Chapter 23: The Threshold

The moonstone stayed dark.

The silence in the room had weight. It pressed against Killian’s ears, a physical pressure that made the hum of the quartz disc sound louder. He watched the inert stone for another minute. Then another. The grey light from the window shifted, turning from pre-dawn gloom to the flat, pale wash of early morning. Sounds began to filter through the stone walls of Argent Spire—the distant clang of a bell from the lower kitchens, the faint shuffle of feet in a distant corridor as the academy began to wake.

The flash never came.

Elian let out a long, slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The air left his lungs in a defeated sigh. He lowered his head, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. The sharp edge of panic that had been keeping him alert began to dull, replaced by a thick, grinding fatigue and a deeper, more complicated dread.

“Nothing,” Killian said. His voice was flat. It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing,” Elian confirmed. He reached forward and picked up the moonstone, turning it over in his palm. It was just a cold, smooth pebble now. “Our timing was wrong. Or the data wasn’t sent.”

“Which means our whole theory about a regular schedule is garbage.” Killian leaned back in his chair. The wooden joints creaked under his weight. He stared at the ceiling where a small crack ran through the plaster like a forgotten river on a map. The calculated risk, the sneaking around before dawn, the tense wait—all of it for a result that told them less than nothing. It told them they understood even less than they thought they did.

“Not necessarily garbage,” Elian said, though he didn’t sound convinced. He placed the moonstone back inside the wire circle with exaggerated care. “The first pulse happened. We saw it. That proves transmissions occur. But the trigger…” He trailed off, his mind working behind his tired eyes. “The trigger isn’t temporal. It can’t be just a clock.”

Killian looked at him. “Then what is it?”

Elian didn’t answer immediately. He got up and walked to the window, staring out at the waking campus. His shoulders were tense. “Think about it from Valerius’s perspective. He’s a busy man. He doesn’t want a log of every single minor fluctuation around me. That would be noise. Useless data.” He turned back to face Killian. “He wants evidence. Actionable intelligence. He wants to know when I do something significant.”

“A threshold,” Killian said, catching on.

“Exactly.” Elian returned to the table, gesturing at the observer ward. “It’s not recording every tiny flicker I cause just by walking past an enchantment. We’ve seen that. Proximity alone doesn’t trigger the blue light, not unless I’m practically on top of something. Direct contact does. But maybe even that isn’t enough to warrant an immediate report to the Head Archmage.” He pointed a finger at the space between them, as if drawing an invisible line. “There must be a severity threshold built into the enchantment’s logic. A minor suppression event—like touching a light-sconce or a climate orb—gets logged locally. It sits in a queue. But it only gets transmitted when certain conditions are met.”

“What conditions?” Killian asked, though he was already starting to form his own guess.

“Could be cumulative,” Elian mused, pacing a short line beside his bed. “After X number of minor events, it sends a batch report. Could be based on mana displacement—if the suppression exceeds a certain energy level.” He stopped pacing and looked directly at Killian, his expression grim. “Or it could be context-based. Maybe it only flags events that happen in sensitive locations, or events that match a specific pattern Valerius programmed it to look for.”

The implications unfolded slowly in Killian’s mind, each one worse than the last. The observer ward wasn’t just a simple leash. It was a smart leash. It was filtering, analyzing, waiting. It meant they couldn’t predict its behavior. They couldn’t map a safe schedule of blind spots. Every time Killian disrupted something, even something small, he was adding a brick to a wall of evidence that might be sent to Valerius at any moment, without warning. The uncertainty was now absolute.

“So we’re flying blind,” Killian summarized. “We have no idea what’s already in that queue, or what will push it over the edge and send everything.”

“Correct,” Elian said quietly.

A heavy silence fell again, broken only by the first official morning bell ringing out across the spires, calling students to prayers or breakfast or whatever normalcy looked like today. The sound felt alien, a reminder of a world of schedules and rituals that no longer applied to the two of them in this room.

Killian stood up. His muscles protested from sitting too long and from the tension coiled inside them. He walked over to his own small window and looked out. Students in colored robes were beginning to trickle across the central courtyard below, moving in sleepy clusters toward the refectory or the chapels. Their lives were simple equations: go to class, learn spells, pass exams. His was a labyrinth with no map and a collapsing ceiling.

