Going overland was easy after the hot springs. The gray, rolling tundra was mostly smooth. Streams of water trickled through carved gullies, forming cold pools next to the springs. There wasn’t much in the way of life aside from the pinkish lichen. A dark green moss coated the wetter bits of boulders, but there wasn’t much else. The sky had become overcast, its heaviness promising even more snowfall.

  The speed and limberness of both men surprised Lucian. Even Plato seemed to be in good health and had no problem skirting up and down the hills with the nimbleness of a goat. He had two canteens, one of which had to be Sea Drink, and the other water. He drank from the water just as often as from the Sea Drink. Plato happily whistled a catchy song that Lucian didn’t recognize. The melody sounded old-timey, like music from a Mage War propaganda holo-film.

  “How much farther is it?” Lucian called.

  “Almost there,” Linus said. “Patience, young grasshopper.”

  As good as his word, the trio crested a rise, and Lucian was treated to the sight of the wide, gray Ocean of Storms. The expanse was chock-full of icebergs. Far to the north, he could see an endless wall of white on the horizon.

  “Is that the ice cap?”

  “It is,” Plato confirmed. “About twenty kilometers north, give or take.”

  That explained the sheer number of icebergs and the cold, blustering wind. Neither Linus nor Plato paused at the magnificent view. There were mere hours of daylight left, judging by the sinking sun at their backs.

  They followed a trail down the cliff, and the wind was all but cut off.

  “This is the best place on the island,” Linus called back. “The cliff blocks most of the wind and storms. The trail goes down to the shoreline. There’s all the sweet kelp, mussels, clams, and crab you can eat. Fish too, if you don’t mind getting your feet wet. The water soaks through the raft.”

  “Actually, they’re not exactly crabs," Plato corrected. “They’re a native species of this world, called shellocks.”

  “Here we go again,” Linus said with a heavy sigh. “Must you always be Mr. Actually?”

  “Well, crab comes from Earth. Shellocks are a completely different species of a different evolutionary line . . .”

  “If it walks like a crab and pinches like a crab, it’s a crab.”

  “They’re not the same!”

  They were like an old married couple. Lucian could only wonder if listening to them bicker for the rest of his days was his future. That was a depressing thought.

  Linus chuckled. “What must Lucian think of us, clucking like old hens?”

  “It’s a nice view, at least,” Lucian said.

  “I’m glad you think so,” Plato said. "It took us nearly two years to carve the trail into the cliff. And another year before we made the caves habitable.”

  “Quiet, Plato,” Linus said. “Let’s not spoil the surprise.”

  They rounded a bend, and Lucian saw it. The trail entered a great maw opening into the vertical rock face. As they drew closer, Lucian could see how vast it was—far more space than two people would ever need. Soon, they stood at the entrance, which must have been a good ten meters tall. The interior was spacious, with a central brazier that was down to coals by now. Lucian couldn’t see much beyond it.

  Linus strode forward and threw a few greenish-looking logs on the fire. It didn’t look like the lichen he’d used. Whatever it was, it didn’t stink, and instead gave off an earthy, salty fragrance. Linus crinkled some herbs over the fire, and a fresh aroma similar to jasmine filled the air. He turned toward Lucian, smiling widely. “Home sweet home!”

  Deeper in the cavern, Lucian could see more tunnels. Torches, currently unlit, hung on the rocky walls. Lucian stepped up to the fire to warm himself. “This is incredible.”

  Linus gave a jovial laugh. “Well, there’s little else to do here, I’m afraid. We still have to walk a decent distance to the springs for a bath, but here we can at least have a cold one.” He nodded deeper into the cavern. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

  Lucian followed Linus deeper within until he heard the gurgle of a stream. Linus took a torch and lit it from the brazier, then walked toward the sound of water. They came to a fast-moving stream coming straight from the wall at about head level. It ran through a carved aqueduct of sorts hewn from the rock.

  “Watch this,” Linus said proudly. He pushed a heavy stone, which blocked the channel perfectly. The water backed up a bit and then changed course into a new channel. It tumbled over the aqueduct and into an empty pool below. That pool was about a meter deep. Lucian couldn’t help but marvel at the ingenuity.

  “We still take a trip out to the springs every few days, but Plato is trying to build a furnace so we can heat it.”

