Nat flinched as he returned to a world bathed in light — he had been staring upwards toward the overhead lights, and he'd forgotten to close them despite Moira's countdown. The coruscating blue cone of aetheric fire covering the entire ceiling of the chamber, intended to obscure the observation room windows, certainly didn't help matters.

  Which caused him to nearly trip over Siya, who had come out from under the sheet, and was also staring up at the aetheric dome whirling about. A remarkably strong bat of a paw to his calf told him Siya wasn't amused — though he wasn't irritated enough to use his claws.

  Nat bowed a terse apology to the kit, heels of palms together, fingers shaped into a Y, which he shook twice for emphasis. Rapid motion out of the corner of his eye had him spinning toward Lyn, who was gesturing to Nezzar in a flurry so fast that Nat could not entirely follow. The gist of the argument seemed to be that Nezzar was accusing Lyn of hiding details relevant to treatment from them — and calling into question all of their trustworthiness.

  He decided that this was not somewhere he could be helpful at the moment, and moved to return working on his pattern anchor. That, at least, he could control — or at least not make any worse. He'd barely gotten back into position when he felt a tapping on his foot — and slid back out to see Lyn and Nezzar both looking at him expectantly — each was firmly pressing a hand to his leg, to ensure contact.

  Lyn signed a simple, ‘Healing. Urgent.’ Then they simply waited, with those directionless unblinking eyes.

  Well, alright then — message received. He reached up to grasp Tessan's leg to take them back into the Talent when he felt a lighter pressure on his other foot. Siya was also looking at him, with his tiny paw pressed to Nat's shoe.

  There was no air, so he couldn't breathe in to sigh. Instead, he made the sign for slow breath, mostly to himself.

  Moira's voice was an amused whisper in his ear, Hah! You get it, now; you can't do the thing, so you have to say it. That's how it is for me.

  He subtly knocked three times, in assent, as he once again took far too much mass into his Talent.

  [Slip]

  The instant the darkness descended Nat focused on accelerating the frame, and Moira's aetheric luminance immediately dimmed to a grainy gray-blue. How did she know the Talent had started, such that there was no detectable moment in the dark? He thought he might ask her, later, when he didn't have so many eyes still staring at him expectantly — they hadn't quite processed that he'd done as requested. For whatever reason, having this many people paying attention to him compelled Nat to apologize. ‘Sorry about the lighting — the faster we go, the darker it gets — unless Moira has a workaround.’

  Unfortunately there's only so much aether available, and in here, this is all I can spare for light — what with the fire going on above. Perhaps I should move that into the observation room instead, now that I think about it. Anyway, if we move outside the room at some point, I'll have more to work with.

  Lyn didn't wait, and stepped forward to gesticulate rapidly at Tessan. From his angle on the floor he couldn't make out most of what was being said, but he did have a clear view of Nezzar's eyes as they went wide — they had tried to resume their argument, but had found themselves presenting it to Lyn's back.

  He tried to follow along, but couldn't catch more than one word in five between the speed of the motions and the wholly unfamiliar vocabulary — medical terminology, perhaps? Rather than waste his time trying to listen in, he looked to Siya and patted his chest twice, then slid himself back under to resume work on the circle for Moira. The kit followed him underneath and hopped up on his chest, laying down flat and getting comfortable before going immobile.

  Nat reached up above him to put his hands back onto the glowing ring which spun lazily in the air above him. Siya's eyes suddenly much more visible — the kit had opened them far wider than Nat had seen previously — apparently he could withdraw his eyelids entirely to watch above himself. Nat was mostly talking to himself rather than Moira, with a simple, Neat. The green eyes had no pupils, but Nat could swear he felt them focus on him a moment, before returning to the ring above.

  Neat?

  Oh, Siya's eyes can apparently look above and around him, if he wants, like Lyn can.

  Moira's voice sounded in his ear, That reminds me, I need to work on vision with you — but later. Anyway, to bring you into the loop; Tessan has somehow retained the dissonance of the pulse that caused the Ber to act so strangely. Lyn is currently asking how this is possible — which is causing some difficulty as apparently this reveals a capability they do not wish to be common knowledge.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Nat needed his hands to manipulate the pattern — while technically it wasn't palpable, he found it far easier to work with in his mind if he treated it like a tactile thing, so he swapped to his pattern voice. Why does it feel like there are so many secrets? But wait — she's a Ber'Duun, can't she just ignore the dissonance?

  Apparently the issue is that Clackaw can store and rebroadcast patterns. This one is somehow… stuck.

  And that's what is making her ill?

