“We desire that you avoid desecrating our Rift,” the [Queen] declares in her stentorian tones.

An undercurrent of unease runs through the chamber at the pronouncement. Several of her [Honor Guards] bristle, stepping forward to crowd me out of the way. The frills around their necks bulge and quiver in fear and anger.

“Outsiders are forbidden, your Majesty!” a massive Yathawn protests. He and his mirror image, another [Honor Guard] with more brawn than Mikko, move to block me from traveling to the other side of the mobile spawning pool.

“Help with the young. I’ll do what I can to fix this,” I yell at [Outrider] One, edging around the hostile guards.

“On it!” the [Outrider] shouts.

I turn the corner of the pathway, preparing to run closer to the terrible flooding. Crossing the palatial grounds, exquisite gardens, and training grounds of the city center will take me at least twenty minutes on foot, but dread and determination should lend me wings. At least, that’s what I’m counting on.

As I run, taking in the scene, I take stock of what I have at my disposal. Can I even do anything? I only have a single set of glass pseudo cores with me after swapping out my old set for a newer pair. Pulling on the mana within it instantly leaves me with a feeling of emptiness. It’s not enough. There’s insufficient power to do anything—not on the scale that the cracks above require. We have a matter of minutes before the entire thing implodes. I won’t even be able to make it over there and find a set of winches before we’re all swept away.

The Rift core is my only hope.

But there’s no time.

The insistent voice in the back of my head draws me up short—that, and the two [Honor Guards] who move again to bar my way toward the center of the chamber. That must be where the Rift opening is, since it’s aglow in my Domain.

Terror and chaos surround us. I stare up at the deluge as I skitter to a halt, racking my mind for a better solution than transmuting the rushing water with [Vitrification]. The main dome protecting the palace and city center is compromised; there's no fixing it as is. Maybe if Melina were well into the upper echelon of the Second Threshold, then she could transfix the water in place using [Greater Object Manipulation]. More likely the Third Threshold, I scoff. Or maybe Lionel could make a new prototype of the glass dome if he were infinitely stronger.

“Can I really transform the water directly into glass?” I mutter aloud, eyeing the flood and imagining how I might overload the sturdy runes in [Vitrification] enough to plug the gap with the very thing that threatens to destroy the city. But my glass cores aren’t enough.

I shout at the [Honor Guards] ahead of me. “We’re running out of time. Stop blocking my way! The Rift is the only way to keep you alive.”

“Better that three quarters of the Yathawn die and the way still remains open. You want to steal our inheritance,” a guard snarls.

“That’s insane!” I scream back. “I’m not planning to die here. Either lead me to the Rift, or get out of my way.”

Twin blades whirl around, leveled at my throat as the [Honor Guards] advance in unison. Their deadly prowl leaves me with no recourse; if I don’t act decisively, then my adventure ends here and now.

I growl and reach out through my Domain to bring sharpness to bear on the shafts of the glaives, severing the blades from the handles. Heat warps the air around me as I step forward, shaking with rage and preparing to burn them to a crisp. “What’s the point of protecting the Rift if we all die here? If you’re so eager to sacrifice your people, then you can be the first on the chopping block.”

Tension thickens in the air, becoming almost palpable as the memories of violence echo all around me. I prepare myself for a fight, unwavering in my conviction that I have to do something or we all die.

Familiar mana signatures burst into my Domain, catching my attention. They’re moving fast, likely propelled by Melina’s time-warping Skill. I back up, shifting a half-turn so that I can see the [Honor Guards] as well as my approaching friends. Those wonderful fools. They were supposed to flee. Yet, here they are.

“Hold on, Nuri! Don’t do anything rash!” Mikko thunders.

I grind my teeth, wishing that my brother had escaped, but overwhelmed with relief that he’s here with me.

He charges up beside us, inserting himself between the [Honor Guards] and me. Even weaponless, they look menacing, but my brother doesn’t back down. He sets the Linas down on the ground, swinging a twin off each shoulder. Behind us, at the far edge of my Domain’s range, I sense Rakesh and Lionel struggling to reach us. They’ll be here in a few minutes.

On Mikko’s back, a huge travel pack on his back bounces with each step. He unslings it and sets it down next to me. Smacks me on the back, he pulls out his glass hammer, spinning it in a lazy pattern to discourage the guards from trying anything.

