Chapter Two: Shadows of Synthesis

The study smelled of dust and old fire-resistant cloth. Faint chemical traces lingered from years of quiet experimentation. Moonlight sliced through the narrow windows, illuminating scattered notes and worn tools that had been left untouched for half a decade. I sat alone at the bench, a stolen fragment of forbidden knowledge spread before me.

Even in exile, I had learned. Hidden away from prying eyes and the Court’s scorn, I spent countless nights studying catalyst behaviors using a device I secured soon after the incident, knowing I’d quickly vanish from sight. I refined my control methods that others dared not attempt, and I corrected the mistake I made that day. Now the faded parchments bore the fruits of my secret labor. Detailed tallies of catalysts and particle density patterns that could rewrite House Dravoryn’s fate, or curse me along with it.

My fingers hovered above the raw data. Each number, each particle, was a thread I intended to weave into a new narrative that would deceive the Court and protect the House, but only if I could hold the unstable reactions in balance. Though Father had trained me, I had worked with magnesium a few times for the forge. That gave me the most experience with that element. I understood that argon might be the smarter choice, but it could raise doubts and invite scrutiny. If I used magnesium, no suspicion would be raised.

Carefully, I began adjusting the tallies. Minuscule shifts here, a masked substitution there. The Auris crystal embedded in my gauntlet pulsed faintly beneath the metal flesh, a quiet partner in the delicate dance.

The numbers steadied. Slightly dangerous, but not catastrophic.

Outside the silent study, a shadow shifted. Watchful eyes lingered just beyond the flicker of candlelight. Someone was waiting, learning. But unless they were a court mage, they would have no idea what I was doing.

I didn’t look up.

Letting the moment stretch.

I kept my hands moving, adjusting the sequence of the cohesive particle densities. Essentially, how many cohesive particles were packed into the catalyst?

I was running simulations. Practice runs on fake parchment, these figures wouldn’t touch the real tallies. If they were watching, let them see only what I wanted. A false thread. A decoy. I couldn't let them glimpse the actual edits.

The candlelight flickered again, betraying the presence just outside the door frame. No sound. No movement. But the feeling persisted. That prickling edge of scrutiny, sharp as a scalpel. Familiar to anyone who had lived under court suspicion.

I drew a fresh sheet of parchment and began copying the false figures, relaxing my posture just slightly. Not enough to show carelessness, just enough to invite a second glance. Whoever it was, they weren’t ready to make a move. Not yet.

So I moved first. Let them react.

I spoke, voice calm.

"Did Father send you, or are you spying for someone with less imagination?"

Silence, as I suspected. Would they try to knock me out and steal my work? Or would they run?

No footsteps. No breaths. Just stillness.

Then a whisper of motion. Retreat.

I didn’t follow. Not yet. Let them think they were safe. Let them report back, confident they had seen something real. I suspected they’d been sent by the Court to see why I returned at such a convenient time. At least I know I'm not high enough variable to be removed. Not yet.

I turned back to the real tallies. The dangerous ones. The ones that couldn’t afford mistakes.

I continued to work until the numbers were believably stable. It was a relief to get them out of the way so I could focus on testing the act of stability tomorrow. My presentation was the day after.

I folded the edited tallies with care. Every change was small, a quiet deception woven into numbers. A fragile lie meant to buy time. I slipped the falsified parchments into a hidden compartment beneath the floorboard under my bench. Safe for now.

The worn wood creaked softly as I sealed the secret away. I snuffed out the candle and let the shadows swallow the room.

---

By morning, I had a plan. If someone was still watching, I would give them as little opportunity as possible. The old forge beneath the west tower had only one entrance. Easy to monitor. Easier to secure. If I needed to cover my work, I could do it quickly.

The forge still breathed, if only faintly. Heat lingered in the stones, and the air carried the tang of soot and metal. Not many use this wing anymore. Most people had moved to the newer forges near the main training ground.

