In the dim glow of pre-dawn, Sophie traced her fingers along Cane's jaw. A memory flickered—months ago, chopping wood with a dull axe, frustration mounting. She thought of the moments that lined up like stars in a constellation, each one guiding her to this point.
Contentment had blossomed into happiness. And now, happiness into something deeper—bliss.
"I struggled because of a dull axe," she murmured, smiling softly. "And there you were. I didn't know you'd become a heroic figure… but I'm proud of who you are."
Cane stirred slightly, pulling her closer, still not fully awake.
"We're very lucky, you know," she whispered, kissing his cheek before resting her head against his shoulder and drifting back to sleep.
At that exact moment, Cane—though physically asleep—was wholly awake in another sense. His awareness had fully merged with the trinity of aspects governing his ringworld.
The red core had grown since his last visit. He remembered the early steps—how he'd built a few acres of sanctuary in those first chaotic days. Now, the realm pulsed with potential.
With deliberate focus, he dimmed the white star, its energy feeding into the red core below. Unlike his earlier attempts, no energy leaked away. The core accepted everything hungrily, and the star dimmed to a faint glimmer.
Encouraged, he turned to the blue star. Lightning rippled across the sky inside the ringworld as storm clouds formed for the first time. In the manor window, Gadira stood frozen, awestruck. She understood at once: Telamon hadn't built this.
Then came the final step.
Cane directed the dark power of the black star inward, fusing it with the spinning core. The volatile energy calmed instantly. A harmony formed between all three stars—a trinity of brilliance igniting the heart of the world.
Soil expanded outward. Grass unfurled. A small lake shimmered into being. Trees rose in clusters too numerous to count. Wind danced across the surface of water, followed by the light patter of rain.
From her open window, Gadira stretched out her hand, rain soaking her sleeve. Her voice caught in her throat. "Heavens… creation magic. It's real."
Cane eased back from the process before the red core was depleted. He sensed something shift. A veil thinning. A barrier, gone.
A moment later, Philas appeared beside him, a younger version of himself wearing a wide grin.
"So… my grandson is going to casually embarrass every metallurgist that came before him?"
Cane formed an image of himself, laughing aloud. "Grandpa… I was worried."
Philas glanced around, sharp eyes surveying the forested expanse, the lake, the clouds. "As expected. My bloodline breeds genius."
Cane snorted. "You're just taking the credit."
"I am the credit," Philas replied without shame. "Come out. No sense lurking."
Gadira emerged from behind a tree, her robe damp, her gaze wary. "I wasn't lurking. My name is Gadira. I'm a guest here."
Philas gave her a once-over. "Heavens… You brought a witch into your world? She read your palm yet? Told you when you'll stub your toe?"
Cane grinned. "Not quite. Mostly, she talks in my head at awkward times."
Gadira bristled, tempted to respond—but the moment she turned to Philas, the desire faded. She couldn't read him at all. He felt ancient. Dangerous. Something that shouldn't be provoked unless you were tired of living.
"I am a soothsayer," she said carefully.
Philas waved it off. "Like I said—witch."
The old metallurgist let his senses roam the land. "Twenty square miles. Forest, lake, weather system. Not bad. You fumble around in the dark and somehow land on the right path. That never happened to me."
"I'm leaving tomorrow," Cane said, tone shifting. "Heading east to search for our missing family."
Philas summoned the Book of Ironborn, flipping it open to the glowing atlas. "Nothing's changed. They're still there."
He closed the book, pointing toward the north. "Soon, we'll be able to build a gate from this world to mine—if that's what you want."
"Really?" Cane's face lit with hope. The thought of seeing his parents again stirred something warm in his chest. "How soon?"
Philas rubbed his chin. "Oh... ten, maybe twelve years. Tops."
"..."
Cane stared at him.
Philas handed Cane a stack of notes—personal observations and strategies for full integration with the ringworld.
"Of course, it'll have to be much larger before that happens," Philas explained, tapping the parchment. "Right now, the Cold Iron within the ring performs two tasks—it acts as both the doorway to this spatial construct and the anchor keeping it stable. But once this world matures… the spatial construct itself will become the anchor. The ring will go back to its original role—just a door."
"I see... That's actually helpful."
Philas frowned. "That sounds like I don't say helpful things often."
Cane shrugged, not bothering to argue the point.
Philas sized him up, happy with everything he saw. "Contact me when you find our family."
"You got it, Grandpa."
With a nod, Philas faded into golden mist, his smile lingering a moment longer than the rest of him.
Behind Cane, Gadira exhaled—finally breathing freely. "Who are you, Cane?"
Her voice carried the weight of too many questions, none of which seemed to have viable answers. Philas. The geas Telamon placed on her. The way the world itself bent around Cane's presence.
Cane snorted. "You're the one with the intelligence network. Shouldn't you know?"
Gadira sighed. "I'll have maps and a current report on the eastern front ready by morning."
"Finally, some usefulness." He grinned, softening the words. "So? When do I stub my toe?"
"Almost immediately," she deadpanned, already walking back toward the cottage.
Cane woke slowly to the scent of ink and warm parchment. Sophie sat at his desk, fully dressed, scribbling notes in the dim morning light.
"Morning," he murmured.
She turned, her face blooming with a smile that belonged only to him. "Morning."
He stood and bent to kiss her. "Did you sleep—ahhh, shit—"
He hopped backward, grabbing his foot. "Ow!"
"You okay?" Sophie winced. He'd clearly kicked the bedframe.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm good." He exhaled through clenched teeth—just as a familiar laugh echoed faintly from the ringworld.
Sophie stood in concern as he wobbled slightly. "Nope. Back to bed with you."
"Oh, geez..."
But she was already guiding him down.
Moments later, Sophie sent word to Telamon. The Archmage arrived instantly, bringing Brammel and Selene Morva in tow. All three moved with urgency, surrounding Cane like a makeshift council of elders.
"You stay out all night drinking, lad?" Brammel rumbled.
"Nope."
Selene wrinkled her nose, eyes flaring. "You're disrupting all the mana in this room."
"Yep."
Telamon studied Cane's aura, fingers stroking his chin. "Your reserves are low. Not empty, but... deeply depleted. What exactly did you do?"
"I expanded the living zone inside the ringworld."
"What?!"
All three staff members chorused at once.
A knock interrupted the rising tension. Brammel stepped toward the door, opening it to let Fergis, Clara, and Dhalia in.
"Take a look," Cane offered with a tired grin—and brought them all into the ringworld.
The sudden quiet in his dorm room was bliss.
Inside the ringworld, the group froze, their eyes wide.
"Clouds?" Clara grinned, crouching to feel the grass. "It rains here now?"
Fergis drew in a long breath. "Wild mana... everywhere. This is unreal."
Telamon rose slowly into the air, eyes scanning the expanded landscape. "Twenty miles. Weather system. Small lake. Remarkable."
"A lake?" Clara's face lit up. "Make the clouds go away so we can go swimming!"
Cane rolled his eyes. "Wait for sunshine like everyone else."
Telamon touched down beside the group. "Time to go. Rest today, nephew. No classes."
"Yes Uncle." Cane pretended to be disappointed as Sophie ordered a breakfast cart, and the rest of the visitors left