The [Honor Guards] shuffle back, apparently intimidated by my brother’s muscular frame and obvious familiarity with the big weapon. I don’t blame them.

“Need more mana, Nuri? There’s another way aside from the Rift. Don’t do something that you’ll regret,” Mikko says, glaring at me. He must have heard my desperate comments.

“My stupid, amazing brother! You’re supposed to run to safety,” I say, choking up at the sight of him coming to my aid. It’s a testament to my fear that I didn’t even notice him arriving via my Domain until he was almost here. I should have sensed him much earlier.

“Gotta help you save the world, bro. As soon as you disappeared, I knew you’d be here. You don’t have a single bit of common sense in you. Heroic to your bones,” he says, his voice cracking. “We’re probably all gonna die, so I wanted to tell you that I’ve never been prouder to be your brother. All right. There. I said it, so now we can go and die tragically. You two—scram while I’m still feeling magnanimous.”

The [Honor Guards] don’t look back. They snatch up the cut-off blades of their weapons and sprint away from the terrifying catastrophe unfolding above us, their willingness to defend the Rift evaporating into nothingness. As they bolt away, I look up and across the enormous chambers at the water streaming in through the far side of the glass dome, and wonder briefly if I should join them.

Dashing away the sudden tears that spring to my eyes, I fling my arms around Mikko and squeeze tight. “ You’re the best brother I could ever ask for. Certainly more than I deserve.”

“I don’t know how you’re gonna fix things, but Rakesh thought that you might need this,” Mikko says, disentangling himself from me. He drops the heavy travel pack on the ground. It’s blazing bright, overwhelming in my mana senses, and when he unwraps the pack, my knees go weak with the realization that my friend’s quick thinking may have saved us all.

I really didn’t want to brave a Rift just on the off-chance that I’ll find the core and be able to pull the mana out through the entrance. Solo delving is the surest way to die, forgotten in an obscure corner and lost to time.

“You brought the Oletheros core?” I say stupidly, gaping at my brother. “You’re a genius. Or, Rakesh is, I guess. Give it to me. And stand back. This could get ugly.”

I reach out and touch the core as soon as he pulls the covering off. Drawing power from it shocks me; it feels endless, even more immense than the Lesser Rift I explored with Smoke over a year ago—although it feels far longer than that.

The mana contained within is significantly more potent, too, since it’s been refined over and over again, compacted into a tight core and built up layer by layer for who knows how many centuries. Perhaps millennia, given the size of the monster from which we cut it.

“Nuri? Be careful. You better not lose a foot this time. I’m not gonna carry you the entire way to Gilead if you cripple yourself,” Mikko says, trying to force some levity into the situation. But the trembling in his voice betrays his fear.

I don’t answer. I’m too focused on surviving, wrestling with the vast and overwhelming power in the enormous core. Gorgeous in my mana senses, like a perfect pearl catching the sunlight and gleaming opalescent, it almost seems a shame to use it. But I’ll drain it a thousand times over if it means saving my friends.

I grapple with the flow of energy, gaining control by degrees. All my hard work with runes and mana manipulation pays off. Mastering the mana, I route it to the right runes in the right sequences, preparing for a great display of magic like nothing I’ve ever done before. I don’t dare dump all of the power into [Vitrification] directly, without regard for how I activate the Skill. That’s how I lost my original Skills in the first place, melting their beautiful crystalline structures under the relentless assault of far too much mana gushing forth from a Rift core.

My control is worlds better now. And more importantly, I actually know what I’m doing in the liminal space of my soul. Studying runes feels like second nature now, despite the gaps in my knowledge. Channeling the power contained within the Oltheros core feels far less painful than I imagined it might. Dizzying, but not destructive. I’ll figure out that mystery later.

Just like in the Lesser Rift, I seize the power within, forcibly pushing [Vitrification] past its limitations. Unlike in the Lesser Rift, however, I’m handling the flow of mana far more efficiently. Thanks to all my mana work, [Vitrification] is sturdier than my pre-Threshold Skills, reinforced with over a year of intense mana-soaking. The mana roars through me, lighting up the Skill, but it doesn’t disintegrate or warp under the strain. Hairline cracks cover the surface, but they’re not deep enough to prevent the runes from working, so I ignore the temporary damage.