I stepped inside and let the heavy door close behind me. A few tools hung on the walls. Some recently used. Some have been untouched for years. The central hearth was dark, but the coals in the side pit still smoldered faintly. Someone had been here not long ago.

I moved to the familiar bench and set down a catalyst, mentally preparing myself. The Auris in my gauntlet pulsed lightly as I warmed it up by forming a small amount of hydrogen. I braced my hand. Time to practice. Just enough to test control. Start small.

I picked up the catalyst, letting my focus narrow to the familiar rhythm: containment field spread in front of me, element structure started to bind, ignition curve ramped up. Everything settled into place, letting the extra cohesive particles and electric particles flow through my arm like a battery. I discharged them slowly, carefully.

Finally, a white flame unfurled into a subtle spiral with slight but noticeable pop sounds.

Held in perfect tension above the stone plate, it danced in silence, illuminating the dust.

Then footsteps. Light. Measured.

I instantly shifted the magnesium into argon, then into hydrogen, giving the flame a soft blue outer tinge.

The door creaked open.

Someone stepped into the archway. Tall. Poised. Dressed for training. She paused when she saw me.

"Theren?"

I recognized her after a second. Lira. Cousin. A quiet one, more interested in craft than court. We hadn’t spoken in years. I dispersed the particles into the room, slowing them until they could not recombine.

"I didn’t think you’d be here," she said. "I thought this forge was usually empty."

"It was," I said. "I needed the quiet." She should be fine to practice with. She shouldn’t be advanced enough to see what I’m doing.

She nodded and stepped inside. "I come here sometimes. Fewer eyes."

Her gaze drifted to the spot where the flame had been. "Magnesium?"

I nodded. It looks like I need to be a little more careful. She's better than I remember. I really need to stop underestimating the people I used to know.

She tilted her head. "You always liked difficult elements."

"You always liked watching them, didn’t you?"

That earned her a faint smile.

"I’ll take the side bench," she said. "If you don’t mind."

"Go ahead. Looks like you got a new bracelet."

She flexed her fingers around the bracelet. "Father's guilt gift. Apparently, watching your cousin get exiled makes some parents generous." A pause. "Does yours feel different now? The gauntlet, I mean."

"Maybe I should ask for an upgrade, too." The lie came easily, practiced. Even if Father wanted to help, nothing could replace what had become part of me.

"I remember how he used to dote on you. I’m sure he would."

He never doted. He invested. I was just a project with potential returns.

I nodded with a polite smile and made it look like I’d gone back to shaping the magnesium flame, but I hadn’t. Not yet. I was watching her.

Her control was cleaner than I expected. No tremble. No hesitation. She moved through the elemental shifts with practiced ease, like she’d done it a hundred times. The transitions were quiet, seamless. Nothing flashy. Just exact.

Not many bothered to train that way. Not unless they had something to prove, or someone exacting enough to demand it.

Either she’d been hiding her talent... or someone had been sharpening it.

Sharper than I remembered. Quieter, too.

Could be useful. Could be dangerous.

I turned back to my work, this time with full precision. Just as I planned to, if she didn’t catch the slight anomalies, that was a good sign.

In time, the only sound left was the soft rhythm of the flames. Not quite comfortable. Not quite tension.

But something in between. And sometimes, that was good enough.

---

I kept my focus tight that morning, stopping for a half-hour break, every so often, to regain my mental power. I made magnesium again and again with no fancy structures, no layered constructs. Just purity and control. I tested its ignition threshold, gauging how quickly I needed to move the individual magnesium elements, then dispersed it cleanly. The flame became my measure. If it flickered too wide or too tall, I started over.

By the time the sun passed its peak, I knew I had found the curve. The margins weren’t wide, but they were enough. Enough to fake composure.

I doused the coals, wiped the sweat from my brow, and left the forge before dusk. No need to draw attention by lingering. Not now.

The hall outside was quiet, but not empty.

