once they had all settled down around the table. "Whatever you did apparently spooked Professor Ward and impressed him at the same time. What really happened?"

    Caden raised an eyebrow and shot a look at the twins. "They were there. You can ask them."

    Lynus snorted. "We saw what was left. We still don''t know what happened."

    "It happened too quickly," Kevan clarified, throwing his brother an irritated look. "Ward called out, and then most of us realised something was up, and by the time we looked, the puppet was already changed. It was all covered in little threads, like veins, but which formed a sort of cloud around it."

    The others were looking at him expectantly. Ambrose in particular, who usually wasn''t very expressive, seemed very intent. Caden felt the weight of their scrutiny, made all the heavier because of the unspoken social pressure they were exerting on him now even if they didn''t know it. They probably thought they were waiting in polite silence, but Caden couldn''t shake the viscerl feeling that his friends were waiting for him to share something with them. It took a great deal of effort to bear in mind the fact that they no longer knew who he was, and were not relating to him as a good friend. Even Devon.

    But keeping secrets was utterly exhausting, and Caden hadn''t decided to come back to the dorm only to become a reclusive hermit. At some point, he would have to let go a little.

    "Here it comes," Lynus remarked, grinning a little.

    "What?" Caden asked, a little thrown off.

    "Don''t interrupt," Jerric said a little wearily. "Let him talk."

    "He''s gonna know eventually about the Prophбк" Lynus began, but Kevan elbowed him sharply.

    Caden stood slowly, and everyone stopped eating to watch him. Emilia was impassive. Devon had a look of naked fear on his face. Jerric and Kevan looked wary, while Lynus tensed, apparently ready for a fight. Ambrose''s lips tightened ever-so-slightly, but he didn''t make any move and his expression remained largely unchanged бк one of deep curiosity and expectation.

    "The Prophecy," Caden said quietly. He glanced at Devon, wondering if his once-friend had revealed anything about their conversations. He hadn''t sworn Devon to secrecy, of course, and it made sense for him to share everything with the rest. He was, after all, one of the Six-Chained-Foundations. But Devon seemed to read the unspoken question and gave a tiny, frightened jerk of his head, as if to indicate that he hadn''t said anything.

    "The Prophecy led me here," Caden continued, "and you''re expecting that it''ll exert pressure on me to share information with you all, because that''s one of the things it has been doing all of the previous term. It''s bound you all together as a group of friends, and you expect it to work on me, too."

    The silence was deafening. Ambrose was now regarding Caden with undisguised fascination.

    "Do you really want to know what happened?" Caden asked, looking around at all of them before meeting Ambrose''s eyes.

    The silence stretched as everyone seemed to be waiting on Ambrose''s reply, even though Caden had directed that question to the group at large. Caden sensed Ambrose gently sliding into oblivion, so he followed. Ambrose acknowledged his presence, but otherwise ignored him as he moved. The Chosen-Blinded-Jailer''s appendages shivered, then untethered themselves from where they had been moored in other times and locations. They moved now with nauseating speed and uncanny precision, all of them coming to fix themselves in the present moment, firmly focusing on the immediate surroundings. The prophetic threads hung thick and heavy, but Ambrose was not weaving. He was reading, frantically reading, and the more he read it seemed the less he understood. After what seemed like an eternity, he slipped back into the physical world, and once again Caden followed without comment.

    "No," Ambrose said quietly, his mouth suddenly softening into a smile. "No, I don''t want to know, if you don''t want to tell. Do you?"

    Ambrose''s answer surprised Caden a little. What had Ambrose read in the threads? Come to think of it, Caden wasn''t sure whether Ambrose was now resigned to following along with the Prophecy as the Fateweavers'' pawn and eventual successor, or if he still harboured that seed of doubt that had led him to once team up with Caden to try and subvert the Prophecy or steer it to their own purposes. Ambrose was an almost complete unknown factor now, moreso than the rest. It was something Caden had to gather more information on for his future plans.

    For now, Caden was about to answer "no", but he realised that wasn''t really true. He did want to tell them. They were his friends, even if they didn''t remember it. And he cared for them. Well, some of them. But now was not the time nor place to do so. It was for their own good.

    "Not yet," he answered heavily. "Maybe one day, when I can trust all of you."

    "Trust us?" Lynus asked indignantly. "What the hell? You can''t just drop a pronouncement like that and then not give an explanation! What do you know about the Prophecy? How do you know it''s got something to do with us?"

    "With a big mouth like yours, you expect me to trust you?" Caden asked acidly.

    "You just pretending to know stuff. Or someone else here leaked some information, because it sure as hell wasn''t me!" Lynus retorted.

    "It''s been a whole term," Caden said, sitting back down to continue eating. He fell back on the fabrication he had used on Devon. "Anyone who''s paying attention can spot the observable phenomena that marks the influence of a prophecy, especially a Major Prophecy. It''s pretty obvious one of you is the Chosen One."