I’m confident that they can be repaired in time. Besides, if I fail here, there’s nothing to worry about in the future, since we’ll all be dead anyway. Happy thoughts, Nuri!

With a flex of my will, I spread out my [Arcane Domain], exulting as it expands endlessly in every direction, moving quickly. Faster than I can run. Faster than a bird in flight. Faster than the blink of an eye. Without fear of running out of mana, I pour as much power into the Skill as it wants—and it never seems to slake its thirst. Awareness blossoms in me like never before, and I take it all in greedily. Every scratch and divot in the dome stands out in exquisite detail. I press my consciousness up up up, into the glass—and beyond, into the dark, cold water.

Guiding the gushing font of potent, domineering mana into my Skills, I layer [Vitrification] over my Domain, weaving the runes and intent together like a tapestry of power. The Oletheros core erupts with even more energy as I can draw deeper, fueling the transformation. The edges of the cavernous cracks in the dome begin to fill in as some of the water turns into glass, but the main flood of water is moving too quickly for the transmutation magic to take hold.

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Think, Nuri! I scream at myself internally, trying to figure out how to fix things but coming up empty. Water is pouring in too quickly, with far too much pressure. The leak is so far away that even with the massive amount of mana flowing through me, I can barely do anything. The gap is insurmountable at this distance. My Skills can’t affect reality powerfully enough.

Footfalls shuffle up the deck behind me. My eyes go wide. I don’t dare turn away from the precarious working far above and in front of me, but I heave a sigh of relief. “Mel! What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re not the only one who gets to play hero,” Melina says to me. She’s shaking in fear and exhaustion next to me. The incredible speed at which they all approached tells me that her exhaustion is more mental than physical, since she was boosting their speed with her temporal acceleration fields.

“It’s no use,” I whisper, still staring up at the waterfall that’s widening by the moment. “I’m not fast enough. Not strong enough.”

“Stop trying to fix everything yourself, Nuri,” Melina gasps out between her ragged and tremulous breaths. After a few deep, shuddering inhales, she steadies herself. “When I saw you run off with [Outrider] One, I knew that you were trying something crazy. Rakesh was right to tell us to grab the core. Are you using [Vitrification] on the entire dome?”

“Only the water, but it’s moving too quickly for my Skills to take hold,” I explain, glad that she instantly figures out what’s going on. She’s always been smart like that.

She scowls. “You have to imbue it. Nuri, you’re a Master [Glassworker], not because you’re unparalleled with glass, though you’re good. It’s because you can imbue! Stop limiting yourself. It’s time to use all the mana in the city to work for you, not just to fuel your Skill.”

“I—I need time,” I growl in frustration, unsure how I’m going to apply her advice. I believe her that it’s the right choice, but as the rushing water grows closer, it’s all I can do to focus. It’s increasingly difficult to tear my gaze away from the impending doom rapidly flooding toward us.

Meditating on a new higher-order concept right now feels impossible. I need to calm my mind and think.

“I will buy you time,” a Yathawn declares, gliding away from the side of the [Queen] to float on a shallow stream of water toward me. “Stand behind me, young surface-dweller.”

Before I can ask what he means to do, the Yathawn lifts his hands and grasps with his fingers, curling them and then thrusting his hands high overhead. The frothing water rushing toward us lifts up into the air, forming a curtain of foam, and then a wall of solid water.

“Oh! A [Hydromancer]!” Rakesh exclaims in excitement as he and Lionel finally reach us. “A privilege to see such a rare Class in action.”

Brow furrowed in concentration, the [Hydromancer] holds off the oncoming water. His arms tremble under the strain, and his flowing robes whip around him, caught up in an unseen current of powerful wind. His mana output blazes in my Domain, but he stands firm, holding true to his promise to buy me time.

Redirecting the excess water down drainage grates, a pair of younger Yathawn flank him and work together to keep us alive, if not altogether dry. In the face of impending doom, that’s all I can really ask.

I close my eyes.

Time to focus, Nuri. This is it. This is what all your training is for. Every late night poring over arcane runes, every bit of mana manipulation, all the hard-won resistances to distractions of pain and sorrow. They were all for this moment.

Plans solidify in my mind. My eyes open and I jut out my chin, glaring up at the water as it rises higher and higher above us. I redouble my siphon, pulling on the surging energy within the enormous beast core, a mad plan forming in my mind at Melina’s words. She’s right. I can’t get a grip on the water fast enough if I’m only using my self-made Skills, but there’s more to magic than the codified gifts of the heavens. Imbuing will work. It has to work, if only I can find the right concept.

