Sitting cross-legged on a rug covered in books and papers, Jack pondered the earth magic as laid out in the book Thad had found for him. It was three days until his trial. It would take place the morning of the next High Circle meeting. Not much time in the normal course of things, but things were anything but normal for Jack and his friends. Thad's abilities were improving; a lot could happen in three days.

In the dark of the Randells' spare room, Jack read by candlelight. A stack of journals on the floor at his elbow contained the history of the sage trials, detailed firsthand accounts of how each sage had completed the task. There were six volumes in total; Thad had managed to steal them all in a single trip. Laying on his belly on the floor beside Jack, Thad read one of them now, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he ran his finger under the words. Kane sat up in the bed nearby, his leg stretched out and elevated on cushions as he read another.

Jack left the volumes to them. There was wisdom in the methods of other mages, to be sure, but Jack focused on books of magic theory instead. After all, Jack thought, none of the old sages had had the earth orb - that had to count for something. He remembered the way it had felt in the cave in Melmond, the roof collapsing, falling in on them, and the way he had taken Kane's sword and forced the falling stones away. He hadn't been in control of that power, not really. It had happened too quickly, instinctually, but if he could figure out what he had done back then...

Flipping through pages, he sighed. This book wouldn't suffice. "Is this all you were able to steal?" he asked.

"Yup," Thad said, carefully turning pages. "The others were too close to Pearl's office."

"I can't help but feel this would be easier if the two of you hadn't gotten yourselves banned from the library," Kane said airily.

"Stuff it," said Thad.

"It's fine," Jack said, speaking over Kane's sharp retort. "I'll make do." He turned back to the beginning of the book to read it more thoroughly. He had time for that at least.

Kane grumbled, but he went back to his own volume. He and Thad had been together almost constantly as Kane recovered, his healing sped along by Thad's spells, and their company was clearly wearing on each other. Without Lena's calming presence, they bickered constantly, snapping at each other like angry geese. They both knew it too. As if echoing Jack's thoughts, Kane asked, "Do you think Lena'd be back at the clinic by now?"

Jack looked at the marks he'd made on the candle. It had been three hours here, so that meant a quarter hour, maybe half, outside of their bubble of sped up time. "Soon," he said. "If she left the farm at sunset."

Kane sighed, stretching his left leg, slowly rolling the ankle. It was healing, and healing well, but Jack knew - because Kane complained about it often - that the muscles itched on the inside. Lena said it was a good sign, but judging by his face, Kane looked ready to amputate the leg after all. He muttered a curse as he went back to his book.

They read in silence then. Jack studied aether diagrams that looked as alien to him as Kane's books of machina schematics. He'd hit on the idea of using a ritual circle to boost his power - it had worked so well with that first Teleport spell in Astos's keep, even if that had been an accident - but he was having trouble finding a design for one that might work. He'd never studied earth magic in depth, not when fire and ice, even lightning, came so easily to him. The power most earth spells took was staggering, dangerous. Earth mages used the aether of the earth, conducted through the earth, to work their spells. Mages like Jack, unused to conducting spells through physical mediums, could do real harm with power like that, not just to themselves but to the very ground they stood upon. The consequences - earthquakes, sinkholes, landslides - had never been worth the attempt.

But that was at least part of the reason the sage's trial was based in stone.

"Oh, hey!" Kane said, voice high with excitement. "Here's something we could use! Says here that there was a mage once who used a machina to lift the stone! Maybe we could rig up something like that?"

"Barrett's device?" Jack shook his head. "I know of it. It won't work."

"Are you sure? It's got the designs here and everything. I'm sure we could make them if Thad can give us enough time."

"Sure!" said Thad. "How much time do you need?"

"It's not the device that's the problem," said Jack. "I lack the skill to use it. It's a magical trial, remember? Barrett used his magic to get the machina underwater, in position, and turn it on remotely. I don't have that kind of control."

"Oh..." Kane said, deflating a bit. "Well, could you Teleport the stone, maybe? You know that spell already."

"Without touching it?" Jack said, disappointed in himself when he couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice. It wasn't Kane's fault he knew next to nothing about magic.

"Guess not," Kane sighed. "You could sort of swim down and-"

"Do you have any idea how deep the lake is?"

Kane threw one of the cushions at him, grumbling again, but then the three of them resumed reading in silence.

Focusing on the diagrams, Jack stretched out on his back across the rug, resting his head on the cushion Kane had thrown at him, holding the book propped up on his chest.

He'd nearly drifted off to sleep when Thad said, "Jack, check this out!"

