Chapter 1485 — The Spring

The primal deep-blue pulse current was very dangerous to ordinary people, and Milmina's coming operation would draw those primal currents directly up into the shallow layers of the sacred mountain and "project" them, in the manner marked upon the blueprint, onto dozens of specific "welling sources" upon the surface of Mingcen Peak. Until she had stabilized everything, the entire sacred mountain would be an area of extreme danger; therefore everyone upon the mountain—including the hub maintenance team working at the summit and the fairies and beastfolk dwelling within the mountain—had to evacuate the sacred mountain entirely.

The evacuation of ordinary residents had been completed the day before; those withdrawing today were the mountain's ordinary workers.

Moreover, even if Milmina succeeded in stabilizing the deep-blue pulse current and every part of Mingcen Peak returned to safety, the cavern housing the "throne" would not be opened. For safety's sake it would remain sealed throughout, until this world was saved.

Or until the end of days arrived.

"Go," a voice appeared abruptly in the minds of the technical director and Stella. "I have found the pulse current. Next I will attempt to guide it. It is very dangerous for you to remain on the mountain."

The last vehicle at last withdrew from the platform and began racing down toward the darkness at the mountain's foot.

Some unknowable time later, Stella emerged from the small bag beside the passenger seat. Beating her wings, she came to the rear of the vehicle and pressed herself wholly against the back window, gazing somewhat absently at that mountain peak bathed in starlight.

A low, deep rumbling gradually rose from within the mountain body.

At first the sound was faint, blurred and low like an auditory hallucination—but after only a dozen seconds or so, the rumbling slowly shifted from low to high, as though thunder were surging deep within the mountain, and as though all of Mingcen Peak had become a fierce beast about to wake, sending out a pent-up, wild roar across the vast Augurey Wasteland!

The rumbling at last reached the foot of the mountain, reached the settlements where residents had been temporarily housed, reached the villages scattered across the wasteland, reached the city of Saint Helm.

Countless residents came out from their homes. On this night, no one in all Saint Helm slept. Beastfolk, gray elves, spiritfolk, fairies, humans... they came out into the streets on this cold winter's day, wrapped in thick winter coats or heavy blankets; the old supported one another, the young leaned close together, and pair after pair of grave, tense eyes watched their sacred mountain. Only the ignorant children could not grasp the meaning of this night—they took this sleepless night for some kind of festival, running about at the adults' feet, shouting and calling.

And the rumbling from deep within the sacred mountain at last drowned out every sound in the city, and the people standing in the streets at last felt a ceaseless trembling rise through the ground beneath their feet.

Suddenly, a wisp of azure radiance drew everyone's attention—on the flank of Mingcen Peak facing Saint Helm, blue light burst forth all at once like a spring welling up. That was the first fissure, and after an exceedingly brief delay, a dazzling stream of light abruptly gushed forth from the fissure!

That radiance was like a spring, shooting straight into the sky beneath the night, then tracing a graceful arc through the star-washed darkness, bending down as though drawn by some astonishing mighty force, and pouring into another fissure upon the mountain's surface—and this was only the beginning.

More fissures began to emerge upon the mountain's surface, as though all of Mingcen Peak had in this moment become a vessel on the verge of bursting, ceaseless blue light shining out through its body; and each fissure, after a brief delay, would gush forth a stream of light nearly as tall as Mingcen Peak itself, which an unseen force would then wrench violently aside, connecting it along a predetermined course to other fissures upon the mountain.

Stream after stream of deep-blue pulse current thus threaded through the mountain body, connecting, and arcs of light great and small, like the scorching jets streaming out around the sun, linked together beneath the night and gradually built up a wholly new magic circulation network.

The rumbling did not cease for a moment; the trembling of Mingcen Peak was unbroken. The spectacle was utterly magnificent, and breathtaking besides. The residents of Saint Helm had never seen so astonishing a wonder, and even those widely learned archmages and great scholars now stared wide-eyed in shock.

But for those who were following the "magic-net observation device" project, there was little leisure to admire such "scenery."

Stull stood in the tallest mage tower in Saint Helm. The window before him was set with a single pane of arcane crystal, and beyond that crystal lay Mount Mingcen, caught in the throes of its astonishing transformation.

To an ordinary person, every surge of magic upon Mount Mingcen was only a spectacle—a "view" magnificent and incomprehensible; but upon the crystal before Stull it resolved into a series of clean energy-dissipation patterns and a great mass of related readings.

At this moment the King of the Spirit Witches was wholly absorbed in watching the changes on Mount Mingcen. Through the arcane crystal he observed the pulse-streams shooting up into the sky and reckoned the readings of each one, while in the air beside him floated diagram after intricate diagram.

Those were the energy-flow schematics of the "excitation focal point," together with a great many pre-filled tables meant to assist the calculations.

"Number 17, pulse-stream within preset values... Number 22, pulse-stream within preset values, Number 23..."

"...All pulse-streams within preset values. From my side I observe them making precisely the fine adjustments the blueprint requires."

Stull raised his head and spoke as though to himself.

"It seems the Lady of the Tower has matters well in hand," came Wenna's voice from a magic-net terminal nearby. The voice carried a faint rasp of static, and the holographic image projected above the terminal shuddered unnaturally as well—plainly the powerful energy field released by Mount Mingcen was disrupting the normal operation of the communication equipment. "Wycliffe's side has already received the signal from the Grotto; the Lady is sending us the parameters of Mount Mingcen's energy network and the node distribution map as they stand confirmed."

Stull glanced toward the corner of the room, where a printing device had begun to work, a steady stream of paper issuing from its slot.

"I have received them here as well," the King of the Spirit Witches said with a slight nod. "Notify the dwarven and Cecil engineering commanders: construction can begin tomorrow. Mount Mingcen may need a few more days to settle completely, but before then we can raise the first node of the Sensing Ring out on the plain."

At that same hour, far to the north of the continent, in the Violet Strait, the capital warship Coldstar lay bathed in starlight, drifting quietly on a calm sea four nautical miles offshore.

Mojin lay in his single-berth cabin. The gentle swell rocked the ship faintly, and he felt himself growing drowsy—yet for some reason he could never sink into a sleep he could trust.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could not help thinking of that vanished city, Prandel, of the vanished Violet Kingdom.

After tossing and turning, he finally climbed out of bed, threw a coat over his shoulders, and went to the porthole.

From where he stood he could see that lonely coastline beneath the starlight, and the saw-toothed rocks and cliffs that flanked it in ragged ranks.