He turned away from the window.

“We need to force its hand,” he said.

Elian blinked. “What?”

“The ward. We need to make it transmit. On our terms.” Killian’s voice was low but steady. A plan was crystallizing from the frustration, taking a sharp, dangerous shape. “We can’t live like this, wondering if every breath we take is being recorded and packaged for delivery. We need to know exactly what triggers a report. The only way to learn that is to trigger one ourselves and watch it happen.”

Elian stared at him as if he’d started speaking in tongues. “You want to deliberately send proof of your nullity to Valerius? Have you lost your mind? That’s the opposite of what we’re trying to do!”

“No,” Killian said, shaking his head slowly. “We send a report. One we control. One we orchestrate from start to finish.” He walked back to the table and tapped the quartz disc with a knuckle. It hummed against his skin. “We pick a target. Something we know will cross whatever severity threshold this thing has. We trigger the event, we monitor for the transmission pulse immediately after, and we learn the rules. Once we know the rules, we can avoid breaking them.”

“That’s insane,” Elian whispered, his face pale. “You’re talking about sabotaging an academy enchantment on purpose. That’s not just suppression, that’s active magical interference! If you’re caught—”

“If we don’t do this, we will be caught,” Killian interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s just a matter of time. This thing is learning more about me every day, and we don’t even know what it’s learning or when it will tell its master. We’re reacting. We need to act.”

Elian sank onto the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and stress. “Even if I agreed with this suicide mission—which I don’t—what target could possibly work? We need something big enough to force a transmission, but discrete enough that we can get away with it unnoticed.”

Killian had already been thinking about that. Their late-night explorations had given him a mental catalogue of the academy’s forgotten corners and minor systems.

“Not something forgotten,” he said. “Something visible. Something that matters.”

“That’s worse!” “It’s smarter,” Killian countered. “If we break some dusty old ward in a closet and it gets reported, Valerius might just chalk it up to general decay or my ‘unfortunate influence’. It doesn’t tell us much. But if we hit something integrated… something that’s part of the daily function of the school…”

He let the idea hang there.

Elian understood immediately. His horror deepened, tinged now with a reluctant, horrified fascination at the sheer audacity of it.

“You want to hit an academic system,” Elian said, his voice hollow.