Jack rolled onto his side, looking at the aether diagram in the book Thad held open for him, a complicated, two-page spread. He could see traces of the spell he'd taught to Lena, the one she'd adapted to defeat the fiend in the earth cave. Shell, she'd called it. Her version was non-elemental, but the one she had based it on was earth-focused, similar to this one, though much, much simpler.

Jack exhaled through his teeth. "That's a beast of a spell, Thad."

"I know!" Thad said proudly. He pointed at a particular curve in the design. "This bit right here's an explodey bit! That's what caught my attention."

"Yeah, that seems like Jack's style," said Kane.

"My style is not 'explodey'!" Jack protested, but then he stopped. Well, he did know this spell, didn't he? The basics of it? Maybe that really was his style. And it would certainly simplify things if he didn't have to learn a new spell from scratch.

He pulled the book from Thad's hands, flipped back to the description of the spell. If he could incorporate this design into a ritual circle somehow…

"Well?" Thad said. "What do you think?"

Jack nodded. "You may be onto something."

The air in the village became almost intolerable - the people's heightened emotions so conflicting, worry and fear against a cloying hope and religious fervor, were enough to make Lena physically ill. So she stayed away from crowds. Like Moira and Phin, she divided her time between the clinic and the goat farm, and tried not to worry when their efforts there seemed to make no difference.

She saw Kane only twice in that time, when he visited the clinic for healing spells. The other white mages were astounded at how well he was recovering, how quickly. None of them realized the hand Thad was playing in that. The boys no longer spent their nights at the clinic with her, instead staying at the Randells' house with Jack while Thad slowed time around them both. According to Kane, Jack spent all that time studying books of magic and practicing spells in preparation for the trial. Lena considered staying with them, but the idea of waiting any longer for the next phase of their quest to begin made her as sick as the mood in the village did. No, she would take her three days, only three days, and be done with it. But she ached to see her friends again, to be with them, to be with Jack.

The morning of the trial, Lena left the clinic early hoping to find him at the Randells' before he finished breakfast, but she was too late. "Left already," Dahlia said. "A bundle of nerves he was, too. Hardly ate a thing."

Lena sighed and left the house without eating anything herself.

She knew where he'd be. She didn't know how she knew, but it seemed right that he would have gone to the spot he'd shown her that night when she'd cried in his arms, the spot he'd said was his favorite place in the whole village. Even still, she was a little surprised when she made the turn that carried her to the pine grove on the far side of the lake and found him kneeling at the water's edge. His scarf and gloves lay in a heap beside him. As he cupped his hands in the cold water and splashed his face, she could clearly see where two of the fingers on his left hand ended at the first knuckle. She quickly looked away, but not before she felt his surprise and knew he'd sensed her there.

She could sense his unease as well. A bundle of nerves indeed. But he looked steady enough as he tucked his gloves back on, as he rose to his feet. He held his scarf loose at his side, and when she looked up to face him, his half-smile seemed weak and forced. "My lady," he said, nodding his head at her.

"I..." She looked away again from those glowing blue eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to see," she nodded toward his hand. "I know you try to keep it hidden."

"You knew already?" he asked, but it was less a question than a confirmation.

She nodded.

"Well," he said, shrugging. "It's..." He cleared his throat. "I suppose I don't mind after all. At least I don't seem to mind at the moment. I have more pressing concerns today."

"Yes," she said, and then couldn't think what to say next. They stood awkwardly, facing each other, neither speaking, neither looking away. Finally, she blurted, "I haven't seen you in so long."

"Yes," he said, nodding. "Longer for me than for you. Thad's abilities are improving. These past three days have been..." He cast his eyes up, seemed to be calculating the time in his head, but then he shrugged. "Well, it hardly matters. A long time. I... I've missed you."

She felt herself blush. "Yes," she agreed, cheeks hot. Nervous. Or was that him? She focused on him, his soul, tried to feel through that wall he kept between them...

And she found she could feel him rather well. He held back, but not as much as she knew he could. And there was some determination, some boldness beneath the nerves. She called up her soul sight, peering at him through the aether, that portion of it that she could see. Yes, his aura was strong, brighter than usual. Confidence mixed with fear. "Are you... are you worried you'll fail?"

He shrugged. "A bit. It's… well, I won't lie to you, it's dangerous. But I think… I think I can do it. I'm nearly confident, anyway."

She smiled then, unsure if he meant what he said or if it was false bravado. He hadn't lied exactly, but she could sense that he didn't fully believe himself. Stepping forward, she held her hand out to him, her woven bracelet with the orb at its center resting in her palm. "I wanted to lend this to you. For luck."