  Lucian couldn’t help but be impressed. “I can see why you haven’t boarded the shuttle to Psyche yet.” His stomach rumbled. “What do you guys have for food?”

  Linus nodded toward Lucian’s bag. “Why don’t we start with that? If I eat any more shellfish or kelp today, I’m going to puke.”

  Plato nosed his way forward. “Do you have peaches? I love peaches.”

  “No,” Lucian said. “I’ll share, though.”

  The two older men rifled through his bag while Lucian looked on. Not for the first time, he was having doubts about these two as they set aside two cans of beans and some rice.

  “Man, they must hate you,” Plato said. “Katya had peaches.”

  Lucian doubted that since he hadn’t seen so much as a can of fruit in the Academy’s larders. But perhaps the Talents had given it to her or had access to food that the Novices didn’t.

  Within the minute, the men were throwing a mishmash of ingredients into a pot. Instead of water, they gave it a base of Sea Drink combined with the contents of Lucian’s cans. They threw in some peeled crustaceans that looked like trilobites. Lucian’s stomach went queasy looking at those buggy sea creatures. But once the pot was cooking over the fire, he had to admit the smell was sweet and savory all at once.

  Plato handed him a large stone bowl, along with a spoon. They sat around the fire, keeping warm and talking.

  "Where are you from, friend?” Linus asked.

  “Earth.”

  “No shit,” he said. “You seem a bit uppity. Just like an Earther.”

  Lucian shrugged. “Well, Earth is number one, and it always will be.”

  “I see they’re still indoctrinating the youth,” Linus said. “I’m from Chiron myself. Never been to Earth. Wouldn’t visit that piss pot for a thousand world creds.”

  “You won’t have the chance, creds or not,” Plato pointed out.

  “Quiet,” Linus said. “Well, Chiron is everything Earth is, except better. Blue skies? Yes, we have that, and without all the pollution. Breathable atmosphere? Got that, too. Yes, the sky-locust swarms are a problem still. But once they’re exterminated, we’ll have something more pristine and beautiful than Earth ever was.”

  “Sounds like Chiron is the piss pot to me,” Plato said. He looked at Lucian. “I’m from Earth myself. Greater Macedonia.”

  “Ha! And you’re one to talk about piss pots.”

  “Do you guys always fight like this?” Lucian asked.

  “Not always,” Plato said. “I grew up in Thessaloniki. Before the annexation.”

  “That war is over,” Lucian said. "It has been for years.”

  “I know that,” Plato said. “I got out in time. I have family in Nova Akershus now. Or at least I did twenty years ago. Who knows if they’re still alive?”

  There was a silence after that as they watched the stew cook. So far, these two didn’t seem harmful. So what had driven Katya away? They had made some crude jokes, but for some reason, Lucian felt as if it were a cover for something, though he could not explain why he felt that.

  “Stew should be done,” Linus said. “Bowl over here, friend.”

  Lucian handed him his bowl. Linus poured a generous helping of the green concoction. He had to say it didn’t look too appetizing. He couldn’t tell whether his stomach rumblings were from his misgivings or his hunger. He poked around in the green broth a bit, seeing a mixture of rice, beans, and small sea life.

  Lucian tasted the soup and found it wasn’t half bad. It was better than the canned food he’d been eating, anyway, and the consistency of the broth was almost like gravy. It lacked basic seasonings, but at least it had salt.

  “Not so bad, is it?” Linus said, beaming a wide smile. For the first time, Lucian noticed that he was missing a couple of teeth.

  “Not bad. I have to ask, though. Why are you two the only ones here? The Academy must exile a few Novices each year. Do they all decide to go on to Psyche? Life would be hard here, but isn’t this setup preferable to a literal prison world?”

  There was an awkward silence for a moment before Plato began to explain. “We talked about it a bit before. That’s a difficult question. Half of the ones we get are frayed already, so we can’t take them on for obvious reasons.”

  “They get themselves killed,” Linus said, all traces of his former humor gone. “Frayed mages are dangerous indeed. They stream recklessly, and the madder they are, the more they stream. A lot of people lose it when they get here and let themselves go. We usually watch for a while to make sure a potential recruit isn’t mad before we invite them in.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “What about me, then?”

