Kael slammed his palm to the cobbles, and a wall of stone rose between them and the gunfire, grating up from the ground like a sudden cliff. Bullets spat off the new barrier with angry sparks.
"We're only students," he admitted, voice raw. "We can stall them, not beat an army." We can buy time. That's all we can give them.
Calder answered without waiting. He flexed the gauntleted fist at his side until the metal hummed, and veins of pale Aether crawled along the plate. "I am a warden," he said, face set, "and I protect the kingdom."
He stepped forward, and his punch landed on the nearest councilman with a detonating boom of force.
The man flew like a rag, skidding over shattered benches.
Verran shrugged as he rose, brushing dust from his coat. "A showy trick," he said. His eyes flicked to Calder's gauntlet. "He channels Aether into raw concussive force, impressive. But it only delays what's coming. Stand down, or die."
Calder charged anyway.
Verran's hands moved in a slow, sure pattern. Circles of chalked runes winked into being at his boots, then leapt up to hang in the air, pillars of that thudded toward Calder like summoned columns.
Calder tore through the first set with a shoulder-burst that sent gear and stone flying, but more anchors bloomed around Verran in a sudden ring.
"Strength is needed for a leader," Verran called over the clash, voice bright with contempt. "To join the council, you must prove you can hold the line."
He let the runes bloom: pillars, jets of flame, slashes of cold glass, each one a tool for the same purpose.
Kael didn't hesitate. He tore a blade of wind from the air and hurled it at Calder, the gust slamming into the warden and hurling him sideways out of the rune-ring.
Calder slammed into a ruined wall with a groan, and dust poured down.
Kael's breath hitched. "Sorry!" he shouted, immediately ashamed. "I had to—"
Calder spat a laugh and pushed himself up, palms braced against the stone. "Didn't expect mercy from the court," he panted, wiping grit from his lip. "Thanks, brother."
Verran's eyes cut to Kael with a hard glitter. The corner of his mouth lifted in a thin, dangerous smile.
He had been bested for a moment, he had not been broken.
Across the small clearing, Serel's fingers barely moved, only a quiet, relentless rhythm, yet the light above her hands bloomed into the floating keyboard and the runes on its screen crawled and rearranged.
She did not look at the fight. Her eyes were fixed on the shining words that slid across the pillar's skin, letters folding like careful stitches.
Verran's jaw tightened as he took in the scene. They keep getting in the way, these children, this meddling magus and meatheaded warden, why can't I stop them? He looked at Calder battering through the first ring of runes and then at the students' steady lines, Kael's wind-wall, Lucien's light shining through, Lysandra's coiled flame, Aurelia's moonlight, Victoria's precision.
Either my men are soft, or they're better trained than I expected.
He did not let himself decide which. Instead, he summoned more of the city's stone, heavy columns ripped from the broken piazza, thick pillars that thudded down between Serel and the pillar, grinding dust into the air.
Lucien's grin cut through the tension like a blade. He didn't hesitate. Light-swords like twin comets snapped into being at his palms, and he ran them through the new columns, stone sheared apart, spitting fragments. "Is that the best you've got?" he called, voice bright.
Aurelia answered in motion. She didn't let him dawdle on the spectacle. Her sword became a whip of silvery arcs, cleaving the airborne rubble into harmless arcs. "Don't play with your food," she snapped between strikes.
Each sweep carved a clean corridor, so Serel's line of sight and fingers remained unbroken.
Verran's impatience showed like a bruise. He barked orders, men rushed, but Calder's gauntleted shockwave kept the closest of them at bay, and Kael's wind-snare tangled those who tried to close from the flank.
And behind them, quiet, steady, unflinching, Victoria worked.
She had mirrored Serel without a word, her fingers dancing over a floating computation-weave of her own making.
Aether keys flickered before her like rows of starlight, and a translucent screen hovered in a semicircle around her head, numbers and sigils pulsing in rapid sequence.
Her eyes tracked everything at once, enemy stances, patterns, moment-to-moment shifts in Aether density.
"Kael, left pivot, he'll overextend," she called, voice clipped but calm.
Kael obeyed without hesitation. The next council soldier lunged too far, Kael's counterstrike clipped him cleanly.