He reached for the orb, but instead of taking it, his hand settled over hers, fingers gripping her hand. She could feel the ice inside of him even from two paces away, the chill of something akin to terror. She looked up into his face again, and he looked like a lost child. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"I fought so hard to leave here," he said. "I never thought I'd come back."

"I know," she said.

"If I become a sage-"

"You don't have to do this. We can go without their aid."

"If I become a sage, I'll be tied to this place for the rest of my life."

"Jack-"

"Part of me wants that," he said. "I... I don't understand it. I'm frightened, Lena. I'm confused. I feel like I'm running headlong toward a cliff's edge with only a vague suspicion I can fly."

She recognized it then, the homesick longing that left him so conflicted. She'd felt something like it before. He loves this place, just as Redden loves Melmond. No matter the pain he'd felt here, the memories associated with it, this place... This was his home. "The people here don't have to accept you," she told him. "I know you want them to. But you can't change them. You can't control them."

"What if they're right?" he asked. "What if... what if I am what they say?"

"They still don't get to tell you where you belong," she said with conviction. She stepped forward again, closer to him, and closer still when he opened his arms for her.

He clung to her. She could hear his heart hammering in his chest even as the air around them seemed to grow that much colder. "Ai dagona," he breathed, folding around her to rest his cheek against the top of her head. She could feel him fighting against himself, struggling to hold back even as he wanted more. "I don't deserve your faith in me."

"You know, I still don't know what that word means," she said, trembling in his arms.

"Dagona?" he asked, lifting her chin with his fingers, lowering his face. She could feel his breath, so close.

She nodded.

"This," he said, pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, so gentle, as if he thought her a fragile thing indeed, but she felt anything but fragile now. She felt full and strong and powerful. The morning was cold, he was cold, but suddenly she felt warm against him. Her lips against his. His heart pounded under her hands as she gripped the front of his shirt, holding him, pulling him, wanting him. More than she'd ever wanted anything in her life she wanted to feel him, touch him, wanted him to touch her. But he held back.

He wanted her, she could feel it, and still he held back. She could feel the way he ached for her, an emptiness like hunger, like a wound, and she ached too, ached to heal it, to fill it with that kiss and ease his pain. For there was pain there, pain unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She gave herself to that pain, that ache, that- that hollow, wanting only to heal the hurt she found there, to make him whole again.

And then with a jolt of power and surge of dreadful certainty, she felt her aura mingling with his, filling that hole. He gasped, pulling back from the kiss, pulling back from her both physically and mentally. She staggered as he flung himself back. She felt weak, even as her body quivered like a taut rigging rope, a sharp contrast to the power she'd felt only moments ago. She tried not to shiver as the cold swept through them and then it was gone. The cold was gone.

Had he… Had he drawn from her? Was that what she'd felt?

"I'm sorry," he said, panting, terrified. "That was too bold of me. I... I wanted to kiss you, in case… I mean, I thought I could handle that, but I... Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, her voice sounding muffled in her own ears, "not at all." Everything she felt - from him, for him, all of it so pleasant, so beautiful - fought for her attention. His concern for her, his longing for her, her own for him. She laughed, then she laughed again at the confusion in his eyes. She smiled up at him. "I thought you handled yourself just fine."

He cleared his throat, looked away, and she felt a hint of shame in it. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Don't be." She stepped toward him, but stopped when she saw him step back, keeping his distance. His eyes were glowing blue, pale cheeks blushing, his lips moist where she'd kissed him. Is he a dark mage? she wondered. Does it matter? She crossed her arms, more for something to do with her hands than against the cold, the chill in the air now only a simple consequence of an autumn morning; it no longer came from Jack. Tied to his emotions, she thought, and he had wanted her, wanted her with all his being. No wonder it overwhelms him. "Jack," she said, struggling to keep her voice light and even, lest she spook him like deer. "I won't break if you let yourself love me. I'm stronger than that."

He shook his head. "It's not just you I'm worried about breaking." Then he turned and walked briskly away, his steps falling silently on the pine needle path.

Watching him go, she whispered, "You're stronger than you think you are." And he would prove it, to the village, to himself.

It might have been her imagination but she thought she could still feel him long after he was out of sight, as though a thread ran between the two of them. She stepped to the water's edge and sat down, deep in thought. Had he drawn from her? She shook her head. That didn't matter. What mattered was that he had kissed her, and he had meant it. And that kiss had opened something between them, something Lena didn't understand. But she knew one thing now for certain: This is why he holds back. This is the only thing keeping him from me. More than that, she found she didn't care. That's it? That's all? It wasn't such a great barrier after all.

