Clara scratched at Cane's door like a hungry alleycat. "Bestie… let me in, please."
The latch clicked, and Sophie cracked the door open just enough to peer out. "What in the world…"
"Sophie!" Clara whispered hoarsely. "I have HOM in two hours—I need Cane's help."
Sophie hesitated, lips pursed in mock disapproval, before stepping aside. "Clara's here," she called back into the room.
Cane groaned from under the blankets. "Was she scratching at the door again?"
"Yep," Sophie confirmed, settling back onto the edge of the bed. "Like a stray with a library fine."
"Best friend," Clara croaked as she tiptoed in. Her eyes were puffy, and her hair had given up hours ago. "Please, just a few hours. I stayed up late reading. Don't make me grovel."
Cane sat up halfway, rubbing his face. "I've got someone inside the ringworld right now. I'll keep the adjustment light."
"You're the best," Clara whispered, giving a bleary thumbs-up before vanishing into the ring.
Cane exhaled, his senses drifting toward the small time slip inside the ringworld, making instinctive adjustments to the temporal flow. A few seconds outside equaled three restful hours within.
Clara reappeared moments later, bursting out with a cheery stretch and a bright grin. "I love magic," she declared, skipping toward the door and offering an exaggerated curtsy on her way out. "Salute, my generous savior!"
Sophie burst out laughing, curling back under the covers. "Does she do that often?"
"Almost every day," Cane murmured, lying back beside her. "Gadira likes her. Says she's good company."
Sophie stretched like a cat, resting her head on Cane's chest. "I wonder what kind of soul Clara has."
"A sleepy one," Cane guessed.
They lay there in quiet contentment. A few days had passed since Gadira had moved into the ringworld. She'd grown talkative—sometimes too talkative—and Cane made sure to summon his dark star aspect daily so she could soak in the psi-mana she craved.
"Is your mission to recover your family going to be dangerous?" Sophie asked quietly.
"It could be," Cane admitted. "But Mori's coming. And Moxie, too.
Between those two, I'd say we've got fate itself outnumbered."
"Just be careful," Sophie whispered, leaning up on one elbow until their lips met in a soft kiss.
"I will," Cane promised. He swung his legs over the bed, bare feet hitting the cool stone floor. "I'm going to see Jonas before class."
Sophie didn't move. "I think I'll stay in bed a while longer if you don't mind."
Cane paused, considering that carefully. Then, decisively, he flopped back beside her. "Changed my mind. Jonas can wait."
Sophie snorted, curling into him. "Just like that?"
"Yep."
Later That Day
After HOM let out, Cane spotted Jonas in the hallway and quickened his pace to catch up.
"Didn't expect to see you at the Academy today," Cane said as they walked together. "Picking up some metals?"
Jonas shook his head. "Looking for an assistant. Brammel mentioned a few first-years who applied, so I figured I'd come take a look."
Traditional smithing required at least one assistant. Cane's metallurgy techniques made it possible to work alone, but Jonas still preferred the old ways. "You know who applied?"
Jonas ticked them off on his fingers. "Lyle, Stowden, and Scrant."
Cane raised an eyebrow. "Go with Lyle. He's sharp—good eye for detail, solid instincts around heated metal."
Jonas chuckled. "And the others?"
"Stowden's almost there, but her shaping technique's still catching up. Scrant… eh, unless you want to spend your whole day yelling to wake him up and explaining the same thing twice, I'd pass."
They reached the metallurgy wing just as Brammel spotted them and came over with his usual enthusiasm.
"There he is!" Brammel clapped Jonas on the shoulder and offered Cane a firm pat on the back. "You should've come drinking with us, Cane. Your mentor drinks like a dwarf."
Cane grinned. "What—one pint and then he's on the table challenging the fireplace to a duel?"
Jonas laughed so hard he nearly lost his balance.
Brammel did his best to look indignant. "Oy," he managed between breaths, "I only stand on the tables so everyone can see me properly."
Cane pulled a long coil of rope from his spatial ring and set it on the nearby workbench. "I'm going to interweave metal fibers into the braid. Give it a bind-type ability. Got any recommendations for metal?"
Brammel exchanged a look with Jonas. They both answered in unison.
"Aluminum."