  Only in part. She's gravely wounded — since you're helping to heal her, I think it is acceptable to tell you that the bandages and feathers are concealing terrible wounds. She was well and truly savaged in the attack. The pattern, however, seems to be complicating the recovery, which is what is being discussed now. And… some other things… that I consider unsuitable to repeat, sorry.

  No worries at all. I need to focus, anyway — so, I got the door to form a self-reinforcing circle, by extending it, then twisting it into itself. Will this do for the healing pattern?

  It would have, but I think we need to make a change to deal with the dissonant pattern problem.

  Oh? What do you need?

  I've got some thoughts based on physics I am familiar with, which might apply. The first, is to weave an inverse waveform — a counter-signal in the braid of the aetheric antenna you formed.

  I am not sure how I'd do that — wouldn't that mean I'd have to learn the pattern?

  I'll handle that part. Though I'll need you to manipulate it into place. I have tried to manifest the waveform in place, within the existing braid, and it decoheres immediately.

  Hm. Alright. So this inverse pattern will cancel the existing pattern?

  That's the hope. Though, more weaken, less cancel — since I am going to only do a… low resolution… inversion of this pattern. Call it intuition — in that I cannot say why I feel this way — but I believe that replicating it with full fidelity could be dangerous.

  I have never heard you say anything like that before.

  That's because I have never said anything like it before.

  Oh. Should I be concerned?

  No, I'm concerned enough for the two of us. But I don't think it would put you or anyone here in danger.

  That was curiously specific. What about you?

  Let me ask you this, in response. If I told you it was necessary in order to heal Tessan, but might put you in some danger — what would you do?

  I'd… be careful about doing it?

  Right. But you'd still do it though, right?

  Nat drew the word out, Maybe.

  You're a terrible liar. But I think we understand each other.

  But it's not me in danger we're talking about. It's you. Be careful, please, Moira.

  Careful is my middle name.

  Do you even have a last name?

  Touché.

  A point of light sprang into being above Nat, then began to lengthen. Within the span of a few heartbeats it was of a size of the others in the ring. Unlike the stable, rotating strands of the pattern that formed Moira's doorway — this whipped and lashed back and forth, slowly, then quickly. It reminded him of an angry, wounded snake, poised to strike. Against his better instincts, he reached out to grasp it, but hesitated with a shudder of revulsion. Subconscious mind or intuition or whatever, it was screaming at Nat that these patterns, even so reduced, were dangerous.

  Okay. I absolutely see what you mean — is this… alive?

  Without meaning to sound cryptic, I think the answer to that might be ‘not anymore’.

  It is creepy to hear you speak like that. You're usually very factual unless you're trying to be funny.

  Trying? You wound me. But your point is well-taken. Aether — theronic energy, specifically — is cognition sensitive. That's the defining feature of it, beyond all else. What I am starting to think, is that perhaps it is not a unidirectional influence.

  Okay. Now I'm a bit nervous. Are you sure this is safe?

  No, I am not sure. But I do not believe it can hurt you as it is, and I will move to protect you, if I am somehow wrong.

  Siya too, shrank at the proximity of the strings, though he did not move from his perch, but merely watched with an almost imperceptible shiver.

  This caused Nat to pause to ask, even with as disturbed as he was, How could something like this have such a similar effect on two wildly different species?

  Semantics of thought, no matter the form, share a common basis. Let's continue, please — weave this new strand to the braid, as you did with the others.

  Okay, that seems straightforward enough.

  I hope it is — this is all somewhat mystical handwaving from my perspective. It is abundantly clear that aether is powerful, and has rules, but the behavior is closer to fiction for me, than science, or fact.

  Nat steadied his hand and closed his fingers around the string. While he knew it was a theronic construct that could have no mass, the feeling that it was a living thing writhing in his grasp was utterly convincing. He moved quickly as he began to thread it between the other strings in the braid — wanting to be done with this as quickly as possible.

  He had wound maybe half a meter of the thread, perhaps a fifth of the total length, when suddenly the aetheric light went out — only the braid, now wavering, and Siya's eyes lit the space around him.

  Moira?

  STOP

  He halted his work immediately. The voice that spoke in the dark was not the voice he recognized — it was metal being torn asunder. A shudder went down his spine.

  Moira? Are you okay?

  STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP

  The volume of the voice rose quickly, turning into a shriek that echoed in the soundless void.

  The end of the string not held in place by his hand began to lash wildly back and forth. Nat made a decision, grasped the braid in his other hand, and then tore the end of the string out of the construct, which itself then tore asunder, exploding into nothingness around him.

  The only thing he could see now were the two green glowing orbs, shaking in the dark.