Jack had been at the docks for an hour before the first of the villagers began to arrive. None of them approached him, but he could hear them murmuring quietly to each other as they shuffled on the shore, a mild distraction. He concentrated on the chalk circle he was making on the dock boards, trying not to look up as more and more villagers took up their places.

He'd known it would be crowded - he'd seen the sage's trial before over the years, nobody missed it - but he hadn't expected it to be this calm. A fair half of the crowd hated him; he'd expected jeers, shouting, something more demonstrative than disapproving frowns. This isn't Melmond, he reminded himself as he drew the leifenish rune for "power" at one of his circle's compass points. This is Crescent Lake. The hateful mob would be perfectly polite.

He was just finishing the design as Redden arrived, his steps creaking on the boards, stopping just shy of the circle's edge. "I haven't closed it yet," Jack said, straightening to face him.

Redden nodded and stepped over the chalk line, holding Kane's sword wrapped in its belt. He stepped close to Jack, reaching around him to buckle the sword around Jack's waist. The weight of it pulled at his side, and Jack's hand dropped to the hilt, shifting it more comfortably against his hips.

Redden eyed the gesture, apparently misinterpreting it as Jack gripped the focus object. "Do you need another draw?" he asked.

Jack flinched, thinking of Lena, of her aura flowing into him, filling him like water fills a glass. "No," he said, too quickly.

"There's no shame in it if you do." Redden tightened the belt, wrapping the trailing end of the leather into a secure swordsman's knot.

"I know," Jack said. But Redden wouldn't know that Jack had drawn from Lena not an hour before, and there was indeed shame in that. An accident, and she hadn't seemed to notice, but he was still beating himself up over it. Stupid. Reckless. Pathetic. There weren't enough words for Jack's shame. "I'm fine, really," he lied.

Redden nodded. "As you say." He tugged the belt one last time, checking his work, then stepped back as Master Randell joined them.

"Are you ready?" Randell asked.

No, Jack thought, but his mouth had gone too dry to speak. His hand closed over the hilt of the sword, gripping the orb in the pommel as though he could draw strength through the stone instead of aether. He looked back toward the crowd on the shore, and his eyes immediately found Lena there, standing beside Kane and Orin, Dahlia and Thad. Having drawn from her so recently, he could feel her exact location with pinpoint precision. Had she realized what he'd done? Surely she'd have said something. She gave him an encouraging little wave. Kane nodded toward him, a nod that as good as shouted, Don't screw this up.

Jack nodded back. I won't. To Randell, he said, "I'm ready."

"Very well," Randell said. He raised his voice, addressing the crowd. "The sage's stone rests at the bottom of Crescent Lake. By long standing tradition, any mage who can bring it to the surface in a single attempt by strength of magic can be counted among the Circle. The current sages stand witness." He waved, and a few apprentices scuttled towards the next dock over, where two boats waited. As the apprentices undid the mooring ropes, four of the sages - Lukahn, Myron, Phin, and Graham - boarded the boats, taking up the oars themselves as they pushed off and left the apprentices behind. The four of them would watch from the lake's center, evaluating Jack's performance up close. Jack frowned. The boats' occupants were chosen randomly from among the sages - they'd drawn lots - but it seemed an ill omen that three of the four were those who routinely stood against him.

Randell faced the crowd that waited on shore, the rest of the sages gathered front and center. "As our colleagues get in position, I think it only fitting we take a moment of silence to remember Senda Manook, who died attempting this same trial two years ago."

"Wait, what?" Kane hissed as the villagers bowed their heads reverently. A few cast glares his way, but Kane ignored them. "He could die?"

Dahlia swatted the back of his head sharply as she made a shushing sound.

"You did not think this would be easy, did you?" Orin whispered back.

"No way!" Thad said. "He can't die! That wasn't in any of the books!"

"You mean the trial records?" Dahlia chuckled as Thad's eyes widened. "Oh, come now - you thought we wouldn't know it was you who took them? But we can only record the detailed spells of the ones who lived to tell us about their methods, can't we? Did that never occur to any of you?"

Kane exchanged a glance with Thad, felt his own fear reflected in Thad's wide-eyed gaze. "How big is this stone anyway?" Thad asked.

"You know the fountain in the village square?" Miss Dahlia said in answer.

Thad's eyes widened even further. "That much aether could squish him like a bug!"

"The chalk circle is meant to mitigate the force somewhat," Orin put in.

"The chalk circle with the explodey spell in it?" Kane protested.

"What do you mean, 'explodey'?" Lena asked.

Miss Dahlia gazed at the dock, her lips moving as she read the runes Jack had drawn there. "Quake based," she said, nodding approvingly. "Good choice."

