A single snapping noise filled the room, sharp and deliberate, as strands of Atta lingered in the air. They twisted and danced, flicking around one another as they wove a dense, invisible domain of pressure. Tendrils of energy spiraled outward from the center of Mirak's hand, creating an almost tangible tension in the space.
Solomon leaned forward in his chair, his amethyst eyes sharp with focus as he observed Mirak. His usual teasing smirk was absent, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious expression. The strands of Atta began to pop in rhythmic bursts, each pop resonating faintly in the enclosed study. Neither man spoke, their silence a testament to the care required for what Mirak was attempting.
The popping halted suddenly, replaced by a low hum as the Atta began to shift—no longer gaseous, it morphed toward its liquid state. A faint flash of light illuminated the room for the briefest moment, followed by a sharp crackle. Mirak flinched, instinctively shielding his eyes as the pressure from the transformation rippled outward.
Sanni's voice cut through the tension. "What, exactly, are the two of you trying to do?"
When neither Solomon nor Mirak acknowledged her, Sanni huffed in exasperation. "This is supposed to be a discussion about the Divine Towers, not some experiment. Brother, I would kindly ask you to leave my study if you're going to turn it into a workshop."
The snapping and crackling ceased as Mirak lowered his hand, his shoulders taut from the strain. He could still feel the lingering pressure in the air—a weight born from the energy it had taken to compress Atta into its liquid state. It was a feat few could accomplish, even among Harmony users, and Mirak's mind reeled from the effort.
"It's called Flashing," Solomon said, finally breaking the silence. His tone was casual, as if the display had been nothing extraordinary. "The Sorcerers gave it that name—something about how the light reflects when Atta shifts states. It's a useful technique, but not an easy one to master."
Sanni crossed her arms, unimpressed. "That's all very interesting, but if you two destroy my study, you'll have more than a little liquid Atta to worry about."
Mirak rolled his shoulder, the metallic clink of his Publici shackle breaking the quiet. "I wasn't going to destroy your study," he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction. "It was just… Transference."
"Finally," Solomon said, clapping his hands in mock celebration.
Sanni's eyebrow twitched. "In my study, you plan to unleash Transference? Truly?"
"It'll be fine, sister," Solomon promised with a grin. "No damage at all."
Sanni gave him a cold, pointed look. "I know where you keep your secret stash of sweets and other things. If you care for them, you'll stop this nonsense."
Solomon's grin faltered. He whistled softly. "Perhaps we should return to the topic of the Divine Towers."
"Good idea," Sanni said, brushing her hands together as if dusting away his antics.
"The Divine Towers," Mirak began, pacing the room as he thought aloud, "are the eight spires that pierce the skies of Lorian. Few people ever get close to them, let alone inside."
Sanni nodded, stepping behind her desk. "Yes. Most people speak of the towers only in myths or whispers. Their exact locations are often debated, and the records that mention them are incomplete at best."
Mirak frowned. "There has to be a reason you brought this up, though. The towers are little more than ancient monuments. Why focus on them now?"
Sanni tapped her chin, her delicate features thoughtful. "Is it not strange that every Divine Tower is surrounded by an anomaly?"
"You're referring to the typhoon surrounding the one off the coast?" Mirak asked. "I'd call it natural—coincidental, perhaps. The towers are known for their strangeness, but there's no proof they cause these phenomena."
Sanni gestured toward her brother. "That's where Solomon comes in."
Solomon, who had been lounging with his legs kicked up on a nearby chair, waved lazily. "I've never heard you so insistent about anything, sister. This must be important."
"It is," Sanni said. She reached into the drawer of her desk, her movements quick and precise. With a soft clicking sound, she pulled out a painting and placed it on the desk for them to see.
Mirak stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the canvas. The painting depicted a vast green field, with a towering spire dominating the landscape. Beneath the tower, reflected in a liquid mirror, was its inverse—a massive serpent swam through the watery reflection, tendrils of sea creatures swirling around it as waves clashed against the upside-down spire.
His hand drifted toward the image, brushing the edge of the frame. "Where did you get this?"
"It wasn't easy to acquire," Sanni admitted. "I traded a fully stocked ship for it. The merchant claimed it was painted by someone who had entered one of the towers. He said the people of Dekal called it the 'Post That Holds the Mountain.'"
Solomon hummed thoughtfully. "And do you believe him?"
"I believe it's worth investigating," Sanni pressed, her tone firm. "This could be proof of Makeeth's domain."
"Makeeth," Mirak repeated. The name of the ancient Essence of Creation felt heavy on his tongue.
Sanni nodded, her voice rising with conviction. "If the Divine Towers truly hold the remnants of Makeeth's power, then they may contain answers—answers to questions we haven't even thought to ask."
Solomon stretched, a casual motion that contrasted with the weight of the discussion. "Sounds like an adventure to me. But I have a meeting with the High Lords and Ladies of the Palace to attend. Politics, you know. Boring stuff."
Sanni sighed, clearly irritated. "If it's that dull, I'll take your place."
Solomon's grin widened. "Fine. But Mirak will go with you as your protector."
Sanni's expression soured. "You know sending a Publici servant to court will be seen as an insult to the other houses."
"And you think I care about their opinions?" Solomon countered, his tone sharp for the first time.
Neither sibling budged, the tension between them thickening.
"Fine," Sanni said finally, her shoulders stiff. "Mirak will accompany me."
Mirak crossed his arms. "And what if I don't want to spend my day listening to nobles bicker over resin prices?"
"Oh, I know you'll go," Solomon said, his voice laced with amusement.
"Why's that?" Mirak asked, already regretting the question.
Solomon's grin turned mischievous. "Because the oldest library in all of Koona is in the Palace. I imagine you'll want to visit after Sanni's meeting."
Mirak's resolve crumbled. Damn him.
"Fine," he muttered.
Solomon clapped his hands, victorious. "It's settled, then. I'll head to the Divine Tower in Dekal to see if there's any truth to these claims, and the two of you can enjoy the wonders of court."
Mirak sighed, already anticipating the headache this would bring.
As they left the study, Mirak fell into step behind Solomon, his thoughts racing. Solomon's grin, his insistence on Mirak attending court—there was more to this than the Fell heir was letting on. Solomon always had a reason for the things he did, even if he never said it outright.
Perhaps this was another test.
"Don't think too hard about it, apprentice," Solomon said, as if reading Mirak's mind. "Just… keep your eyes open. The bigger picture, remember?"
Mirak said nothing, but his hand brushed against the cold metal of his shackle. The weight of it reminded him of what he'd been and what he could become. Solomon always seemed to see further ahead than anyone else—perhaps, just this once, Mirak should trust him.
For now, he'd play his part. For now.