“Beckett and I will handle the replacement,” I say, already thinking through the steps. “We’ll need insulated gloves, safety harnesses, and a prayer.”
“I’ve got a better idea than a prayer,” Noah says. “I’ve got a containment shield. It’s not Council-approved, but it should hold long enough for you to work.”
“Where’d you get that?” Beckett asks, his eyes wide.
“Let’s just say I have connections,” Noah says, patting the metal case at his feet. “It’s not pretty, but it should do the trick.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, my resolve firm. “Soren, you’re on foam duty. Beckett, you’re with me. Noah, you’re on standby.”
“Got it,” they say in unison.
As we suit up, the Rift seems to pulse under our feet, a reminder of the stakes. If we fail, half the town goes dark. Businesses shut down. People panic. The Rift feeds on that fear, growing stronger with every negative emotion.
“Ready?” I ask, my voice muffled by the mask.
“Ready,” they respond.
I take a deep breath, then give the signal. “Let’s light this candle.”
The operation begins with Soren spraying the containment foam, creating a thick barrier around the arcing areas. The foam hisses as it makes contact with the electricity, the smell of burning chemicals filling the air.
“Hold it there,” I say, my eyes fixed on the transformer. “Beckett, you’re up.”
Beckett climbs the ladder, his movements careful and precise. I follow close behind, my heart pounding in my chest. The containment shield Noah provided feels heavy in my hands, a flimsy protection against the raw power of the transformer.
“Almost there,” Beckett says, his voice tight with concentration. “Just need to replace this section here.”
I hold the shield in place, my arms trembling with the effort. The electricity seems to push against it, testing its limits. For a moment, I think it’s going to fail, that we’re all going to be fried to a crisp.
Then, suddenly, the arcing stops. The transformer goes quiet, the blue light fading to a dull glow.
“We did it,” Beckett says.
“Not yet,” I say, my eyes still fixed on the transformer. “We still need to secure the new insulation.”
Working quickly, we replace the damaged sections, our fingers numb with cold and fear. The containment shield holds, buying us the time we need.
“Almost done,” I say. “Just need to tighten these bolts.”
As I work, I can feel the Rift watching us, its presence a constant weight in the air. It’s like it’s waiting for us to fail, for us to make a mistake.
“Done,” Beckett says, securing the last bolt. “Let’s get out of here.”
We climb down, our movements quick and efficient. Soren’s already packing up the foam, his face smudged with soot and sweat.
“Power should be restored within the hour,” Noah says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Good work, Griffin.”
“Thanks, Captain,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Couldn’t have done it without the team.”
“Now get some rest. You’ve earned it,” he says, a rare smile touching his lips.
As we pack up the truck, the town starts to come back to life, lights flickering on in windows up and down the street. The surge of magic seems to recede, its presence fading as the fear and panic subside.
“We make a good team,” Soren says, slapping me on the back.
“The best,” Beckett agrees. “Now, who’s up for a drink? My treat.”
“I’m in,” Soren says. “Griffin?”