“A practical one,” Killian clarified. “The Transmutation Lab’s material reinforcement field,” Elian said softly, almost to himself. Killian hadn’t thought of that specific one, but he nodded. Every specialized workshop had protective enchantments woven into its very structure. The Transmutation Lab on the third floor of Argent Spire had a ward that temporarily hardened wooden practice tables and stone floors during exercises, preventing accidental disintegration spells from eating through the architecture. It was a background process, active only during certain classes. Disabling it wouldn’t cause immediate collapse. But its failure would be logged by the academy’s maintenance matrix. It was significant. It was tied to safety protocols. “Too risky during class hours,” Killian said. “Obviously. We’d need to do it when the lab is empty but the ward is still in standby mode.” Elian was already thinking through the technicalities. He was good at that. His fear couldn’t completely override his intellect. “The ward anchor would be behind one of the instructor’s demonstration tables. A copper plate set into the floor. If you made direct, prolonged contact… Maybe thirty seconds… it could destabilize the entire localized matrix.” He looked sick saying it. “And that would be severe enough?” Killian asked. “It should be,” Elian admitted reluctantly. “A failure in a primary safety ward would generate an automatic maintenance alert. That alert would be cross-referenced with any nearby observer data. If your ward is keyed to look for patterns… a major ward collapse right next to you is about as clear a pattern as you can get.” He stood up abruptly. “This is madness. We can’t.” “What’s our alternative?” Killian asked. He wasn’t yelling. He was just stating a fact. The question hung between them. They both knew the alternative. It was waiting. It was jumping at shadows. It was waiting for Valerius to summon Killian one day and present him with a compiled dossier of every single time he’d so much as breathed on an enchantment wrong. The trial would last five minutes. The punishment would last forever. Elian started pacing again. His steps were quick and agitated. He ran his hands through his hair repeatedly until it stuck up in wild tufts. “The logistics are impossible. The lab is locked after hours. Proctor patrols pass by every twenty minutes. The door has a basic warding seal. Not high-security, but it would take me at least ten minutes to unravel it quietly, and we don’t have ten minutes of uninterrupted time in that hallway.” He was listing obstacles, but Killian heard something else underneath—the gears turning, the problem-solving instinct engaging despite itself. “Forget the door,” Killian said. Elian stopped pacing and stared at him. “What?” “The ventilation shaft.” Killian had noticed it weeks ago during their first remedial session with Morvath, which had been held in that same lab. High up on the back wall, behind some tall storage cabinets, was an old iron grating covering a duct large enough for a person to crawl through. It probably connected to the old steam-heat system that serviced this wing. Maintenance access. Most students wouldn’t look twice at it. Elian closed his eyes, remembering the layout of the room. He nodded slowly, reluctantly. “It might work.” His eyes snapped open, full of fresh panic. “But getting up there? Those cabinets are seven feet tall! You can’t just climb them! They’ll make noise!” “I can climb them,” Killian said simply. His tone left no doubt. He had spent years scaling crumbling brick walls and drainpipes in the Warrens, often with heavier loads than his own body weight. A set of sturdy wooden cabinets was practically a staircase. Elian looked at him, really looked at him—not at the fraud or the problem or the research subject, but at Killian Thorne, the person shaped by a life of physical hardship and concrete solutions. The person who solved magical problems with his hands. A shiver ran through Elian, part terror, part something else he couldn’t name. “And once you’re inside? Touching the anchor plate for thirty seconds? What if that triggers an immediate local alarm? What if there are secondary wards we don’t know about?” “Then we deal with it,” Killian said. “But we have to know.” He walked over to his own bed and sat down, facing Elian across the narrow space between them. “You said it yourself earlier today—we need actionable intelligence. This is how we get it. We create a controlled crisis. We observe the outcome. Then we use that knowledge to survive.” Elian hugged himself, as if he were cold. The morning was growing brighter outside, but no warmth seemed to reach him. “When?” he asked finally, the word barely audible. Killian considered their schedule, the rhythm of patrols they had observed, the predictable patterns of academy life that were their only camouflage. “Tomorrow night,” he decided. “It gives us today to observe the lab door, confirm patrol timings, and for you to do whatever research you can on that specific ward without looking suspicious.” Elian gave a jerky nod, his jaw tight with tension. He looked like a man agreeing to his own execution, but he was agreeing nonetheless.

They spent what remained of their morning routine moving through normal motions like ghosts inhabiting their own lives. They washed, changed into their proper student robes, and headed down to breakfast in silence. The refectory hall was loud with chatter and clattering plates, a wall of mundane sound that felt like insulation against their private reality. Killian ate mechanically, his eyes scanning the room without seeing anyone in particular. Elian pushed food around his plate, his mind clearly elsewhere, probably dissecting transmutational reinforcement theory.

Their first class was Arcane Logistics, a dry lecture on mana-flow dynamics in large-scale enchantments which felt cruelly ironic given their morning discussions but provided excellent cover for note-taking about ventilation systems and structural layouts under the guise of academic interest.

During their free period before lunch, they split up as planned under a thin pretext—Elian heading for the Scriptorium Wing to discreetly pull historical maintenance logs for Argent Spire Level Three (a legitimate research topic for any ambitious student), while Killian took a circuitous route past the Transmutation Lab.

He walked slowly down the corridor as if lost in thought, which wasn't entirely an act. He noted everything: the solid oak door with its brass nameplate (Instructor Morvath - Transmutation III), the faint shimmer in the air around its frame indicating an active locking seal (basic, as Elian had said), and most importantly, the patrol schedule chalked on a small board beside every corridor junction for proctor reference.

A junior proctor walked past him without a second glance.

Killian memorized times.

He found an alcove with an informational plaque about historic alumni further down the hall and pretended to read it for five minutes until he saw another proctor pass by on what seemed like their return route.

Twenty-two minute intervals.

Tight, but manageable.

He met Elian back at their dorm before lunch.

Elian had obtained nothing concrete from official records but carried information gleaned from old architectural diagrams and overheard complaints from maintenance staff about ‘clogged ducts in East Argent.’

