The Mages' Tower. Night.
The artifact sat on the workbench, dark and warm, pulsing faintly.
Mirena had not moved from her stool in hours. Her notes covered the table—diagrams, equations, comparisons between the artifact's structure and the rings' structure. Her quill was dry. Her eyes burned. But she was close.
Alistair sat across from her, his staff across his knees, his face drawn. The other mages had gone home hours ago. The tower was quiet. The only sounds were the crackle of the fire and the soft hum of the artifact.
"You should rest," Alistair said.
Mirena shook her head. "I'm close."
"You've been close for three days."
"This time I mean it."
Alistair sighed. He stood, stretched, walked to the window. The city was dark below. The stars were bright above.
"The artifact's energy signature," he said. "You've been trying to isolate it."
Mirena nodded, not looking up from her notes. "It's like nothing we've seen. The rings leave traces—spatial folds, residual magic. The artifact leaves... nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing we can detect. Until now." Mirena finally looked up. "I found a pattern. A resonance. It's faint, but it's there."
Alistair moved back to the table. "Show me."
---
Mirena placed her hand over the artifact. Closed her eyes.
"The artifact absorbs mana from the atmosphere," she said. "It amplifies it, compresses it, then releases it to open a portal. When it's active—when it's recharging—it leaves a trail."
Alistair leaned closer. "A trail?"
"A spatial echo. Like ripples in a pond after a stone is thrown." Mirena opened her eyes. "We can track it."
Alistair was silent for a moment. "Even when it's not being used?"
"Especially when it's not being used. The ripples are strongest when the artifact is dormant. When it's preparing."
Alistair sat back. "That's... significant."
"It's more than significant." Mirena stood, walked to the map on the wall. "If we can track the artifact's energy signature, we can track the strangers. Where they've been. Where they're going."
"And if they try to leave without telling us?"
"Then we'll know."
---
They worked through the night.
Mirena calibrated the crystals, adjusted the lenses, mapped the artifact's resonance patterns. Alistair assisted, his hands steady, his eyes sharp. The other mages would return in the morning. They would need to be trained.
"The artifact is degrading," Mirena said, not looking up from her work.
Alistair frowned. "How can you tell?"
"The resonance is weaker than it should be. The internal structures are cracking." She set down her lens. "Each use weakens it. The strangers have maybe a dozen jumps left before it fails."
Alistair was quiet for a moment. "Have you told Grog?"
"Not yet."
"He'll want to know."
Mirena nodded slowly. "He'll want to know."
---
The sun rose.
Mirena sat at the workbench, her head in her hands. The artifact pulsed faintly. The notes were scattered. The crystals were dim.
Alistair placed a cup of tea beside her.
"Drink."
Mirena looked up. "I'm not thirsty."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm fine."
"You're not." Alistair sat across from her. "The research will still be here after you sleep."
Mirena was quiet for a moment. Then she picked up the cup. Drank.
"The portal ritual," she said. "The one we've been working on. The power required—"
"Is immense." Alistair nodded. "The creatures' mana stones help, but they're not enough. Not yet."
Mirena set down the cup. "The artifact uses ambient mana. It amplifies it. If we could replicate that mechanism—"
"We've tried." Alistair's voice was gentle. "The artifact is unique. It was crafted by someone who understood spatial magic better than we do."
"Then we learn."
Alistair held her gaze. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm pushing myself enough."
---
Grog arrived at midday.
He came straight from the training yard, where Ben had been demonstrating his blessing. The swordsman's talent was more than skill—he could send energy slashing from his blade, cutting through targets at a distance. Grog had watched him shatter a practice dummy from twenty paces. It was impressive. It was also dangerous.
Mirena was still at the workbench, her notes spread before her, the artifact pulsing faintly. She looked up when he entered.
"The artifact is degrading," she said.
Grog's jaw tightened. "How long?"
"A dozen jumps. Maybe less."
"And the strangers?"
"They don't know. Not yet."
Grog moved to the window. "Can we replicate it?"
Mirena shook her head. "Not yet. But we're closer."
"How close?"
She met his eyes. "Close enough to hope."
---
Grog was silent for a moment.
"Ben showed me his blessing today. Energy slashes. He can cut from a distance."
Mirena nodded. "That explains why he was holding back. In the forest. Against you."
"He was saving his strength. He didn't know if we were hunters."
"He still doesn't trust us."
Grog turned from the window. "Neither do we."
Mirena stood. "The portal ritual. The one we've been working on. The power required—"
"Then we hunt more." Grog's voice was flat. "We kill more creatures. We collect more stones."
Mirena shook her head. "It's not that simple. The ritual requires more than power. It requires precision. Control. We're not there yet."
Grog met her eyes. "Then get there."
He left.
Mirena sat back down.
The artifact pulsed on the table.
She picked up her quill.
---
The disturbance came at midnight.
Mirena was alone in the tower. Alistair had gone home. The other mages were asleep. The artifact was dark, still, quiet.
Then the crystals flickered.
Mirena looked up. The lenses on the table were glowing—faintly, softly, pulsing in a rhythm she didn't recognize.
She moved to the map on the wall. Placed her hand on it. Closed her eyes.
The artifact's resonance patterns were stable. The strangers were in their rooms. The spatial echoes were quiet.
But there was something else.
A tear. Small, brief, deep in the forest. Not the artifact. Not the strangers. Something else.
Mirena opened her eyes.
She marked the location on the map.
Then she sat back down.
The artifact pulsed.
Something was watching.