"But it could explode?" Lena squeaked.

"Well, yes, obviously," said Miss Dahlia. "Thus the risk of death. Believe me, Jack knew the risk before he started this. He witnessed Senda's trial, after all."

"We can't let him do this!" Kane said. He adjusted his weight on his crutches, but a hand on his shoulder held him back just as he began to move forward. "Let go!" he said tersely, drawing more glares from the nearest villagers.

"Don't," Miss Dahlia said, for it was her hand that held him back. "Jack's no slouch. He knows what he's about."

"He never said it could kill him!"

"Would you have let him do this if he had?"

"Hell no!"

Dahlia arched an eyebrow at him.

Kane spat a curse. "Fine," he grumbled, settling his weight on his good leg. "But I'll not stand by and let him kill himself. I'm stopping this farce at the first sign of trouble."

"Are you confident in that earth spell you found for the circle?" Redden asked, speaking quietly with his face close to Jack's.

"No," Jack said, shrugging. "I've tested the base - it works - but I haven't done the full ritual. I could hardly practice in Dahlia's garden, could I? Can you imagine?"

"Hmph, true. She'd have used you for mulch."

Master Randell looked out to the lake, checking the progress of the boats rowing toward the center, then raised his voice again. "Senda was a promising wind mage, a credit to her family. She is sorely missed. But she is still with us in spirit. Her name is recorded in the book of sages, as are all who attempt the trial, successful or not, for those who are willing to risk death in the name of service should never be forgotten. Today, it is Jack who takes that risk." Then he leaned in, speaking only to Jack. "Hold it as long as you can."

Jack blinked. "Hold it? I thought I only had to lift it to the surface long enough that everyone could see it."

Randell shook his head, gesturing toward the boats. "It's Lukahn's seat you'll be taking. His approval is the only one that matters."

"Yes, and he'll get a fine view of it from the boats!"

Randell sighed. "You know him as well as I do: he'll try to say he didn't get a good look at it, or that you've raised the wrong stone. Myron and Graham will back him."

"But Phin-"

"It will be his word against theirs," Randell said. "You'll need the rest of the village on your side. Look, the stone's big enough that we'll see it from here. The longer you can hold it, the harder it will be for them to deny, boats or no."

Jack sputtered, "But-! I mean- That's-"

"Unfair," Randell said, nodding. "But what choice do you have?"

"It's a good suggestion, lad," said Redden. "But don't push yourself too hard. I'd rather you come out alive at the end of this. That way, if Lukahn argues about the outcome, you can argue right back."

"I... Fine." Jack sighed. "I'll do my best. Step away, please. Clear the space."

Redden and Randell took several steps back, stepping carefully over the chalk markings.

Breathing deeply to settle his mind as much as he was able, Jack centered himself in his circle, willing it closed. He opened himself to the aether without drawing it in, feeling it brush against him like a friendly cat, little static sparks of force and pressure. For a moment he only looked at it, through it, feeling it, familiarizing himself with it. He could feel it in the lake, the way it flowed there in the water, like water itself. He mentally prodded the edges of his circle, checking its integrity, checking the way the aether responded to the runes. This was as far as he'd taken the spell when he tested it, but he knew it would work. Hoped it would, anyway. It had to work.

Separated from him by the chalk line, he could feel the structures of the village off behind him, the traces of the people who lived there. He felt the bright souls of the villagers gathered on the shore nearby, and Stokes and Pearl and 'Dine and all the other people who had made his life miserable for so long. But Lena was there among them, a soul like water; he could still feel the piece of her he'd taken into himself, and he almost imagined he could feel the lake all the better for it.

For a moment, the shame burned within him anew, but he fought it down, focusing. Use it, he thought. Use what she gave you. Make it count. He took another breath, and as he let it out, he focused on the earth orb as he readied to draw the aether in at last. Alright. Moment of truth, he thought, making that first initial draw.

He had just enough time to curse before the power overtook him.

Around Thad, the crowd muttered, their tension as obvious as an indrawn breath. On the dock, Jack was silent, motionless, but the aether swirled around him, a riot of color and sound. In that moment, Thad knew what it was to be a black mage, to have access to that other world beyond ordinary senses. Thad could see it without his eyes, hear it without his ears. He could feel it, but he didn't dare reach out to touch it himself: he could feel the danger of it too, like a pit had opened up in his stomach.

"What is it?" asked Lena, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Why are you so afraid all of a sudden?"

Thad shook his head. "I don't know. There's a... a tightness." He patted himself, just above his heart.