Arren stood in the archway, arms crossed, half-shadowed by the angled light. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched me with that practiced stillness I remembered from before.

“You’re up tomorrow,” he said eventually. “Father expects a demonstration. Simple. Clean. No mistakes.”

“I know,” I said. Why do you think I spent the whole day in the forge?

His gaze narrowed slightly. “Do you?”

I met his eyes. “I’ve been practicing.” I didn’t want to deal with this.

“In secret?” he said. “In exile? Or down in that crypt-forge no one uses anymore?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. I sometimes forget how sharp he can be when he puts his mind to it. What a waste of talent.

"Still think you're the wronged genius?" Arren's smile was sharp. "Tomorrow, they'll be watching for the same recklessness that got you burned. Give them even a whiff of it..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

“That’s why I won’t fail.” I resisted the urge to sigh. This idiot shouldn’t say that out loud.

“That’s not good enough, you don’t just have to succeed. You have to convince them. You have to look like you belong up there.”

“I know what’s at stake, Arren. Now I am tired,” I said as I began to walk past him.

His jaw worked once, then relaxed. “Good. Then you also know there are eyes on you. Not just Father’s. Nirell’s watching. Theryn too. And I don’t know what Lazien’s really thinking. No one does.”

I stopped for a second, but still looking away.

“Do you think I can pull it off?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, finally, “I think you’re smarter than them. I think that’s what scares them.”

That surprised me. I did not expect him to say that.

He added, quieter, “Just don’t give them a reason to remind you where you stand.”

He turned and started walking the other way down the corridor. Then paused.

“If they ask about the flame... keep it to magnesium. Nothing exotic. Not yet.”

I nodded. “Understood.” It looked like he knew exactly what I was up to.

“And Theren?”

“Yes?”

“If you do well... Father might finally acknowledge you.”

I watched him go. Whatever Father might do. It didn’t matter anymore.

---

I returned to my study to triple-check my calculations one last time, ensuring they were possible and matched what I had practiced. The corridor was empty, but I still felt eyes on me as I approached my door.

The moment I stepped inside, something felt wrong. The air was different, disturbed. Nothing appeared missing, but the dust patterns on my desk had been altered. A book I'd left precisely aligned with the edge now sat slightly askew. Someone had been here.

I closed the door behind me and waited, listening for any sound in the corridor. Silence. But that didn't mean I was alone. It never did in Solspire.

Moving carefully to avoid the creaking floorboard near the window, I made my way to the loose board by my workbench. My fingers found the hidden catch, and I lifted the section of wood with practiced silence. The falsified parchments lay exactly where I'd left them, but my hands trembled slightly as I lifted them out.

The Auris crystal in my gauntlet pulsed faintly, responding to my elevated heartbeat. I forced myself to breathe slowly and focused on the numbers spread out before me. Each calculation had been painstakingly adjusted to appear stable without being perfect. I traced each line with my finger, checking the cohesive particle

densities one more time. The particle density ratios looked believable now. Dangerous enough for me to be cautious, stable enough to pass inspection. If anyone questioned the figures tomorrow, I would explain them with enough technical detail to satisfy the court mages. Luckily, other houses are not allowed to use catalysts from a different house, as each makes theirs differently and wants to keep their methods secret.

But would I be able to perform what these numbers promised? That was the real test. The presentation wasn't just about submitting falsified records. I had to demonstrate that House Dravoryn's capabilities matched what was written on these parchments. My practice sessions with Lira had gone well, but performing under the scrutiny of the entire court was different.

A soft sound from the corridor made me freeze. Footsteps. Light, measured, moving past my door without stopping. I waited until they faded completely before folding the parchments and returning them to their hiding place.

Tomorrow would either restore my standing in the court or destroy House Dravoryn's reputation. And mine along with it.

I sealed the floorboard and stepped back, checking once more that everything appeared undisturbed. Whoever had been in here earlier would find no evidence of what I'd been doing.