Moonlight peeked through the hallway window as Erith carefully closed the stairwell door behind him. 

He glanced down the hall, noticing Maeric’s door slightly ajar, firelight dancing against the wall opposite the door’s gap.

“I’ll be in there in a bit,” Erith whispered.

Amun yawned, covering his mouth before giving a lazy nod. “I don’t know how you can stay awake a minute longer”

Erith smiled faintly. “I was never great at waking up early.”

Amun chuckled softly, already half-asleep. “Well, we’ve got plenty to do tomorrow, so don’t spend all night watching him stare at water or whatever,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes before shuffling to his room.

The floorboards creaked beneath Erith’s steps as he quietly approached Maeric’s door.

A wooden cane leaned against one of the armchairs, its shadow stretched across the room against the warm glow of the fireplace.

Maeric’s silhouette sat still in the armchair, head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, fast asleep.

Erith crept inside, keeping his footsteps soft, stopping a few steps away from Maeric where his gaze lingered.

Maeric’s brown hair was brushed against his forehead, just short of his eyes. The usual tension in his face had faded, lost to the late hours of the night. 

He was finally well enough to go back to his clean shave.

“That looks a lot better,” Erith thought, before feeling a prickle crawl up his neck.

Awareness hit him all at once—he was just standing there, staring.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for any excuse to wake Maeric—without just waking him.

Settling on the logs by the fire, he hastily grabbed for one. The log slipped from his hand, landing squarely on his foot.

Erith clenched his jaw and swallowed a yelp as pain shot through him. In the armchair, Maeric stirred awake, blinking away his sleepy expression.

“I… I didn’t want to wake you,” Erith stammered, trying to play it all off. He glanced at the hearth—the fire still burning strong, embers crackling in defiance.

“Figured I’d, uh… keep it going before it went out.” He finished, defeat dripping from every word.

Maeric eyed the fire, then back at the log at Erith’s feet, amusement breaking through his grogginess.

“I’m grateful for my teacher’s warm hospitality,” Maeric smiled, a playful glint in his eyes.. 

“I did my best to stay awake for your return, but… perhaps it was for the best. Knowing you’d be aiming for the estate tonight had my nerves somewhere I’d rather not keep them. How did it go?”

Erith placed his hands on the back of an empty armchair. “The estate’s garden is the best route—plenty of places to hide, plenty of ways to escape if I need to.” He dragged the armchair closer to the fire..

“The second floor has four balconies in back—and a way up to them. I’ll need Moonsie to come through on figuring out which one of them are the diplomat’s.”

Maeric nodded thoughtfully. “He’ll have that chance in a few days. Rhymera stopped by before bed—she’s joining the Morvathi diplomats for a dinner at the estate.”

“And Moonsie?” Erith asked, settling into the chair. 

“He’ll be there, assisting the Matriarch. She’ll have ‘taken a fall’, and will need someone to help her get around.” Maeric’s eyes flicked to the cane resting by his side.

“Plus, she plans for the boy to take her place as the proprietor of Spindle Hall. That seems to be common knowledge among the usual patrons. I doubt his presence would raise any suspicions.”

He gripped the cane lightly, shifting his tone delicately. “I’m relieved you made it back unnoticed through all of these nights. I see how much you want to help me, Erith. I’m truly grateful for all you’ve done, but you don’t have to continue risking yourself for me. There are other means—”

“I can look after myself. I won’t get hurt,” Erith cut in, his words sharper than he had meant.

Maeric chuckled. “No, I’ve little doubt that even the most heavily guarded place in all of Verael is something you could walk away from, unscathed.” 

He let his words settle before continuing, “But it’s not your survival that keeps me awake—it’s the eyes you might draw.”

He shifted his grip on the cane, running his fingers along the grooves carved within the wood.

“Rumors have a way of growing teeth. A young man who fought several Murasi without any visible weapon at the Morvathi camp.”

