Synchrony

Nael jolted awake. His breath was rapid. Shallow. He gasped. Gulped for air. Heart pounding in his chest. Skipping beats. Speeding up, slowing down, threatening to rip free.

"Nael? You okay?" a gentle voice said above him.

A teenage girl peered down from her bunk, dangling upside down to face him, her thin face only visible by the moonlight spilling in through the window, reflected in her hazel eyes. She wore fine silken pajamas, simple in design but of a much higher quality than what Nael wore. Her long blonde hair draped all the way to the floor; her expression a mixture of concern and amusement.

"It's okay. Breathe. Like the Keeper taught you."

Nael looked into her eyes, still gasping.

She mouthed, "Breathe in, breathe out," several times in time with his gasps for , before she suddenly lunged and grabbed his nose with one hand, grasping the railing of her bunk with the other.

Nael pulled back, pulling the girl with him. She tumbled to the floor with a dull thud as she hit the hard stone.

"Ow..." she groaned, before popping upright as if nothing had happened. She crossed her legs, her tangled hair obscuring half of her face as she looked up at Nael.

Nael stared at her.

"What? You've never seen a lady fall from her bed before?" she giggled, brushing her hair away from her mouth.

"Ivie, are you okay?" Nael choked out, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Of course I am! They picked me because of my thick skull, remember?"

"That's… not why you were chosen."

"Was it my brilliant personality? My stunning beauty? My regal heritage? Oh, I know! Surely, it was my impeccable sense of comedic timing."

Nael groaned and shook his head.

"Yeah, I know. But you're not having an attack anymore." She beamed and pulled herself to the edge of the bed.

Nael breathed deeply and checked his heart. His pulse was still too quick, but it had fallen into a steady rhythm.

Ivie put a hesitant hand on Nael’s shoulder. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" she whispered.

Nael smiled. "No. I just pushed a bit too hard today, that's all."

She frowned.

"Don't worry, Ivie. I'll be fine."

"But what if they pick you? What if you have an attack on the road? You’ll be all alone."

"I doubt they'd pick me. I'm the least skilled of the whole group. Well, second least." He cast her a sidelong glance.

"Hey! I'm definitely better at this than you are! But you should be more worried. You're the only candidate who doesn't belong to an elevated family or a merchant guild." Ivie rose, spinning around to face Nael. She pointed at him. "There are only five of us. The lowest in fifty years."

"I see you've been talking to the Keeper again. Why should I be worried? Being selected is a great gift! I'll get to travel the ring, see the five cities, eat like a king, and come home triumphant. I can handle it."

"Sure, it's all fun until your lungs seize up on the side of the road somewhere."

"The Council knows what they're doing, Ivie. If they didn't think I could handle this, they'd have dismissed me long ago. Besides, you should stop talking like it's already decided—they might pick you! Then you'll get to be the hero, and I’ll go back to filing away reports from every Waystop. Until my lungs seize up, and I die forgotten in the depths of the archives. My true passion."

Ivie sighed and climbed back up to her bunk. "Goodnight, Nael. Rest well."

Nael swore he heard a tinge of regret in her voice. He had opened his mouth to protest, but fell back on his pillow and stared into the darkness, instead.

The following day, Nael was named Synchrony.

The Council had declared he was the best choice for the journey due to his dedication and skill. None of the other candidates seemed surprised. They were dismissed, one by one, and thanked for spending the last five years in training. Each bid farewell to Nael with a simple, "Congratulations, Synchrony."

Only Ivie lingered.

"Walk, traveler. For we hold back the dark. With each step we stitch the fraying path, and hold Stability for a moment longer. Our light…" her voice wavered, "signals our arrival, that those at the fringes might have hope."

Nael gently rested his hand atop her head. "I'll see you when I get back, Ivie. I'll remember to breathe."

Ivie sniffled and nodded slowly. Then she left without another word. Nael watched her go, her too-long cape dragging along the floor. Soon the marble doors of the hall, carved with the names of each of the preceding Synchrony, closed behind Ivie, leaving Nael alone with the Keeper and his attendants.