Cane nodded, fishing a dull silver block from a nearby bin. The older men watched, faint envy in their eyes, as he submerged his will into the metal. Thin, spiraling threads of aluminum lifted like silk from the surface, flowing onto the table in perfect strands.
Weaving the metal into the rope came naturally. He aligned each strand to match the braid's pattern, reinforcing its structure until the fibers shimmered with a brighter, argent gleam. When the fifty-foot length was complete, he tapped it with Blue, inscribing a Glacial Ice Rune. The rope glowed faint blue in response—lighter, colder, alive.
Cane lifted it with a practiced grip. It was strong, flexible. With a breath, he merged into the metal—and the rope responded.
It slithered forward like a living thing, stretching outward, then snapped tight around a nearby stool. He applied pressure, feeling the chair's legs tremble, close to splintering. With a thought, he released it and coiled the rope smoothly back into his hand.
Brammel let out a low whistle. "You could squeeze someone in half with that."
Jonas nodded. "As a defensive weapon, it has range and restraint. Good choice."
Brammel pointed upward toward a thick rafter. "Try climbing with it."
Cane merged again. The rope shot upward, wrapping cleanly around the beam. No knot, no effort—he simply pulled himself upward, boots leaving the floor as if gravity had been dismissed.
"Fifty feet seems generous," Jonas said, watching. "But you should make more. Since you can splice it seamlessly, why not carry a few hundred feet?"
"Aye," Brammel agreed. "Better a bit too much than the opposite."
Before Cane could reply, the heavy doors to the hall burst open.
Selene Morva stood framed in the doorway, breathless. Her sea-toned robes shimmered with condensation, as if she'd been running through fog.
"You alright, Selene?" Brammel asked gently. The two were close—senior staff, longtime colleagues, and trusted friends.
She offered a winded smile. "Yes. But what do you have, Cane?"
Cane raised an eyebrow, holding up the rope. "You mean this?"
Selene shook her head, stepping closer, eyes searching. "No. I've been sensing something powerful all morning. Took me a while to pinpoint it. It's… a water source."
Cane frowned, confusion giving way to memory. He accessed his spatial ring and pulled out an ornate wooden box—the gift from Lord Badturgen in the capital, an apology for his son's disgrace.
"Oh… right. Forgot about this."
Selene stared at him. "You forgot about that?"
"I've been busy," Cane said, with a helpless shrug.
Selene's eyebrows tried to climb into her hairline.
He cracked open the box.
A wave of energy spilled out, raw and ancient. Mana flooded the chamber. Both Cane's and Selene's eyes went wide, then white—pupils swallowed by vision.
The world dropped away.
They tumbled together through a ring of memory, tens of thousands of merfolk rushing past in an overwhelming surge. Disoriented, spinning, Cane nearly lost himself until Selene steadied them both with a focused gesture. They halted mid-drift, suspended in the flowing vision.
A woman hovered in the water near a great coral arch, her presence radiant. She ushered her people through a wide rift—an orderly, deliberate exodus.
Selene's merfolk blood thrummed. "Who is she?" she whispered, voice caught between awe and dread.
Cane stared hard, pieces falling into place. "This is the Exodus," he murmured. "Neri told me to find her people. The ones who vanished before the war."
Selene nodded sharply. "Then that woman—she must be one of two people."
He raised his hand. The ring on his finger pulsed as he linked with the artifact's memory. The chaos around them froze—still water, still figures, suspended in perfect clarity.
Selene turned, incredulous. "How did you do that?"
"It's not real. It's an artifact vision. My artifact... It's letting me move inside it."
With the mana no longer pulling at his senses, Cane studied the coral gate, the ornate carvings, and the commanding merwoman at its center. "Neri might know her."
Selene drifted closer. Her expression shifted from one of wonder to one of strained recognition. "Not our mother. But someone powerful. Court-ranked, definitely."
Then, as suddenly as it began, the vision collapsed. Color and motion dissolved into nothing. Cane and Selene gasped, back in the hall, as if surfacing from a deep dive.
They looked at each other. Something had shifted.
And something—someone—was waiting to be found.
"I have to get this to Neri," Cane decided.
Selene leaned against the bench as the world around them refocused. "Agreed. Sooner the better."