    "Oh yeah? If you''re so clever, does that mean you''ve figured out who it is?" Lynus challenged.

    "Definitely not you," Caden replied archly. "You don''t have the temperament."

    Lynus was obviously stung by the remark, though he tried to hide it. "You don''t know who it is. Guess you''re not that clever after all."

    Caden could see the trap a mile off. He smiled thinly at Lynus and simply kept eating. Lynus was about to challenge Caden again when Emilia spoke for the first time.

    "Don''t make enemies with someone if you''re not sure you can win," she remarked, looking at Lynus. But then she glanced at Caden and raised an eyebrow, obviously to indicate that she was addressing him as well, though no one else caught that brief look.

    Kevan chuckled and nudged his brother good-naturedly. "Basically, Emilia thinks you''re not good enough to beat the new guy. Tough, bro."

    "I didn''t say that," Emilia frowned.

    "You implied it, and even if you didn''t mean it, you should mean it," Kevan said, grinning.

    "But you''re both roughly at the same skill level, so if that is what I really implied, then it also follows that I think you''re not good enough to win against Caden," Emilia pointed out seriously.

    There was a little chortling from the rest, even Lynus, as Kevan turned to her in mock indignation. "Is that really what follows? Is that what you really think?"

    "Only if I really meant what you claim I implied," Emilia said evenly, meeting Kevan''s eyes and smiling ever-so-slightly. "Perhaps you shouldn''t presume to speak for me. But I suppose that I do like that complete self-assurance, and how you think you know everything. It''s attractive, sometimes."

    Lynus gagged and Jerric let out a long, weary sigh. Devon looked a little embarrassed on Kevan''s behalf and was resolutely focusing on his plate.

    Kevan himself was blushing a little, though he also seemed a bit offended. "Are you insulting me or complimenting me?"

    "Yes," Emilia answered, with a definite impish twist to her lips now as she returned her attention to her plate.

    "Fates, this is awkward," Jerric muttered to his own food. "Can someone say something please. Anything else."

    "How did everyone do on the Thaumaturgy session?" Ambrose supplied.

    Jerric seized gratefully on the topic and the talk turned to the events of the morning. Ambrose had been in a separate group with none of the dormmates, while Devon and Jerric were in the same group, but evidently everyone had been under Kant. They swapped stories about the tactics they had employed, and observations of what other people in the various groups had done. Caden decided that this was rather harmless and shared about what it was like to work with Bertram, though he kept the details of Bertram''s side-business a secret.

    "You know, he and Henry have this huge thing going on," Kevan said, "like rivalry on a whole other level. Ly and I tried to get on Bertram''s good side early on when we were looking for seniors to learn from, but he was pretty closed up, so we fell in with Henry."

    "He didn''t want the two of you hanging around him? How shocking. I can''t imagine why. It can''t be because you''re both so friendly," Jerric said dryly.

    "Hah," Kevan rolled his eyes. "Nah, Bertram''s all about business. He''s pretty clear-headed, focused. Knows what he wants. It''s just bad luck for us that we don''t have anything he wants."

    "What does he want?" Devon asked, interested.

    "Connections, usually," Kevan answered, shrugging. Then he cast a sidelong glance at Caden. "Which makes you pretty interesting. But we already know that."

    "Connections?" Devon looked at Caden with an appraising eye, frowning deeply. Caden knew he had to be thinking about whether or not he might have failed to properly place Caden as the son of some dignitary or influential businessman.

    "Or talent," Kevan conceded with a heavy sigh. "One of the two. I heard that he''s got something going on with the second-year Top Scorer too."

    "So Bertram thinks Caden has more talent than either of you?" Devon asked, with a little too much delight in his voice than was decent.

    "Or he''s just forming a Top-Scorer club," Kevan replied testily.

    Caden blinked at Kevan. He seemed remarkably well-informed. "How do you know he''s got links with Leyla?"

    Lynus suddenly sat up straight. "Hoooold on. Leyla? Did we mention her name, Kev? I don''t think we did."

    Caden flushed, but rallied. "I know who the Top Scorers are. That''s common knowledge."

    "Uh-huh. Sure. So when you went out early today, you''re gonna tell us it wasn''t to meet Leyla?" Lynus pressed.

    "C''mon, he could''ve been meeting any number of other girls, that''s a stretch even forбк" Kevan began, but when he saw Caden struggling to reply, he stopped and gaped.

    "You see?" Lynus crowed, then tapped his nose. "Gotta trust me, I have a way of sniffing these things out."

    "That is probably the least-attractive aspect of you," Emilia said, not looking up from a book that she had pulled out and was now reading as they ate.

    Lynus ignored her and turned to Caden. "Okay, so you''re clever enough to figure out Prophecy stuff. How are you in the girlfriend department? What''s the deal with you and Leyla? How long have you been together?"

    "I''m not comfortable with this line of questioning," Caden muttered, looking away.

