Chapter 176. Late

The wind screamed past Adom's ears as he dropped through the morning sky like a stone with wings made of fire.

He was late.

Five minutes late, which wasn't the end of the world, except that he'd been the one to call this meeting in the first place. Being late to your own emergency gathering was the kind of thing that set the wrong tone entirely. It suggested disorganization. Lack of seriousness. Like you didn't actually care about whatever crisis you'd assembled people to discuss.

The problem was that he'd overslept.

Not intentionally, mind you. He'd set three different wakey-birds specifically to prevent this exact scenario. But apparently [Resonance] had other plans.

Adom had woken up wreathed in flames.

It was neither burning nor painful. Just... fire. Phoenix fire, to be specific, flowing across his skin in gentle waves that felt more like warm bathwater than combustion. The flames hadn't damaged his sheets or his clothes or anything else. They'd just been there, responding to something happening deep in his connection with Bennu.

The skill had activated on its own during the night.

It took him a solid thirty seconds of groggy confusion to realize what had happened. The bond between him and Bennu had deepened while he slept, [Resonance] kicking into gear without any conscious input from either of them. And they'd been dreamwalking together.

Flying over an endless ocean, actually. Just the two of them and empty sky and water stretching to the horizon in every direction. It had felt completely real—the salt spray on his face, the wind resistance, the effort of maintaining altitude. Bennu had been in his phoenix form, streaking ahead with that effortless grace that came from being a creature literally made for flight.

Adom had been keeping pace using wings that felt more natural in the dream than they did in waking life.

They'd flown for what felt like hours. Maybe they had. Dream time didn't always match reality.

The moment Adom became aware that he was dreamwalking—the moment conscious thought intruded on the experience—everything had fractured. The ocean below had dissolved into abstract colors, Bennu's form had flickered like a candle flame in wind, and Adom had felt himself being pulled back toward consciousness with the inevitability of a fish on a hook.

He'd woken up on fire and forty minutes late.

Which meant he'd had approximately negative ten minutes to handle his morning responsibilities.

Maria had already left. She'd kissed him on the forehead before going—he had a vague memory of that, filtered through layers of phoenix-dream—and reminded him that Ada would need breakfast. The meeting they'd scheduled was important. She'd see him there.

What she hadn't accounted for was Adom sleeping through three alarms because his bond with a primordial bird was evolving in ways neither of them fully understood.

Ada had been standing beside his bed when he finally pulled himself together, still surrounded by fading phoenix fire. She'd watched the flames dance across his arms with the calm acceptance of a five-year-old who'd already seen enough weird magic to be mostly immune to surprise.

"You're glowing," she'd observed. "Also Bennu ate all the jam and I'm very hungry."

What followed was thirty-five minutes of barely controlled chaos.

Ada wanted eggs, but only if they were "the fluffy kind," which meant he had to whisk them for approximately three thousand years while she supervised and offered critiques. Then she'd spilled milk across the table, which led to her attempting to clean it herself with a dishrag that turned out to be Bennu's favorite nesting cloth, which led to Bennu squawking indignantly in his human form while hopping around on one foot because he'd also somehow stepped in the spilled milk.

The whole time, Adom could feel the phantom sensation of ocean wind on his face.

[Resonance] reaching Level 2 clearly meant something. The bond was reinforcing itself, probably strengthening with each use. And if Bennu's natural state included dreamwalking over metaphysical oceans, then maybe that was just part of what they'd be doing now. Sharing dreams. Sharing experiences.

He'd have to ask Biggins about it. Or the witch. Someone who understood bonds between humans and primordial creatures better than he did.

But that would have to wait until after this meeting.

By the time Adom had gotten everyone fed, clothed, and convinced that no, they could not all go to the meeting with him because it was "boring adult business," he was already running five minutes behind schedule.

His father still hadn't returned from the dungeon raid. Three days now. Probably fine—Arthur could handle himself—but it meant the household responsibilities fell entirely on Adom's shoulders until someone came back.

He angled his body, adjusting the phoenix fire wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades. The sensation was still new enough to be distracting. Like having extra limbs that responded to thought but didn't quite feel like part of his body yet. The wings weren't physical—they looked like flame, translucent and shifting—but they caught air currents the same way real wings would.

Arkhos spread out below him, all narrow streets and peaked roofs and the morning smoke rising from thousands of chimneys. From up here, the city looked almost peaceful. You couldn't see the crime or the poverty or the political maneuvering. Just architecture and geometry and the occasional flash of magical wards catching sunlight.

The warehouse district was coming up fast. Adom could see the building Cass had prepared—one of Wangara's properties, chosen specifically for its privacy and the fact that nobody would question unusual activity there. It sat at the edge of the district, backing up to an empty lot that had once been used for lumber storage.

He tucked his wings and dove.

This wasn't as smooth as a good old [Flight] spell, but he figured he would have to get used to it if it consumed no mana at all.

The acceleration was immediate and intense. Wind became a physical force trying to peel his skin off. His eyes watered behind his glasses. The ground rushed up with the kind of speed that would have terrified him years ago.

