Papers and notebooks flew into the air, accompanied by various shrieks, and hovered above the heads of the children. Nyte stuck his tongue out at his mentor, who made a face in return.

“Show off.”

“Defect.”

“Woah,” Derek whispered. “Hey, are you a magic-user too?” he asked Davri, voice reverent. Davri raised his eyebrows and looked at the dark boy with the bored gaze that Nyte had seen him with so often.

“Did you see me use the elevator?”

“Can I be a magic-user?” Lizzy asked eagerly.

“No. Anyway,” he returned his attention to Nyte, “You don’t need those.”

“What?” Nyte had pulled a paper out of the air and was examining it, and looked up at Davri’s words.

“You don’t need those papers if you know how to make a Gate.”

Nyte blinked. “I don’t know how to make a Gate.”

The words earned him an eyeroll. “Then think of this as your first graded assignment. And yes, you can use your notes.”

Nyte glanced back down at the paper he held, then let his gaze roam about the room, taking in the various hovering papers, the children sitting on the floor staring up at him, the bookcases crammed full, Davri across the room from him leaning casually against the wall. “…do you think this’ll work?”

“I don’t know what you’ve got planned.”

“I think you do.”

Davri sighed, looking at the bookshelves. “…god I hope so.” He hunched his shoulders, scowling in such a way that Nyte knew any sort of further conversation along that line was out of the question. He set to gathering and examining the rest of the papers instead, moving quietly about the room and plucking them out of the air. Sandra and Netty were conversing in whispers, the harshly hissing Ss loud in the silence. Derek and Lizzy seemed to sense the aura of untouchability emanating from Davri and didn’t speak for a matter of minutes, the former picking up a random piece of paper and looking at it idly before letting it fall to the floor again, the latter toying with her plait.

Nyte was standing in the center of the room, absorbed in reading the notes, when Derek spoke.

“…what’s going on?”

Nyte looked up from his notes, glancing first at Derek, then at Davri, who appeared not to have heard, and after a moment’s contemplation replied. “You know what’s going on.”

“You’re leaving now?” Lizzy asked incredulously. Her gaze flickered slightly when he looked at her and she toyed nervously with her hair, but she never fully looked away.

Nyte considered her. “Do you not want me to?”

Now she glanced down at her lap. “…not yet.”

Walking over, he crouched next to her, setting the papers down on the floor. She looked at him curiously as he pulled two medallions off and put them around her neck. “Here.”

Netty and Sandra’s voices rose into shrieks as Nyte took off another two and tossed them to Derek, who swiftly put them on. “What are you doing? What are those?”

Nyte ignored them, gesturing for Derek and Lizzy to come closer; Derek scrambled over and they both leaned in. “Keep those on,” he told them. “Don’t let anyone take them from you—wear them under your clothes to keep them hidden.” Almost simultaneously, the two children tucked the pendants into their tops.

“What’s it do?” Derek whispered. Sandra and Netty crawled forward a bit, then shrieked and fell back as books and papers began disappearing. The huddled children took no notice.

“I’m never coming back here, but these will let me talk to you two. Don’t lose them.” Picking up the papers, he rose to his feet and looked at Davri. “Davri, can we take—”

Davri was finally paying attention to him again. His posture was carefully casual, piles of papers and books stacked up at his feet. Nyte blinked, looking around; while he had been preoccupied, Davri had gathered everything together, discarding the books with little or no relevance.

Nyte barely had time to turn and say, “I’ll be in touch,” before—

--they rematerialized.

The air was cold and humid, the cloudy gray sky melding together with the horizon of the misty earth. The ground, slightly marshy, was covered with long, dark green grasses, and Nyte could hear faint, timid chirping from waking birds.

“Where are we?” The question was brisk and professional, Nyte turning to look at Davri.

“On the surface, roughly…” Davri paused, thinking. “Two miles from the Observatory. It’s just before dawn.”

Nyte nodded. “Okay.”

“And you’ll be working here.” Davri took the pile of papers from Nyte and crossed his arms. “First order of business is to clear the grass and create a suitable working environment. Get to it.” Nyte blinked, and Davri fixed his bored stare onto the boy, as if daring him to defy the order. “I don’t care how you do it.”

Rolling up his sleeves and digging his finger into the mud underfoot, Nyte began drawing various fire runes on his hands and arms, talking as he did. “Let me guess; no room for mistakes.”

“Actually, there’s plenty of room for mistakes.” Davri sat down on the ground to watch Nyte work, setting the papers on the ground next to him. “That’s why we’re out here, in a place where no one can watch us work or get hurt if something goes wrong. It’s morning, so we’ve got all day to try this out, but I’m hoping it won’t take you forever.”

