-Tan'Thalon: The Moonglass saloon-
The Moon-Glass Saloon was quieter than usual. Eldarion sat across from Selvara in their private booth. Neither touched their drink. Selvara listened without interrupting. When he finished, she remained silent.
"So," she said eventually.
Eldarion nodded. "The Vanguard gets its magitech."
"How much?"
"Defensive prototypes. Arcforge designs under review. Lazulli reserves remain under Council control."
Selvara's expression remained neutral. "And the investigation?"
"Expanded."
That made her eyes sharpen. "How expanded?"
"The Council now considers the underground facilities a confirmed threat."
Selvara leaned back. For the first time, the carefully constructed atmosphere of the saloon seemed to become colder. "And the records?"
Eldarion hesitated. "They found them."
Selvara's eyes narrowed. "You didn't mention records."
"I didn't know they had them."
Selvara slowly lowered her glass. Neither of them spoke. That was important. Because this was not something she had anticipated. She had expected the Vanguard to have suspicion. She had expected Elira to demand resources. She had expected Eldarion to slow them down. She had not expected a stack of preserved research records to appear in the Council chamber.
Selvara's fingers tightened slightly around her glass. "What did they find?"
Eldarion told her. The Lazulli infusion experiments. The biological subjects. The memory-retention research. The references to a living specimen. Selvara listened. Her expression became increasingly thoughtful.
Finally she asked: "And how much did the Council understand?"
"Enough to believe someone has been experimenting beneath the city for a long time."
Selvara looked toward the moon-glass. Outside, rain fell over Tan'Thalon. For a moment, the illusion of the city shifted. Selvara saw the streets. The Arc Wall. The Lower Ring. Then, beneath all of it, the hidden network.
She had spent years carefully pulling at Tan'Thalon's foundations. And now someone had started pulling back.
"Elira," she murmured.
Eldarion looked at her. "You know her?"
"I know enough." She turned back toward him. "You did what I asked."
He seemed relieved. "Then you aren't angry?"
Selvara smiled faintly. "No." She leaned closer. "Surprised."
Eldarion frowned. "By what?"
"By the fact that Captain Elira is considerably more dangerous than I had given her credit for." She raised her glass. "And now she has a reason to start digging."
Her smile disappeared. "That changes things."
Her attention was drawn to the entrance when she heard the bells.
"Ah, just in time." She smiled again.
Eldarion looked puzzled. "In time for what?"
"That doesn't concern you. Leave out the back." She spoke with a tone that warned him not to interfere.
In the streets outside, Calenelda wandered. She didn't remember leaving the tunnels. Later, she would have no idea which streets she had walked through. She only remembered stone beneath her feet. The sound of distant bells. Her own breathing. And the smell of rain that wasn't there. She kept expecting to hear the Vanguard commander. A command. A laugh. An irritated voice asking what in the hell Calenelda had just done. Nothing came. Tan'Thalon's streets passed around her. People moved aside when they recognized her. Some whispered. Others stared. Calenelda didn't care. She couldn't feel Talia. That was the worst part. Normally, somewhere in the chaos, there was Talia. Her footsteps. Her breathing. The familiar rhythm of her armor. The subtle movement Calenelda had learned without realizing she'd memorized it. But tonight Calenelda couldn't find her. And she was too frightened to ask.
Eventually, she stopped in front of a doorway. Warm music drifted through it. Laughter. Glasses. Voices. The Moonglass Saloon. Calenelda stared at the door. She didn't know why she had stopped there. Perhaps because it was warm. Perhaps because it was loud enough to drown out her thoughts. Perhaps because she simply couldn't keep walking. She pushed the door open. The sound washed over her. For a moment, nobody spoke.
"Well." Selvara's voice sounded. "You look terrible."
Calenelda gave a weak laugh. "Thank you."
Selvara looked up from her drink. This was not the Diviner she'd been watching from a distance.
There was no teasing smile. No careless confidence. No mischievous remark. Her shoulders were drawn tight. Her hair was disheveled. There was dried blood on one sleeve that wasn't hers. And beneath everything, fear.
Selvara studied her. "Sit."
Calenelda hesitated. Then she did. Selvara poured another drink. Calenelda wrapped both hands around it. She didn't drink.
"You're shaking."
"I know."
"Battle?"
Calenelda nodded.
"Someone hurt?"
Another nod. Selvara waited.
Eventually Calenelda whispered: "I hurt someone."
Selvara's eyes sharpened. "Who?"
"Can't say." It came out weakly.
Calenelda continued. "I felt her body." She paused. "Then I couldn't feel anything."
Selvara said nothing. Calenelda lowered her head.
