The dark wind was not a warship, but an elegant courier of the Maritime Kingdoms, built for speed and stealth, featuring black sails capable of disappearing in coastal fog. It sped toward Ithaca Island.
In the cabin, Lyall, still recovering, trained with Elara.
"The anchor must be a scalpel, not a hammer," Elara said. She held her solis stone. "Strike my hand, but don't hit it."
Lyall closed his eyes, manipulating the teral flux through his arm. He tried to apply localized heaviness to Elara's hand without touching it, using inertia like a wave. Elara, using the oracle style, withdrew her hand just before the energetic impact.
"You rely too much on power. Focus on the perception of ambient mass," she advised. "My solis sees your intention; you must see the cause of its intention."
Lyall understood. He had to merge the foresight of the solis with the stability of the teral. The anchor was no longer just a weight; it was the perfect balancing of physical causes.
In the early morning, Kalas slowed the dark wind behind a reef. Ithaca was an old nexium mine, converted into a discreet production plant.
Elara activated her solis. "Three aerone reconnaissance drones on patrol. Their movements are cyclical, but one has a trajectory that's too short. There must be a voraks signal interfering with it."
Lyall realized: the factory's defense used pressa or gaen stone to anchor the structure, which created interference with the aeliths (movement).
They disembarked. Elara, taking the lead, used the oracle style to anticipate surveillance beacons and interference fields. Lyall, right behind her, managed his own weight, ready to impose the anchor when needed.
They reached the outer perimeter. The access was blocked by an agent, clearly a high-ranking member of House Ferix, wielding the gaen stone. The agent was massive, his feet seemingly one with the ground. He used the trebuchet style, his posture a threat of projection.
"Heretics of the Empire. Vane knew you would come," the agent growled. "You won't get past my anchoring."
The agent attempted to use the trebuchet, a heavy strike aiming to project Lyall with amplified gravimetric force.
Lyall activated the teral.
Elara slipped to the side, her solis alert. "Left! His shoulder is stiff after the anchoring transfer!"
The trebuchet demanded total concentration on the anchoring point. Lyall had his opening.
He did not confront the brute force of the gaen stone. Instead, he concentrated the teral's inertia into the rock beside the agent's foot. He created a zone of intense lateral heaviness, misaligning the agent's point of stability.
The trebuchet style relied on perfect anchoring symmetry. The misalignment created by the teral broke that symmetry. The agent didn't collapse under his own weight, but was uprooted, his own gaen flux involuntarily throwing him off balance.
Lyall pinned him to the ground with the anchor's inertia.
Lyall approached, the teral glowing faintly. "Who are you? How did Vane know?"
The agent spat. "I am Garon of House Ferix. I served your father, before he was lost to that Order sect. Vane didn't know if you would come, Lyall. He knew where you would go: always to the most obvious cause. That is your weakness, your logic."
Lyall staggered, not from exhaustion, but from the revelation. Vane was playing not only on strategy but on Lyall's psychology, anticipating his choices.
"He told me to leave you a message," Garon continued, struggling under the weight. "He waits for you. He offers you a place, if you bend to his will."
Elara pulled Lyall's arm. "Lyall! Not now. We have the data, but the factory is still running."
Lyall shook his head, regaining his focus. The shock of betrayal and Vane's predictability was a new pain, but he had a mission.
They left Garon, the gaen agent, neutralized but alive. Lyall and Elara had overcome the first voraks barrier using their synergy. Ahead of them, the main factory structure, the heart of the pressa and echor stone production, hummed.
The anchor and the eye penetrated the heart of chaos.