2410 Crescin 18, Daleth

Cyrdel rubbed his eyes free of sleep threatening to pull his lids shut. His glasses lay a few notches to his left so his vision wasn't the best this morning. Completing his project took more time than he had anticipated.

They couldn't wait a few more days, with the spores affecting more and more farmers, so Cyrdel pulled an all-nighter just to finish. Now, a gadget the size of his palm sat inside the pocket of his trousers like it was another trinket he fiddled with during his lectures. He still hadn't thought of a name for it but he knew what it was supposed to do.

Selva had been diligent in gathering the tools and materials Cyrdel needed in building the hastily-drawn plan Cyrdel had come up with as soon as they got to hut overseeing the fields. Ravalee floated around the hut, eyeing the mechanical tools and the sharp plow teeth but never once reacting more than a small wrinkle of her nose.

Then, Cyrdel spent the whole afternoon and evening hammering sheets of metal, slotting gears and rings together, and finally pushing a small chunk of stadian ore in the middle of the device as its source of magic.

Ravalee had fallen asleep next to the sacks of grains and Cyrdel had to fetch a spare roll of textile at the back of the hut to drape around her shoulders. Then, he got back to work, accompanied by Selva. The man didn't appear to be blinking and only did with Cyrdel's occasional prodding.

By the time the sun shone through the curved windows slotted at the hut's walls, Cyrdel suppressed his yawn as he slowly put the last final piece of his invention. As soon as the lock clicked into place, he had breathed a sigh of relief and pumped his fist in the air. A loud whoop made Ravalee flinch awake with a groan. Selva patted Cyrdel on the back and asked what the gadget did. Cyrdel remembered holding a finger to his lips and telling the custodian, "You'll see."

Now, the three of them stepped into the field. It was quiet with the absence of farmers and noure working in the vast expanse. The details of the plan roiled at the back of his head. He glanced at Ravalee then nodded at Selva. Without another word, he stepped into the middle of the field, wincing at the splotching noises his boots made against the submerged soil.

It had taken a few minutes for Selva to evacuate the whole expanse, telling them to rest for the day as Cyrdel and Ravalee went to work. The silence was disconcerting as Cyrdel climbed into one of the pools' raised border. It's what the farmers use in moving from pool to pool without having to trod through the water. He scanned his surroundings, noting Ravalee coming up behind him, a cloth mask tied around her nose the same way as him. What they're doing would be dangerous. There's going around it.

"Ready?" Cyrdel asked more to himself than to Ravalee.

A flash of orange stemmed from her fingertips. Ready, she signed.

"Alright," Cyrdel blew a breath, bringing out his invention and tapping its center. The simple action sparked life into the ore inside it. "Here we go."

He pressed the device near his lips, called his own magic to the surface, and spoke the rysteme spell. Sharp clicking sounds told him that it registered the magic fed into it. Then, with his heart pounding, he maneuvered the rings into place until they aligned in the position he pre-determined. This should do.

With his balance on the border teetering to the side, he crouched and placed the device near the colony they found. Then, with his boot, he clicked the central button again. The gadget whirred and clicked, almost resembling the ticking of the timeteller's hand. A rush of scalding magic burst in waves from it, enough to knock Cyrdel off his footing. Ravalee's hand shot out in time to save him from flopping face-first into the muddy water.

Then, from all around them, fog rose from the ground in a silent explosion. Only it wasn't fog. If Cyrdel looked closely with the best of his impaired vision, he could make out small, circular particles that were almost yellow in color. The spores.

Quick. Find the thickest horde, Ravalee signed to him. It had been the plan—no opening of mouth or breathing too hard if they didn't want to have burning spores in their heads. Cyrdel nodded and scanned the horizon, squinting at the clouds of yellow and beige wafting through the fields.

Suddenly, a stray breeze from the east blew. Cyrdel's eyes widened. "No!" he yelled out of habit, surging forward to attempt to stop the spores from spreading. Something burned at the back of his throat, forcing him to fall to his knees and cough. Pain streaked down his nose and his mouth, like he had ingested a white-hot piece of coal. Tears blurred his vision. His head felt light. No wonder those farmers screamed.

Cyr! Ravalee's alarmed voice speared through his head just as the vision of his shop was beginning to solidify in his mind. He almost thought he was back home and everything that happened in Penleth was just a lucid dream. Focus.

Cyrdel gritted his teeth. Focus. Look for the colonies' mother. The one with the thickest cloud of spores. It wouldn't be too long now. His eyes landed on a spot by the next pool. A huge pile of fallen spores surrounded it. He pointed at it and Ravalee seemed to have gotten the point. Together, they scrambled the best they could across the borders, doing their best to avoid tripping.