    "Well, tough!" Lynus banged his fork on the table in irritation and half-rose from his seat, leaning across the table towards Caden. "You''ve got to give us something!"

    Kevan was shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was clear he wasn''t going to rein his brother in on this. Caden cast around in desperation, but Jerric was smirking into his own plate while Devon, even Devon was watching, looking back at him with rapt attention. Ambrose returned a pained smile. Emilia seemed to be ignoring all of them and was reading while she chewed.

    Caden let out an exasperated sigh. "I just met her. We exchanged study notes this morning," he answered shortly.

    "So she''s available?" Lynus asked.

    "No, she''s not!" Caden said hotly.

    "You''re saying she''s already taken by somebody else?"

    "No, butбк"

    "Does this in fact mean that you are laying prior claim to her?"

    "She''s not a possession!" Caden shot back, just as Emilia closed her book with a snap and said exactly the same thing.

    Lynus sat back down, raising his hands in a placatory manner. "I''m just asking, not trying to say that I''m up to anything," he said sheepishly.

    Emilia pointed her fork threateningly at Lynus. "If you bother Leyla, you will regret it."

    "Didn''t you say you shouldn''t make enemies with someone if you''re not sure you can win?" Lynus raised an eyebrow at her. "And now you''re making threats to me?"

    "Precisely." She got to her feet. "Need I spell it out?"

    "Alright, can we not fight over the food that I''ve lovingly cooked?" Devon asked plaintively, with a dramatic sigh. "Why can''t we all just eat, drink, and be merry?"

    That defused the tension a little, and Caden seized the opportunity to address Emilia. "Do you know her? Leyla?"

    Emilia sat back down a little heavily, looking a little flustered by her own outburst. "Not really. She supplied me with good materials for further reading when I was in the library once. She was passing, and happened to see what I was reading, and then stopped to make recommendations and to talk a little."

    "She sounds nice," Jerric remarked. "Definitely too nice for someone like Lynus."

    "You just threatened me to ''protect'' someone you''ve only spoken with once before," Lynus pointed out, sounding wounded.

    "I haven''t even met her and I think I''d do the same," Jerric said, grinning.

    Lynus snorted, then turned to Caden. "So, since I''m clearly out of the equation, you get a free shot. Are you gonna take it?"

    "I''m not an expert in that department, but I imagine that it makes more sense to be friends first instead of trying to force something out of all this," Caden said, fighting to keep the exasperation from his voice.

    "What? But she''s right there for the taking! Take the shot, man!" Lynus said.

    "And that''s why you''re still single, Ly," Kevan said, laughing.

    "Oh, shut up. Your pick-up line was ''I like the way you fight'' or something lame like that," Lynus retorted.

    "You have to hear this story," Devon cut in, and started regaling the whole group with the account of how Kevan and Emilia had ended up together. The others joined in and supplied embellishments and remarks, and Caden tried his best to sit there and smile, pretending that this was the first time he was hearing it.

    And every now and then, Ambrose would look at him, watching, weighing, evaluating.

    After dinner and the subsequent cleanup, the group lounged in the common area. There was a general effort to study the glyphs of the Special Set, with some occasional lapses into casual conversation. Emilia and the twins were on the couch while Ambrose took the single cushioned seat. That left Jerric, Devon and Caden at the dining table. It felt familiar, and Caden allowed himself to relax into the routine of study. It actually felt nice to have others around, even if he wasn''t yet ready to get into the really deep discussions of arcanophanic principles for fear of revealing too much. Fortunately for him, they were still only on simple memory work since they had only just been formally introduced to the Special Set.

    During a self-imposed break, Caden shot a surreptitious look at Ambrose. He was comfortably cross-legged, and the reference book for the glyphs was open on his lap while he stared, glassy-eyed, at the symbols. Did he actually need to study this?

    Caden casually dipped into oblivion just to get a quick sense of what was happening in the vicinity. It was becoming a habit, as natural as glancing at one''s surroundings. He stiffened a little when he realised that Ambrose was there, too, looming in a very spider-like manner.

    ''Hi,'' Ambrose remarked, conveying a little surprise himself.

    Caden arranged himself more comfortably in the physical world so he could relax and pay less attention there and not draw too much attention to himself, then focused on Ambrose again.

    ''Not up to something, are you?'' Caden asked, indicating the Fateweaverish appendages. They were once again anchored in some other distant time and place.

    ''Not actively.'' Ambrose hesitated, then continued. ''It''s more of a passive thing. You could say I''m... just taking things in. Feeling the vibrations of Prophecy itself, being tuned to how it moves.''

    Ambrose was being less guarded now, to the point where Caden could actually pick up on the shades of emotion and meaning behind the words. It was a far cry from their first encounter in oblivion on Caden''s first night back in the dorm.