Now it just felt exhilarating.

The warehouse roof came into clear focus. Weathered tiles, a few missing. A broken chimney on the left side. He could make out individual shingles.

Adom spread his wings at the last possible moment.

The deceleration was violent enough to rattle his teeth, but the phoenix fire caught air and he stopped mid-dive, hovering for just a moment before dropping the final ten feet to land in a crouch on the cobblestones of the alley beside the warehouse.

The impact sent a small cloud of dust billowing outward.

And also apparently ruined someone's breakfast.

A scraggly orange cat that had been creeping along the alley wall toward an oblivious pigeon let out a yowl of surprise and fury as Adom materialized directly in its stalking path. The pigeon took off in a flurry of startled wing-beats, and the cat whipped around to glare at Adom with outrage.

The hiss it directed at him could have stripped paint.

"Sorry about that," Adom said, and meant it.

He'd spoken aloud, but the apology carried weight that normal speech wouldn't have. His druidic abilities opened channels of communication that went deeper than language—intent and meaning flowing directly between minds.

The cat received his apology, processed it, and clearly decided it was insufficient.

Its thoughts came back sharp and accusatory: Clumsy. Loud. Ruined everything. Was so close. So close!

"I really am sorry," Adom tried again. "I'm running late and I wasn't paying attention—"

Don't care. Stupid tall-walker. Always stomping around. Never looking.

The cat turned and stalked away with its tail lashing, radiating feline contempt with every step.

Adom looked up at the pigeon, which had settled on the warehouse roof. It was preening its feathers with a smug satisfaction.

He reached out with that same druidic sense, just curious.

The pigeon's thoughts were simpler than the cat's, more immediate. Mostly it was thinking about how clever it was. How fast its reflexes were. How it had totally seen that cat coming the whole time and was never in any real danger.

It ruffled its feathers and cooed something that felt distinctly like mockery directed at the departed cat.

Pigeons weren't exactly rare animals in general, but they were uncommon in Arkhos. The local bird population ran more toward crows and gulls and the occasional hawk. Pigeons had been brought in by traders over the years, mostly by accident—stowaways on ships and cargo wagons—and they'd established themselves in small populations around the port district and some of the warehouse areas.

This particular one seemed very pleased with itself for existing.

Thinking about traders reminded Adom of the message he'd received. Queen Nhyssa and her brother Lyralei were confirmed to arrive in Arkhos next month. A formal visit, though the "formal" part was mostly for show. The real purpose was treaty negotiations and possibly establishing a more permanent Silvandrosi presence in the Empire.

Which meant Adom needed to have this whole "who's trying to kill me" situation resolved well before then. Having assassins targeting him while hosting elven royalty seemed like poor form.

The pigeon cooed again, still radiating smug satisfaction.

Adom dismissed the connection and turned his attention to the warehouse door.

It was large—built for loading cargo—with iron reinforcement and a heavy lock that looked imposing but was actually purely decorative. The real security was in the wards Cass had laid around the building. Nothing too aggressive, just enough to discourage casual break-ins and alert Wangara's people if anyone tried to force entry.

Adom pulled a small key from his pocket and approached the side entrance, a smaller door cut into the larger frame. He fitted the key into the lock and turned it with a heavy click that echoed in the quiet alley.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing darkness beyond.

He stepped inside.

The warehouse interior was larger than it looked from outside, which was typical of Wangara's properties. High ceilings, exposed beams, and enough open floor space to fit a small airship if you really wanted to. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the roof tiles, creating diagonal shafts of dusty light that cut through the dimness.

Four people stood in the center of the space, arranged around a large blackboard that someone had dragged in and propped against a stack of crates.

They all turned to look at him.

Adom's entrance had not been subtle. The door's hinges might have been well-oiled, but the latch still made a distinct click, and his boots on the wooden floor announced his presence like a town crier.

Maria stood closest to the blackboard, arms crossed, wearing her healer's robes and the expression of a mother who knew exactly why her son was late but was willing to hear him try to explain it anyway. Mia was beside her, holding what looked like a leather-bound notebook, her silver hair tied back in a practical braid. Professor Kim was practically vibrating with barely contained excitement, one hand extended toward the blackboard where a piece of chalk was writing complex runic formulas entirely on its own, suspended in mid-air by what had to be a levitation spell with very precise control.

And Lysandra Kallistrate stood slightly apart from the others, her posture perfect, her expression neutral in that way that suggested she was forming opinions but keeping them to herself for now.

The chalk stopped moving mid-symbol.

Four pairs of eyes tracked Adom as he closed the door behind him and stepped fully into the warehouse.

He sighed. This was going to require an apology, and he needed to make it good enough to sound sincere without getting into the specifics of why he'd overslept. Explaining that he'd been dreamwalking with a supposedly-extinct phoenix felt like the kind of detail that raised more questions than it answered.

