Chapter 18: Tutor Maeve's Warning
Kian's plan was audacious: exploit the Aetherium's defense mechanism by staging a precise, controlled act of instability. The target had to be visible enough to force a system-wide reroute, but far enough from Dean Eris's direct line of sight.
They chose the Hydro-Mote Fountain in the central quad.
The fountain was a famous landmark: a constant, towering plume of water stabilized entirely by magic, constantly replenished by condensed motes. If the stability force holding the plume were to fail, the resulting overflow would instantly trigger the grid's defensive reroute protocol, opening the Clock Tower locks.
"The fountain is perfect," Kian explained, sketching the blueprint from the textbook onto a scrap of copper. "It's a high-profile, non-critical point on the Stabilization Grid. If the plume fails, the system will panic and open the master valve to divert energy. We need thirty seconds of chaos, followed by immediate stability."
"The chaos is my job," Opal said, her eyes alight with the dangerous thrill of the plan. "I push a quick, violent surge into the fountain's base to interrupt the stabilization field."
"And Lance," Kian continued, looking at him intently, "your job is the most important. The moment the plume collapses, you have to stabilize the water itself—not the field—to prevent the overflow from spreading beyond the quad. Your 6% precision has to be enough to hold the liquid boundary for twenty seconds until the reroute is complete."
Lance felt the pressure. This wasn't containing Opal's small surge; this was containing a massive volume of water, stabilized by a primary grid. It was the largest test of his precision yet.
Before they could finalize the timing, Tutor Maeve unexpectedly called Lance and Opal into her remedial office.
The office was small, filled with dusty, comfortable furniture and the smell of herbal tea. Maeve was not smiling; her expression was one of measured, quiet concern.
"Lance. Opal," Maeve began, setting down her tea. "I have been reviewing your files. Your failure at Siphoning is expected, but your aptitude for localized stability is noteworthy, Silverwoods. I also noticed the high frequency of Mote interference spikes around the Hydro-Mote Fountain lately."
Lance and Opal exchanged a nervous glance. Had she caught them?
"The Aetherium has many secrets," Maeve continued, her gaze soft but unwavering. "It is a place of profound control, and profound lies. The Aethelgard Clock Tower is not just an architectural feature, children. It is the heart of the system."
She didn't mention the reroute plan, but her warning was clear.
"Dean Eris is under enormous pressure to maintain stability," Maeve said, leaning forward. "She is looking for a scapegoat. The Founding Lines understood that stability is not stillness, but constant, controlled motion—like a perfectly balanced top. When you are attempting to move the system, remember that the most precise action creates the smallest, most difficult-to-track ripple."
She picked up a worn, metallic ruler from her desk and tapped it gently on a specific point on the surface. Lance immediately recognized the rhythmic tap as the same high-pitched, crystalline sound he'd heard in the decoded schematic—the Forbidden Language was being used as a simple, non-magical mnemonic device.
"Remember that precision requires patience," Maeve concluded. "Those who seek to expose the Aetherium's structure often rush to power. But the greatest architects always understood that a small, precisely placed shift is infinitely more powerful than a reckless, chaotic explosion."
She handed Lance a small, tarnished copper coin. "This is an old stabilizing token. It is worthless to the mages here, but it might help you ground your concentration."
Lance realized Maeve wasn't trying to stop them. She was giving them a final, cryptic clue and a tool for their task. Her reference to the "greatest architects" and her clear knowledge of the Clock Tower confirmed her ambiguous role—she was an observer, perhaps an ally, deeply tied to the secrets of the Silverwoods lineage.
They left the office, the small coin warm in Lance's palm, feeling the weight of Maeve's trust. They were moving from simple investigation to active confrontation with the Aetherium's structure.