Nael turned to face them.

The Keeper smiled. "Excellent work, Nael. You've earned this." He waved his left hand and an attendant presented a large ebony box, three feet in length, and about half that in depth. The Keeper opened the box, revealing a torch. The symbol of Nael's new status as Yed'ol's synchrony.

The torch was a dull-green, like oxidized copper; a pair of snakes coiled around the bowl, their mouths open as if to spit flame when the torch is lit. The tails wound down the shaft, strangling the length of it, then joining again at the base into a single rattle.The keeper handled it with reverence, gingerly lifting it from the box with both hands before passing it to Nael in a single motion, as if it might burn him.

As Nael claimed the torch, he focused his attention on it as he'd been taught.

His heart skipped a beat.

The torch roared to life.

The flame’s reflection danced in the Keeper’s eyes. "You're ready. You leave tomorrow,” the Keeper said. Your pack and supplies will be delivered to your room. There's enough to see you through two Waystops. Remember, it will take nearly four months to reach Granfen. You will stay there to recuperate for a full week. Pace yourself accordingly, Synchrony."

* * *

Nael shivered and pulled his overcoat tighter. The thick canvas draped from his gaunt shoulders, enveloping him like he was an ambulatory coat rack. The meager light of the setting sun did little to warm him as he trod along the road.

This part of the Celias Way was rough, barely more than dirt past the ancient stones of the road. The flat terrain offered clear visibility for miles around, well past Stability. Despite this, there was nothing to see—just more dreary, barren landscape.

The only notable sight of the day had been a sign noting that the next Waystop was still hours away. Nael had not even seen another traveler. Unusual, considering how close he was to Senrienne.

Senrienne. Only a few more days until he'd get to explore the last of the Five Cities. He'd been paraded through Granfen, presided over a grand festival in Ordalle, then was treated to a three-day feast in Ef'tone. Nael grinned as he wondered what awaited him in the City of Prophesy.

At the very least, it would be a reprieve from sleeping in a tent between Waystops.

No such luck tonight. He needed somewhere to camp. As he began pitching his tent by the side of the road, his stomach rumbled. Nael rummaged through his pack for food, gently pulling out his change of clothes, a notebook, and a small figurine of carved ivory. He turned the figure over in his fingers, a gift from Ivie, before continuing his search.

Alas, all that remained was the dusting of crumbs at the bottom of his pack. He stared into its depths, as if desire alone could make provisions appear.

He looked around, saw a farmstead in the distance, near the edge of Stability.

"Well,” he said to himself. “I suppose I could impose on a farmsteader for an evening."

Farmsteaders, unlike Wayholders, had no obligation to grant a synchrony lodging.Yet turning away a Synchrony was taboo. Nael gambled on the chance he might find a warm floor to sleep on, and a meal heartier than crumbs.

He swallowed a pang of guilt, which rose unbidden. Adjusting his pack, he set off.

The farmstead was small; the tilled land only starting a dozen yards from the main house's fence. Nael carefully made his way through the rows of crops, stepping around the fist-sized, ochre bulbs protruding from the soil. Gem Gourds were something of an uncommon crop for the area around Yed'ol. Nael had only tasted them for the first time when he visited Granfen, the first stop of his circuit. His mouth watered at the thought.

"I'll have to ask for some of these in the morning..."

Nael made his way around the squat split-rail fence, through the well-worn gate, and tip-toed up to the cottage. The windows were covered with slatted shutters, which would have allowed the interior light to spill out into the twilight... if there were any.

Met with darkness within, Nael lingered on the stoop.

"If the farmsteaders are already asleep, it'd be rude to wake them," he mumbled under his breath, "but I'm starving..."

He sighed, then drew his torch from the holster sewn to his pack. Unceremoniously, he rapped the rattle against the door. Much to his surprise, the door simply swung open.

