With Severa walking ahead of him, Fabrisse didn't feel like he had to sneak out every time he moved through the student clusters and out the side gate. Severa stepped out ahead of them, and Fabrisse followed, adjusting his satchel and squinting against the morning light that spilled across the Synod grounds. He'd moved most of his Stupenstones to the satchel and all of the rarer rocks to the Aetherrealm subspace, though with Severa by his side he didn't see a need to ever fling these Stupenstones. But you never know.

He barely had time to take a step onto the cobblestones when a translucent shimmer flickered in his peripheral vision.

[QUEST RECEIVED: Emotional Convergence Breach]

Objective: Witness an Aetheric Laceration Event Unfolding

Reward: +300 EXP

Concordance Skill: Emotional Vector Observation (Rank I)

The words sunk in with a jolt. This is the third quest, right? In under a bell?

Something fishy was really going on now. I've never seen the Eidralith stack three ongoing quests on me in a row over such a short span.

Severa slowed, lifting one hand above her face. Fabrisse stared at the subtle ripples that ran through the morning light, like a desert mirage wavered over the cobblestones. Every shimmer of aether seemed exaggerated, refracted, tense.

Without a word, Severa drew a breath and murmured a phrase Fabrisse recognized from prior observation. Light coalesced around her hands, forming short, cylindrical bulwarks circling her. "Rao," she said, "have your aetheric support spell ready. You'll need it immediately."

"I've notified Department Head Rogers," Rao added. "Do we want the Headmaster to know of this?"

Severa glanced at Fabrisse for a moment and said anyway, "I've tried to reach him, but you know the Headmaster . . ."

"Is this a Laceration Event?" Fabrisse asked meekly, and immediately regretted it. He didn't even know what that phrase meant and had only deduced from context clues—like the way the Eidralith had pinged a 'quest' the exact moment the air rippled—that it probably was.

Severa veered and locked her gaze on him for a moment that felt longer than it should. She was staring now with those bloodied eyes of hers, and that was never a good sign. As if he'd said something obvious, yet unexpected.

"Yes," she finally said. "How much do you know?"

"Not much else . . ."

She scrunched her nose. "This might've happened because of anomalous emotional overloads or other aetheric anomalies. We need people to contain it before it creates a rift, though the Archmagi normally should've dealt with this already. I don't know where they are. I've never seen one this close to the Synod undetected . . . and without the archmagi informed."

"I have a direct line to Rolen," Fabrisse said.

Severa and Rao turned to him at once. Fabrisse felt the familiar tingle in his spine—oh, yes, the glare of coordinated authority.

"Then contact him, please," Severa said briskly. "And next time . . . don't just admit you have a direct line without being prompted. It might get you into trouble."

Right. Noted. Bureaucratic etiquette.

"If you know about the Laceration Event, Kestovar," Rao said, "then you understand how dangerous this is. Creatures can emerge from the rift and they can actually cause harm. Adventurers have been injured . . . even killed. It's best if you drop us the coordinates of Lugano and head back inside."

Fabrisse's stomach twisted. Wait . . . then Liene might actually be in danger. I can't just head inside.

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"I'd like to come," he managed.

"Are you sure?" Rao asked. "You don't know—"

Severa, observing his hesitation, stepped closer. "It's all right," she said. "Kestovar is rather . . . singularly endowed in that regard. He's uniquely immune to emotional overload, so he doesn't feel many emotions the way others do."

Fabrisse's lips twitched involuntarily, a reflexive grimace at the phrasing. Singularly endowed . . . immune . . . It sounded judgmental enough to be annoying.

She observed him for another second before adding, "It is merely an observation, not an attack on your character, Kestovar."

The shimmer ahead, however, refused to wait for etiquette. It convulsed, bending the morning light into twisting ribbons of kaleidoscopic color that twisted like a rainbow siphon. Fabrisse's stomach tightened again. This is no time to overthink Severa's tone.