"It's not fear," Miss Dahlia said. "You feel the spell. It's powerful magic. Close your eyes. Focus on the aether. It helps some."

Thad obeyed. In his aether sight, the disordered aether mounded up around Jack's protective circle, rushing through the channel he provided for it like a hurricane pulled through a needle, and became a structured spell on the other side, like Jack was a spinning wheel turning raw wool into thread. But this... this wasn't wool... Thad remembered a story he'd read once of a girl forced to spin straw into gold, of the death sentence she'd been promised if she failed. How had that ended?

Beside him, Kane shifted his weight, leaning on the crutches wedged under his arms as he rubbed his chest. The tightness, Thad thought. Kane felt it too.

There was so much of it. So much! The circle focused the aether upon Jack like a magnifying glass, a steady beam of power. He tried not to think of himself as an ant as he funneled it through Kane's sword, through the orb of earth glowing golden beneath his hand. Bright. The edges of his circle glowed, that same golden yellow, acting as a riverbed channeling that flow. Jack tried to breathe, to control his breath, as he drew the aether into himself, sent it out again, into the lake, under the water, and he sent his awareness with it, looking for the stone he had sensed before, that piece of earth that was different from the rest of it.

His breath hitched when he found it. There you are. The volcanic glass stood out in his aether sight like a lone tree in a field, a stone formed by fire buried in the lakebed's silt. But the wet earth was only earth after all, and it yielded to Jack's command, doing his bidding at the behest of the earth orb. The mud and sand moved aside, just as it had for him in Melmond. The earth parted like a crowd before a king, exposing the sage stone to the open water above.

He wrapped his will around it. Come to me, he thought. He pulled. The stone resisted, its massive weight firmly settled against the mud. The stone was far heavier than he had expected it to be, but this was more aether than he'd ever held before in his life, more aether than he'd ever seen. No, Jack thought, firm, commanding, shoving the sucking mud down as he pulled the stone again. Come to me.

And slowly, so slowly, the stone began to shift. Jack pulled, concentrating, his mind like a tug-of-war rope, pulling the aether, pulling the stone. He felt a bead of sweat forming on his forehead, felt it dribble slowly down his face, but the stone rose at his command.

Redden clenched his fists at his sides. Jack's spell pulled at him, at everything, every living thing within view of the circle, stripping the aether from the surrounding area, using it. It wasn't like it was when Jack drew directly from him, a sudden sapping of energy; this was more like the air being sucked out of a room. He could feel the aether rushing by like wind in a storm, but there was nothing to see, nothing to hear, no rustling of leaves or ruffling of clothing, just... an emptiness as the aether left nothing behind when it passed.

For all that, it wasn't completely silent. The crowd behind him murmured, a ripple of both fear and awe, growing louder. There were curses, exclamations. There were children watching wide-eyed from atop their parent's shoulders, too young to have learned their aether sight didn't need their eyes to see what Redden could only imagine. Many of the adults, though, had their physical eyes closed.

One such person was Master Randell, standing beside Redden at the base of the dock. "He's doing it," Randell muttered, head bowed, eyes shut. "He's found the stone."

"Come on, lad," Redden whispered, focusing his senses. He could feel the maelstrom of aether on this side of the circle. He could feel the strength of the spell flowing through it. And Jack, the fulcrum, the center, turning that chaos into order.

At the lake's center, the water was as still as glass.

Surprisingly, it wasn't the weight of the stone that gave him the most trouble. It was the weight of the water, the resistance of it. It seemed to have a will of its own, pushing steadily down on the stone as he pulled it up. The water seemed to mock him: I've worn down mountains in my own time, it said. I'll wear you down too. Jack tried to use his senses to gauge the distance he still needed to cover, but he couldn't spare enough attention to calculate a sum. Far, he thought. Don't think about it. Part of him in the very back of his mind told him he would give up if he thought about it too hard.

As if in opposition to that part of him, Kane's voice rose above the crowd. "Pull, you bastard! You don't get to yield!"

Jack set his jaw, redoubling his efforts. Right. He couldn't fail. He was a Warrior of Light... wasn't he?

The stone rose slowly, so slowly, every inch a battle to be fought. The water pressed around it, pushing against Jack's spell, a current of aether so strong that even stone couldn't resist. But by the gods, it tried. He fought against the weight of it, the gravity, knowing that if he lost his grip on it, the power would snap his mind like the lever of a siege weapon, and his body would break like a castle wall.

Carefully, sweating freely now, he held the stone in his mind, the push and pull between the weight and the aether dividing his focus. He felt as if he would rip in half. He lifted the stone, straining against that weight, feeling as if he were slowly being crushed beneath it.