"Hello?"

He waited.

Silence.

Nael pushed his way inside, closing the door behind him and focusing his intent until the torch ignited. Nael rubbed his chest and inhaled sharply.

The room, now bathed in gentle torchlight, was perfectly ordinary. A two-room structure, Nael had just entered the kitchen. There was an adjacent family room and a narrow corridor around the corner. The dining table centering the kitchen was set for two; clean wooden plates sat next to empty wooden cups. The fireplace in the family room was loaded with fresh kindling, ready to be lit.

Nael stalked through the corridor. At the end of it, he found an open door revealing a modest bedroom adorned with a dresser, a double bed and a much smaller one across it, bedding neatly made.

A doll rested atop a pillow on the smaller bed— a miniature Ramlet complete with fluffy blue fur and pointed horns of bone.

"Maybe they're traveling for provisions? What do you think?" Nael said to the torch, which only crackled and popped in the stillness. "I agree. Crackle, pop.

Nael let out a heavy sigh. “Grounds below... I need someone to talk to."

He returned to the dining room and tugged on the torch's rattle, releasing three small legs, which allowed the torch to stand. He placed it reverently at the center of the table before scrounging in the kitchen. Throwing open cabinets and drawers, he found a ripe gem gourd.

Nael almost cheered for his luck—but then a disturbing thought occurred to him.

He turned around to peer back into the bedroom. Setting the gem gourd on the table, Nael retrieved the torch, and walked back down the hall. With his other hand, he loosened the drawstrings of one of the many small pouches hanging from his belt.

The room was just as he'd left it, save for a slight shimmer on the back wall. Nael's eyes widened as he cautiously approached the anomaly, drawing the torch closer. He pulled the slightest pinch of dust from his pouch and sprinkled it over the torch's flame.

The torch responded by changing the flame to a deep azure.

The shimmer on the back wall faded away, as if absorbed by the plaster. Nael slowly backpedaled to the family room, eyes trained on the empty space on the wall.

The shimmer returned just as he crossed the room’s threshold.

"Stability's weakened here,” he said to the torch. “That'd explain the empty house. Guess we'll make dinner, then camp a little closer to the road."

The rest of the night was a blur. Sincethe owners weren't returning, he scavenged a choice selection of vegetables from the stores and prepared a hearty stew in the fireplace, along with a side of toasted bread and charred gem gourd.

All the while Nael kept a close eye on the back hallway—just in case stability shifted again.

He ate quickly, but took the time to tidy his mess. With any luck the owners would be staying at the next Wayhold, and he might be able to help them.

Besides, it’s rude to leave dirty dishes.

Nael took one last look into the bedroom before he left. The shimmer was still there, only now he heard scraping against the wall. Faint, like hundreds of tiny claws skittering up and down, trying to burrow their way in.

Nael shivered and stepped back out into the night.

* * *

The next morning, Nael stretched and poked his head outside of his gagnalskin tent. The dim sunlight strained his tired eyes, the thin frost coating the short grasses sparkling in haze. Small waves of mist wafted out the front tent flap as warm air escaped and met the cold from outside.

He took his time packing up. His movements were slow. Deliberate.

A few hours later, Nael had arrived at the Waystop. This one was larger than most others he’d visited, resembling a small manor more than an inn. He had always heard that Senrienne held its facilities to higher standards.

He took a moment to catch his breath at the threshold; a small awning above a heavy wooden door with a thick iron handle, well polished from decades of handling. He drew his torch, holding it in front of him as he pushed open the door, revealing a large chamber, bustling with early morning activity. A few servers moved between the tables taking orders, placing drinks, cleaning out plates.

"I am but a traveler, seeking rest, that we might hold together the fraying path." Nael called into the main chamber as he held the torch aloft over the threshold.

His heart skipped a beat as the flame roared to life.

The whole room looked up at him, ceasing their conversations.

A stern voice called back from deeper in the room. "Finally, the Synchrony. About time you got here!"

