I studied the spell for a long moment, then spun out a spatial anchor over the table, since I was fairly certain that would be required for the spell, then began sketching it out with one hand. Before I could move, Orykson waved a hand.

  “Make the Spatial Anchor permanent, then tie it to the one in your body at an equal distance.”

  I nodded and funneled power into the two functions, first creating the stable core of spatial power, then changing it so the reference point for its location was the anchor within me, rather than the general weave of space. After all of my practice forming and connecting stable anchors for the massively overblown teleportation platforms, the once difficult task was practically rote, and I started sketching again an instant later.

  Within the spell, it quickly became clear that there were three functions, all related, but not intrinsically reliant on one another. The spell effects that slowed the spread of death energy was arguably a fourth function, but it was so tightly interwoven with the other three that I couldn’t really separate it out.

  The first function of the spell had to be activated first, and as I poured power into it, I felt the spatial anchor start to deepen, then split. It was as if it was intensifying the weave of space itself, trying to make space more… space-ey.

  “Many people like to use the analogy of glassblowing,” Orykson said as he watched me. “What you’re doing right now would be comparable to collecting the sand. The more mana that you put into this function, the more raw material you will have to work with.”

  I let a third of my remaining third gate spatial mana drain into this function, then shifted power to run through the second function. The spacier space separated from the normal weave, then started to somehow grow more viscous, though I wasn’t sure that was the right word. It wasn’t like there was more material to work with, exactly, but what material was there was somehow more stable and orderly.

  It was also difficult, as the more mana I poured in, the more slippery the spell was, as if I was trying to hold onto a ball that was growing increasingly smooth and well oiled every second.

  “Now, you’re refining the sand into good glass. The more power you put in at this stage, the more refined the material becomes. Structure-ore is often used to improve this stage, which is why spatial rings are often made with a tiny bit of it. In theory, it is possible for even a spellbinder to create an astral plane by increasing the stability, though you’ll find quickly why this is less than plausible.”

  I cut off the power before I had put the next third in, since it was reaching the limits of my mana manipulation abilities. Between this and my dragon’s breath, I knew that I’d be able to really improve my abilities in the skill.

  I flowed power into the third and final function, and the tiny ball started to expand. Immediately, the neatly ordered and thickened lines of space that made up the shell of the weave began to stretch and flex, becoming more disorderly and thinner as the amount of material expanded. I didn’t need Orykson to complete the analogy.

  “Now I’m blowing the glass out into the shape and size that I want,” I said.

  As I spoke, I focused on the ball as it expanded and pushed it into a more square, cuboidal shape. This also felt odd, like trying to move your hand to reach something in a cabinet without looking, and I was left with a sort of lumpy, oblong, rounded rectangle.

  The power continued to flow in, but the weave of space that made up my pocket was starting to feel thin, like the metaphorical glass bubble was almost about to pop. I cut the flow of power off, and the spell completed.

  I let out a slow sigh as Orykson gave a very soft clap.

  “Well done. You would be surprised how many people push it to the point of breaking the planar stability and losing all of their progress,” he said. “You’re no prodigy, but it was a competent first time.”

  Now that I’d finished, I could sense the space, somewhat like how I could sense Dusk’s realm, but much, much less intensely. I had rarely, if ever, used a spatial ring, but it was far more similar to that than it was to the connection I had with Dusk.

  The space I’d made was tiny. My fist was smaller than most people’s, due in large part to my height, but I didn’t even think I could fit my fist inside the space. It might be able to fit a tangerine?

  “It’s so… tiny,” I said.

  “Of course it is,” Orykson said. “You’re not even in mid-third gate, and furthermore, you’re cramming in large spells like this one and the Seven League Step. Those who make these for a living spend their lives at peak third gate, mass producing these.”

  I focused and ran power through the circuit in my spirit, trying to use the last of my third gate mana to add more material to the space, so that I could expand it in the future.

  Nothing happened, and Orykson’s lip curled.

  “Yes, the base spell has to all be done in one go, a single continuous stream of mana. That’s part of why demiplanes and astral planes are so rare – since expanding the size stretches and makes the membrane less stable, it’s generally better to use the power to just further increase the size of the space. Few enough things truly need a demiplane or astral plane. Most can be stored just fine in a spatial pocket.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “I’m guessing that full specialists have spells they can use to retroactively increase the material, stability, and size?” I asked, and Orykson nodded.

  “They do, and those inventions were a large part of what contributed to the mass production of spatial rings. When I was your age, even one as small as the space were considered to be worth more than a hundred working class families would see in a lifetime, and that is not an exaggeration. It’s actually a slight underestimate.”

  He was old, but the topic of spatial rings had piqued my interest.

  “How do I make it into a ring for anyone to use?” I asked curiously, but Orykson shook his head.

  “All you have to do is lay a handful of simple enchantments onto an item, layer the spatial anchor through those enchantments rather than your own connection, then either create the space like you did. If you were to use the first and third functions without ever powering the second, you could create a spatially warped item that anyone could use, like the spatially expanded briefcase you used some time ago.”

  Under his breath he added.

  “This is one reason I prefer planar magic – it can mimic some of warping’s effects. For you, I acknowledge warping is better, but it’s far worse. If my plans…”

  He shook his head, then summoned and passed over a thin book.

  “This has the enchantments and how to implement them.”

  “Sorry I ruined your plans,” I deadpanned as I took the book, and Orykson just shrugged.