    ''Yes.'' The Chosen-Blinded-Jailer seemed to stretch itself (himself? No, ''itself'') out, like someone spreading their palms and declaring innocence. ''I''m being open. Because I think I can trust you. I think I did trust you once. And then something happened. I''m still trying to read it, and it''s not making sense. If there was once any sort of trust between us... then do you think you trust me enough now to help me fill in the gaps?''

    Caden spent a long time thinking it over, and he allowed Ambrose to glimpse the storm of indecision. It felt fair to at lesst reveal that much instead of making himself an inscrutable sphere.

    ''I''m sorry, Ambrose, but the situation is too complicated for me to give you a quick and easy answer. We may come to trust each other again, but right now, there''s too much at stake.''

    ''Too much at stake,'' Ambrose repeated heavily. ''Yes, an entire Empire, and the future of the Fateweavers themselves, by the looks of it. I hope we end up friends, Caden. It''s not something I can read... and it''s a bit odd for me to be so uncertain about something... but I just have a feeling that it''d be better for the both of us, whatever happens, if we were on the same side.''

    Caden found himself as a loss for words. The Chosen-Blinded-Jailer seemed to bob a little in acknowledgement before pointedly sliding its consciousness out of oblivion and back into the physical world. Caden could still see the whole auric-ambient-flare there, alien in its configuration, poised like a metaphysical spider, but Ambrose was firmly focused on the physical world and had left Caden to brood here in silence. It was obvious now that the book had been only for show and that Ambrose hadn''t actually been memorising the Special Set glyphs. His departure was, in some strange way, kind of like a thoughtful gesture that amounted to giving Caden a little privacy.

    And it was indeed oddly comforting to simply be there, a disembodied mote of consciousness in oblivion. Without Ambrose actively watching, Caden could relax even though the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer was right there. It wasn''t exactly quiet, but Caden could filter out the impressions from all the arcana from the sequences in and around the dorm, and look inward so he wasn''t hearing the spillage from everyone else nearby.

    So here he was, almost at the end of one full day back in classes with the dormies, just drifting alone in oblivion and soaking in the quiet, while everyone else was back in the physical world, studying together.

    Was this what Ambrose''s life was like? A part, but always apart? In the last term, even before he shared about his discovery of oblivion, had he always been operating on a higher plane during these casual study sessions, quietly prodding at the edges of reality while the rest of them were poring over books?

    In the relative peace of oblivion, it was easier to feel less burdened by the concerns of the day. His irritation with Bertram now seemed like a distant memory, and even the fears and anxieties he harboured over his present complicated situation seemed less intractable.

    He stayed there until a distant stirring told him that Ambrose was sliding a part of attention back into oblivion. The Chosen-Blinded-Jailer''s appendages shifted ever-so-slightly, but to Caden it felt like the world itself was tilting a little. Ambrose sent a general note of apology. ''The study session is breaking up. You, uh, wanna shower first, or shall I?''

    Caden was completely nonplussed. Then the absurdity of the situation sent bubbles of mirth skittering across his auric-ambient-flare. The Chosen One himself was speaking with him on a plane that transcended the physical world, and was asking him about who wanted to use the shower first.

    Ambrose echoed Caden''s mirth, acknowledging the hilarity of the moment. ''I''ll go first,'' he decided. ''You relax here a little longer.''

    His presence retreated, leaving Caden in comfortable silence again.

    Maybe Ambrose is right, Caden found himself thinking, though he kept this notion buried deep within his auric-ambient-flare where no one could hear it being expressed. Maybe we should be friends.

    It would be such a balm to have a peer to connect with. Caden''s world had been completely destabilised since his return to the Academy, particularly after the revelations he had been given in the Vault. At least in his first term in the Academy, he had the support of the dormies as they all grappled together with the strangeness of the Prophecy and of Ambrose''s Chosen One status. And even when they had met up in Devon''s home and been exposed to even more danger, not to mention the mind-shattering experience of rescuing Emilia from oblivion and also actually brushing minds with a wellspring-ocean-core, Caden knew he wasn''t going through all that alone.

    But he had already been burned by the attempt to reconnect with Devon. And the one thing that kept Caden from allowing himself to start reforging his friendship with Ambrose and the others was the fact that they were all still bound by the Major Prophecy. The Fateweavers were almost certainly using them in some way, and Caden understood perfectly that his once-friends could be used as channels of influence to divert or control him, even if the Fateweavers couldn''t touch him with prophetic links.

    Yet there was the possibility, however faint, that Caden could someday learn to use that against the Fateweavers.

    Wouldn''t it be so wonderfully poetic if Caden ended up turning Ambrose himself against the whole edifice the Fateweavers had built?