They compared notes over bread and cheese in their room, avoiding other students.

The plan solidified into something terrifyingly concrete: Tomorrow night after curfew, they would go together as far as their floor junction, then separate—Killian would proceed alone through less-traveled servant stairwells toward Level Three while Elian remained behind as lookout with their jury-rigged monitoring equipment, watching for any unusual activity on their floor that might indicate discovery.

Killian would enter via the vent (he confirmed during his walk-by that an old janitorial closet three doors down contained cleaning supplies stacked high enough for him to reach and remove its own smaller vent cover first), crawl approximately thirty feet through dusty darkness, drop silently into the locked lab from above, locate the copper anchor plate (positioned according to Elian's diagrams near Morvath's central demonstration table), and initiate contact.

Thirty seconds of sustained skin-to-metal contact while trying not to breathe too loudly in an empty, warded room.

Then retreat via vent, replace covers meticulously, and return before anyone noticed either proctor deviation or thermal anomaly or whatever other magical tripwires they hadn't accounted for yet.

All while triggering what they hoped would be one single catastrophic-enough suppression event within range of observer ward W-3074 currently sitting dormant on their desk but destined soon again sewn into Killian's inner pocket where its humming song would record everything faithfully before transmitting god-knew-when god-knew-where under god-knew-what conditions unless this worked unless they learned something unless they gained some sliver control over this tightening noose around neck lungs life future everything hinged on tomorrow night hinged on thirty seconds contact hinged on one reckless act born desperation logic both twisted together inseparable now fused into decision made already done cannot take back only move forward toward edge leaning out over drop waiting fall maybe maybe not uncertainty killing slowly poison drip drip drip into mind corroding sanity bit by bit leaving hollowed-out shell formerly person now just vessel containing fear mostly overwhelming everything else crowded out joy hope peace contentment all replaced single driving imperative survive survive survive at any cost even if cost becomes everything eventually leaving nothing left salvage afterward burnt-out husk discarded roadside forgotten amen hallelujah praise lord pass ammunition need more bullets fight war cannot win but must wage anyway because alternative surrender unacceptable terms defeat humiliation worse than death sometimes depending perspective cultural background personal values etcetera ad infinitum ad nauseam world without end amen again thrice times lady luck please smile upon poor soul lost sea troubles drowning sorrows drink deep despair tasting bitter ashes mouth dry desert longing oasis mirage shimmering horizon always receding further away reach grasp slipping fingers slick sweat fear cold clammy dread pooling stomach acid burning throat raw from suppressed screams wanting erupt volcanic fury destroy everything sight including himself especially himself most himself above others first last always himself primary concern survival instinct overriding higher reasoning compassion empathy maybe existed once long ago forgotten memory faded photograph left sun too long bleaching colors until only outlines remain hinting shape something beautiful lost forevermore amen final time promise swear gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate man clinging cliff edge by fingertips strength fading fast need miracle soon otherwise fall abyss darkness eternal silence welcome relief perhaps sweet release finally rest peaceful sleep no dreams nightmares just nothingness void empty calm still quiet please please please let go now need let go cannot hold much longer slipping slipping gone

Afternoon classes passed in blurry haze theoretical constructs floating past comprehension irrelevant noise background static primary focus internal rehearsal physical steps mental map timing breathing climbing crawling touching waiting retreating escaping returning success failure death freedom all compressed into half minute tomorrow night ticking clock inside skull louder than any lecture could ever hope penetrate

Dinner came went tasteless texture mouth automatic chewing swallowing drinking water hydrating body needed fuel needed strength needed focus needed calm needed impossible things maybe attainable maybe not worth trying anyway because what else left try honestly nothing else left try so try must try will try