A tall and stout woman, her long red hair pulled into a tight ponytail, moved in front of the door, towering over Nael. She was dressed in a loose tunic and trousers, an apron over top. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing her thick forearms; a long scar ran up her left arm.

She pointed to the end of a long table where several others were seated, and said: "You look like hell. Go sit down, and I'll get you some food."

"You're supposed to say… the… words," Nael said, looking up to meet her gaze.

"Yeah, sure. Rest, traveler, for we hold back the dark. Happy?" she snapped and marched back through the hall without waiting for a reply.

Nael frowned, and furtively made his way to his seat. Everyone watched him as he settled in next to a young girl and an elderly man. The girl raisedher hand in front of her face, palm facing outwards, and slowly moved it down to reveal her eyes. Nael returned the gesture, smiling down at her. She giggled and looked away. The rest of the room gradually went back to their conversations.

"Good morning, Synchrony. It's an honor to share a meal with you." The old man said, looking Nael up and down.

"The honor is mine, sir. I'm Nael, Synchrony of Yed'ol."

"Name's Zee. And that little one there," he pointed his spoon at the girl, "is Zel, my granddaughter".

"I'm Zel!" the girl echoed, her mouth filled with partially chewed biscuit.

Nael chuckled. "So, Zee, I see this place is quite a bit busier than I'm used to—and a bit lax with the traditions."

"Perhaps so, Synchrony,” Zee laughed. “Most folks here were displaced from their farmsteads. Stability has been eroding around here, you see."

"Is that what happened to you and Zel?"

"Yep. We have a small ranch about a half day's journey along the Way. Didn't see much wrong myself, but Zel kept saying she saw shimmers getting closer to the house. Then, one night I saw figures standing in the dark around the fields. Tall, gangly, things. Didn't get a good look at them. The messenger arrived the next day to tell us the Waystation had called for an evacuation."

"I forgot Gemmy. I hope he's okay." Zel added.

Nael looked to Zee, confused.

"A stuffed animal." He replied.

Nael nodded and turned to Zel. "I'm sure Gemmy will be just fine. So you can see shimmers? Do they look like the air is wobbling, like it's hard for your eyes to focus?"

"Mmmhmm. Daddy could see them too. Grampa can't," she said, fidgeting in her seat.

"I can see them too, Zel," Nael smiled. "You're fortunate, Zee. Your granddaughter can see the edge of Stability. It's a rare gift."

Zee simply nodded, and took a small bite of his meal.

"So, what can you tell me about the Wayholder? She seems brusque."

"Well," a voice boomed behind him, "her name is Minaa, and you would be brusque, too, if you'd been attending refugees for the last month awaiting a certain Synchrony."

Minaa leaned over Nael's shoulder and placed a plate in front of him; thin biscuits with a dark blue gravy, along with some sort of roasted sausage that Nael didn't recognize. She grasped his shoulders— her grip felt like a vice, as if her hands were made of iron.

"Eat quickly, boy,” Minaa whispered into his ear. “Then meet me in the back. I'll tell you what we're dealing with—then I’ll show you the hospitality you're accustomed to."

She pulled back, shoving a small mug of dark brown liquid at him. " Drink that. It should help."

Nael accepted the mug. Minaa turned around and marched off.

After his meal, Nael found Minna in the kitchen. She was sipping on a mug of the same dark liquid. Aside from the tall counters, shelves filled with cooking pots, the massive iron stove, and a large map of the Five Cities framed on the wall, the facility was bare.

On one wall stood a stone door; it was out-of-place, as if the Wayhold had been built around it. Carved around the frame were symbols that Nael recognized as Aldscript, though he didn't know enough of the ancient language to comprehend its meaning.

Minaa drank deep from her mug and plopped it down on one of the cabinets with a loud thunk, snapping Nael back to reality. "If you find that door so exciting, wait until you see what's below."

"Below? What do you mean?"

"Miss that part in your Wayholds 101 class? I need you to look at the instrumentation."

