Fabrisse Book 2 (Chapter 10)

One of the most important chapters of Book 2, I think.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he fell into steps just behind her.

“You’ll see,” Liene said, already steering him toward the main path. “Do you think a skitterwhit can beat a freefly in a 1v1?”

By the time they’d crossed the first courtyard, the hour felt heavier in the air—glyphlight pooling on the flagstones, the shadows beyond too deep to look at directly. Liene kept them to the brightest routes without comment, her pace casual, her chatter skimming over harmless topics (unless you were an involving skitterwhit).  She mentioned, almost offhand, that they’d gotten permission from the Synod to be out late, but Fabrisse couldn’t tell if she was joking. 

At least no one stopped them. No wardens at the junctions, no Magus Assistants stepping out of doorways to ask for papers.

They turned down a side lane that Fabrisse recognized, his pulse easing a little—until they stopped in front of the pie shop.

It was shuttered tight, and the flat gleam of moonlight on dusty glass had replaced the warm glow he’d gotten familiar with. 

Without the usual scents of cinnamon and baked crust drifting out, the place looked smaller, like it had been abandoned for years instead of just closed for the night. The painted sign of the grinning baker swung gently in the breeze, the creak loud in the hush.

Liene pressed her hands to the glass and peered in, unbothered. “Huh. Guess they do close after all.”

Fabrisse hung back on the cobbles, and his eyes couldn’t leave the deep shadow pooled in the alley beside the shop. The stillness pressed at him. He knew he had nothing to worry about with Liene, but still, he couldn’t turn his face away from the darkness.

If he turned away, he’d be reminded of how it’d grabbed him in that lightless alleyway.

Liene didn’t seem to notice his attention drifting to the alley. She stepped back from the glass and brushed her palms on her coat. “Anyway, I had my restorative test today. Crushed it. If I ace the final unit exam too, that means—”

“You’ll get to graduate,” Fabrisse said, a bit too quickly, grateful for the safe topic. “That’s great!”

She grinned as she fixed the quill pinning her bun. “Mm. No more pretending to like mental aether math.”

Liene swung her legs over the edge of the low bench in front of the shop and settled herself with a sigh. The wooden slats creaked under her weight, and the cold of the night seemed to press a little less here than in the alley.

“Though,” she said, tilting her head so the moonlight caught her profile, “that kinda means . . . I’m graduating in three months, Fabri.”

Fabrisse furrowed his brow, the words lodging somewhere in the part of his mind that ran mental checklists. Graduating in three months . . . That should’ve sounded celebratory. But the way her voice dipped didn’t carry the lightness he expected.

He hesitated, unsure what to say.

“I’m not ready to graduate,” she murmured. “Sometimes I thought maybe I should just fail a class.”

“That’s not an efficient use of your time,” he commented.

“You sound like Lorvan.” She chuckled as she lit up a lantern-shaped floating bulb of light between her palm. The edges of the deep shadows that had seemed so thick against the alley and the closed pie shop softened, revealing the worn cobblestones beneath their feet and the subtle texture of the bench. “You remember when we were alone in the skitterwhit field? When I told you I wanna go to the far outback?”

“Yeah.” He winced a little. That was the time when the Voidtouched Skitterwhit almost harmed Liene, and he was too weak to do anything about it.

“Life’s easy there, I think. A thaumaturge makes enough money just getting by and helping the folklings. I’m learning to charge aetheric engines for my final unit. If I can store lightning and heat in aethercaches so they can release the energy when needed. It’s good money.”

The idea of aethercaches was brilliant—so compact, so potent—that demand had exploded. Airship cells ran almost exclusively on them now, letting vessels soar for days without the usual elemental refueling. Artisans used them to power massive forges in workshops where natural fire couldn’t reach, and thaumaturges in the city used small personal caches to run portable glyph arrays or emergency wards. Even folk in remote hamlets paid handsomely for tiny, handheld caches to light their homes or power simple mechanical contrivances without relying on unpredictable elemental currents. If you were a light or lightning thaumaturge, you should be set for life wherever you go.

He was too busy thinking about the practical applications of the caches that he almost missed her speaking again, “The thing is, commercial thaumaturgy is more valued than ever, Fabri. And I’m sure it’ll come the time for research thaumaturges too.”

And he knew that much. That was the sole reason the Synod was keeping him despite his practical failings.

“Fabri. Does the Eidralith prompt you to train in all four elements?” Then, she suddenly asked.

“Not particularly. It’s just . . . something I want to do now. You know I have a one-track mind.”

