Erith blinked his eyes open. The candlelit outline of Maeric, seated at the center of the stone floor, slowly came into focus.

Maeric’s shoulders steadily rose and fell, each breath deep and measured.

Erith reached for his shirt draped over a nearby crate and pulled it over his head.

“This feeling is impossible to ignore.” Maeric’s voice was low—wonderous, yet touched by a quiet strain.

“Do you ever get used to the sensation of Kaida brimming through your body?”

Erith yawned, his mind drifting back as far as his memory could go.

That must have been before Thatch took me in…

He strained his thoughts, but nothing surfaced before Thatch—only a fleeting sense that he’d once been terribly sick.

“I don’t really remember what it felt like at first,” Erith replied. “But you get used to it. It’s always there—like breathing. You just stop noticing it.”

Erith slipped his arms around Maeric’s shoulders from behind.

“You’ll drive yourself mad if you keep practicing this much,” he whispered in a playful tone.

A soft chuckle escaped Maeric.

“I’m afraid I’m already going mad. I can bring the Kaida to my fingertips, organize it… but then—nothing. I can’t push it beyond myself.”

Erith placed his hand gently on Maeric’s outstretched palm, and guided it inward toward his chest.

“Keep the Kaida centered. Let it gather”

Maeric closed his eyes and drew in a breath.

“When it feels stable,” Erith said softly, slowly moving Maeric’s arm outward, “push it away from you. Hard. Let your arm be a place for it to go—not a place for it to stop.”

He opened Maeric’s fist with a gentle touch.

“Don’t wonder if it can—just let it.”

“Try it,” Erith added, his voice barely more than a whisper.

In one smooth, fluid motion, he pushed his arm outward and opened his hand.

At the tips of his fingers, the air around them bent unnaturally against the candlelight.

Maeric slumped to one side, catching himself with an arm as his body dipped toward the cold stone floor.

“I think I...Did I?” The words breathlessly escaped Maeric.

“You did,” Erith reassured, steadying him upright. “It’s a good start—but let’s stop here for now or else you’ll be back in this bed for another day.”

Maeric gave a weak laugh. “You made it sound like Mura would be the one that’s draining. That was… unexpected.”

“It is. Wielding Mura is its own beast, but you’ll work your way there—your body isn’t used to being pushed like this.”

Maeric eyed his hand, looking to where the air had bent just moments ago.

“But how long—”

“Faster than I imagine anyone ever has, Maeric,” Erith said before he could finish. “You’re quickly becoming one of life’s mysteries that interest you so much.”

He slipped his arms off Maeric’s shoulders and stood facing the table, stretching his legs.

“Is that really all there is to it?” Erith asked, his voice firm as he stared down at the table, where the sieveglass and gems rested beside a flickering candle.

“Just… seeking out life’s mysteries?”

He paused.

“It’s a wonder to you, I know. But you’re pushing your body so hard… so fast…”

Down the hall, the faint murmur of Rin and Tal echoed through the quiet that stretched between them.

“My family and Aldarath have been tightly woven for generations,” Maeric said, breaking the silence.

“The kingdom’s history is the longest life this world has known—filled with complexity, chaos… but not without compassion.”

“There was a time when Aldarath faltered,” he continued. “A war with Loradun nearly broke us—and when Morvath seceded at the height of it all, it should have been the final blow.”

Erith turned toward him, leaning against the table.

“Faerin Estorath was a young king then—often overshadowed by those who came after. But he found a path in a world clinging to old habits.”

There was a softness in Maeric’s words as he ruminated on history. “He pulled back. Brokered peace between the three kingdoms. He spent his life helping the world break through the barriers it had built for itself.”

“In his final years, he brought a young Adoses Surelian—and others he trusted—to carry forward his vision.”

“He gave Aldarath a path to help guide the world forward, instead of conquering it for selfish grandeur.”

Erith watched him for a long moment.

“You see a similar moment now.”

Maeric nodded.

“But you’re saying Faerin was king back then. He already held the power to decide Aldarath’s course, and maybe Aldarath was in a place back then where it was open to being steered that way.”

There was a careful weight to Erith’s words. “Are you saying you think you can do the same? That you could steer Aldarath off the path it is on?”

“Perhaps it is my part to play,” Maeric muttered. “I look at the ruins of the old world and find myself wondering—what was the moment? Was there a point when they still had a chance? When the choices were still in front of them, before they became relics of the past?”

His eyes drifted toward the shadows flickering across the ancient stone wall of the Soliri.

“I wonder if we’re standing in a moment like that now. I wonder how close it is—or if we’ve already passed it…if we’re destined for the same fate.”

Maeric looked back at Erith.

“But what keeps me moving…what keeps the fear from consuming me… is the hope that it isn’t behind us yet. If I have a role to play, then I would like to do what I can to steer us away from the same fate. To find a new path—as Faerin once did.”

Erith weighed Maeric’s words for a long moment. “So does that path take you back to Aldarath? To Aldasi?”

Maeric studied him, the hesitation wavering in his eyes. “The path has brought me here—to you.”

There was a warmth in Maeric’s voice. “It’s a path I’d like to keep walking—with you, if you’d have me. I don’t know where it leads us to… but I’d like to find one we both want to follow.”

Erith looked down at the floor, letting the silence settle between them.

“I told you I ran off when Thatch brought me to Aldasi. To join the Surelian Academy,” he muttered, stirred by the weight of something buried beneath.

“I was stupid. I was so mad that he left me, I just did the opposite of what he wanted. So I tried to find my own way.”

His hands clenched.

“I was too stubborn to go back. Even when I was starving on the street. And when I finally thought I’d found help—”

Realization flickered across Maeric’s face.

“A stray doesn’t stay a stray long in Aldasi,” Maeric whispered.

Erith nodded. “You find a pack… or you get eaten.”

His voice grew quieter.

“I didn’t know I had joined the Brickliners until it was obvious I couldn’t leave. I saw what we did. Who we did it for. It was the world Thatch warned me about.”

Erith swallowed. His hands had gone numb. “So I ran. Snuck away and begged the Academy to take me in—to protect me from my own stupid choices.”

He finally looked up, meeting Maeric’s eyes.

“I hope you can find a path for Aldarath. I’d like to help you try.” His words lingered in the air.

“But I think Aldarath may already be past its moment. What they might do with us...”

A glint of determination surfaced in Erith’s eyes.

“Maybe the world isn’t beyond that moment. And maybe we can help shape that path instead.”

Maeric took Erith’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly over Erith’s fingers.

“Then let’s walk that path. Together.”

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