"I mean—yes—I've been educated in the basics of Wayholds... but we don't usually go down there. Shouldn’t simply crossing the threshold suffice?" Nael stumbled over his words, unsure how Minaa would react.

She only chuckled, walked over to the stone door and intoned some phrase in Alden, her voice becoming unnaturally deep. The door slowly swung open, revealing a small landing above a wide spiral staircase that descended into the ground. Minaa crossed the threshold, then turned to Nael. "Keep your torch lit, please. It'll make the descent easier."

Minaa stepped down the first few steps, pausing so Nael could follow. As soon as he passed through the doorway, the rough stone of the stairwell began to glow, pulsing in time with the flickering of his torchlight.

"Ah, good,” Minna said, continuing down the stairs. “This might just work."

Nael stopped, leaning against the wall as his heart began to palpitate. Minaa turned around to him and said something. Her voice was distant, like she was underwater. His head swam.

Nael grasped a cool railing, trying to steady his breathing. The techniques the Keeper taught him had helped along the road, but the episodes were getting worse the longer he traveled.

He breathed in sharply and felt his chest seize.

Unbidden thoughts of Ivie bubbled to the front of his mind. The night before he'd been chosen. How ridiculous she'd been. How she'd calmed him down over the years they'd been roomed together.

A look of concern flashed across Minaa's face. She wrapped her arm around Nael’s waist, pulling his right arm around her shoulders, torch crackling over the glowing hole that spiraled deep beneath the Wayhold.

"Let's get you back upstairs." Minaa whispered. The disappointment in her voice was subtle, but clear to Nael's ears. He'd heard it throughout his life.

Nael shook his head vigorously in between wheezes, then pointed the torch forward to the descending stairs. He took a few tentative steps, bracing himself between the wall and Minaa, focusing on his breath.

Step by step, they descended the spiral until they'd made it to the bottom. By then, Nael's breathing had returned to normal.

"No permanent damage, it seems. What happened?" Minaa said, visibly relieved.

"I'll be alright,” Nael sighed. “I've been prone to fits since I was a child. The Medicani say it's nothing serious. Just evidence that I was supposed to be a scribe and not a farmsteader or craftsman,"

He eased himself back onto his own feet, then scrutinized his surroundings. Arranged in a semicircular pattern were a series of ancient carved slabs, made of the same material as the walls. All of it pulsed in time with the torchlight. Strange instruments were affixed to several slabs: knobs, dials, dimly glowing crystals. Some were topped with a layer of bubbling ooze, sputtering out gentle puffs of steam. In the middle of the room was a massive circular table jutting out of the ground.

"If you're sure..." Minaa said, waiting until Nael nodded to continue. "Okay. Let me show you what we're dealing with."

Minaa motioned for Nael to join her in front of one of the slabs. "You mind holding the torch over the table so we can see?"

Nael grinned, extending the torch's legs and placed it reverently on the table.

"Thanks." Minaa grabbed a sheet of parchment from a small box nestled next to the table. She unrolled it, pushing it towards the center of the slab. "Take a look."

Nael looked over the parchment, then back to Minaa. "That's, uh, a nice piece of parchment. Must have come from a massive Ramlet?"

Minaa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not that. Wait for it."

Nael watched the parchment as the torchlight danced across its surface, slowly coalescing with the pulse of the surrounding walls and slabs. The parchment began to darken, as if ink were seeping in from underneath. The parchment had turned black, with five blank spots arranged in a rough circle connected by a line of clean parchment. The line had differing widths, sometimes narrowing down to a very fine line. Dotted along that line were smaller clear spots, the majority of which were perfectly circular, though one looked more like blobby ooze, shades of gray marring its edges.

"There!" Minaa said, pointing to the blob. "You see that? This is our Wayhold. The clear parchment represents Stability. The gray is indicative of a weakening boundary." She swept her finger along the clear line, which was pinched to almost nothing as it approached the Way-blob. "The line is the Celias Way. A few more weeks of your absence, and Stability likely would have shriveled right to the road. So, like I said, you arrived just in time. Wish you'd gotten here a bit sooner, though. Then we could have avoided the evacuation."