  “We didn’t count on you trying to find us. We were testing you a bit when we first met.”

  “Testing me, how?”

  “There are little tells that someone is starting to fray,” Plato explained. “Mottled skin. Tremors in the hands. They say things that don’t make sense; they have emotional outbursts when you pick at them a bit.”

  They would explain their crude jokes in the beginning. It had probably been a ruse to find out if he was frayed.

  “That’s what happened with the one before Katya,” Plato went on. “We never even invited him back here, though we made sure he was well-fed. The stress of being on this island is enough for many mages to snap.”

  “But both of you have been fine for years,” Lucian said. “Forgive me for saying, but—”

  “—Shouldn’t we have frayed by now?” Linus gave a somewhat maddened laugh, not doing much for Lucian’s confidence. “I don’t stream, young man. Not ever. Ether is poison.”

  That was impossible. If that was true, Linus should have died of Manifoldic poisoning a long time ago. A mage couldn’t stop themselves from collecting ether naturally from the Ethereal Background. Could they?

  Linus went on. “Sometimes they last a few months, sometimes even years. But if you can’t learn to stop streaming, the fraying will find you. The temptation is too much. We had one man, perfectly sane, who woke up one morning and decided it was a great idea to waterwalk to Krygos.” He shook his head. “There was nothing we could do. Those who are frayed we leave for the shuttle to find. And when the shuttle comes, we hide in here. The stone walls are thick enough to hide our heat signatures. You can hear it thundering down long before you see it. And if we’re out and don’t have time to come back, we have hideouts all over the island. Someone who’s frayed doesn’t have the wits to hide.”

  “How often do they come?” Lucian asked.

  “It’s supposed to be every few standard months,” Linus said. “The last one was a couple of weeks back, the one Katya took. The prison barges bounce around from world to world, but the end of their route is always the Mad Moon. It’s not just mages sent there anymore. The Border and Mid-Worlds dump a lot of their human trash there, the worst of the worst, even if they’re not supposed to. I imagine the Mad Moon is getting quite crowded these days.”

  “Makes sense,” Lucian said. “And it sounds like a place most would want to avoid.”

  And knowing all that, it especially didn’t make sense that Katya would choose that over life here. Unless these two men were especially bad.

  “You’re one of us, as far as I can see,” Linus said. “You’re not mad, and that’s all we ask. A few other things, too, but we’ll get to that. Try not to use magic in the meantime. Some people think they can limit themselves. But even a small amount causes the fraying, as far as we can tell. It’s best not to use it. The withdrawals are the hardest part. Magic is poison. When you’ve gone a few days without it, you’ll start to feel pretty miserable.”

  “What about ether?” Lucian asked. “It has to be released, or it can lead to death. My friend back at the Academy almost died that way.”

  “It can be done,” Linus said. “It must be done. It’s not easy, but it’s possible. After all, we two are living proof of it.”

  “So, you’re saying the Academy is wrong?”

  “Yes,” Linus said, without so much as blinking. “You never learned the purpose of the Academy, did you?” At Lucian’s blank look, he chuckled. “Of course not. You never made it that far. Though I have.”

  Plato filled up his third bowl, smiling as if he were hearing a familiar story for the millionth time.

  “What’s the purpose, then?”

  “The academies are a way for the League to control the mages. To turn what would be a prisoner into an instrument of war. There hasn’t been a major conflict since the Mage War fifty years ago. Even those scraps with these so-called Swarmers are nothing compared to that.”

  “I already knew that. Or at least, I guessed.”

  “Well, you’re ahead of most, then,” Linus said.

  “They’re back,” Lucian said. “The Swarmers.”

  This was news to them both, judging by the surprised expressions on their faces. “Katya said nothing about that.”

  “It’s recent,” Lucian said. “My . . . mother died in the first battle.” He looked at Linus. “It was in the Alpha Centauri system.”

  His eyes widened at that. “What?”

  “They were turned back,” Lucian said. “The Fleet won. I don’t know anything else.”

  “So, Chiron is safe,” Linus said. He looked up at Lucian, his long gray hair almost falling over his eyes. “Sorry about your mother.”

  It was quiet for a time, save for the crackle of flames and the howling wind outside.