Master Melidandri once imbued the air itself. Surely with all my advantages and training, I can follow in his footsteps and imbue water.

“Imbuing is the way forward,” I repeat, lost in a daze of inspiration. Melina’s insight is so obvious in retrospect. I’m not one of the youngest Masters of glass for nothing. Hope roars back to life within me. Calling to the mana of the world instead of relying solely on the core, I bring the full weight of my imbuing experience to bear.

What do I want most? I muse, considering which concept to call upon. I want to keep my friends safe. I don’t always know how. I’m not an unstoppable juggernaut like Mikko. I’m not a clever and cheerful healer like Lionel. I’m not a resourceful, talented scholar like Rakesh. I’m not a genius at time and space manipulation, bending the world to my whims like Melina. I’m not an explosion of violence waiting to happen like Avelina.

Meditating on the concept of safety and refuge doesn’t seem like enough. My mind flies through a dozen ideas and discards them all before I settle on sanctuary. I shiver as something in me resonates with the concept on a spiritual level. Something deep within my very soul exults in the idea of sanctuary.

I draw in more and more wild mana, luring it in with the rush of power from the Oletheros’s core. In my mind, I set the right scene. Painting a picture, telling a story, composing a poem—it doesn’t matter how I attract mana, but I have to capture a slice of truth, an underlying reality of life to make the imbuing take hold.

For me, sanctuary is my friends at peace, free from both monsters and men. No more scheming politicians or wily [Inquisitors]. The freedom to choose our next steps without looking over our shoulders in constant fear, and the strength to carry out our plans.

Sanctuary is a place of safety, where hurt and harm are not welcome. It’s my mother’s soothing touch when I’m weeping. It’s my brother’s strong arm blocking a blow meant for me. It’s my father’s wise words and open doors, ready to welcome me home when the chaos is more than I can handle. It’s returning home after a nightmare and knowing that I can lay down and sleep in quietness and peace, without fear of bad dreams.

Sanctuary is embracing death so that my friends might live.

As the truth sings in my soul, something in the shifting flows of power around me settles into certainty. I gasp, almost losing control over the tenuous [Vitrification] process, as I realize what just happened. Looking inward confirms it: a new Skill glimmers in the space of my soul.

[Sanctuary of Glass]

Desperation drives me. I connect to my newest Skill, drawing mana from the core of the Oletheros and feeding it into the stunning beauty of the Skill structure in my soul. [Sanctuary of Glass] towers far above the other Skills, outclassing even my hitherto-most-impressive Skill, [Arcane Domain], in terms of sheer size and complexity. I can’t even take it all in at once, so dizzying is the complex fractal spirals of runes and meaning.

It shouldn’t surprise me that it takes even more mana to activate, but I’m still shocked by the immensity of the cost. It feels utterly endless—a match for the Olethros core, perhaps? It’s obvious that I couldn’t fuel it myself with my glass pseudo cores. Not even all of my new sets combined could begin to empower the Skill. For the first time, the boundless depths of energy in the beast core I’m using to fuel this desperate plan feels insufficient.

I can’t shake the sense that I’m not supposed to have this Skill. It’s too weighty for me, too substantial, too real, for someone still below the Second Threshold. I gulp, pouring even more mana into the Skill without fully activating it. The Skill is a gaping maw, a bottomless pit, and no matter how much mana I feed it, the Skill still demands more.

It may be more potent than I realized at first.

I got the same inkling when I earned my non-glass Skill [Arcane Domain: My Eyes Shall Pierce the Veil]. Yet this time it’s even heavier and more significant. I can only imagine that this Skill will bend the world to my will in more potent ways since it’s fully aligned with my Class. But first I have to initialize it, and my mana is bottoming out far faster than I ever thought possible, given the size and density of the core I’m using for fuel.

Tipping point!

The idea flashes through my mind, although I’m barely cogent at this point. Everything is a haze of images and ideas too lofty for me to grasp. Yet I know for sure that the unlikely miracle the [Queen] asked for has arrived.