She laughed. “If you have a one-track mind, you must be the most intricately single-minded person in all the realm.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,”  she said, swinging her legs slightly. “Sometimes . . . I don’t get you. I’m trying hard to get you, but . . . I’m not that bright, or sensitive, or empathetic. But . . . I don’t . . . why now?” She stopped swinging her legs.

Liene was getting at something. He could feel it. He knew the patterns; she would oil up her phrasing, nudge him with curiosity, and wait for him to fill the gaps. He had to pay attention, because she’d eventually pull him into whatever point she was circling around.

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted to get into stone and mineral research, right?”

“Yes.”

She leaned forward again, elbows on her knees, eyes bright in the lantern-shaped glow. She stared at it for several seconds as if she wanted to escape into the glow. “And how long has it been since the last time you were in the Wing of Stratal Studies?”

“Over a week. Nearly two.” He didn’t know why she was bringing that up, but the factual answer came easy enough for him.

“You wouldn’t have missed stone research for the world before. You say the artifact didn’t force you to do anything, but . . . bonding with it alone puts you in . . . situations.” She leaned back slightly, letting her hands rest on the edge of the bench, and turned her gaze away from him, focusing on the muted shimmer of the lanternlight pooling on the cobblestones. “I . . . I’m happy you’re doing well and all,” she said softly, voice quieter now, “but I know you would’ve done well for yourself with or without the Eidralith. You could be a great field researcher, living a peaceful and stress-free life at the far flung corners of the realm. I just thought . . . maybe you don’t need it.” Her voice cracked as she reached the word ‘need’.

Heat rose behind his eyes. Don’t tell me I don’t need it, he thought. This artifact—this Eidralith—wasn’t some frivolous toy. For the first time in years, he was seeing patterns click, breakthroughs form, things he’d only dreamed of understanding. Even if it hadn’t boosted him directly, even if the magic didn’t force anything, it gave him the motivation, the courage to believe in himself.

He opened his mouth, but the words came out quieter than the anger burning inside. “You don’t understand.”

“I . . .” Her shoulders sagged. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Her hand curled into a loose fist, and the light extinguished from her palm. “Do you feel nervous?”

“What?”

“Of being here in the dark without knowing why I brought you here.”

“A bit.”

“Sorry. I should’ve been more careful, with all that’s happened lately and all.” She turned to him now with a smile; the strainest he’d seen from her yet. It felt like her muscles were going through great effort just to stretch into something resembling ease. “I know you don’t like surprises, but Tom insisted.”

“Insisted on what?”

“Your birthday, Fabri. It’s in two hours. You forgot, didn’t you?”

His mind stuttered through the hours, the logbooks, the Whirlweave drills, the endless looping exercises with Synaptic Threading, the training with Celine, Severa, everything. The dates, the clocks, the passing of hours . . . they had blurred into one continuous stretch of training and focus.

He hadn’t thought about his birthday once today. Or yesterday. Or—he glanced at the moonlit courtyard—possibly even the day before.

Liene’s eyes stayed on him, quiet and unblinking, for a long moment that stretched against the hum of the night. There was a faint curve to her lips that might have been amusement, concern, or something else entirely. The moonlight caught the glint of her eyes, making them seem almost liquid in the darkness.

[Sidequest Received: “Echoes in Stone”]

Objective: Feel the emotional imprint of another person through what they have left on a stone, brick, or other earthen surface. The imprint must be recent (less than 24 hours).

Reward: +3 EMO

New Active Skill: Earthen Resonance Reading (Earth Thaumaturgy Tier I)

Description: Allows caster to probe and interpret residual emotional energy embedded in stones, bricks, and other aetherically attuned earthen surface.

Earthen Resonance Reading (Earth Thaumaturgy Tier I — Rank I)

• Range: 2 meters from the target object
  

• Duration of Imprint Detectable: up to 24 hours old
  

• Depth of Insight: basic emotions only (e.g., joy, anger, fear, sorrow, excitement)
  

• Clarity: 60% accuracy for subtle or mixed emotions; 90% for strong or singular emotions
  

• Energy Cost (FP): 5 FP per reading
  

• Cooldown: 1 minute between successive readings

[SYSTEM NOTE: A quest might reflect a path neglected.]

He stared at the sidequest, then at the subsequent accept/decline prompt, then finally back at Liene. Her thumbs were fiddling, and she was still gazing at him with her glossy eyes, ones that had turned almost longing, as if she were holding a fragment of some unspoken time between them.

She smiled. “Well, happy birthday, Fabri. When Tom comes, act like you’re surprised.”