  “It may be the mages’ time is coming,” Linus said. “Magic is too useful a tool for the League to ignore. With one Atomicist, you can keep a ship going without the need to refuel, for example. Radiants can shield a ship from LADAR sensors, and Thermalists from heat signatures, making it all but invisible. And in direct combat, magic is a terrible weapon. They want you to know how to use it but don’t want you to fray too quickly using it. This Path of Balance they speak of—it’s all a sham. They just want to get the most magic out of you and the least amount of the toxin that accompanies it. There is no safe dose. But if you can figure out a way to cut it off at the source, to not let ether trickle in, then you’re set.”

  “So, the whole thing about your pool overflowing leading to Manifoldic poisoning—that’s all a lie?” Lucian’s thoughts returned to Emma then. “My friend back at the Academy had wreakings. They said it was because she couldn’t stream her excess ether away. None of that is real? Or have you guys just discovered something that no one else has?”

  “I don’t think we’ve discovered anything new,” Linus said. “Setting up a decent ethereal block, one that lasts for a lifetime, is highly dangerous. And if the League wants mages to use them as weapons, it also has no incentive to teach mages how not to stream.”

  All of this was so confusing. “This . . . just goes against everything I’ve ever learned.”

  “Could be there’s some that need to stream,” Linus admitted. “The more powerful ones. But I know it’s possible to stop, at least for some mages. Plato and I have both done it. I haven’t streamed a drop of magic in years.”

  Lucian was skeptical of that, but he didn’t want to deny it. There was a lot he didn’t understand, and Linus seemed quite serious.

  Linus took a pull from his canteen. “The Academy pushes recruits far beyond what they should be doing. Those who fail get sent here. The only ones that remain are those who can stomach the poison of ether better than most. Humans aren’t meant for it, Lucian. The Academy Mages have struck a diabolical balance between power and insanity. They’re sifting through all the recruits to find those who are trainable and call them Talents. It’s the same for the other academies, too, Mako and Irion. They’re looking for those who are willing and able to become weapons. And with the Swarmers coming back, it’s only a matter of time before the mages ship out again.”

  “Did you two fight in the Mage War?”

  Linus shook his head. “Thank God, no. That was before both of our times.”

  “I knew we were being trained to fight,” Lucian said. “But against rogue mages, or groups of them banding together.”

  Linus nodded. “And the Swarmers or any other threat in the Worlds the League needs to extinguish. There are rogue mages who escape the net and teach themselves to stream, right? Trust me, there are many more of those mages than all the academies combined. Even with extensive testing, most mages slip through the cracks. Some get hunted down, but many more learn to stream on their own and elude capture. How?”

  The question hung in the air for a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “They learn to control it,” Linus said.

  “And that’s how the two of you have lasted so long? By controlling it?”

  Linus shrugged. “Forty years long, on this island. It’s not easy. I think about streaming every day. The taste of power is sweet, isn’t it? But it’s only power. If you can learn to forgo the need for that, then magic will have no hold over you.”

  Lucian admitted that it did feel good to use magic. The idea of going without it was repulsive. So repulsive that he wasn’t willing to admit Linus might be right. But it also helped him figure out the rest of the puzzle. Katya hadn’t left because these two were bothering her. These two had forced her to leave because she hadn’t been willing to give up using magic.

  “That’s how there are only two of you, then. The others can’t resist the magic at their fingertips.”

  Plato nodded, coming out of his silence. “Precisely. That’s something we usually break to people later, but it seems you’ve figured it out on your own. This lifestyle doesn’t appeal to everyone. That’s the main rule here: no magic. No matter how much you want to stream, no matter how bad your withdrawal gets. No magic.”

  Lucian already felt himself protesting. “How can you tell the difference between withdrawals and poisoning? Wouldn’t the mages of the Academy say that withdrawals are a symptom of your ether pool overflowing?”

  Linus laughed. “That objection is the main reason most mages can’t detox. They crave their magic so much that they aren’t willing to suffer months of agony to live with freedom for the rest of their lives. So, they give in. As you said, that’s why there are only two of us. This isn’t easy.”

  “How’d you figure this out?” Lucian asked. “You have the answer for the fraying if I’m hearing things right. If mages could be taught to do this, then there would be no fraying.”

  “You can lead a horse to water,” Plato said softly, “but you can’t make it drink.”