"I can feel stone." Her fingers trembled. "I can feel people walking through a room. I can feel magic in the ground." She laughed once, bitterly. "But when someone is lying there dying, all of it becomes noise." Selvara watched her carefully. "I couldn't tell if she was breathing." Calenelda's voice cracked. "I couldn't tell if her heart was beating." She looked toward the ceiling. "I couldn't see her."
The words were simple. But Selvara finally understood that this wasn't merely about the accident. Calenelda's blindness wasn't an inconvenience she occasionally had to overcome. It was the foundation of how she experienced everything. And tonight, that foundation had failed her.
"I thought…" Calenelda stopped. Selvara waited. "I thought if I became strong enough, I'd never have to be afraid again." Her hand slowly closed around the glass. "But I'm still afraid."
Selvara's voice softened. "Of what?"
Calenelda took a long breath. "Of myself."
That surprised Selvara. Calenelda turned toward her. "If I lose control again…" She couldn't finish.
Selvara studied her for a long moment. Then she reached across the table. Not touching her. Just placing her hand nearby. "You're not a monster because you were frightened."
Calenelda gave a humorless laugh. "You didn't see what happened."
"No."
"I could have killed her."
"But you didn't."
"I don't know that."
Selvara paused. "Neither do I."
Calenelda looked at her. It was perhaps the first completely honest answer Selvara had given her. Something about that made Calenelda relax. Just slightly. She finally took a sip. Then another. For several minutes, neither spoke. The saloon continued around them. Music. Laughter. Glasses. Life.
She stared into her glass. "I keep finding things I didn't know I could do."
Earth. Air. Magnetism. Things that should not be possible. Things that frightened even her.
"And everyone keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to know what happens next." Her voice became smaller. "I don't."
Selvara watched her. This was the opening she had been waiting for. Not because Calenelda was weak. Because she was lonely. And Selvara understood loneliness. Perhaps better than she understood anything else.
"You don't have to know tonight."
Calenelda turned toward her. "What?"
"You don't have to solve everything tonight." Selvara lifted her glass. "Tonight, you can simply sit here."
Calenelda was quiet. Then she smiled. Small. Tired. Real. "Thank you."
Selvara returned the smile. And something shifted. Not in Calenelda. In Selvara. Because this wasn't the dangerous, reckless Diviner she'd been studying. This was a woman who had just discovered that her power could kill someone she respected. A woman terrified that the person she loved would eventually look at her and see a monster. And Selvara suddenly realized something important. Calenelda didn't need to be convinced to fall for someone else. She needed someone to make her believe she was still worthy of being loved. Selvara could work with that. She just didn't yet understand how badly that decision would eventually come back to haunt her.
-Tan'Thalon: Noble district-
Talia had barely slept when the knock came — a single, sharp rap on the door, too controlled to be a soldier and too urgent to be casual. She pushed herself upright, breath catching. She knew it could only be one person.
"Calenelda?"
No answer. Just silence, thick and waiting. Talia crossed the room and unlatched the door. The Diviner stood, sweat plastered strands of hair to her temples. Her dress smudged with dust and something darker, and she looked like one of the city's guard constructs had run her over. Stonefang wasn't at her side. The absence made the hallway feel colder.
"Talia…" she began, not really knowing how to proceed. "I need—"
Her knees buckled. The stress and effort finally catching up to her. Talia lunged, catching her by the shoulders.
"Gods—Calenelda, what happened?"
She pulled her fully inside and shut the door behind them. The Diviner leaned against her, trembling, but her hands were searching—reaching—until they found Talia's wrist. She held it as though it were the only real thing in a world gone wrong.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she murmured, breath shuddering. "I know you needed space. I tried to give it." Her fingers tightened. "But something is terribly wrong below Tan'Thalon."
Talia guided her toward the bed. "Start from the beginning."
"I followed… echoes." Calenelda rubbed at her eyes. "Not sound. Not quite. Something moving beneath the stone. Something dead." Her voice thinned. "I went below the sanctum. Into the old tunnels."
Talia's blood chilled. "Alone?"
"Yes."
"Calenelda—"
"I had to go." The Diviner's head tilted toward her, blind eyes tight with strain. "I felt something calling. Not like Ba'Ham. Not fire." She swallowed. "Cold. Old."
Talia braced her shoulders as she coughed.
"There were constructs," Calenelda continued. "Dead things… rebuilt. Someone stitched them together with iron and hate. They shouldn't have moved." Her fingers curled. "But they did."
Talia stared at her. "You fought?"
A faint, disbelieving laugh escaped Calenelda. "And not just them. A necromancer. Cloaked. Masked. He commanded them." She paused. "The Iron Vanguard were already there. Dying on their shields."
For the briefest moment, the tension broke. Then Talia remembered something. Her expression changed.
"The Vanguard."
Calenelda tilted her head. "What about them?"
"They saw you."
"Yes."
"Did you use air?"
"Yes."