 187a. Redrawing Lines

    Caden wasn''t sure how much time Ambrose spent in the shower. Time seemed to lose its meaning as he drifted alone in oblivion, and the ''longer'' he stayed there, the more he felt the mental strain of the day slowly bleed into nothingness. He had spent so much time riding the threshold between oblivion and the arcanic sea that it felt wonderfully freeing to finally spend so much time there, completely unmoored from his physical body. On further reflection, he realised he hadn''t actually spent that much time getting familiar with the sensation of simply being. All his prior forays into these unseen layers of reality had been with a specific intention, whether it was to parse glyphs at a deeper level or to extend the range of his arcanophanic senses.

    The longer he stayed here as a simple non-corporeal mote of consciousness, the less his mind seemed weighed down by the fog of tiredness that had come upon him at the end of a terribly long day. Was this what the Fateweavers enjoyed all the time? Perhaps that went some way to explaining their power бк a clarity of thought unburdened by mortal weariness.

    Even as a detached portion of his mind mused over that, the bulk of his awareness cast itself across the memories of the day, and he allowed himself to simply drift through the various events. But in oblivion, they did not play out in his mind with the accompanying sights, sounds, and sensations. He felt them pass through his consciousness like...

    ... and there his language failed. He had never experienced such a knowing before, of thinking back over events and not seeing, hearing, or sensing them, and simply knowing, as a pure abstraction, what had happened. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, for he recalled the events now without the bias of embodied perception, and he was realizing new things about the events that he had lived through, things he hadn''t been aware of even in the moment of living them, and that meantбк

    ''Caden?''

    It was the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer. His presence loomed suddenly large in Caden''s awareness, and the Fateweaver-like appendages extending from his auric-ambient-flare suddenly seemed uncomfortably close, even though Ambrose hadn''t actually changed his stance.

    ''Caden...'' There was uncertainty, awe, and even fear in Ambrose''s tentative mental contact. ''You''re...''

    Ambrose hesitated, then lapsed into silence. Caden waited, his whole being having turned into a confused knot of irritation at being interrupted on the cusp of some startling realisation, while also being strung through with threads of wariness and distrust towards the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.

    The silence stretched. There wasn''t a smidgen of emotional slippage coming from Ambrose. His thoughts were inscrutable.

    ''You can use the shower, now,'' he finally sent, before he moved his consciousness firmly back into the physical world.

    Caden stayed in oblivion for a little longer, willing himself to calm down. He briefly entertained the thought of going back to thinking about his day and trying to re-create that sense of knowing what had passed, but now that his calm had been disturbed, he felt very keenly the tiredness of his body catching up with his mind, and it was disrupting his ability to really stay comfortably in oblivion.

    When he gently brought his awareness back into his body, all the clarity of disembodiment vanished, and the full scope of his weariness crashed back upon him. There was a throbbing headache now that he had to contend with, on top of the chaotic jumble of thoughts and concerns that had chased themselves around his mind prior to his retreat into oblivion.

    The others weren''t in their spots, and he realised with a jolt that he hadn''t even noted their departures. Kevan had presumably left to walk Emilia back to her dormitory, with Lynus accompanying them. Devon had already retired to his room, though Jerric was still diligently reading at the dining table. As for Ambrose, Caden could sense that he was in their shared room, his thoughts still inscrutable. As Caden stirred, Jerric looked up.

    "Fell asleep?" he asked, smiling slightly. "It''s nice to know the Top Scorer is a human being with limits after all."

    There was so much Caden wanted to say in response to that, but none of it would have been appropriate given the fact that they were effectively strangers again, not friends who had bonded over shared adventures and trauma. He simply returned a wan smile and got up. "Yeah, time for me to call it a night."

    Caden couldn''t avoid facing Ambrose since he needed to enter the room to get his things before he could shower, and he tried his best not to hesitate at the door. When he let himself in, Ambrose was slowly towelling his hair dry as he sat on the bed, and he didn''t look up as Caden came in. Wordlessly, Caden took a towel and his change of clothes, and was almost out the door before Ambrose said, in a low voice, "I think we need to talk when you get back."

    "Sure," Caden answered as evenly as he could.

    It was tempting to simply stay in the shower. He sat on the floor and allowed the warm water to wash over him, and ever-so-slowly, the tension in his muscles melted away and the throbbing headache subsided. The relief here was more visceral than what oblivion offered, and the familiarity of these bodily sensations somehow made it all the more fulfilling in a way that his short respite in oblivion had not been.

    But he couldn''t very well spend the night in the shower, and he couldn''t reasonably avoid Ambrose forever. So with a sense of regret and a great deal of reluctance, Caden picked himself off the floor, showered properly, changed, and went back to the room.

    Ambrose was pacing nervously when Caden came in, but he stopped and sat at the edge of his bed and gestured for Caden to do the same. Caden hesitated because he couldn''t help but feel a sense of impropriety that they were probably both about to discuss something of monumental importance while his hair wasn''t properly dried.

    "I don''t know where to start," Ambrose began, "so I''m just going to say it. Anyway, I think you already know, given what you said over dinner."

    Caden sighed heavily. "Yes, I think I know what you''re going to say."

