We packed food, water, and supplies for an outing, but this was no vacation. Slinging a leather satchel over my shoulder, I said to Anara, "Let's go."

The sky glowed from the approaching dawn when we left the cabin, but the suns were well above the horizon at the location we teleported. If Elysium had time zones like Earth, I figured we crossed at least three.

We chose this location because it was not near any town, and hopefully, any interference. But it had more significance to Anara, being the place she first tried to stop the Stone Curse on her own and failed, bringing it upon herself. Today she did not cover her scars with the half-mask and arm sleeve, serving as a stark reminder of the stakes.

I reached over and gripped her hand, lacing fingers together. Taking a deep breath and tightening her lips, she looked over at me. Her wide eye showed reluctance, to be sure, but then she squeezed my hand and squared her shoulders. "This way," she said, facing ahead. "We are not far."

The faint path took us through rocky meadows and tall evergreen tree groves. The pine-scented air was thinner, and it was noticeably cooler here, so I was glad we borrowed the poncho-like cloaks from the cabin. Ferina also exchanged her official decorative robe for a simple green tunic dress and sturdy shoes, something more suitable for the outing. Dresses seemed to be the norm for women's wear on Elysium, in contrast to my mom, who wore faded blue jeans.

Targon darted back and forth, sometimes hopping and sometimes flying, chasing whatever insect we kicked up along the way.

The trail weaved around crumbly mottled boulders, slowly winding up a ridge face. Tall blue-green grass clumps whispered in the breeze while colorful birds warbled. A twitchy-tailed gray squirrel scampered up a nearby tree as we approached, scolding our annoying presence with a rapid series of chirps. This would have been a pleasant morning hike if not for a somber purpose.

Based on Ferina's short, all-gray hair, lined face, and spindly frame, I would guess that she was in her late seventies or early eighties years old. On Earth terms, anyway — who knows how long people live here with magical medical care? The clear crystal talisman pendant that dangled from Ferina's neck cast small sparkles of refracted sunshine with every step.

"I've noticed," I began, breaking the silence, "that the talisman crystals come in many colors. What does that mean?"

"Ah," Anara replied, limping along with her cane. "All witches command the basic abilities of telekinesis and thermokinesis to varied extent. But the crystal colors represent a witch's specialty, and the deeper the color, the more powerful. Mine was, before the Council destroyed it, purple, which signified the powers of chaos — control of space and time."

"Which was why you could create portals and slow time?"

"It is so. Ferina's crystal is clear, which represents psychomancy, manipulation of the mind."

"And my crystal was yellow," Mom chimed in, "for the physical powers of alchemy and transmutation." She dipped her head and her lips turned down. "The Council also destroyed my talisman."

Anara continued the explanation. "Green, like Myra's crystal, represents powers of biomancy and healing, domain over living things. Then, there are other colors: red for enhanced pyrokinesis and cryokinesis; blue for aerokinesis, the powers of air; aqua for hydrokinesis; orange for divination and aura reading; and brown for geokinesis, powers over the lands."

"Oh, yes. I remember well my recent introduction to geokinesis," I said. "So, how do witches get their crystals?"

"The Crystalize Bonding is a sacred moment in every girl's life as her powers develop," Anara answered. "I remember mine well. A girl may search long and far for a special crystal aligned with her aura."

Her hand unconsciously went to her chest where her talisman crystal would have hung, but coming up empty, it clenched into a fist. The loss must have been traumatic, like losing a part of herself. My gaze drifted to my mother, whose moist eyes projected a wistful grief.

"Can you get another crystal?"

"Difficult," Anara answered curtly, turning away as if I asked a grieving mother if another child might replace one lost. I let the subject drop.

When we crested the ridge, my heart sunk. The Stone Curse was as much an insult to this beautiful land as it was to Anara's face. Dull gray rock stretched as far as my eyes could see, covered by a faint, dark haze. The smooth, veined rock followed the contours of the land through valleys, mountains, and plateaus. What once had been a majestic landscape filled with life, now laid barren and lifeless.

Targon retreated from Anara's shoulder to her back, clinging to her cloak with its talons. Peaking around her neck, the wyvern hissed at the Stone Curse. My sentiments exactly.

