I sat up on the straw mattress; my stiff neck, after last night, gave a loud crack. Ephraim was already on his feet. He stood at the workbench, hammered together from the wreckage of an old boat, and was methodically cleaning some tool—either a knife or a bone scraper, etched with tiny runes.
"Don't scratch," he threw out, without turning around.
"I'm not scratching," I grunted, though the itching under the dry crust was unbearable.
"Get up. There was an emission in the north tonight; all the mana flowed to the southern channels. We have three hours before the seals in the marshes reset."
He tossed me a piece of stale bread wrapped in an oily rag. The crust was hard, but inside was a thin layer of salty fat. The best breakfast in recent days—I thought as I chewed it, looking at the small green box on the table. In the dim morning light, the crystal inside barely glowed, looking more like a piece of cracked, cloudy glass.
"Why do we need to go there?" I asked, swallowing the last piece.
"Need to see what your magic is good for, and at the same time, we'll see how you distinguish the Order's traps."
We went outside.
"Go ahead," Ephraim commanded.
I froze.
"Are you sure?"
"No. But if I go first, you'll be staring at my back instead of looking under your feet. Go. Remember: anything that seems too convenient is a trap."
I took the first step. My boot sank into the sticky black mud with a squelch. I forced myself to relax, closed my eyes for a moment.
The grayness of the fog remained, but threads began to run over it. Thin as cobwebs, pulsing with a weak light. Most of the threads were dull yellow—natural currents of the earth, rotting roots, the movement of water. But between them, like coarse stitches, bright red veins were woven in.
"I see the first one," I whispered. "Three steps ahead, across the path. Stretched between two alders."
"What is it tied to?"
"Sound. Air vibration."
"How will you go around?"
"To the right. There's a hummock; the moss will muffle the steps."
I moved to the right. At one point, I felt the vibration of the trap stir. But, thank God, it didn't go off.
"Don't freeze," Ephraim muttered. "Move smoothly."
We walked for about an hour. My legs turned to lead; the mangled hand ached so badly that spots swam before my eyes. We passed a stagnant channel where the remains of someone's uniform floated in the water—gray rags of cloth clinging to white bones. Here the seals stood thicker. The red threads wove into complex, knotty patterns.
"Stop," Ephraim put a hand on my shoulder.
Startled, I almost stepped on a barely noticeable bump.
"See?" he pointed to the thickets of reeds.
Among the grass, a black oily shadow slid noiselessly over the water, leaving no ripples.
A tall golem made of black wood and bone, wrapped in chains with runes. The face was a smooth plate; instead of hands—long bone spikes.
"Is it looking for us?" I whispered, feeling my voice fail.
"It’s looking for an anomaly. The crystal in your pocket is like a burning torch to it. Fear sends ripples through the mana. Calm down, or it will turn this way."
When the golem's shadow slid around a bend in the channel, I finally exhaled.
"Need to move further," Ephraim said. "See that old willow? There's a cache under its roots. We need copper clamps and alchemical salt if you want the crystal to stop burning your nerves."
We reached the willow. Its roots were turned outward, exposing black soil and wriggling white worms. Ephraim began to dig while I watched the surroundings.
Among the roots, I noticed a strange glow. Not red, not yellow—pale green.
I reached for it.
"Don't touch it!" Ephraim shouted, but it was too late.
My fingers touched cold metal.
The red threads around us flared scarlet. The vibration trap we had bypassed an hour ago howled at a frequency that made blood come from my ears. The ground under my feet shook.
"Idiot!" Ephraim grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and jerked me back. "It was a security circuit! You closed the network!"
Somewhere in the fog, a responding whistle sounded. The Eraser heard the signal. And immediately began to rush toward us, crushing the reeds with its bony legs.
"Run!" the old man yelled. "Not along the path—jump over the hummocks, straight through the red! The crystal! Grab the crystal!"
I snatched the box. It pulsed in my hand, burning my fingers with blisters.
"Squeeze it!" Ephraim shouted, fighting off the encroaching threads with his bone staff. "Make it absorb!"
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't know how to drink mana. And so I just imagined that my hand was a funnel, and the crystal was a pit. The green radiance in my hands flashed. The red threads around us began to dim, their energy being drawn into the box like smoke into a crack.
"Did it work?" I wheezed, falling to my knees. My lungs were bursting.
Ephraim stood over the torn earth under the willow. In his hands, he clutched a small bundle.
"It worked," he said grimly. "But now it's time for us to leave. Fast. Before the golems cordon off the sector."
The return was hell. Ephraim almost carried me on himself, constantly looking back. Several times we heard the whistle of the Hunters very close, but the fog and the mana void I created threw them off the scent.
When we finally slammed the door of the hut, I collapsed onto the floor. Ephraim went to the table, threw down the bundle, and sat down heavily, leaning on his hands.
"You almost killed us," he said in a low voice.
"Sorry, but... I... I saw something else. Green. I thought..."
"Life above all, remember that."
He lit a pipe.
"Tomorrow," Ephraim exhaled smoke, "we will dissect what you've done."
"Alright," I said, thinking at the same time. How I'm sick of all this...
When will I ever have a normal life?
I closed my eyes for a second, exhaling heavily.
Zeno... how are you doing?
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