"But I'm on schedule, the last Synchrony should have passed through about eight or nine months ago?"

Minaa nodded. "True. Forgive me for implying it was your fault. I'm just at my wits end—and I need help."

"So, what do we do? My visit won't be enough to restore Stability to the farmsteads, will it?"

"I don't think so, Synchrony. The Ordalle Synchrony's visit should have been sufficient, and it seemed to be when they left. I'm at a loss. This Wayhold has always had weak Stability, but nothing like this. It'll take a miracle to restore Stability to the previous boundary."

Nael shrugged and gestured about the room. "You need help, and I'm ready to offer it. What do we do?"

Minaa rummaged around in the pocket of her apron, then produced a sealed letter, which she handed to Nael with both hands. Written in a scrawl on the front was, Deliver to Yed’ol Synchrony, the bright yellow wax seal of Senrienne pressed on the back.

Nael broke the seal and read the document:

Yed'ol Synchrony, if you are reading this letter then emergency protocols have been enacted for Wayhold 199. You must do the following:

1. Consume a hearty meal before proceeding. Ensure meat included.

2. Before beginning, tell Wayholder you are initiating emergency protocols.

3. Place torch in the center of Wayhold 199's control spike (it will be at the center of the control chamber).

4. Visualize the area around the Wayhold. Remember the path you took. Maintain focus throughout the process.

5. Cast all remaining repelling dust into the torch. Follow this with one pinch of tracking dust. If you have less than one handful of repelling dust, supplement with enhancement dust. DO NOT USE REGRESSION DUST.

6. The Control room will be bright, do not lose focus.

7. Once you recover, inspect Stability with Wayholder. If Stability is not restored, contact the nearest City IMMEDIATELY.

Good luck, Synchrony. "With each step we stitch the fraying path, and hold Stability for a moment longer."

"We are… initiating emergency protocols, apparently."

Minaa nodded. "Figured as much."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that things might get strange, and I'm to offer you all the support I can. Also, I might get to use my sword one more time."

"Your sword?"

"We'll worry about that later. You know what to do?"

"The instructions are pretty simple. Let's get to work.”

Nael picked up his torch and approached the massive center slab, or "spike" as the letter had called it, and climbed on top of it. He reverently placed the torch in the center of the spike and knelt beside it. He took a few deep breaths, then pulled an entire pouch from his belt, and loosened the drawstring on another.

"It says it might get very bright in here—so, cover your eyes?"

Minaa nodded and did as he instructed.

"Here goes."

Nael dumped all the azure dust from his pouch into the torch. The flame immediately roared to life, growing so tall it nearly reached the ceiling. The spike and the walls reacted, turning a deep Azure. No longer pulsing and rapidly growing brighter.

Nael's heart skipped a beat. And another. He gasped for air, but no breath came.

He fumbled at his belt, and pulled a pinch of dust from another pouch, gripping his chest with the other. His hand began to tremble.

He gasped again.

"Synchrony, are you okay?"

Nael felt his lungs seize, he tried to throw the dust into the flame, but found himself unable to release his grip. Black poured in at the edges of his vision. His eyes lost focus.

Desperate, he shoved his hand into the flame and felt blinding pain. His hand jerked open, dropping the emerald dust into the fire. The torch changed to a scintillating pattern of blues, greens, and black. The walls moved to match. The structure shook and rumbled.

Nael thought he heard muffled shouts above. What were they thinking? That Stability was shifting underneath them? Threatening to swallow them whole?

The thought lingered as everything went black.

* * *

Nael blinked and shook the sleep from his eyes. He felt like he'd been hit by a gagnal. He was resting in an unfamiliar bed. Beside him, he heard the comforting sound of the torch crackling gently.

"Did it work, friend?" he croaked.