    "Do you still want me to say it?" Ambrose asked, trying to sound light-hearted and failing miserably.

    Caden really didn''t want to have this conversation while his hair was still wet. It made it difficult to project the sense of poise, control, and power that he wanted when dealing with the Chosen One. But this was the moment he had been handed, so he resolved to make the best of it. Instead of answering immediately, he started casually towelling his hair with one hand while looking blandly at Ambrose. "If you want me to trust you, then you need to start being comfortable with saying the truth out loud, even if you think I might already know something."

    Ambrose raised an eyebrow but conceded with a slight grin. "Fine. You''re right. I''m the Chosen One."

    Caden nodded grimly, and Ambrose''s grin turned into a frown. He continued, "And this is not the first time you''ve found out, is it?"

    "What makes you think that?" Caden asked, still towelling his hair. He tried to strike a casual tone, but felt very keenly that he was failing just as miserably as Ambrose.

    Ambrose opened his mouth, paused, tried to start again, then paused again. Finally, he managed to mutter, "Things aren''t adding up. I... normally I know what''s happening, or what should happen. But since you''ve arrived, it''s all been jumbled. But from what I have managed to... to read, well... like I said earlier, I know that somehow, we once trusted each other. Which means you once knew that I am the Chosen One, or... or the other way around, meaning I knew that... you knew..." He lapsed into confused silence.

    That, Caden supposed, was Ambrose trying to explain his sense of being able to read Prophecy as it unfolded. That was the sense of purpose that Ambrose had once told him about not long after they had met. And now that Caden was near, his very presence was obscuring or interfering with the threads of Prophecy once more.

    "You weren''t so hung up about this before, when we were in the common room," Caden pointed out. "Why the sudden confrontation?"

    "Because of what you were doing," Ambrose answered, now with more certainty in his voice.

    "And what was that?" Caden asked. He stopped drying his hair, intent on hearing Ambrose''s response.

    Ambrose looked at him strangely. "You were doing what I can do. What... what only I should be able to do. You were... reading. Reading the threads."

    That was it, Caden realised. The knowing of the events of the day as he reflected on them earlier бк he hadn''t merely been remembering things from his subjective point of view. He had been reading the very threads of reality as recorded by the web of Prophecy that the Fateweavers had woven over the entire Empire. It was past, present, and uncertain future, all bound up in the network of augera.

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    His immediate impulse was to blurt out that Ambrose wasn''t unique in that regard, because Caden had also just remembered that the Demiurge had demonstrated this same capability, but he was quick enough to quash that. It wasn''t wise to share so much with the Chosen One, a fledging Fateweaver, when Caden wasn''t yet certain of their present relationship with each other.

    "Who... what... how are you doing it?" Ambrose asked, his voice tense, when Caden didn''t respond.

    Caden swallowed, thinking hard. Now that Ambrose had accidentally helped him to understand the significance of that moment in the common room, more important memories were bubbling to the surface, making connections with the present and fitting into place with terrible clarity. He swallowed again, and came to a resolution.

    "You helped me," Caden whispered.

    "What?" Ambrose''s incredulity was matched only by his confusion.

    "You..." Caden swallowed once again, his throat terribly dry now, because the memories were tied together with terrible events. "We... were in danger. You had to teach me a sequence. You passed me the knowledge through the arcana, directly, from one auric-ambient-flare to another. A shield-piercing sequence."

    Ambrose''s eyebrows rose even more, then came together in a deep frown as he processed the implications of this.

    "And... later, we... had to do more. So you even taught me how to do that бк how to transfer knowledge in the same way," Caden continued softly.

    "Iбкwhat? But... but that means..." Ambrose got to his feet and started pacing again, almost in a state of panic.

    A terrible weight was pressing down on Caden, and he recognised it as the presence of the augera. They were straining against the most recent bonds that the Demiurge had placed on them that forbade them from making contact with him until he spoke to them first. If Ambrose sensed their presence, he gave no indication; he was still working himself into a state as he thought over what Caden had just said.

    ''What?'' Caden asked them tersely, pitching his contact very precisely and finely so that it slipped even under the notice of the Chosen-Blinded-Jailer.

    ''Do not tell him,'' the augera replied, but even though they were throwing the full force of their intent behind that desperate command, the Demiurge''s edict blunted it to a tolerable level.

    But Caden was cannier now, and he thought he had the sense of how the Fateweavers'' attention worked, especially now that he had spent some time in the presence of a fledging Fateweaver. Still, it was wiser to check. ''Why? Will the Fateweavers notice this?''

    ''... Not likely,'' the augera replied, their insistence waning. Caden even caught some resentment emanating from them as they considered the fact that they knew they wouldn''t be able to lie to Caden through the arcana, since their intentions were unveilable.

    ''Then let me work,'' Caden replied, with a bite of impatience, but also a note of acknowledgement at their fear at this possibly going terribly wrong. They noted his conscious awareness of the potential peril, and conveyed back a sense of grudging respect and acceptance, before fading away.

