Dawnsreach sanctum
Stuart Domain, AKA Bastion Pass
Sol Continent
Terra, Gaea, solar system
Milky Way Galaxy
Luminary Star sector
19th Vetraeus cycle, 50 New Solaris Prime
Sam returned to the Craftlab—a spacious, arcane-infused chamber tucked beneath the Golden Dawn stronghold. It was a place of perpetual hums and whirring mana coils, a sanctuary of invention she shared with Emily and Ginny. The walls were lined with crystalline storage units and floating holo-scrolls, their shimmering glyphs softly illuminating the darkened corners. In the center, where all three workstations branched like the petals of a trinity flower, Sam sat at her own desk, its surface cluttered with half-finished enchantments, disassembled magitech cores, and the strange spherical object she had retrieved from the Dungeon.
She hadn't dared open it yet.
Instead, she pored over the files spread across her desk, each one tied to the Wryward Incident. Screens flickered with archived footage and written accounts, her gaze fixed on a particular segment that had long troubled her.
June Wryward's ice manifestation had reportedly annihilated the Infernals on the train. At least, that's what the report claimed. But Sam had been there. She had felt the resonance of that cold magic—and it wasn't strong enough. Not nearly enough to obliterate an Infernal-class demon. And it certainly didn't explain the other bodies, the scorched marks, the bloodless wounds. Something else had moved through that train. Silent. Lethal. Possibly another Awakened.
Sam leaned back in her chair, the soft hiss of pneumatics releasing a breath with her. She exhaled through her nose, long and low, before muttering, "There was someone else..."
Still, the answers would have to wait.
With a flick of her fingers, the report minimized into a rune-locked tab. She turned her attention back to the object—the mysterious orb resting at the heart of her bench like a forbidden fruit.
Around it, her workspace was an organized chaos of parchment and parchmentless data scrolls. Arcane texts lay splayed open beside handwritten theorems. Some were scribbled drafts of her own, others were joint publications with Emily or Ginny, touching on topics like Thaumaturgic Polarity or Ethereal Frequency Compression. A side stack contained rough sketches of enchantment lattices, and her most recent notes: On the Reactions of Alchemically Tempered Earth to Elemental Imbuement.
Crafting was more than a discipline to Sam—it was instinct. Her Ability Factor gave her affinity with the Earth and all its countless forms: metal, clay, stone, crystal, even dust. This affinity made her naturally suited to the art of Crafting—what some still called Forgemastery. Crafters, or Artificers as the classical texts named them, were cultivators who channeled Mana through material form. They shaped enchanted blades, wove seals into armor, and engineered magitech devices capable of feats indistinguishable from sorcery. Emily had taught her the foundations, passing on the practical insights of the Stregha method. But Sam had branched out quickly, forging her own theories and adapting techniques to suit her affinity.
Now, all three of them—Emily, Ginny, and herself—shared this sacred space. Here, theory became reality. Thought became form.
Sam reached out, fingers brushing over the surface of the sphere. It was cool to the touch, unnaturally so, and the material was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Not metal. Not crystal. Not even true stone. She summoned her Internal Sense again, focusing her Essence like a needle threading through its structure. Nothing. A void. As if the sphere rejected all attempts to read it.
Frustrated, she whispered, "Even the container isn't of this world..."
Her fingers curled around its grooves. There were no visible seams, and yet, through some instinct or perhaps subtle design, she found the mechanism. She gave it a twist, and a soft click echoed through the chamber.
Then the sphere opened.
A wave of radiant white light exploded outward—not violently, but like a sunrise piercing through shadow. It flooded the entire lab in brilliance, bathing everything in a divine glow. Her notes fluttered under the pressureless pulse. Her eyes squinted against the luminance, and for a breathless heartbeat, the world disappeared.
What the hell is this?
She shielded her face, heart pounding, as something began to stir inside the sphere—something old, something powerful.
And entirely beyond her understanding.