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“How?” Julen said. “How can they do that?”

Maia went to the window that overlooked the cliffs in the distance. There, at the top, the tear glowed brighter than usual, its violet and pink arteries spilling further into the ground.

“Back to the Fracture,” she said, the understanding settling with quiet certainty.

Julen followed, looking out, trembling slightly. “It’s getting ready to open.” A short disbelieving breath escaped him. “You know, I used to think the worst thing that could happen to me here was Orell docking my pay for a mistranslation.”

“They’re making sure nothing resists it. That there is nothing left here. That we are helpless,” she whispered.

Silence stretched between them. Then, distantly, a bell began to toll. Slow, deep. The way they had rung for the nineteen.

Julen looked toward the corridor. “That’s not for curfew.”

“No,” Maia said.

Footsteps echoed towards them, voices followed, orders being given. Maia moved to the doorway just as an Umbralyn passed.

“All civilians prepare for an evening briefing,” he said. “Formal dinner attire. Immediately.”

Julen’s expression darkened. “What’s going on?”

Maia didn’t look at him. Her gaze was still fixed on the direction of the cliffs.

“It’s happening, isn’t it,” she said quietly.

Selinne came running toward them from her dorm, breath uneven. “They’re holding a banquet,” she said. “For everyone. In the Grand Hall. Something is happening and whatever it is, it’s big.”

As if summoned by the words, the stone beneath them shifted. A deep tremor rolled through the structure, closer than before.

Maia closed her eyes. “He’s running out of time.”

She could feel everything now, the city’s power visibly draining towards the cliff, faster than anything they’d measured before. Whatever timeline the memory had given them, they were ahead of it now, not behind.

Julen and Selinne did not ask who. Maia turned back toward the distant cliffs, barely visible through the narrow window.

“Whatever they’re doing,” she said, “they’re doing it at the source.”

The bell rang again, louder and more urgent now. Maia stepped back from the doorway.

“We go with them,” she said. “We do this dinner. Or whatever it is.”

“And then?” Selinne’s voice was tight.

“Then we leave,” Maia said.

Maia was already moving to her room, already thinking through what she could carry and what she couldn’t.

“Tonight. While every Umbralyn in Eryssan is occupied watching us eat. We may never get a better chance than this one, and if the Fracture opens before we’d even tried—” she didn’t finish her sentence.

Selinne nodded once, grim. “Let’s do this dinner then. Then we go.”

The bell rang again, closer now and none of them moved to answer it.

41

The Banquet

Maia followed the others down a narrower passage she had not been directed through before, the stone underfoot cooler, the whole space dark and damp, only dimly lit by some small flickering lanterns that were few and far between.