Nyte grinned, scooping up more mud to finish the signs on his arms. “If I do you’ll just make the Gate yourself, right?”

Davri grinned back. “And in half the time.”

There was a moment where the only sound to be heard was that of the cheeping birds, then Nyte shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Hey!”

Startled birds rose from the grasses in a great flock and rush of flapping wings, flying a short distance away from the two Darken before resettling. Davri frowned.

“And what purpose did that serve?”

Nytes’ smirk was satisfied. “Got them out of the way. Right.” He shut his eyes and concentrated for a moment, then thrust his hands out in front and made a few flicking motions with his fingers, then a large waving motion with his hands, as if shooing someone away.

Flames burst into being on the ground in front of him, eagerly devouring the dewy grass and baking the mud. Davri could feel the heat from where he sat, and Nytes’ eyes snapped open as he stumbled back from the impossibly hot fire.

“Make sure to contain that,” Davri said mildly. Nytes’ glare was nowhere near as scalding as the fire behind him.

“Already did.” He pointed at a few different markings, but Davri ignored him and rose to his feet, approaching the fire.

“Almost makes me wish we had some marshmallows or something,” he mused, holding his hands out. Nyte rolled his eyes and began scraping the dried mud off his arms. “But seriously, nicely done with the fire.”

“Thanks.” Arms and hands now clear, Nyte rolled his sleeves back down and the two watched the fire die out; it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but a large circle of smoking dirt. Nyte crossed his arms and considered the result.

“…I can almost hear the little gears and cogs whirring away in your head.”

“Thanks for not likening my thinking process to a gerbil on its wheel.”

“Hey, I never said there wasn’t a gerbil involved.”

Nyte sighed and stepped into the circle. There was, he noticed, a fine layer of white ash; wherever he stepped he would leave marks. It was unlikely the prints would interfere with the Gate, but aesthetically it was ruined.

“Oh well, he muttered. “Davri, can you hand me the notes I need to do this? I don’t want to mess things up any more than I have to.”

Davri made a face at his back. “Get it yourself.”

“I said I didn’t want—”

“You don’t have to move.”

Nyte sighed. “Right. Of course. I’ll make a deal with you, then.”

“I’m listening.”

Three medallions were pulled off and tossed to the older Darken, who caught them deftly. “I don’t want these to be used in the Gate. Cover them with mud and stick them in your pocket.”

Davri blinked.”…mud?”

Nyte frowned, staring at the ashy ground. “The people here use mirrors as their conduit to the other Planes. No reflective surface, no mirror, can’t be used.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I want to use them in an experiment later on. Just do it.”

“And what do you do in return?”

“That’s the last thing I ask of you while making the Gate.”

“Deal.” Crouching down, Davri stuck the mirrored pendants into the marshy ground, making sure they were completely covered.

“Make sure they’re totally—”

“Covered, yeah, yeah. I’m a big boy—figured that out on my own and everything.” Rubbing the soil into the mirrors with his thumb, he added, “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Nyte bit his lip, eyes rising from the ashen earth to scan the horizon. Above them, the sky gained a pinkish tint and Davri glanced over in the direction of the rising sun.

“Davri?”

His teacher sighed, returning his attention to the boy, muttering, “I knew it was too good a deal to be true.”

“Do those look like trees to you?”

“Where?”

“There.” Nyte pointed and Davri rose to his feet.

After squinting for a moment in that general direction, he saw what was meant. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I need charcoal.” Nyte glanced back down at his feet and hissed through his teeth. Davri chuckled, putting both medallions and hands in his pockets.

“And a most amusing predicament you’ve gotten yourself into. Not allowing any motion beyond where you stand.”

“I don’t find it nearly as funny as you do.”

“Besides the point. Anyway, what are you going to do about it?”

Nyte frowned, exhaling slowly. What did he want? A piece of wood he could burn into charcoal. He shut his eyes as, one by one, the medallions flared into brilliant life. There were a series of thuds and clatters, and he opened his eyes to discover a small heap of branches and sticks piled in front of him.

“And all the hard work you went to keeping that area free of blemish, gone,” Davri laughed. “You might just want to get rid of the ash—it’ll make things a lot easier.”

Nyte stalked forward and began picking up the wood. “Why is it that the moment I stop asking for help you offer me advice?”

Davri shrugged. “It’s painful watching you getting nowhere fast.”

“Would you like to burn this into charcoal as well?” Nyte offered him a stick. Davri stuck his tongue out.

“We made a deal, punk.”