  “All of my attempts have failed, but all of them have still produced valuable results. I’ll get my wish some day. For now, I would suggest that you, though I won’t force you to, purchase some structure-ore to practice with, as your entire stock was burned to help Dusk’s birth.”

  “Nope,” I said, then started flipping through the book, looking at the enchantments. I glanced up at him.

  “These are not simple enchantments,” I groused. “This is twice as bad as the cauldron.”

  “When I began–”

  “I get it, you’re old,” I said, and he rolled his eyes at me.

  “You don’t appreciate the luxury you have now,” he said. “Regardless, you should practice. That is one half of my homework assignments, so to speak. Create at least one spatial ring or bag before you depart for Crysite. The other is to seek out the blink foxes again, to get Foxarmor, and perhaps Foxswap, Foxden, or the other spells they have. Foxswap in particular may work well, though I’d break through to mid-third gate before I added a fourth spell on top of the armor, pocket, and step spells.”

  I looked up at him and nodded seriously.

  “Thank you. I will at least try. I know I’m not the best enchanter, I don’t have the patience, but knowing the basics is worth it. Before you go – can I spatially expand areas in Dusk without hurting her?”

  Orykson nodded, completely serious again.

  “It will be completely safe. Pushing it to the point the enchantment snaps may cause her some pain, but it won’t hurt her, and if you show restraint – as you did just now – and don’t break the spell, it won’t hurt her at all.”

  “Thank you,” I repeated. He waved, and suddenly I was back at my dad’s kitchen table, holding the cup of half-empty tea and the book.

  Dusk looked over from where she was tending to the herb box and cheerfully asked how things went.

  “They… Uh, well, they went,” I said with a laugh. “Well, mostly.”

  I tried to Foxstep over to her, and while the backlash wasn’t even a tenth as bad as when I’d cast Seven League Step, my spirit still fought and bucked against my control, leaving me unable to cast spells for a breath and a half. Dusk peeped out a question, and I started explaining.

  As I explained, I began pulling things from the fridge and cabinets, throwing together whatever sort of attempt at a stew I could manage. Without Ed or I living there, the pantry, which had often been sparse, was absolutely barren. Still, I dug out some onions and carrots, started sweating them and adding spices.

  “I need a potato,” I mused, before returning to my explanation of my spellcrafting lesson with Orykson, as well as the now-active root. Dusk listened attentively, then asked if establishing the kirin’s full-gate spell might do something similar, activating the resolve roots to absorb the power of the Kirin’s spell and piggyback it in a similar manner.

  I paused to consider that. The implications were exciting, but also a bit concerning.

  “It’s definitely plausible,” I said. “But my full gate spells run constantly. If my spirit is rebelling non-stop, I’ll really have to work to punch through the root’s interference.”

  Dawn slithered out of Dusk’s realm then, sweeping her semi-translucent gaze over each of us.

  “What do you think?” I asked her, wondering if I’d get another overwhelming sense of emotion and knowledge from her.

  Instead, I felt something within her shift, as her first gate mana finally solidified. Magic began swirling out of her, a deeply strange mix.

  Starsoul mana.

  Like all dragons, it had elements of everything within it, but in the same way that the Kirin’s spell or the Ninelight Morels were an imitation of Fortune’s power, Dawn’s power felt like an imitation of Destiny.

  Everything about her mana was meant to improve, refine, enhance, and to channel the power of starfyre.

  Dusk cheered as Dawn’s power settled down, and I clapped my approval. Dawn wiggled her joy in an almost ferret-like manner, her noodly body thrashing in mid-air delightedly. She stopped a moment later as she drew on her new mana and cast her first spell.

  Power rushed out of her in a fine golden mist, then forged into a crystalline rhombus shape, only the size of my pinkie nail. Dawn forged a second, then flicked one over to me, and one over to Dawn. As I caught it, I got the sudden impulse to eat it.

  I popped the crystal in my mouth and felt it begin to drain excess from my body’s energy. The crystal filled quickly, then dissolved in my mouth and released its power into my spirit, restoring my semi-depleted mana.

  I felt my eyebrows shoot up. The energy-mana mix in my mana-garden was partially restored by my body’s free energy, and partially by my spirit’s production of mana. These forged crystals seemed to help convert the power more directly, refining the power like a harvesting spell.

  Dusk, on the other hand, seemed to be able to use the crystal to more easily take fragments of energy from across her entire realm, so small that it was barely noticeable.

  I looked at Dawn.

  “Do these crystals give us a… self-harvesting power?”

  Dawn flailed wildly through the air, giving off impressions of excitement and being delighted to have been able to help us.

  I wondered how long the crystals could last before they had to be used, and as if reading my thoughts, Dawn forged a third, then let out a tired sigh. I stroked her head.

  “Hey now, don’t strain yourself. You just started.”

  She curled up my arm, resting her head on my right shoulder, then closed her eyes to take a nap, while Dusk and I went back to cooking, Dusk taking some coins and shooting off to the store for a potato.

  As it turned out, the crystal held its shape for about ten minutes before its structure destabilized and it dissolved, though I suspected the time would increase as Dawn grew in strength. I wanted to know what would happen if Kene took one, but they were still in their village, getting things re-supplied and managing things. Considering that I needed to find some blink foxes anyways, as I chopped and added the potato, I decided I’d head out that way soon in order to visit Alice and the rest.

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