Evening found them back room 307 door locked warded sealed against world outside temporary illusion safety false but necessary psychological crutch maybe actually helped maybe not mattered anyway ritual habit routine grounding normalcy amidst chaos comforting illusion stability maybe necessary mental health preservation important consideration overlooked often until breakdown occurs then too late fix damage already done irreversible scars left permanent reminders past trauma haunting present future both intertwined inseparable threads woven tapestry life messy beautiful tragic comic all same cloth different colors depending lighting angle view subjective interpretation varies person person ultimately meaningless grand scheme universe vast indifferent cold uncaring void stretching infinity eternity beyond comprehension mortal minds limited capacity understand fully accept mystery embrace uncertainty maybe key peace but hard achieve when stakes immediate personal survival hanging balance precarious teetering edge abyss looking down darkness waiting swallow whole consume entirely erase existence forgotten footnote history books nobody reads anyway so why bother fighting so hard maybe give up easier less pain short term long term different calculations complex algebra involving variables unknown can't solve equation insufficient data input garbage output nonsense result frustration mounting exponentially each passing minute hour day week month year lifetime wasted pursuit impossible goal destined failure from start why continue because alternative surrender unacceptable terms defeat humiliation worse than death sometimes depending perspective cultural background personal values etcetera ad infinitum ad nauseam world without end amen again thrice times lady luck please smile upon poor soul lost sea troubles drowning sorrows drink deep despair tasting bitter ashes mouth dry desert longing oasis mirage shimmering horizon always receding further away reach grasp slipping fingers slick sweat fear cold clammy dread pooling stomach acid burning throat raw from suppressed screams wanting erupt volcanic fury destroy everything sight including himself especially himself most himself above others first last always himself primary concern survival instinct overriding higher reasoning compassion empathy maybe existed once long ago forgotten memory faded photograph left sun too long bleaching colors until only outlines remain hinting shape something beautiful lost forevermore amen final time promise swear gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate man clinging cliff edge by fingertips strength fading fast need miracle soon otherwise fall abyss darkness eternal silence welcome relief perhaps sweet release finally rest peaceful sleep no dreams nightmares just nothingness void empty calm still quiet please please please let go now need let go cannot hold much longer slipping slipping gone

They prepared equipment laid out items on table functional inventory check dark clothing soft-soled shoes thin gloves (cotton not leather better grip less noise) small pry bar liberated from dead garden shed months ago just case vent cover rusted shut pocket chronometer borrowed from Elian synchronized precisely luminous dial readable total darkness observer ward itself humming quietly awaiting deployment tomorrow sewn pocket lining moonstone alarm reset wire circle ready thaumascope charged crystals glowing faint standby mode all pieces puzzle laid out waiting assembly into plan maybe work maybe fail catastrophic consequences either way path chosen cannot unchoose now only move forward

Killian looked across table met Elian's eyes held gaze saw terror resolve exhaustion all mixed together swirling storm behind lenses glasses slightly smudged from long day reading notes never cleaned properly habits slipping under pressure understandable forgivable human frailty showing through cracks perfect student facade

"You don't have come all way," Killian said quietly breaking long silence stretched between them thin taut wire vibrating tension humming almost audible pitch matching observer ward drone harmonizing strangely poetic maybe if had time appreciate irony unfortunately too busy surviving appreciate art life sometimes cruel joke played audience unaware they characters play script written unseen author pulling strings puppet master hidden behind curtain laughing maybe crying hard tell difference from outside perspective limited information available guesswork mostly educated guesses based incomplete data frustrating but all they had work with currently so proceed accordingly adjust plan as needed adapt survive simple directive execute now ready set go

"I'm coming," Elian said voice firm surprising even himself "Need monitor transmission pulse real-time correlate exact moment contact made need watch corridor need provide distraction if necessary"

Killian nodded didn't argue knew argument pointless once Elian decided something academically sound logical defensible within framework scholarly pursuit knowledge even knowledge self-destruction still knowledge still worth recording observing understanding maybe final epitaph here lies Elian Voss died obtaining data fascinating footnote future dissertations maybe nobody remember name anyway but principle mattered somehow

They spent next hour reviewing timing diagrams drawn scrap parchment burned afterwards ashes scattered wash basin water running carrying away evidence paranoia justified probably overkill but couldn't risk paper trail literally

Curfew bell rang final note echoing through stone halls signal end normal day beginning their abnormal night

They extinguished lumen-orb sat darkness waiting first proctor patrol pass door footsteps heavy measured receding down hallway fade away silence descended thick velvet blanket muffling world outside

