They look grumpy. I stand still in a corner of the observatory, while around me the other Initiates seem to be fussing. Some pore over the latest reports, frowning. Others pace in silence, their faces grim. You could hear a pin drop. The good thing about Mana Moths is that their wings make no sound, just like owls. In fact, even less. It’s not a question of wingspan or air resistance: Mana Moths simply don’t really exist within the world… They don’t displace air when they flutter.

I yawn, rather pointedly, and to my surprise a few Initiates turn toward me. Did I just make a faux pas? Maybe I should return to my post, where I’d probably be more useful…

My gaze wanders over the details of the chamber we’re in, the way the Nilam’s bark has been stitched together into makeshift walls. The panels are like collages, patched with Alteration as a child plays with glue—or as a surgeon stitches up a wound, depending on how you look at it. The whole of the Spires is a patchwork mosaic, uneven and mismatched. Not really to my taste, but considering the pounding the Exalts had to deliver to pierce the trunk of the world-tree, the bark’s resistance to the Tumult was a decisive argument for its use. Whether it looked refined or not hardly mattered.

‘It’s simply impossible,’ says the master-forecaster. ‘The pressure of the Tumult is far too strong, even for the Exalts. No matter how many times I go over the reports, the mutagenic flux shows no sign of weakening…’

‘Something is creating a Tumult depression,’ one of his colleagues cuts in. ‘That much is certain.’

‘A hypothesis—nothing more. Even if it is the most likely.’

‘The currents flow from the west, steady and unbroken. There is continuous generation…’

‘Which we still need to confirm!’

‘Enough,’ Satrap Zaj Ke Va interrupts sharply. ‘What matters is finding a countermeasure. The causes and reasons are, for now, secondary.’

‘If I may, your eminence?’

A man steps forward with casual ease, brushing a strand of hair from his face as he faces the Magisters’ representative. His wide cloak, woven with golden knots, trails behind him, while his hair seems to stir in an invisible breeze.

‘Yes, Sylas?’

‘Crossing the zone would indeed be suicide. To touch the Moon with our fingertips or walk the surface of the Sun might be easier goals. As we press toward the center of the depression, some would eventually reach an edge— a boundary beyond which no law holds sway, where reason yields to madness. Beyond that limit, nothing would make sense anymore, and every certainty would crumble. At the cyclone’s heart lies the true unknown.’

The Satrap rubs his forehead, visibly weary.

‘We know this already,’ he sighs. ‘If you have something to propose, speak. Otherwise spare us these platitudes.’

Sylas smiles with a touch of pity curving his lips.

‘Then let us go around it…’ he replies coolly.

A forecaster clicks his tongue.

‘You think we haven’t considered that? It would take us months, even years, with our resources and funds so limited… It’s unthinkable!’

With deliberate slowness, Sylas raises a finger toward the ceiling.

‘By going above it.’

The Satrap frowns, but before he can respond, Sylas continues.

‘Think about it. We can count on two Lyra Sahankas: the Ouroboros and the Wayfarer.’

‘They can’t carry all the Corps…’

Unshaken, Sylas turns to address the full assembly of Initiates.

‘Mesektet has recently been recovered, its damage in fact minor. And after years, repairs on Mandjet are nearly complete. The Ordis’ two flagship vessels, ready to take flight once again. Avkan is still in power until elections are held. For now, we still have the chance to benefit from his support and influence. This is the moment to strengthen the Rediscovery Endeavor, because the future is uncertain.’

He studies his audience, his features kind, though I know it’s a mask—because I sometimes wear the same one myself.
‘We must advise Admiral Singh to request reinforcement: troops, supplies, additional resources… Now, while we still can.’

Zaj Ke Va looks thoughtful, though not entirely convinced. Sylas seems to notice.

‘And flying over the cyclone’s eye will be a golden opportunity for the Yzmir, a front-row seat to deepen our understanding of the Tumult.’

The Satrap sighs.

‘We’ll examine this working hypothesis further.’

Sylas bows respectfully, then returns to his place by the wall. The Satrap turns his gaze to me, and I raise an eyebrow, puzzled.

‘Initiate Moyo, any news of the entity?’

I step forward.

‘It’s growing, your eminence.’

Zaj Ke Va scratches his temple.

‘Perhaps you could provide a fuller report? For instance, could the creature be a potential candidate to serve as an Alter Ego?’

I glance down at my feet. I suppose that’s why I was summoned.

‘The larva is developing at an exponential rate. It’s now the size of a farm pig. Its nature is unquestionably chimeric, with some peculiarities: Mana is part of its daily diet, yet it hasn’t undergone the series of mutations typical of Chimeras. Its form has always been this one, only smaller.’

‘A Nilam parasite?’

I only shrug. Another Initiate clears his throat to address me.

‘Is it connected to the Mana Moths?’

‘Perhaps.’

The Satrap doesn’t look satisfied with my answers. I pause, trying to guess what’s expected of me. Maybe I should elaborate a little more.

‘Its appearance is surely no coincidence. The idea of it lingered in the fossilized trunk, and its physical shell endured the frost. Once exposed to milder temperatures, it awoke from hibernation. And yet…’

‘Yes, Initiate?’

Should I tell him my suspicions? There was something strange in the Storhvit’s ecosystem. Something wrong, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It seemed artificial, almost manufactured, as if its laws had been imposed rather than evolving naturally. No—it would be better to discuss that with Saskia.

‘Nothing, your eminence.’

The Satrap briefly rolls his eyes.

‘Your colleagues report that you appear to have developed a special bond with the creature. Care to elaborate?’

What exactly should I say?

‘Since its awakening, I’ve been the one feeding it. It seems to show… attachment, like a dog to its master.’

A stir runs through the assembly. Why the reaction?

‘Like a pet?’

I tilt my head.

‘It reacts differently in my presence.’

‘As if it shows you affection?’

‘I suppose. I am the hand that feeds it.’

‘From what I’ve been told, more than that. It seeks out your touch…’

‘As I’ve said before, like a dog with its master. Silk can—’

‘So you’ve named it?’

‘Like a silkworm, it secretes a tough fiber from its glands, saliva that hardens when exposed to air. Silk seemed appropriate.’

‘So you maintain a particular relationship with it?’

I hesitate briefly.

‘I suppose.’

The Initiates glance at one another as murmurs ripple through the assembly. I catch snatches of words rising in the din—“candidate”, “Exalt”, “Musubi”…

‘That will be all, Initiate Moyo,’ the Satrap concludes. ‘And that will be all for today’s session. We’ll convene again at the end of the week to pursue these matters further. Master Sylas, we’ll study your proposal with care.’

I bow slightly and make my way toward the exit as the other Magi also take their leave. Just as I’m about to cross the threshold of the observatory, a firm hand lands on my shoulder. I turn, wondering who could want a word with me.

Sylas meets my eyes with a knowing, almost conspiratorial smile.

‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ he says cryptically.

I stare at him, uncomprehending, and he chuckles.

‘You’ll find out soon enough, I suppose,’ he says at last, walking away and waving me off.

The advance of the Expeditionary Corps is hindered by a Tumult depression, whose eye lies southwest of the City of Scholars. Observed and analyzed for months by Yzmir forecasters, it shows no sign of weakening. On the contrary, its mutagenic currents are strikingly steady, and their toxicity grows ever higher the closer one draws to its center. If the exploration forces wish to reach the beam of light that appeared on the horizon after the City’s purification, they will have no choice but to cross this Tumult zone. Yet according to Yzmir augurs, the Tumult’s strength here is at least sixteen times greater than any Singularity ever studied in Asgartha.