I gasp, my entire body going stiff in shock as I pull enough mana from the core. It finally pours into the [Sanctuary of Glass] Skill to ignite the runes in the way I envision. An immense wall of glass springs up from nowhere, surpassing my wildest expectations. It grows in a rush, reminding me of the [Eternal Glass Forge] as mana itself becomes glass.

I can barely believe that I’m able to power it fully. The Lesser Rift wouldn’t have done the job. Even the Oletheros core, which once felt so boundless, drains at a rapid pace. The energy is rushing through the bored-out channel in my chest carved by the Rift over a year ago, spilling over into my channels with searing pain. It surges into my core, forcibly expanding the pool even in its broken and useless state.

The mana builds up in a crescendo, imprinting itself on reality. A glass tower juts into the air, reaching for the dome like the finger of a primeval giant. It soars upward, touching the curve of the glass. There it expands outward, looking almost like the shape of a mushroom as a new, slightly-smaller dome fits into place.

Not a second too soon. A section of the old dome breaks like a brittle egg shell, dropping down to crash into the new dome of glass holding the sea at bay.

More water gushes in from above, but my [Sanctuary] patches the damage, slowing the flow of water enough for [Vitrification] to take hold. I switch my mana over to my self-made Skill, plugging up the gaps with water turned to glass. Every part of me aches like I’ve been trampled by wild horses, both physically and metaphysically, but I push onward.

Dimly, I’m aware of strong hands under my arms and head, holding me up as my body staggers under the intensity of the forces I’m channeling. Soothing energy flows into me—Lionel is healing me. He arrived alongside Rakesh, which means that the entire team is supporting me, each in his or her own way. Risking themselves for my sake, I think with a lump in my throat.

No, for a chance to do what’s right.

Shimmering waves of energy crash over me. Rebounding and rippling in a latticework of roiling mana, the fractured fractals of reality overlap and expand, like a wounded thing heaving heavy, desperate breaths. I feel like I’m looking into a million mirrors all at once, each displaying an end to this madness. In most futures, I die, torn asunder by the sheer intensity of the power I’m attempting to wield.

A steadying pressure falls over me, carrying the hint of fragrant pipe smoke. Unfurling like a dazzling banner against a stormy sky, a familiar Skill presses against me, supporting me, showing me the path forward.

There!

The way to go abruptly becomes clear. Divergent realities crystalize into a single vision, and I grasp it with my full intent, bringing the full weight of the remaining might of the Oletheros core to bear against the vision I’ve chosen with Azariah’s help.

The last of the mana rushes through me, again spilling over from the furrow in my chest to supersaturate my broken core and cracked channels. Like a cleansing fire, the energy burns and widens, straining the boundaries of what my metaphysical body can sustain.

The working takes hold at last, guided by Azariah’s signature [Pathfinder] wayfinding Skill, and I let out a triumphant shout of victory. It’s a shame to lose the priceless core, but I’ll take it over dying.

“A tree to hold up the world itself,” I whisper, searching for words to describe what I see in front of me. Transforming the water itself into glass is finally possible after my [Sanctuary] is fully deployed, buying me time to transmute the remaining streams of cold, dark water.

Using the very thing that threatens to wipe out our existence to shield us from further destruction is vaguely poetic, I can’t help but muse. The pressurized jets of sea water reaching down to the palace floor transform as they crash into the mana of my self-made Skill. Fierce pride burns in my chest as the Skill holds.

Transmuted into glass pillars, the water reinforces the [Sanctuary] holding up the dome. I stagger, dropping to one knee as I fully drain the entire core. Overloaded as I am, I manage to stay alert. Lionel’s healing magic bolsters me, healing the tiny tears in my muscles from where my body tried to convulse and shake itself apart. Soothing calm flows into my mind, and I note in detached satisfaction that I stayed cogent this time.

“Hey, no more passing out! I think that counts as progress,” I whisper, nudging Lionel and giving him a tired smile.

“Let’s not make this a habit,” he replies, swallowing hard. “Not that I didn’t trust you or anything, Nuri, but—oh, wow, we should all totally be dead right now!” He breaks off into a high-pitched, hysterical giggle as the tension breaks.

Mikko steps in between us, throwing an arm around each of our shoulders to hold us up since we’ve both drained ourselves bone-dry pushing our Skills as hard as we could. “We’re a pretty good team, huh?”

“No. We’re a great team,” Lionel corrects as a lopsided grin stretches across his face.

I can’t help but agree.