The flame within flickered to life, sputtering, and electric tingles traced my spine. The Symbio Magique growled in my mind, offended by the curse's very existence.

No words were spoken among us, nor were any needed to express Elysium's despair.

I crouched at the blight's edge, examining it but daring not to touch. Up close, the interface blurred, roiling in fine turbulence as if bending space. Several moments of observation were required to detect movement, but it was there. Advancing almost imperceptibly, but relentlessly, it claimed one crumble of living soil at a time, and in the fullness of time, it would eventually consume this world.

"Okay," I said while rising. "Let's do what we came to do." Although, I didn't know exactly what that was.

For the experiment, I chose a small finger of cursed stone, a peninsula of smooth rock about half a meter long that stuck out like an obscene gesture. Sitting cross-legged before it, I leaned forward and placed my hands on the cool moist soil on both sides. The others stood quietly in a semi-circle behind me.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, and first focused inward. Easy, I commanded the erratic flame, let us examine the beast. As a university physics student, I understood the scientific method and the value of objective observation, but the Symbio Magique did not. It bucked within my mind like an angry bull in the chute, angry on the verge of irrational rage. So offended by the curse, I feared if I let it free, it would also hurt those I cared about.

Steady, I cautioned, mentally reaching outward, guiding the Symbio with me. Reluctantly, it obeyed, and we probed the abomination. A finely structured 3D image formed in my mind. Amazingly, the curse had fractal-like properties that repeated on an ever decreasing scale, even into the molecular. Magnified, the edge shimmered and blurred with micro-fine light sparkles where the transmutation occurred, changing everything to fine mineral grains, then consolidating them to the endless stone.

Such transformation did not occur naturally, but was not magic the bending of reality? Still, the laws of thermodynamics must apply somehow. Nuclear reactions where one element transforms into another emit or absorb astronomical amounts of energy. Where did this energy come from or go?

Withdrawing, I stood and faced the others. "The curse is active only at the very edges, like a surface reaction. That's where the transmutation occurs."

"Yes," my mother said, nodding. "I feel a strong alchemy factor, and also geokinetic forces."

"Cephas Carne specialized in both. Rare was it to have two," Ferina explained.

"But transmutations like that should require massive energy transfer, but there is no excessive heat or radiation," I said. "When you use magic, where does the energy go or come from?"

"The magic is all around us," Ferina answered, sweeping her arms. "It flows from the Aether."

"From the fabric of reality, then?"

"Perhaps, another name."

According to the latest science, what we call reality was actually excited energy states of underlying quantum fields. Empty space had energy and could spontaneously create and destroy particles, so it was not inconceivable that the magic taps into this.

"Anara," I asked, "when you tried to stop the curse, what did you do?"

"I had hoped to end its spread by casting a time spell," she replied. "A curse frozen in time dies, but insidious was it, feeding on the magic and spreading ever more. Then it came for me."

"Many times over the ages had attempts been made to end it," Ferina added. "Never to success. Rare was it to infect the caster, but not unprecedented. Anara, you should have known that."

"But I had dreams," Anara said, clamping her eyes shut and wrapping arms around herself. "I thought surely to succeed."

"Dreams be not always prophecy, child. And cruel vengeance did the Stone Curse take on you."

"The Stone Curse seems to have some sort of active defense mechanism triggered by magical intrusion," I interjected, changing the discussion focus away from Anara's discomfort. "Let's see what it does with the anti-magic."

Eyes widening, my mother put a restraining hand on my shoulder. "Wait, Micah! Do you know what you are doing? It might be dangerous."

Sighing, I offered a compromise of sorts. "I promise I will be careful. And in that light, everybody move back." The women stepped five paces away, but the little wyvern hopped beside me and tilted its reptilian head. "You too, Targon," I said, to which Anara let out a whistle, and the little beast fluttered to her shoulder.

Spreading my arms, I closed my eyes. Rise, I said to the flame, but it needed no coaxing and flared to life. My eyes focused on the curse occupying the stone finger, and only that portion. Consume, I commanded. The Symbio did not need to be told twice. Eager, it burst out visibly like faint smoke, swirling around the curse in angry turbulence. Popping silver sparks erupted at the interface as it disrupted the foul magic. Per my promise, I kept a separation from the curse and did not allow it to reach out to me. Within a few seconds, the work was done.