  Linus nodded sagely. “I discovered it quite by accident. I was trying to kill myself. I hid from the shuttle one day, forty years ago, and regretted not going. So, I held my magic in. It felt like holding my breath to the point of death itself. I was tortured with nightmares, seizures, and horrifying anxiety. But even in that darkness and despair . . . I could see a light I was completely blind to before. As if magic had been blocking me from seeing it.

  “I gave up after a few days and streamed. But I always thought of that light. About a year later, I tried again, determined to succeed. I gathered enough food and water to see me through a few months. So, I held my magic in again. Days passed, then weeks of hell. Many times, I almost flung myself from the cliff. I almost gave in to the temptation. Magic was always there, always waiting. At last, I reached a breaking point. All that ether was collapsing on itself like a neutron star. And that neutron star, for lack of a better word, sort of transformed itself into a block. From that day forward, not a drop of ether has entered me. I woke up and wasn’t dead.” Linus paused, staring into the flames reflected in his blue-gray eyes. “My head was finally clear. And I knew peace.”

  Lucian was surprised to see tears forming in Linus’s eyes. It was silent for a time, save for the crackle of the flames and the wind whipping past the cave mouth outside.

  “Of course, I shared my findings,” Linus said. “I told everyone here I could. But few could handle it. Most of the time, the ones who tried it failed, and then they streamed more than they had before. It wasn’t long for them to fray after that. I realized my teachings were making some worse. I would try to save them, but they ended up dying all the same. Only Plato here went through the Ordeal—that’s what we call it—and lived to tell the tale. It took six months for his block to form.” He shook his head. “What was that like, old friend?”

  “Agony.”

  Fear twisted in Lucian’s stomach. “What is it, then? What is magic? Why would it have this effect on us?”

  “Nobody knows,” Plato said. “Just as nobody knows why some become mages in the first place. Magic feels good to stream, but it’s poisonous to use.”

  “Like hard drugs.”

  “It may be worse than that, Lucian,” Plato said. “There is something insidious about it. Something that has been hidden. Hidden by what, or who? I can’t say. I don’t think anyone will ever know.”

  “I’ve often wondered what it is, exactly,” Lucian said. “Why have we never had access to it before? It’s only the last century and a half or so, or even less.”

  “Some might have been mages, but they were hiding,” Plato said.

  “No,” Linus said. “Not likely. You and I have talked about this many times, and we don’t always agree on everything. I keep telling you it corresponds to when we first started using the Gates. How do those work, if not by magic?”

  “Are you saying the Builders created magic?” Lucian asked.

  “I suppose it’s possible. Almost certainly, they knew about it and used it.”

  “And now they’re gone,” Lucian said.

  “Makes you think, no?” Plato asked. “Magic is only magic. It’s been here from the beginning, a byproduct of the creation of the universe, hidden until now, for whatever reason. Magic is the reality behind reality, the Ethereal Background, the Manifold manifested, and it exists outside of time and space and the universe as we know it. It may even be God. It certainly bestows the power of gods. To say it was created, though, stretches my credulity.”

  “Okay,” Lucian said. “Suppose it’s natural. Why us? Why now?”

  Lucian wondered what Vera might have to say about all this. If anyone would have an opinion on the origin of the Manifold, it was her.

  “All this talk has reminded me,” Plato said, standing up. “It’s long past time for bed.”

  Lucian was tired, too. To his surprise, the day had turned to night outside. The buzz from the Sea Drink had a way of making time pass. Lucian found himself wondering what they did with their days to keep from going insane. So far, it seemed like mostly drinking and talking.

  “I’m going to do it,” Lucian said, deciding. “I’m going to do this Ordeal.”

  Linus looked at him. “Do you know what you are signing on for?”

  “No,” Lucian said. “If I can get through the Ordeal, then that means I can last as long as you or Plato. After that . . . we can think about escaping.”

  Assuming he really could form a block, as these two had, then in theory that meant he could get his old life back. At least, part of it. But it would mean he would have to find a way off this island. Somehow.

  Linus looked at him for a long time and then laughed. “Escaping? And how do you plan to do that? It’s impossible, even with magic.”

  Lucian didn’t know either. But there had to be something. But first, he had to prevent himself from fraying. And that meant getting through the Ordeal on the first try.