"Calder, brace, two incoming. Their impact runes are misaligned. Strike at the base."
He slammed his gauntlet to the ground. The resulting shockwave knocked both men off their feet before their runes could even ignite.
As she calculated, she pressed her palm to the air, leaving behind small clusters of runic glyphs that sank like seeds into the earth.
One by one, they pulsed—
a burst of frost along the west flank, slowing a wave of charging council fighters,
a crackle of static over another cluster, making their weapons tremble and misfire,
a humming ring of force that cushioned Aurelia and Lucien from the worst of the stone pillars Verran had summoned.
Each one was precise. Efficient. Beautiful.
While Serel rewrote the anchor with single-minded focus, Victoria held the battlefield together with sheer intellect, making the chaos predictable and the impossible survivable.
Even Lucien cast her a quick sideways glance between blade swings. "Remind me to never play strategy games against you," he muttered.
Victoria looked with confusion. "I don't play strategy games?"
Serel's typing never faltered, the glyphs on the pillar stuttered and then smoothed as if being rethreaded.
The pillar made of light shivered, alive, receptive, and for a moment its hum rose to a keen pitch.
Hurry, Aurelia thought, feeling time thin like old paper. One wrong move, and they'll tear her off the anchor.
Aurelia covered her mouth with the back of her hand, felt the Aether gather like cold breath behind her teeth, and let it shape there, no gesture of fingers, only the steel-sure control that had become hers.
She expelled it in a single, shockingly clean puff, a cloud of freezing mist that rolled outward and caught the nearest attackers before they could recover.
Delay them. Just buy time, watching the haze thicken into frost.
Verran tried to cut it with runes, but Calder's gauntlet slammed into his line and forced him off balance.
The mist didn't just hang, it climbed, congealed, and slammed itself into great columns of ice that ripped out of the cobbles like cold pillars. The forces snatched at the slick stone and slipped.
"That's nasty blowing ice from your mouth," Lysandra observed, half-disgusted and entirely impressed, as she coiled flame around herself.
"Aether is creative," Aurelia replied, breath still fogging at her lips. "It's the world's current. There are so many ways to speak with it."
Lysandra grinned and loosed a volley of fire. Aurelia's stomach dropped, she'd wanted the ice to trap them, not to be the combustion stage, but the flames met the ice with a terrible chemistry: a blast of superheated vapor that billowed outward in a pressure wave.
The steam detonated between the ranks, hurling them and equipment back like rag-dolls.
Screams and clattering armor folded into the noise, then, abruptly, the worst of the motion stilled.
Lysandra gave a satisfied thumbs-up, a smear of soot on her cheek. "Worth it," she said.
"Not proud yet," Aurelia snapped, wiping a line of frost from her sleeve. Still, she allowed herself a small, exhausted smile.
The team had their corridor. Serel, fingers never slowing, hit the final keystroke in her floating console.
The pillar of light shivered, then steadied. Runes rearranged, letters settling into their new order.
The old phrase—measure and keep—unwound and folded into a single blunt instruction that now glowed on the pillar's skin: STOP.
Kael let out a breath that could have been a laugh. "They were a nuisance," he said, shoulders loosening. "But we did it."
Lucien's grin was sharp in the smoke, more a dare than a smile. "Anyone still planning to fight?" he called out. His light-swords wavered, then folded away, knowing the answer.
The battered men of Verran's detachment stared at their leader.
Bandages sagged, a shield hung crooked from one arm, and steam had singed seams and hair.
They looked hungry for a command they no longer wanted to give.
All eyes found Verran, because a leader's indecision halves a force like a leak halves a barrel.
Verran's face went white under grime. He swallowed, fingers worrying at the strap across his chest.
For a long moment, he said nothing, only the rasp of his breath and the distant groan of settling masonry filled the space.
When he spoke, the words came out thin, unexpected.
"I love this city," he said, voice honest enough to surprise them. "I would burn myself to the last stone for it." He looked up, and the steel in him had slipped to broken iron. "When the guardians woke, I… I looked for a target. It was easier than looking at my own failure. You arrived at the worst possible hour and—" He broke off, jaw working. "I blamed you because it eased the fear."