The edge of the stone came into sharp focus — gone were the blurriness and reality bending turbulence that defined the active curse edge. The others crowded in and, for a moment, all held their breath and gazed at the newly inert finger of rock.

"Be it done?" Ferina asked in halting voice. "Did you eradicate the curse here, Micah?"

My eyes linked with Anara while she bit her lip. Based on our earlier experience, we knew better than to claim premature victory. Nonetheless, our hearts sunk when the Stone Curse reappeared. Within a few moments, the curse reclaimed the finger of stone, hazing the leading edge and continuing its destructive crawl as if nothing had changed. Ferina's lips turned down and her disappointed eyes burned into me.

"Not unexpected," I said with a sigh. "It was the same with Anara when I purged the curse from her face, only for it to return. Somehow, it auto-regenerates."

At this admission, my mother's narrowed eyes bore on me. "What did you do? Micah, how could you be so careless? This is not some school physics experiment. The curse might have infected you." She turned accusing eyes toward Anara. "How could you allow that, Anara?"

"I'm sorry," Anara replied in a small voice, turning her head down. "I meant no harm--"

"It was my doing, Mom! Don't blame her," I interrupted in a stronger voice than intended. Mom dropped her jaw and said nothing more, but a tense silence hung in the air. If my mother had a fault, it was being overprotective, and this was not the first time we disagreed about risk management. But since learning of the turmoil that took us away from Elysium when I was very young, I more fully understood why. Dropping my chin, I said, "I'm sorry. The Symbio Magique does not tolerate the curse, that much I learned, so it protects me."

"Perhaps it may protect me, too," Anara said, breaking the tension.

"What do you mean?"

"First, let the Symbio clear the way, then let me cast a time freeze spell where the curse once infected."

"Thus not allowing it to regenerate?" Ferina asked. "That might work, but still there be risk to you."

Anara touched her stone cheek. "Already infected, am I, so what more harm may it do?"

Mom turned away, so I could not read her expression. Maybe she deferred to me. I had my own reservations about exposing Anara again, but the external stakes were so high, it was worth a try. "Okay, let's do it, but be cautious, Anara."

Closing my eyes, I repeated my previous exercise, but there was no need to awaken the flame. The Symbio burst forth like faint smoke, and again disrupted the small portion of Stone Curse, consuming it as if famished. Popping sparks danced at the interface along the rock finger, then quieted.

"Now, Anara," I said.

Shimmering purple threads of magic burst from her extended hands and swirled around the now inert rock, weaving a spell of time. The weaves compressed, turning into a faint shimmer encasing the rock.

Anara withdrew her hands and took a deep breath. "Now, we see."

In silence, save for a whiffing breeze, seven eyes gazed at the small rock outcrop, anxiously waiting. For many moments, nothing happened, and flickers of hope rose in my heart. Had this worked?

But then the purple shimmer wavered, warping light and blurring the rock surface. I imagined the curse fought to retake lost territory, but found the time element missing, which interrupted the normal flow of cause to effect. Pulses of blurred waves moved across the rock like heartbeats, and tiny jagged cracks snaked across, stopping and starting in time with the pulses.

The rock exploded with a sharp bang, spraying bits outward. I yelped, throwing hands up to protect my eyes. Dazed, Anara stumbled backwards, but I caught her in my arms before she fell.

We crowded closer to the blast source, peering down. My heart dropped. The rock finger on which we experimented had disappeared, shattered into bits, but the Stone Curse renewed itself to continue its relentless advance. We had pushed it back the portion here only a half-meter, but had not stopped it.

Anara gasped, pulling my gaze to her. Breathing in frantic heaves, her fingers traced her forehead and right arm. When I understood why, my heart sunk further. The curse that defiled her had spread, taking more vengeance for our interference. The stone now extended further across her forehead and patches had appeared on her right shoulder and upper arm.

Save from a lower lip quiver and moist eye, Anara stood resolute, projecting strength in adversity. Offering my arms, she accepted and pressed herself within them. "I'm sorry," I whispered into her ear. "I'm so sorry."