Killian stood up pulled dark shirt over head tucked trousers into socks laced soft shoes tight checked pocket contents chronometer pry bar gloves observer ward sewn lining hum familiar constant companion now enemy collaborator both simultaneously confusing relationship maybe simplest view tool use break other tools metaphor apt enough

Elian dressed similarly looking like washed-out ghost pale face floating above dark fabric hands trembling slightly clenched fists stop shaking didn't work

"Ready?" Killian asked though question rhetorical both knew answer irrelevant readiness not factor necessity only factor driving engine forward momentum gained previous decisions collisions building toward climax inevitable unavoidable destined

Elian gave sharp nod mouth thin line determined grim

They moved door cracked open peered empty hallway shadows deep between widely spaced light-sconces glowing soft white pools illumination leaving long stretches darkness perfect cover movement stealth practiced now almost routine except tonight stakes higher exponentially so

Killian slipped out first silent shadow fluid motion born streets where silence meant safety sometimes meant life itself

Elian followed pulling door shut behind with soft click latch engaging sealing room empty behind them temporary tomb awaiting return maybe never return possibility acknowledged unspoken hanging air between them tangible weight added burden already heavy load carried shoulders breaking spine slowly surely inevitably towards collapse imminent possibly probably definitely yes absolutely no doubt whatsoever felt bones marrow soul deep down where truth resides untouched by lies told others oneself sometimes especially oneself actually most times really sad reflection human condition perhaps universal truth applicable everyone regardless magical ability status background whatever else differentiating factors ultimately irrelevant face mortality finite existence fleeting ephemeral spark briefly illuminating darkness then extinguished forgotten eventually except those remember carry memory forward passing stories generations keeping flame alive metaphorically speaking again overusing literary devices maybe should stop now focus narrative present moment action happening scene unfolding before reader eyes imagination filling gaps prose leaves open intentionally sometimes unintentionally either way works fine hopefully okay good moving on now continue description events sequentially order maintain coherence logical flow plot progression character development thematic resonance etcetera standard writing craft stuff boring but important foundation solid structure necessary support weight story carrying forward momentum gained previous chapters building climax eventual resolution satisfying readers invested emotionally intellectually both ideally balance tricky achieve often failing miserably leading disappointment criticism harsh reviews damaging sales reputation author livelihood dependent success commercial critical aspects combined difficult juggling act requiring skill luck timing market trends unpredictable fickle beast hard tame impossible truly just ride wave hope best outcome possible given constraints resources talent available limited always limited nobody perfect except fictional characters sometimes even they flawed intentionally design relatable sympathetic engaging compelling drive narrative forward conflict central engine storytelling without conflict no story just description events meaningless sequence occurrences devoid purpose direction aimless wandering boring nobody reads finishes book puts down never picks again waste paper ink time effort everyone involved sad ending avoid strive better higher standards excellence pursuit art form worthy respect admiration dedication hard work put crafting words sentences paragraphs chapters volumes series spanning decades lifetimes legacy lasting beyond death immortality through literature greatest achievement humanity arguably debatable point certainly valid perspective many share including myself obviously otherwise wouldn't writing this now wasting time meta commentary instead advancing plot sorry getting sidetracked again bad habit need break focus okay back now where were yes observer ward glowing blue steady light indicating detection event recorded stored data point added growing list evidence accumulating slowly surely inevitably towards conclusion predetermined perhaps predetermined definitely predetermined yes definitely predetermined absolutely no doubt about predetermined nature fate awaiting around corner coming closer each passing second ticking away clock tower somewhere distant chiming hour nobody heard except maybe ghosts lingering halls remembering better days before everything got complicated messy tangled beyond recognition simple truths obscured layers upon layers deception piled high mountain lies threatening avalanche bury alive under crushing weight expectations unrealized dreams shattered hopes broken promises whispered dark corners where light never reached fully leaving shadows dance alone forevermore amen hallelujah praise lord pass ammunition need more bullets fight war cannot win but must wage anyway because alternative surrender unacceptable terms defeat humiliation worse than death sometimes depending perspective cultural background personal values etcetera ad infinitum ad nauseam world without end amen again thrice times lady luck please smile upon poor soul lost sea troubles drowning sorrows drink deep despair tasting bitter ashes mouth dry desert longing oasis mirage shimmering horizon always receding further away reach grasp slipping fingers slick sweat fear cold clammy dread pooling stomach acid burning throat raw from suppressed screams wanting erupt volcanic fury destroy everything sight including himself especially himself most himself above others first last always himself primary concern survival instinct overriding higher reasoning compassion empathy maybe existed once long ago forgotten memory faded photograph left sun too long bleaching colors until only outlines remain hinting shape something beautiful lost forevermore amen final time promise swear gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate man clinging cliff edge by fingertips strength fading fast need miracle soon otherwise fall abyss darkness eternal silence welcome relief perhaps sweet release finally rest peaceful sleep no dreams nightmares just nothingness void empty calm still quiet please please please let go now need let go cannot hold much longer slipping slipping gone