Aurelia watched him, chest tight. Fear makes cowards of us all, and villains of the frightened.
She felt the old ache, Lucifer's image, that impossible ruin, slide under her ribs like ice. She let her answer be steady and straightforward.
"You had reason to be afraid," she said. Her voice did not tremble. "The timing was cruel. But we didn't bring this on you. You were looking for someone to blame, and that's human. I don't—" She stopped herself, because pity could sound like accusation. She forced the softness into her face instead. "I ask only that you see the reality in front of you now."
Verran's hands curled into fists at his sides. Shame visited his posture, less the theatrical shame of a noble, more the private shame of a man who'd lashed out at friends.
He met Aurelia's gaze, "If what you say is true, if these anchors and the archives line up, then I have been cruelly impatient," he admitted. The words fell slowly, each one costly. "I will speak with the council. I will try to make them listen. I—" He searched the ruined street for steadiness and found it only in the duty that had always steadied him. "I'll ask them to change course."
No cheers rose, what followed was quieter, more complicated. Calder straightened, jaw tight but not sneering. Lysandra's eyes were wet but steady. Kael's expression was closed and wary. Lucien only smiled. Victoria sighed in relief. Serel watched Verran with stern detachment, though her edges had softened.
Verran turned and walked away, the weight of the ruined kingdom folded into his shoulders.
His men trailed after him, still bruised, still wary, their posture saying that apologies did not erase nights of fear.
The crew watched them go, exhausted, smeared with sweat, breathing the thin victory-breath of people who had bought a moment of safety with their own blood and nerve.
Aurelia let herself exhale. We moved the kingdom an inch from the cliff, and the thought was small comfort and enormous responsibility all at once.
Around them, the ruin smoldered, and the pillar still glowed with its new instruction. They were battered. They were, for now, victorious.
Lysandra stretched one arm and let out a small, satisfied breath. "There, that timing was perfect," she said, cheeks flushed.
Victoria pushed her glasses up and gave them all a sharp look. "Did all that noise wake the guardians?" she asked, voice tight. "If they heard us—"
Aurelia cut in before anyone else could finish. "I didn't hear any heavy footsteps. No towering shadow came near. If a guardian were coming, we would have felt the pressure in the Aether."
Serel's mouth thinned, folding her arms, "It's concerning that none answered," she said. "But we can't stall here. If we can finish the eastern anchors without being noticed, that's worth a chance."
"Then we do it," Calder said bluntly. He stuffed his gauntlets back into place and cracked a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "We push forward and keep our heads down."
Aurelia knelt, palms on the ruined flagstones. She felt the faint, familiar tug of echoes under her skin and let her Aspect reach outward.
The anchors hid like minnows under silt, she followed the faint pulse of Halvane's ring motif, moving through ruined alleys and collapsed courtyards.
Her breath grew shallow as the hours stretched, the past bobbing up beneath the present again and again until her thoughts felt frayed.
They worked in shifts. Victoria copied Serel's floating interface and kept the calculations steady.
Kael, Calder, and Lucien stood watch, alternating minor spells to keep their path clear.
Lysandra moved like a tether, staying close enough that Aurelia could lean on her when she needed rest. Piece by piece, they returned anchor after anchor.
By the time the fortieth anchor clicked into its new pattern, Aurelia's knees felt like they'd been hollowed.
She sagged against Lysandra, every muscle soft with exhaustion. "I—" she started, then let out a laugh that was half a sob. "I can't feel my feet."
Lysandra grinned and dropped down. "Piggyback?" she offered, already squatting.
Aurelia clambered up without thinking. The world steadied. "Thanks," she mumbled.
Lucien laughed as he watched them go. "Look at her, can't even walk after saving a kingdom," he teased.
Aurelia pointed at him, eyes narrowed. "I worked my soul for this, prince. A rest is the least I get!"
Kael's expression shut down the teasing. He folded his arms, gaze sharper than usual. "How many guardians are there?" he asked quietly. "Do we know?"
Calder and Serel exchanged a look. "Enough to cover large parts of the kingdom," Calder said. "We don't have a precise count."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then we should have seen one already," he muttered. "Something's off."