A hushed sigh escaped Maeric. “It’s become common gossip within the city as of late.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, a single ember leaping up from the flames beneath before fading into the smoke.

“Tales of that nature don’t stay small. Sooner or later, they reach the ears of those who make it their business to notice.”

Maeric’s eyes stayed fixed on the flames. “You entrusted me to guard your secret, Erith.” His voice dropped lower, strained, as he shifted his attention to Erith.

“And yet, time and time again, you’ve risked it—for me. My gratitude reaches beyond what words can shape, but I sit here, at a loss to ask you to keep risking yourself on my behalf.”

“Beyond what words can shape,” Erith echoed, a teasing tone wove through his words. “I’m surprised you couldn’t find the words when you just stitched up a whole poem to say you’re worried about me.”

Erith’s tone lightened as he continued. “I know what I’m risking, Maeric. Some things are worth it.”

Without hesitation, Erith slipped into his best Maeric impression. “So, while I am out there, drawing every eye within the city, binding my secret to whispers that bare teeth…. How has the practice been going?”

Maeric snorted, shaking his head. “Certainly I am not that dramatic.”

“You absolutely are that dramatic. The practice. How has it been going?”

“Ah well, it’s been some time since the ever-diligent teacher last checked in on his student,” Maeric replied with mild amusement in his voice.

Erith grinned. “I gave the student a task.”

“And the student has been practicing—night and day.” Maeric’s pride softened into a quiet reverence.

“That fleeting feeling, that strange moment I would briefly find my mind wandering within—I understand it better now. It’s still delicate, like something I must carefully balance… or risk toppling over. I can stay there for quite some time now…”

Maeric’s voice trailed off, his expression longing. Erith studied him, catching the hesitation. He nudged Maeric’s thought forward. “Yet…”

There was a glimmer within Maeric’s eyes as he spoke. “Yet, perhaps as the day wanes, my mind falters. There are disruptions—a truly jarring sensation, mostly in the later hours.”

Erith saw no question in Maeric’s words—only confirmation he sought.

“Spindle Hall pulls all sorts of crowds at night. Some may carry gems, some weapons. Our blades and gems are depleted, so you’re most likely feeling the Kaida from the tavern.”

Maeric’s fingers drummed lightly against the cane, lost in thought. “The sensation is faint, but it’s… persistent... I’ve been captivated by it.”

His voice lowered, wrapped with fascination. “For years I could only appreciate Aurani Venoroth’s words, but now I can truly understand them—it does hum a harmony.”

“I’d be surprised if what you can ‘hear’ is anything you’d be able to recognize as a harmony, but that is what your focus will be. Whatever Kaida seeps from the Spindle isn’t enough for you to practice off of.”

Erith reached into his pocket, pulling out Maeric’s ruby-red Kaida gem. “Which is why I had Moonsie get our gems replenished.”

He stood up and walked across the room, placing the gem on the table beside Maeric’s bed.

“Thatch would’ve definitely preferred you as a student over me. You’ve made incredible progress, Maeric.”

“It might not feel like it yet, but think of Kaida like raindrops in a storm. You’re starting to realize you’re standing in it, getting soaked—but to draw in Kaida, you’ll need to feel for each individual raindrop. You’ll need to—”

“Trace their path,” Maeric finished, the realization lighting in his eyes.

Erith smiled faintly. “Exactly.”

He hesitated before his voice grew heavier. “The Balance demands the thinnest sliver of Kaida to enter the body alongside Mura. Pull too much… and you’ll beg for death for as long as you can still speak.”

A heavy quiet stretched between them.

“No one will be able to judge whether you’re ready for the Balance but you, Maeric.” 

Erith’s throat tightened. “So judge it wisely. I know the risks I’m taking for you. I’ve seen what happens when I don’t take the risk…” His voice faltered, losing his words. 

For a moment, he let his memories wash over him—until he lifted his head toward Maeric, his voice low.

“But yours? I worry every day you get closer to the Balance… that it might be the last risk you ever get to take.”

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