I should have known, a part of him thought. I'm not good enough for this. Not good enough to be a sage. I'm a dark mage. I'm a monster. They're right. I'm no hero... and another part of him, the smaller part, thought, Please. Only that. Please.

He could see the aether roiling as the stone rose, could see the dark shape of it reaching the lake's surface.

"That's it, lad!" Redden said. "A bit farther! You're nearly there!"

Nearly there, his mind echoed, clinging to that thought. Nearly there! He grunted, straining, but he could lift it no higher. As he tried to force it, the stone felt slick in the grip of his power, like a ball of ice melting in his hands.

Kane gasped. He'd felt that for sure, the sudden drop, the sensation of falling. Beside him, Thad danced from foot to foot in nervous excitement. "What just happened?" Kane snapped, shaking Thad's shoulder.

"He almost lost it!" Thad said. "It's not working!"

"Oh, he's so close!" Lena said, and that much was clear even to Kane - he could see the outline of the stone. It hung in the water just below the surface, unmoving now.

Dahlia shook her head. "He's not strong enough to break the surface tension."

"No! That can't be right!" said Thad. "He's used the sword before! In Melmond, he tore that cave open like wet paper! This is one stone!"

"One stone against the weight of the entire lake," Dahlia said. "He's no water mage."

Kane grunted, nearly doubling over. People turned to look at him, but he felt the tug again, and it sapped his concentration entirely.

Not the stone. Not Jack. The sword. His sword. The power moving through his sword called to him. "It's me," he said in sudden horror. "It's not the orb - It's me!" The orbs weren't real focus objects, were they? He didn't understand, he didn't know how it was possible, but he knew: The orb alone wasn't enough. They only work for us. They only work because of us.

"He needs me! I need to be in that circle! Move!" he growled, swinging himself forward, putting his weight on his good leg as he whacked a few ankles with his crutches to move their owners out of the way. "Move, damn it! Move!"

From the edge of the chalk circle, Redden said, "You tried, lad. Let it go."

"No," Jack rasped, voice strained by his efforts. He could hear the crowd again, some cheering his imminent failure, others making sounds of dismay. Some of them really believed in me... "I can get it. I have to. If I can just-"

"He's right," Randell said, and it took Jack a moment to realize he was talking to Redden rather than to him. "He's so close. He can't quit now."

"The hell he can't!" Redden said. "It's too much, Jack! Don't force it. Just let it go while you still have some measure of control."

There was a commotion behind him, voices protesting.

"Jack!" Kane's voice called, followed by the thudding steps his crutches made on the boards of the dock. "Hold on! Hold on, I'm almost there!"

Jack started to question that, but he hadn't formed the words before Kane reached the circle. Jack felt him barrel over the chalk line like a charging boar, slamming into his psyche like a fist to his gut, and yet the circle didn't break. Instead, the aether embraced Kane, folding him into Jack's spell as easily as breathing.

With dizzying speed, the air shifted. Jack grunted at the influx of power, warm and unexpected. The stone fell, plummeting down through the water as he lost his focus, but that didn't matter. In the next moment, he caught it again as the earth orb opened to him like a flood, a dam breaking. The strain was instantly gone. Aether flowed into him, more than he could hold. He gasped, and the gasp became a bark of laughter at the sudden euphoric rush of it.

He laughed again as Kane's hand came down on his shoulder, the contact between them sending the aether rippling through Jack like a wind through a meadow. "Do you feel it?" he asked. "Kane, do you feel it?"

"Gods, yes, but I do," Kane grunted. His voice sounded rough, but Jack could hear the awe in it, the wonder. "Is this how it is for you?"

"No," he said, because this was strange and new. Even in Melmond, it hadn't been like this. This wasn't a spell anymore, it wasn't a command. This was a dance between him and the aether, the two of them moving together in common cause. Quickly, he funneled it through him, out and away, back into the lake, running on pure instinct. He knew what he wanted the aether to do, and as he kept that goal firm in his mind, the stone rose.

Gods, but the stone rose! It came to him easily now. Jack pulled, lifting, hauling. He should have been panting from the effort, but he was laughing now. It was so easy. The aether flowed from him, through him, answering his call.

"You're bleeding!" Kane said.

"I'm what?" He felt the tell-tale tingling in his nose, the warm wetness hitting his scarf and blooming outward, weighing the fabric against his face. It surprised him - he didn't feel any strain now. "No, it's fine. I'm fine." His eyes watered, making it hard to see, so he closed them and viewed the world through only his aether sight. And gods, the colors! Colors he'd never seen before! He could see Kane's aura beside him, the auras of the townsfolk, the flows of aether running together like paint on a canvas.