"I'm sorry," he said, moving toward them. "I overslept. There was a... magical mishap this morning. I disrupted my wakey-bird. By the time I woke up, I was already behind schedule."

"What's a wakey bird?" Kim asked immediately, because of course he did. The man's curiosity about magical phenomena was both his greatest strength as a researcher and his most predictable trait.

"A mana induced device me and Sam made during our years in Xerkes," Adom said carefully. "It's a bit complex, and needs to be put back together all the time because you have to destroy it to make it stop."

Kim looked like he wanted to ask seventeen follow-up questions, but Maria spoke first.

"Are you alright? No adverse effects from the unexpected activation?"

"I'm fine. Just woke up later than planned."

"And Ada?" Maria's expression softened slightly. "Did she eat?"

"Fed, dressed, and currently under Zuni's supervision at home. Though I'm not entirely sure who's supervising whom at this point."

Mia smiled at that. "My money's on Ada. She's got that look in her eyes. The 'I'm five years old and therefore invincible' look."

"She absolutely does," Adom agreed.

He reached the group properly now, close enough to see what Kim had been writing on the blackboard. Runic formulas, as expected, but specifically ones related to biological transmutation and energy manipulation. The chalk was still hovering nearby, waiting for Kim to resume whatever explanation he'd been giving before Adom arrived.

Lysandra hadn't said anything yet. She was watching him with that same neutral expression, but there was something in her eyes that suggested she'd already catalogued his appearance, his explanation, and the timing of his arrival, and had drawn her own conclusions about all of it.

"Well," Kim said, clapping his hands together, "now that our illustrious organizer has finally graced us with his presence—"

Adom resisted sighing at that.

"—I suppose we can actually get started. Though I should mention I already briefed everyone on the urgency of the situation." He gestured toward the blackboard. "Young Sam's mother. Coma for fourteen years. Magical trauma, neural damage, the whole catastrophic mess. And you think you've found a rune that might be able to fix it."

"Might being the operative word," Adom said. "It's complex. More complex than anything I've worked with before."

"Which is why you assembled the dream team," Mia said, grinning. "Healer, alchemist, two runicologists. We're like a very specialized adventuring party, except instead of fighting dragons, we're fighting six years of magical trauma."

"And time itself," Maria added quietly. "The longer someone's been in a coma, the more damage accumulates. We're not just fighting what happened to her. We're fighting everything that's happened since."

"Exactly why we need to move quickly," Mia said, though her grin had faded somewhat.

Kim was already turning back to the blackboard, his chalk resuming its movement. "I took the liberty of getting us started while we waited. Based on the notes you sent me yesterday—which, by the way, were fascinating but also completely maddening because you left out half the contextual information I needed—I've begun breaking down the rune's primary structure."

The chalk drew a large circle, then began filling it with smaller symbols that branched off in multiple directions like a tree growing sideways.

"The central core appears to be a biological reconstruction matrix," Kim continued, his words coming faster as he got more excited. "But it's not just healing in the conventional sense. It's more like... instructing the body to rebuild itself according to a specific template. Which raises the question: what template? Is it reading the patient's original genetic structure? Is it working from some idealized human baseline? Does it require external input to know what 'healthy' looks like?"

"That's where the alchemical components come in," Adom said. "I think. The rune has transmutation symbols embedded in it, which suggests it needs specific compounds to fuel the reconstruction process."

Mia flipped open her notebook. "I've been going through the historical records of primordial-era alchemy. The good news is that they were absurdly advanced and created compounds we can barely replicate today. The bad news is that most of those compounds require ingredients we don't have easy access to."

"How difficult are we talking?" Maria asked.

"Depends on which specific compounds the rune needs. Some might be synthesizable with modern methods. Others..." Mia shrugged. "We might need to get creative."

Lysandra finally spoke, her voice calm and measured. "The temporal aspect concerns me most."

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Your friend's mother has been in this state for fourteen years," Lysandra continued. "That's fourteen years of neural degradation, muscle atrophy, and systemic damage from prolonged unconsciousness. Even if this rune can rebuild damaged tissue, can it account for that much accumulated deterioration?"

It was a good question. The kind of question that made Adom remember why Lysandra had been such an effective mentor in his original timeline.

She'd agreed to participate a few days ago, during their meeting in his office. To most people, she probably looked exactly as she always did—stoic, composed, professional. But Adom had known her for years in his previous life. He could see the excitement in the way her gaze kept returning to the blackboard, the slight forward lean when Kim said something particularly interesting about the rune's structure.

A mage was nothing if not passionate about magic.

"I don't know," he admitted. "That's part of what we need to figure out."

Kim's chalk was still moving, adding more symbols to the growing diagram. "The way I see it, we have three primary challenges. First, decode the rune's activation sequence. Second, identify and acquire the necessary alchemical components. Third, determine the proper application method to account for the patient's specific condition."

"Four challenges," Maria said quietly. "We also need to make sure we don't accidentally kill her in the process."

The warehouse fell silent for a moment.

"Right," Kim said, slightly subdued. "That too."