"Do you often speak to the torch? Does it answer back?" Minaa said, sitting next to the bed.

Nael breathed deep, and was overtaken by a fit of coughing as the dull pain radiated through his chest. "No, but it's comforting anyway. It gets pretty lonely on the road. What happened?"

"The room got very bright, and when it finally died down, I found you collapsed on the table. How do your ribs feel?"

"Like someone stomped on them."

"That's not too far from the truth; I had to work pretty hard to get your heart beating again. You've been asleep for 5 days."

"Half a week? That's not good...” Nael’s jaw dropped as he stared at the torch, propped up inside a cooking pot. He looked back at Minna and found the same discomfort he wore. “How did you get the torch up here?"

"Oh, that. I didn't want to break taboo by touching it, but I also didn't want to leave it downstairs, so I may have used your hand to put it in the pot,” Minaa flashed an embarrassed smile. “Sorry."

Nael looked at his hand. It was tightly bandaged. He tried to move it, and blessedly found it responsive, though very sore.

Nael struggled to sit upright. "You didn't answer the question—did we do it?"

"I think we did. The instrumentation shows a stability shift, and everyone upstairs reported a deep rumbling and more than a bit of panic. It was incredible; I've never seen the control room react like that."

"One thing left to do then," Nael shoved himself to his feet. "The letter says we need to go inspect the boundaries together. Then, I'm continuing towards Senrienne. I need to make up for lost time."

Something tugged at Nael's mind, like he'd forgotten something. Something important.

Minaa watched him as he slowly rose, a slight smirk forming on her face. "I'll get my sword."

Nael and Minaa hiked to the farmstead that he'd visited the night before arriving at Minna’s Waystop. The shimmering boundary that had only straddled the bedroom wall had since overtaken it completely, and encroached even closer to the road. Nael could see it clearly, indicating Stability had collapsed. While all the other local areas of Stability had recovered, this area had gotten much worse.

Nael stood at the boundary for a moment, torch already lit, and signaled for Minaa to halt.

"What's the matter?" She said, gripping the hilt of the sword hanging at her side.

"Stability. There's a sharp boundary here, and it looks like…" he watched as the boundary rippled, as if it was struggling against some other unseen force. "It's pushing against something. When I was here before it wasn't nearly this pronounced."

Minaa relaxed her stance and looked out across the abandoned crops and the buildings. "This is the last spot we needed to inspect. One farmstead lost out of two dozen isn't catastrophic. It's far enough from the road that no one should wander in, and I can have some folks stake out warning poles. It's unlikely anything dangerous will happen so soon after a boundary change."

Of the dangers past Stability, the most immediate were The Others. The meek ones would linger close to the new boundaries over the coming weeks. Not all are directly hostile, but their motivations are inscrutable and frequently dangerous.

Fortunately, all but the strongest of them dissipate if they attempt to enter Stability.

The other major concern was a Shift: the ground churning and swallowing everything up, grinding it to pulp, and spitting out new terrain and even structures that hadn't been there before. Those were blessedly rare, but completely unpredictable. A Shift could happen at any time.

Nael shuddered. "By the way, who lives here?"

"Zee and Zel, the pair you met when you first arrived. Why?"

"I thought so. We should at least poke around to see if we can grab Gemmy."

"Gemmy?"

Nael grinned, passed the boundary, and motioned for Minaa to follow. The torch's light gradually changed to an eerie green the further from Stability they trod.

Nael led Minaa back to the farmstead, and into the bedroom. Nothing had changed since Nael was there last. Resting on the small bed's pillow was the Ramlet doll, resting comfortably on its side, as if it were sleeping.

Nael picked up Gemmy, then handed it to Minaa. "There we go, Zel will be happy."

As they crossed the threshold of the front door, the ground began to rumble, rattling the shutters and contents of cabinets inside. The floor lurched and tilted a few degrees as the rafters began to splinter above them.