And Lena! Her soul blazed in his aether sight, a brilliant blue. A soul like water! He could see it so clearly, her connection to the lake, the water… The water orb! A soul like water! Yes, it was so obvious now. He'd drawn from Lena after all, and the orb was tied to her, tied to her soul. He could see the shape of that connection, his power to hers. His hand fell to his pocket, where the water orb rested beside the shell he kept there. Could he use it too? Could he use water and earth together?

Uncertain, he tried it, his senses questing out, inquiring. Just a trickle at first, a question, the barest hint of his power calling the water, calling it as if he were calling to her, as if she could hear him. The water orb seemed to leap in his hand. The aether embraced it along with the earth orb, along with Kane. And Jack, who had thought he could hold no more aether, felt his soul expanding to take in even more.

He could see the sage stone glowing like the fire that had made it: a smooth slab as big as three grown men. He saw it as clearly as if he stood under the water, as if he was the water. It hung just below the light that glittered on the lake's surface. With one orb, he pulled the stone upward, commanding the earth. With the other, he churned the water, pushing from below, and the stone rose with astonishing speed.

It was wrong. It felt wrong. She couldn't see the aether but she could feel the strain. She could feel it through Kane, could see it on his face. But from Jack, it was worse. He was bleeding so much now - the blood soaked his scarf and ran down the front of his shirt. She could see more leaking from the corners of his eyes. But she didn't have to wonder why she could feel the pain and he couldn't: she felt the euphoria as well. He was losing himself in it, drowned in the flood of sensation. There was only the aether, and there was nothing left of Jack in it, none of the emotion that made him him.

"Jack!" Lena called, and her voice sounded choked and small as if it were coming from very far away. "Jack, please! You need to stop!"

She tried to go to him, but Redden held her back. "Don't cross the circle!" he said.

"Please!" she said. "It's too much! He can't-"

It wasn't Jack that broke first, but Kane, passing out with a gentle groan. She felt his awareness wink out, there one moment and gone the next. His crutches clattered against the boards. Redden cursed, pushing Lena aside as he tried to grab his son before he fell. The air seemed to hum as Kane crossed the chalk line, as he slumped against his father, the two of them half-in and half-out of the circle, the chalk scuffed by their feet. She felt the power of the spell, the wounded circle trying to contain them both, and then the circle's invisible barrier popped like a soap bubble.

"Shit," Jack said, his voice calm and flat, a sharp contrast to the panic she felt from him.

Time seemed to slow. She felt the spell break. The air pressure changed, raising goosebumps on her skin, making her ears pop. Something had been there, something she hadn't even been aware of, but she felt it leaving now, rushing past her as it tumbled pell-mell toward the lake with an undeniable gravity. As the spell unraveled in a burst of color and light, the sage stone shot out of the water, emerging like a breaching leviathan, huge and monstrous, propelled by that last gasp of power. It hung in the air, impossibly massive, before it fell back with a crash. Water geysered up around it, the wave capsizing the two boats.

In the quiet that followed, Jack staggered, his legs folding slowly beneath him as though the aether had taken his bones with it. Lena leaped forward, grabbing him around the middle, trying to slow his fall, but his knees still thudded loudly against the dock. "I've got you," she said, casting a Cure. "Hold still. You'll be alright. I've got you."

Jack blinked at her, the glow fading from his eyes, showing them red and raw as he wept blood. "Good," he said, his nod minuscule, his voice strained. "In that case... I'm... I'm ready to cast my vote now." Then he slumped over in her arms, unconscious.

Author's Note: 1/7/22 - It's finally happened, y'all. I caught the Covid. I'm vaccinated, I'm boosted, I wear a mask everywhere, but I do work with the public (particularly with children). It was bound to happen. I tested positive on Christmas morning and I've been miserable ever since. People were all like, "Oh, you're vaccinated. It will be mild." And, okay, I'm not hospitalized and don't feel like I might die, but ugh. The thing I had a few years ago that caused the permanent stomach damage means I can't take many of the meds that would alleviate the (mild) symptoms. I've just been on the couch, suffering through headaches and congestion and flu-like body aches with no relief. Miserable. It's miserable. I'm miserable. So. F-ing. Miserable.

Don't worry about me, though. I'm cared for. I've got plenty of support, paid sick leave, and a very understanding employer. I'm just mad about it. I missed Christmas. I missed my birthday. I missed New Years. I almost missed posting this chapter because I didn't want to edit it, but at this point I'm posting it out of spite. I feel like I'm made of snot and I'm whiny about it, but the chapter is done. Take that, Covid.