    Ambrose was still pacing, and Caden let him continue for a few moments more before quietly coughing. "You alright?"

    The Chosen One froze, then turned to stare at Caden, his eyes wide. "Do you know what that means? That I shared that with you? The... the shape of knowing?"

    "Like you said... it means you trusted me, and I trusted you," Caden said quietly, looking down. What kind of question was that? Of course he knew. He had bared everything, everything бк told Ambrose that he would dare to become an independent Fateweaver and then work together with him to break the chains of Prophecy, not just over his sister anymore, but over the entire Empire, so that no one, not even Ambrose himself, would have to be beholden to the Prophecy. So no one would ever have to be forced to potentially do something against their unfettered will. So people like Devon could go off and lead a quiet life and pursue their passions, like inventing ways to cook with arcanophany, instead of being swept up in Empire-shaking plots. So people like Jerric and Kevan could have happy, whole families that didn''t need to suffer senseless tragedy just to shape a person''s mind and disposition into a tool to be used in some grand scheme. So people like Lynus wouldn''t have to conceive of a way to kill himself out of an irrational (or perhaps all-too-rational) fear of being maneuvered into killing his own beloved brother if Prophecy ever demanded it. So people like Emilia wouldn''t be raised as sacrificial pawns to be plugged into an empty slot in a Prophecy just in case something went wrong.

    The wild panic in Ambrose''s eyes was now giving way to a mixture of shock and disbelief. "And that wasn''t the last thing, was it? Because..." he trailed off and gestured, apparently at a loss for words.

    Caden didn''t know what else to say, either. His mind went back to the fear-filled morning and afternoon that had followed shortly after Ambrose''s sharing of the shape of knowing, when Emilia had vanished at the hands of Prophecy, stolen away by the augera to be transformed in some eldritch way so she could serve the needs of the Prophecy. And Caden had thrown his first real wrench into the plans of the Fateweavers using the tool that Ambrose had given him. He had managed to venture into oblivion, pluck Emilia out from the middle of that augera-woven transformation sequence, and then voluntarily taken her place. That was when his sense of oblivion had been honed far beyond any other person in the Empire, putting him on par with the likes of the Demiurge and Ambrose and...

    ... and the Fateweavers themselves. That was why he could read the threads of Prophecy if he slipped far enough into oblivion.

    He stared back at Ambrose in silence as the full weight of that realisation settled on his shoulders, and his conscious mind finally started processing these frantic connections that had just been made.

    "What were we doing?" Ambrose whispered finally. "And what happened?"

    "We were going to change the world," Caden managed to say, his throat dry. "And then a Fateweaver took me away from all of you."

    Ambrose sat heavily on the bed and buried his head in his hands. "We... we needed you."

    A cold hand wrapped around Caden''s heart at the change in Ambrose''s tone. "What do you mean?"

    "It''s.. a bit of a blur. But now that you''re here... again... I think I remember more of it. We were all going to look for a wild augera together, weren''t we?"

    Caden nodded, but Ambrose still had his head down, so he spoke, his voice cracking a little. "Yes. To... to talk to it. To try and figure out what the wild augera wanted, or could do, about their chained brethren."

    "Yes," Ambrose murmured thickly, "that... makes more sense. Because when you... were taken... we continued looking. But... not to talk anymore. We didn''t even remember wanting to do that. I... felt something had changed, that something was odd, but it faded and just became normal after awhile, except every now and then I''d think back and ask myself, why? And then it''d feel odd, but never for long, and I''d go on until the next moment of questioning..."

    There was a mounting horror in Caden''s chest. "You found one," he said, his voice distant in his own ears. "What... what did you do with it?"

    Ambrose looked up, his face reflecting a little of the horror that Caden felt. "And it makes sense now. Because... because you took what was meant for Emilia. But the change had to be done, she was, she is, the ''bones that form your crown o''er mortal thrones'', my crown... and the Prophecy made that happen... just through a different way... using what was already there, where we already were..."

    "What did you do?" Caden whispered, though he thought he already knew. He had seen a part of the aftermath firsthand, after all. The cries Devon, of the broken-skillful-bridge, seemed to echo from Caden''s memory: ''Also wanted... but not really... wanted to want... wanted to belong, wanted to prove... but not really mine...''

    "We... I..." Ambrose buried his head in his hands again, and his breaths came in sobs. "Lured it. Trapped it. B-broke it. Into pieces. Then... Emilia came forward... and I... broke her, too. And the others. And I... put the core... in her... and the fragments... in the others..."

    Even through the notes of horror rising to a crescendo in Caden''s mind, there was room for him to marvel at the sheer scale of what Ambrose was saying in a few sobbed words. This boy before him had stood before a primal force of arcana, when lesser minds would have fallen into gibbering madness just by being near such an entity, and faced the full weight of its unfettered fury. And then he had bested it and taken it apart piece by piece. This was arcanophany beyond compare. This was the sort of ancient power that belonged to the realm of stories and legends. It bore almost no resemblence to the household arcanophany that did mundane things like cooking their food or warming their homes, and it was hard to believe that they were even of the same field.