The rift inched closer to the shallow pool in the far distance, where Liene was earlier. "Montreal," Fabrisse gasped, "the rift! It's moving toward Lugano."

Severa's eyes narrowed. "Rao. Take flight. We'll intercept it from above."

Rao's hands moved in a blur of gestures as he conjured a luminate disc underneath his feet. The flight spell stabilized instantly, lifting him above the cobblestones.

Severa turned to Fabrisse. "Are you prepared for aerial deployment?"

"Uh . . ."

Before he could answer further, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, and hoisted him clear off the ground.

"Woah!" he sputtered.

"You said you wanted to come along," she said. "Do not waste time complaining."

He squirmed, still stunned, but the air below them shivered as Rao's disc rose to meet them. Severa's grip was ironclad; there was no arguing with her. Fabrisse could only clutch the strap of his satchel and adjust his balance as they ascended.

Fabrisse had too many questions, and after a moment of calming himself, he asked, "What exactly is that rift doing, and what can emerge from it?"

Severa's eyes never left the shifting siphon of colors. "Surely you've read about rifts—never mind. Think of one as a dungeon opening where none should exist. Ordinarily, one scouts carefully, reads the aetheric signs, and determines the type of entities likely to emerge. But this is no ordinary rift."

The wind made it hard to hear her properly. It roared in his ears, snapping his cloak and clawing at the straps of his satchel. Unfortunately, she was holding him aetherically at a slightly awkward angle, one arm locked across his torso and the other channeling levitation sigils. His head was pitched forward just enough that he couldn't quite look her straight in the eye but followed her lip movement just enough to fill in the blank spaces.

"What exactly is happening with that rift? Why is it moving toward the pool?" Fabrisse asked.

"I don't know."

Huh. He didn't expect her to just admit she didn't know something.

Fabrisse swallowed. "How dangerous is this for someone near it?"

"A rift this size," she said, her voice steady, "can produce Tier III creatures." She didn't elaborate, but Fabrisse's mind filled in the rest. Tier III. Epic-grade. Student-Magi were no match for Tier III creatures.

He hesitated, then asked, "How do we stabilize or contain it from here?"

Severa's gaze swept the rift, calculating angles and currents in the aether he couldn't fully follow. "I've learned the spell to mend a rift in this precise situation. And please contact Rolen. I have not seen you touch your wristglyph."

"Right, yes." Fabrisse twisted awkwardly against her grip, fumbling for the embedded runes on his wrist. He typed one-handed, the aetherwind buffeting his fingers. He had no idea what the official reporting language for a rift looked like so he just typed what he thought made sense.

Something's wrong near the south pond, possible Laceration Event? Rift is moving. Montreal and Rao are here, handling it. Please send help!

Then he sent it to both Rolen and Lorvan, for good measure.

"What else do you want me to do?" he asked, bracing for the usual 'stay put' response.

"Observe it," she said. "There is much I do not know about it. You've seen spatial folds before. I want your assessment on how this one behaves."

"I don't have the expertise."

"Think of it like an experiment."

That got his mind to work. "Where does it draw aether from? What anchors it here? If it's not fixed to a leyline fold, then something else is feeding it."

"It can feed from extreme emotional fluctuations, but I can't find the source. Or maybe an extremely powerful artifact. You know how emotions manifest. Look for the signs."

He nodded anyway, hoping it looked like comprehension rather than dizziness. He could understand her, it was just . . . he'd never been officially tasked with something so important before. He didn't know where to start.

From below, Rao's voice rang out, urgent and tense. "Montreal! Look at the wards!"

They both angled downward, and Fabrisse's stomach sank. The sentinel beacons were usually supposed to notify the Synod staff about incoming anomalies, but they all went dark, dead as though no aether ran through them at all.

Severa gritted her teeth. "Someone's turned them off. That's why no one noticed."

"This . . ." Fabrisse's mind hadn't quite caught on.

Severa finished his sentence for him, "This is intentional sabotage."

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