Serel agreed. "Do you think the guardians are massing elsewhere? Near Kestrel and Joseph's sectors, or where Dareth is leading?"
Calder rubbed his jaw. "We can try the eastern gate. If we can reach other kingdoms, we might be able to call for reinforcements or at least learn where the guardians are concentrating."
Victoria folded her arms, brow tight. "That could leave Kestrel, Joseph, and Dareth exposed if the guardians are already clustered there."
Lucien shrugged. "They've got strong fighters. Kestrel and Joseph can hold long enough for us to get a message out."
Victoria exhaled, "All right…"
At the gate, there were no sentries, no rusted automatons blocking the way. They checked for traps and wards and found nothing obvious
The wide arch yawned before them, its ironwork twisted and blackened, the street deserted.
They stepped forward cautiously. Serel reached for the arch, and an invisible force shoved her back like a hand.
She hit the cobbles with a grunt. Kael lunged and made a water cushion beneath her, pulling her up.
"What the—?" Victoria said, peering at the stone.
Serel rubbed her shoulder, face flat with confusion. "I can't approach it," she said. "Some field or current is pushing back."
Aurelia stared at the shimmering air around the gate, her breath catching as a memory surfaced—Ardent's voice at the academy, low and steady beneath the thrum of tools and engines.
"The Core doesn't just breathe Aether," he'd said, guiding her hand over a glowing diagram. "It filters it. Refines it. The current it releases can power engines the size of fortresses, but only within the Spire's bounds."
Her stomach dropped.
"…That's it," she whispered.
Everyone turned toward her.
Aurelia pointed at the invisible barrier that had flung Serel away. "The Core's refined Aether can't exist outside the kingdom. Once you cross the walls, the natural current is different. If the Core is still obeying Halvane's old command 'measure and keep', then it's containing its refined Aether inside the borders." She drew a shaking breath. "And anything carrying that refined Aether, spells, runes, enchanted gear… even the little bit we channel through our bodies gets pushed back."
Lysandra stared, wide-eyed. "Aurelia… you figured all that out from one blast?" Her voice was a mixture of awe and fear.
Aurelia pressed her forehead lightly against the back of Lysandra's neck, "It's only a theory," she murmured, "A terrifying one. But it makes sense. The Core isn't trapping people, it's trapping its own Aether. And since everything we rely on to survive out here uses it… we can't cross until we rewrite the Core."
Kael's expression darkened, Lucien's jaw clenched, and Lysandra clutched her eyes.
Serel brushed dust from her sleeves, eyes narrowing, "If Aurelia's right," she said quietly, "The Core is enforcing containment."
And with that realization, the silence around the gate deepened, heavy, suffocating, and suddenly far more dangerous.
Victoria's fingers trembled where they hovered over her book. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…I really thought it was just the guardians." Her eyes darted to the empty horizon, as if expecting a massive stone silhouette to emerge at any second. "That they were the reason no one ever crossed the borders. That we'd get crushed if we tried. But this—" She hugged her arms around herself. "If the Core is keeping us in, then it wouldn't have mattered. Giant golems or not… we were trapped from the start."
Her fear sat heavy in the air, honest and raw, not dramatized, not baseless, but painfully reasonable.
Lucien exhaled, the sound sharp in the quiet. "It's bad," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Worse than any of us thought." Then he straightened, forcing steadiness into his voice. "But we've rewritten the entire eastern district. That's not nothing. If Kestrel, Joseph, and Dareth finish theirs too… we can override the Core's directives." His gaze hardened with determination. "We can free the kingdom."
Calder nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease.
Kael, however, didn't look reassured at all. His eyes were fixed on the silent streets behind them, on the ruins and shadows where enormous footsteps should have echoed long ago.
He turned back to the group, face set. "We need to return to camp. Now. If Kestrel, Joseph, and Dareth are there, we'll know they succeeded. If they aren't…"
Serel finished grimly, "…it means the council stopped them. Or the guardians did."
Lysandra barged in, "Or they're still taking time to finish...?"
The team gathered itself, tired, battered, shaken, and began the long walk back through the broken skeleton of the city.