Nilam Spires

393 AC - I climb up through the great white tower of the Nilam Spires, with the overwhelming scent of resin all around. I cross the different floors without stopping, barely noticing the workshops, libraries and meditation rooms as I pass by. From the outside, of course, you'd never guess there was so much space, just like inside the Magisterium. But space is a luxury that the Faction exploits gladly. Senka caws on my shoulder, interrupting the studious silence. I know it wants to fly up to the summit to be as close to the Tumult as possible. But we're not visiting the observatory today. Behind me, Fasano is breathing hard, but he digs deep to make sure he keeps up. Later, I'll take him to the control room where a team of Mages tirelessly monitor the Tumult's currents to warn us if a wave is about to batter the Screed. But not today.

I place a hand on the crystallized wood of the stairwell, admiring the striations on its surface while thinking back to what Wanjiru had said to me. He had opened the doors to a great deal of knowledge, which I was still trying to sort through in my head. Upon arriving at the seventh branch, I head to the entrance of the dimensional pocket, which is like a puddle on the wall. I sink into my reflection to pass through to the other side. We enter the laboratory with a sucking sound and emerge into this elsewhere plane that exists neither in reality nor in the Empyrean. Everyone is already here: Kuwat, Isikeli, Moyo, and even Saskia, the Muna naturalist. After turning to us to acknowledge our presence, they return their attention to the slimy shape wriggling inside the glass bell jar: a maggot about the size of a cat, and so white it could be an albino. It squirms and tries to climb the smooth, transparent wall. It had survived in a dormant state inside the frozen trunk of the world tree, and had come back to life when we transported its bark to a warmer environment.

AFANAS