The Mages' Tower. Night.
Mirena sat alone in her study.
The artifact lay on the table before her—dark, smooth, pulsing faintly. She had been studying it for hours, tracing its lines, measuring its energy, comparing it to the rings. Alistair had gone home hours ago. The other mages had left. The tower was quiet.
She picked up the artifact. It was warm, heavier than it looked, humming with a power that made her skin prickle.
The strangers had used it to jump between worlds. To escape Vorlag's hunters. To survive.
She set it down.
Her own research had been slower. The portal ritual required immense power—more than she had, more than the mages could provide. But the artifact worked differently. It folded worlds, not just space. It was a key, not a door.
If she could understand how, she could adapt the ritual. She could open a controlled portal. She could find Aldric.
She reached for her notes.
---
The door opened. Alistair entered, his staff in his hand, his face tired.
"You're still here."
Mirena didn't look up. "I'm always here."
Alistair moved to the table, looked at the artifact. "The spatial resonance is stabilizing. Another few days, and it will be ready."
"For them to leave."
"For them to leave." Alistair paused. "Unless you have other plans."
Mirena set down her quill. "The ritual. The portal. If we could replicate the artifact's function—"
"We can't." Alistair's voice was gentle. "Not yet. Maybe not ever. The artifact is unique. It was crafted by someone who understood spatial magic better than we do."
Mirena looked at the dark stone. "Then we learn."
Alistair was quiet for a moment. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
"I'm pushing myself enough."
"Grog's hope—"
"Grog's hope is not my burden." Mirena's voice was sharp. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"You did." Alistair sat across from her. "And you're right. His hope is not your burden. But you've made it yours."
Mirena was silent.
"The rings," Alistair said. "The artifact. The portal research. You're carrying all of it."
"Someone has to."
"Not alone."
Mirena looked at him. "The other mages are helping."
"They're helping with the research. They're not helping with the weight." Alistair leaned back. "You're different, Mirena. You've seen things they haven't. Fought things they haven't. Lost things they haven't."
Mirena thought about the canyon. About the portal. About Aldric stepping into the light.
"I made a promise," she said.
"To Grog?"
"To myself."
---
Alistair left.
Mirena sat alone, the artifact pulsing on the table. She thought about the strangers. About Ben, who had rejected Vorlag and survived. About Tina, whose lightning was her blessing. About Davin, who could teleport.
They had blessings. Gifts from their worlds. Aldric had one too—the connection to Vorlag, the ability to resist him. And he was still alive. Somewhere.
She picked up the artifact.
The stone was warm, humming, waiting. She closed her eyes and reached out with her magic.
The spatial folds were complex—far more complex than the rings. The rings folded space into pockets. The artifact folded space between worlds. It was a different scale, a different application, a different level of understanding.
But the fundamentals were the same.
She opened her eyes.
"I can do this," she whispered.
The artifact pulsed.
---
Mirena worked through the night.
She sketched diagrams, wrote equations, compared the artifact's structure to the rings' structure. She found similarities—the way the magic was anchored, the way the folds were stabilized, the way the energy was stored.
She found differences too. The artifact used a different kind of anchor. Not silver—something else. Something she couldn't identify.
She needed more time.
---
Dawn crept through the window.
Mirena set down her quill. The artifact was dimmer now, its pulse slower. It was recharging. Resting.
She stood, stretched, walked to the window.
The city was waking up. Lights flickered in windows. Smoke rose from chimneys. People were living their lives, unaware of the strangers in the basement, the artifact on the table, the portal research in her head.
She thought about Grog. About the look in his eyes when he talked about Aldric. About the hope he was trying to hide.
She thought about the strangers. About Ben, who had seen worlds burn. About Tina, who had lost her healer. About Davin, who was still a child.
She thought about Aldric. About the portal. About the promise she had made.
She turned from the window.
There was work to do.