Minaa grabbed Nael by the collar of his tunic and dragged him out into the field as the building collapsed behind them.

Nael frantically clawed at his belt pouch and shouted over the tumult of crumbling lumber, plaster, and stone. "A Shift! I can hold stability long enough for us to make it to the boundary if I…" Nael’s heart sank as he remembered that he had used all of his repelling dust back in the control room. "Run!"

They sprinted back towards the boundary. Minaa dragged Nael behind her, who could barely keep up. The ground behind them churned and roiled, pursuing them.

Nael's heart lurched again. His lungs seized. He would have fallen if not for Minaa dragging him along—but bile filled his throat and he felt his legs weakening beneath him.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Minaa shouted, pulling with all her might.

Nael coughed and sputtered, trying desperately to keep moving, but his body refused to cooperate. He glanced behind him, then back ahead. They only had about five hundred meters to go. Regardless, he knew he couldn’t make it—not while having a fit.

But he could ensure Minaa survived.

He pulled free from her grasp. She hesitated, her face consumed by pure terror. He shook his head, pulling free a pouch from his belt.

Nael poured the entirety of the pouch’s contents into the flame. His torch roared to life, igniting like a topaz-colored wildfire

He placed his hand on her chest and whispered, “Sorry.”

The torch crackled, and a wave of energy exploded from Nael’s palm. The blast sent Minaa flying backwards through the air, clearing the distance to Stability. She hit the ground hard, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop.

As the ground encroached behind him, Nael kept his gaze on Minaa as he collapsed to his knees. "Sorry, Ivie..." he whispered to himself. “Know that I wasn’t alone in the end...”

The last thing Minaa saw of Yed’ol’s synchrony was that brilliant Topaz flame, the frail man who held it, both devoured by the earth in an instant.

* * *

The worn wooden door to Kaia's room burst open. She bolted upright, immediately fumbling for something on her nightstand.

"Candidate Kaia, your presence is required in the Grand Hall immediately. Be dressed for travel. You have fifteen minutes." The messenger yelled before slamming the door shut again.

Kaia's heart raced from the abrupt awakening and the sudden excitement. "What the hell was that?"

Precisely sixteen minutes later Kaia rushed into the Grand Hall, dressed in rugged travel attire. Moonlight streamed in the great open windows lining the hall, scintillating in her brilliant silver eyes. Three figures stood in the center of the hall, awaiting her arrival.

"Candidate Kaia, you're late," said a deep voice, thundering through the otherwise empty chamber.

She trotted up to the assembled figures, and nodded to the man who had spoken. "My apologies, Keeper. I had misplaced my gloves."

The Keeper simply stared at her, expressionless.

Several tense moments passed. The Keeper’s two attendants shifted uncomfortably. No one dared to even breathe until the Keeper motioned to the attendant holding an ornate box.

"Congratulations, Kaia. You have been selected as Synchrony." The Keeper said. The attendant opened the box. Inside was a wicked torch, more weapon than tool, made from ancient oily-black iron with sharp prongs jutting from the head. "Take the torch and set out immediately."

Kaia was stunned. This wasn't supposed to happen for another three years. "Keeper, what's happened?"

"There's been an incident. We've received word that the Synchrony from Yed'ol is missing."

"Missing?"

"The details are not important. You'll need to complete his journey and then proceed with your own. You've shown incredible competence with the torch, and though I’d have picked anyone else, you're the only candidate with sufficient skill to send out this early. Take the torch and leave at once."

Kaia's expression darkened. She reached into the box and claimed the torch.

She focused.

The torch roared to life.

The Keeper nodded. Kaia stared at him a moment longer. No further words passed between them.

Kaia turned and marched out of the hall, torch held aloft. Starting her journey not with adulation, but silence.

About the Author:

Alex Ward is a Writer and Tabletop RPG Designer based in Portland, Oregon. When he's not writing weird horror fiction and surreal games you can find him discussing the finer points of tech and tabletop, usually with copious amounts of coffee in hand.