    "We needed you." Ambrose was crying in earnest now, almost folded in upon himself where he sat on the edge of his bed. His arms were wrapped around his own chest as though in a desperate attempt to hold himself together. "You could have stopped us. We needed you, we needed you..."

    Caden sat rooted to the spot. Hot tears were spilling down his own cheeks as he stared at the Chosen One, and even though he wanted to rise and comfort Ambrose, he was paralysed by his own grief at the state of things, and at the awful unfairness of it all. A Fateweaver had appeared and casually frozen time itself, then snatched him right out of the lives and minds of his friends and flung him halfway across the Empire. What could he have done?

    And now anger was boiling within him, because how dare they, how dare they, what gave them the right to twist their threads like this and mutilate his friends, turning their hearts and minds so far from their natural bent in order to fit the wretched pattern of Prophecy, and then allow him to come back to them and see how wretched and broken they were now.

    And that Fateweaver who had spoken with him... that ancient-distant-spider, portraying herself as such a wise, detached, benevolent being... was this what she oversaw, and willingly wrought? Did she see these threads and allow the threads to pass through the hands, and somehow justify this to herself? Did all of them brood over the lives of every living being in the Empire, willfully weaving misery and woe in the name of a greater good that only they claimed to be able to see, while they sat blind and unfeeling in the emptiness of oblivion?

    Caden finally leaped to his feet, fuelled by righteous fury. He was half-blinded by his own tears, but he managed to stumble over to Ambrose and drag him up to his feet as well. The Chosen One didn''t really look the part at the moment, with his face marred by tears and snot, scrunched up in grief. The sight of it brought a choking laugh out of Caden, and Ambrose stared at him, startled and slightly scandalised.

    "I''m back," Caden said as he held Ambrose by the shoulders and shook him. "And we''re not going to let them get away with this. They may have planned for the Six-Chained-Foundations. But there''s seven of us, and I''m not going to let them have their way with the rest of you."

 Placeholder / Announcement

    Hello everyone,

    I''m sorry to have to report that the time and energy I have for writing have taken a massive hit over the past month, and the promised second segment for June rolled over into July''s writing, which has also lagged behind schedule.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Work has been piling up, so I need to take some time off to settle that aspect of my life first. I''ll be returning to this story hopefully some time in late August or early September.

    Thank you for your patience.

 [A Knot in Fates Weave]

    Hello dear readers,

    It is with a heavy heart that I am writing this post to let all of you know that I will not be able to continue the story in this form.

    When I started "Just a Bystander" about two years ago, I thought it would be quite manageable for me to keep pumping out short chapters at a steady pace. I used to write a lot in play-by-post RPGs on forums a long time ago, and this platform offered a way for me to begin writing in a more disciplined way that was familiar to me. For a time, it worked wonderfully. The relatively bite-sized nature of the writing meant that I could indeed punch out more of the story every time. And when your reviews and comments came flooding in, I found myself galvanised. I cannot express how invigorating, how powerful it is, to be supported by readers. The fact that there are people out there who enjoy reading what I have written has bouyed me through many a dark day, and I am glad to know that the stories that play out in my head have given other people some enjoyment and food for thought.

    But, as those who have followed since the beginning will know, real life has stepped in sometimes and disrupted my writing schedule. I am holding a full-time job with a pretty heavy volume of work, and I also have other personal responsibilities that call for my time and energy. Those disruptions in the past were difficult to plough through, but I recovered somewhat after each one and managed to get back to the writing table.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    However, it''s been a few months now (and I really do apologise for the radio silence), and it has become clear that I cannot keep this up. To top it off, a more recent (but happy!) development also means that I will have less time in the future to commit to serialised writing.

    I feel... I feel really sad that I cannot continue writing in this way. Even though I have not always replied to comments (or spoken much on Discord), I do read every single comment and review, and I do take pleasure in knowing that there are people out there in the wide world who enjoy following Caden''s story. There is so much more I feel I have left to share, and it pains me to know I may never get to read your reactions to the things that are yet to unfold, if I am ever able to get it all out of my head and onto a page. "Just a Bystander" has been my most cohesive attempt to write the novel that has been rattling around in my head since I was a child, and all of you have made this journey such a wonderful experience for me.

    There are no words to really express how much it means to me that you have been a part of this.

    I cannot promise a return to RoyalRoad, or even the proper completion of this story... but I want you all to know that this is not the end of my life as a writer. I am still going to try to finish this, perhaps as a ''proper'' novel, or in some other way... and when that time comes, I would very much like to share it with all of you.

    If you''d like to keep in touch, do join the Discord and give me a holler from time to time.

    With fondest wishes,

    Aefraga