Talia stood. "Then they know."
Calenelda's brow furrowed. "The Vanguard knows about my awakening."
Talia's voice sharpened. "And the Council will hear about it."
Calenelda went still. "I don't think they will."
Talia's expression hardened. "Calenelda, they are soldiers. You saved their lives. They will report what happened. That's their duty."
"They won't necessarily understand what they saw."
"They don't need to understand it." Talia paced once across the room. "Someone only has to say the Diviner used a second element." She turned toward Calenelda. "And then the Council starts asking questions."
Calenelda was silent. Talia's frustration spilled over.
"We agreed this stays between us until we understand what is happening to you."
"I know."
"And now half the Iron Vanguard may know."
"I know."
Talia stopped. Her breathing slowed. She realized Calenelda wasn't arguing. She was simply sitting there, exhausted, accepting the anger. Talia's expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
Calenelda tilted her head. "You're worried."
"Yes."
"For me?"
"For you." The answer came immediately. Talia looked away. "And for what the Council will do if they decide you're something they can use."
Calenelda was quiet. Then she reached into her satchel. "There's something else."
She pulled out a slender crystal disk. It was cracked down the center, faintly humming in her palm.
Talia frowned. "What is that?"
"A memory." Calenelda ran her thumb carefully along its edge. "A recording. Ancient. I found it below the city." She hesitated. "I can sense the resonance, but I can't see what it contains." Her hand tightened around the crystal. "I need someone I trust to watch it with me."
Talia's chest tightened. "Calenelda…"
The Diviner turned her face toward her. "You're the only person I trust."
The words landed differently this time. Not because Talia hadn't heard them before. Because of what had happened in the council chamber.
Talia had stood beside her. And when Eldarion had insinuated there was something between them, Talia had denied it. She had watched the hurt cross Calenelda's face. She had told herself it was necessary. That she wasn't ready. That she needed time. And Calenelda had still come to her. Still trusted her. Still reached for her.
Talia swallowed. "You know I…"
She stopped. The words love you were there. They had already been spoken in the desert. They had already become real. But the fear that had silenced her before still lived somewhere inside her.
So she reached for Calenelda's hand instead. "I'll help."
Relief washed across the Diviner's face. Quiet. Fragile. Real.
"Thank you."
Talia closed her fingers around hers. "Let's see what you found."
The crystal warmed in Talia's hands. Threads of blue light spiraled upward from its cracked seams, and the air above the floor shimmered. A projection flickered into shape. A long corridor of stone. Guttering torches. Blood. Figures moved through the haze—robed cultists with blue-stained hands dragging limp bodies across the floor. Human. Beast. Something between. Talia's throat tightened.
"Tell me what you see," Calenelda murmured.
Talia hesitated. Then she felt Calenelda's fingers tighten around hers. "They're carrying bodies." Her voice became quieter. "Some alive." A pause. "Some barely."
The recording shifted. A chamber opened. Ba'Ham's cruel spiraling sigils covered the walls.
Tables lined the room. Each one held a writhing shape. Talia's breath caught. Blue fire pulsed through veins. Screams overlapped. Bones reshaped. Flesh cracked. Through it all, cultists chanted in a language that seemed to make the air itself recoil.
Calenelda's grip tightened.
"Lazulli Magis." Talia's voice was almost a whisper. "They were forcing it into living blood."
She stared. "It's horrible."
The projection jumped again. Now it focused on a single table. A creature lay strapped down. Wolf-shaped. But wrong. The snout was shorter. The chest broader. The limbs longer. Its eyes glowed with the same blue as the cultists' hands. Talia stopped breathing.
"Is it still going?" Calenelda asked.
"Yes." Her voice barely came out. "It's showing an experiment."
The creature convulsed. A strangled howl tore through the recording. The cultist leaning over it shouted something. The creature snapped its bonds. The recording jerked violently. The image tore away. Shouts. The wet crunch of bone. Then another frame.
Calenelda's head tilted. "Describe it."
Talia couldn't speak. The silhouette in the final frame was unmistakable. Bleeding. Panting. Eyes burning with eerie blue fire. Even distorted by the projection. Even half-formed. Stonefang. Talia's chest constricted. She looked at Calenelda. The Diviner was waiting. Trusting her. Talia remembered the council. The denial. The hurt she had caused. And now she faced another choice. Tell Calenelda the truth. Or protect her from it.
"Calenelda…"
"What did you see?"
Talia squeezed her hand. "It looked like someone we need to understand before we leap to anything."
Calenelda was silent. Then she nodded. She trusted her. That trust made Talia feel worse. Because it meant the truth was no longer something she could simply choose to keep from her. Not forever. But not yet. For now, Talia held her hand tighter. And silently promised herself that whatever had happened to Stonefang, she would find the truth before the Council did.