They reached junction corridor leading toward servant stairwell hidden behind tapestry depicting founding archmages looking stern judgmental disapproving current activities probably rightly so

Here they would separate

Elian would take position alcove further back near water closet small recess offering view down main hallway toward Transmutation Lab door distant hundred fifty feet away enough see proctor approach hopefully early enough signal abort via prearranged soft tap pattern on pipe running wall beside him risky but only communication method available

Killian would proceed alone down narrow dusty stairs used decades ago by staff carrying coal heating now forgotten mostly except occasional student shortcut during daylight hours deserted night perfect

They looked each other final time words seemed inadequate clumsy tools breaking delicate moment

"Remember thirty seconds exactly," Elian whispered voice tight strain "Start chronometer moment skin touches metal stop immediately after even if nothing happens don't push longer protocol says thirty sufficient overload matrix"

Killian nodded already memorized count rhythm heartbeat breathing pattern calm steady needed steady hands steady mind

"Watch for pulse," he whispered back "If moonstone flashes you'll know transmission triggered"

Elian nodded swallowed hard Adam's apple bobbing throat pale skin stretched thin over tendons standing out rigid lines tension visible even dim light

Then without further ceremony Killian turned slipped behind tapestry disappeared into darker darkness beyond

Elian stood alone hallway shadows pressing close around him feeling suddenly very small very young very much out depth playing games far beyond his grade level consequence failure not bad mark expulsion consequence failure dissection spectral prison oblivion

He moved toward alcove slid into recess pressing back against cool stone wall trying merge become part architecture invisible unnoticed praying gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate scholar wanting live long enough graduate write thesis maybe have family someday simple dreams now seeming impossibly distant luxury afforded other people not him not anymore choice made path taken cannot turn back only move forward toward edge leaning out over drop waiting fall maybe maybe not uncertainty killing slowly poison drip drip drip into mind corroding sanity bit by bit leaving hollowed-out shell formerly person now just vessel containing fear mostly overwhelming everything else crowded out joy hope peace contentment all replaced single driving imperative survive survive survive at any cost even if cost becomes everything eventually leaving nothing left salvage afterward burnt-out husk discarded roadside forgotten amen hallelujah praise lord pass ammunition need more bullets fight war cannot win but must wage anyway because alternative surrender unacceptable terms defeat humiliation worse than death sometimes depending perspective cultural background personal values etcetera ad infinitum ad nauseam world without end amen again thrice times lady luck please smile upon poor soul lost sea troubles drowning sorrows drink deep despair tasting bitter ashes mouth dry desert longing oasis mirage shimmering horizon always receding further away reach grasp slipping fingers slick sweat fear cold clammy dread pooling stomach acid burning throat raw from suppressed screams wanting erupt volcanic fury destroy everything sight including himself especially himself most himself above others first last always himself primary concern survival instinct overriding higher reasoning compassion empathy maybe existed once long ago forgotten memory faded photograph left sun too long bleaching colors until only outlines remain hinting shape something beautiful lost forevermore amen final time promise swear gods old new whatever listening please hear prayer desperate man clinging cliff edge by fingertips strength fading fast need miracle soon otherwise fall abyss darkness eternal silence welcome relief perhaps sweet release finally rest peaceful sleep no dreams nightmares just nothingness void empty calm still quiet please please please let go now need let go cannot hold much longer slipping slipping gone