Nyte rolled his eyes and finally stepped out of the circle, dumping his armful of wood at Davri’s feet. Rolling up his sleeves, he picked a suitable branch and tossed it into the circle before leaning down and scooping up some mud. Davri watched with interest.

“Yanno, you can make fire and wind and all that without runes.”

Nyte shrugged and set about making the needed marks. “I find it easier. You can put down all the specifications and limits, setting out exactly what you want it to do and not do, then you just set ‘em off and let ‘em take their course.”

“And why are you making yourself the catalyst?”

Nyte paused. “It just seems…easier this way. The marks won’t burn up. I can stay in control.”

Davri nodded and turned his attention away, staring at the sky as the sunrise painted the undersides of the clouds bright red and vibrant gold. Nyte glanced at him, set off the spell, and turned to face the sunrise as well.

The birdsong slowly increased, trills being added to the chirps until they evolved into music that competed with the crackling pops of the burning branch. When the latter subsided Nyte picked up the papers with the notes on making Gates and returned to his work; Davri could hear the whistle of a brisk wind as Nyte cleared out the ash, then the sound of scraping as he began to inscribe figures onto the baked mud with the charcoal.

The minutes rolled by, filled with birdsong and scratching, until Davri suddenly said, “Hey, look.”

The sun finally crawled up over the horizon, casting golden light everywhere. Nyte straightened and stared, sighing and stretching his arms over his head.

“How long has it been since I’ve seen a sunrise?” he mused. “I think…not since we were on Gaichi. How long ago was that?”

Davri shrugged. “At least a couple of weeks.”

“It’s only been two weeks?” Nyte was astonished. Davri grunted.

“Hell if I know, kid. I’ve never bothered to check if time runs differently on different Planes. For all I know we spent months…there.”

Nyte nodded slowly, seeing what Davri meant. They hadn’t talked about that since the first day on the Skity, and neither had felt the need to bring it up again.

“This is probably the first sunrise I’ve seen in years,” Davri added. “I tend to sleep in a lot.”

“I know.”

Davri finally looked at him over his shoulder, eyes darting down to the ground before returning to Nyte. “How’s the Gate coming along?”

Nyte rubbed his face with the back of his hand, sniffing. “I’m finished with the outer circle. I just need to do the inner circle and the connecting runes, set out the mirrors, and we’re good to go.”

Davri nodded once, spinning on his heel to look at the stacks of books and papers. They had sat quietly in the grass since they had been teleported there, and now he decided to do something about them. “You can keep the notes on Gates—I’m assuming you’re going to want them for your little experiment. I’m gonna burn the rest of this.”

“Burn it?!”

“Well, why do you think I brought them along in the first place?”

Nyte bit his lip. “…I didn’t get to look at them.”

“Tough luck.” Davri glanced over his shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry. But it has to be done—I can’t leave any possibilities that they’ll find this stuff again.”

After a long final look at the piles of text, Nyte resumed his work. “Okay.”

Davri walked over, hands in pockets, and also gave the books and papers a good long stare. Slowly, the pages and covers began to droop and dissolve into pulpy masses, silently aging and falling apart until nothing remained but small heaps of moldy paste.

“I can’t stand the thought of staying here,” Davri said abruptly, still staring at the mess. “Would I age? Die—in this hellhole? Would I remain the same and be stuck here for the rest of my inhumanly long life?”

“It’s a horrible thing to think about,” Nyte agreed. “I try not to wonder about things like that.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I, but it still happens every so often.” Davri looked up towards the sun, which had moved just enough that the stunning shades of red and gold were fading from the undersides of the clouds. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“I’m almost done,” Nyte muttered. “Just hang on a second.” Six medallions were placed on the ground at the correct spots to create two triangles, then Nyte straightened and tossed the stick onto the pile of unused branches. “Okay, we’re good to go.”

Approaching the circle, Davri inspected Nytes’ handiwork. “You used about half the symbols most people would. Why’s that?”

Nyte shrugged and they said at roughly the same time, “It seems easier.” Nyte blinked as his mentor muttered something inaudible and stepped into the circle.

“It looks solid enough, though,” Davri added, eyes still cast down in examination. “All the marks are correct, and the general shape works.” Looking up, he met Nyte’s eyes and nodded curtly. “Good job.”

Numbly, Nyte nodded and handed Davri a few extra medallions. Rolling his eyes, Davri accepted and put them around his neck.

“Now, what do we do?”

Blinking, Nyte shook his head and stepped towards the center of the ring, where there were no marks. “I activate the Gate.”

---

Pan: Yeah, it really is a lot of deus ex machina. Sorry. I'll try to figure out something for the rewrite--it's good that you keep pointing this out.