The tears didn't stop coming in Cyrdel's eyes as he ran. He turned back to find Ravalee the same. His eyes burned as much as his skin and the back of his throat did. Soon, even his stomach felt like it was being roasted in an open-pit fire. Just a little more.

Ravalee's fingertips were lit orange to chase the hallucinations away before they grip Cyrdel's mind completely. Thank Nira for her magic. They reached the spot where the mother was. He fumbled for the device yet again. He opened the latch sealing it and popped the stadian ore out before inserting a new one. When the final lock clicked in place and the rings dialed to the right setting, Cyrdel whispered the next spell into it, getting more spores into his throat.

With a cry, he drove the device facedown, pressing the button against the ground with a wet squelch. A spear of light flashed to the sky as high as it tore deep into the ground, hissing as it went. For a moment, Cyrdel's world darkened against the bright pillar erupting in front of him. Then, as quickly as it started, the light retreated back to the device, leaving a charred, metallic surface in its wake.

Cyrdel coughed, feeling like his throat was already scratched dry. Damn. That's nasty. Together, he and Ravalee edged away from the puddle of spores floating in the air and in the murky waters. The farmers could clean those up later, before they grow a new mother and new colonies. For now, though...

"That's splendid work, you two!" Selva's voice didn't bother masking the joy laced around it. "Flaron thanks you for your service!"

Cyrdel pressed his hand to his face, muffling his cough. His other hand massaged his temples which were beginning to throb. Let him hope Ravalee's okay from somewhere behind him. They walked further away from the fields, creeping closer to the orchards. Then, a huge chorus of cheers erupted from the whole plain. All around, the farmers emerged from their hiding spots and began running towards them.

Soon, Cyrdel was drowning in pats, hand shakes, and hugs. Nobody seemed to care he was the Crovalis and, that moment, he didn't, either. He shook hands, patted shoulders back, and returned embraces to everyone who did it first. Faces blurred and limbs fizzled in and out of his periphery. The warm feeling in his chest only expanded to his gut and his head, almost dulling the searing pain battling for dominance in his system.

Could anyone believe that one of his inventions was able to fix something? Cyrdel sure could use more instances like this.

"Now, now," Selva's voice tore through the crowd, full of authority. "Give them some space. I'll take them to the hut. They looked like they needed some tea. The rest of you, clean up the spores."

The crowd cheered once more before dispersing to their newly-given task. Selva led them back to the hut despite Cyrdel's head feeling like it was being slapped back to back with a brick. His hands reached something blindly and came into contact with Ravalee's hand. She gave him a small smile but didn't pull it away. She even squeezed it slightly.

So, figured out a name for your little hero gadget yet? Ravalee asked in his head. His memory flashed to the one last night when she asked him what he'd call the device. He hadn't given her an answer then. But now...

Cyrdel looked back to the spot where he watched a torrent of light destroy the colony's mother at the maximum power the rysteme spell could have done. He smiled. Maximum, huh?

I'll call it...Cyrdel hung back in suspense before continuing, the maximizer. Genius, isn't it?

Ravalee chuckled. Very, she said.

Then, they entered the hut. Selva sat them in separate chairs and bustled around the kitchen, boiling water and scooping powdered leaves into two cups. He muttered under his breath. After a while, steaming drinks edged into Cyrdel's vision. He opened his eyes he didn't even know he closed to come across a cup with green liquid sloshing inside. The sweet-smelling smoke tickled his nose. The burns weren't even that bad now.

"Drink that," Selva jerked his chin at the cups. He remained standing, given the shortage of any other chairs in the hut. "It'll help mend the burns in your throat."

Cyrdel and Ravalee did as instructed. Sooner than later, the cups were drained of their contents. "Here," Cyrdel said, shoving the cup and a rolled sheet of parchment into Selva's hands. "Use that plan for irrigation so the seedlings wouldn't need to stay too long in the water. I assume you know how to rotate the water every now and then to avoid parasites from finding a home in the soil?"

Ravalee blinked. Selva just had a confused look on his face. "W-when did you even draw these up?" the custodian asked as he set the cups down on a wooden counter and rolled the parchment open. "You worked all night on the small gadget."

Cyrdel shrugged, flashing a knowing look towards Ravalee. "Ah, you know. I doodle a lot in my lectures," he said.

Selva's only answer was a shake of his head and a muttered, "Unbelievable."

Cyrdel could only smile. Everything that happened over the past few weeks had truly been unbelievable and there's only one person responsible for that. He found himself staring at Ravalee yet again. Yeah, it's safe to say everything that happened with Cyrdel recently was all her fault.

He wasn't about to complain, though. He never would.