04-18-2025, 09:32 PM
Danika watched the rings in her hand shimmer with the residual strands of power Allan had woven into them, faint but undeniable. Something in the way the effect hung in the air, like dew caught in spider silk, made her pulse quicken. Not from excitement, but from that particular kind of focus that edged into awe. She didn’t know what he had done exactly, but it had shape. It responded to the field the way magnetic lines curled under force. It wasn’t her magic, not the quiet hum of equations turning radiant under pressure, but it was... something.
“I think,” she said carefully, slowly, “you didn’t just make something. You opened something.”
Danika moved to the center of the room, cleared off a flat workspace with a brisk sweep of her arm, and gently placed the rings in a steady configuration—roughly the same spacing Allan had instinctively used. Her fingers trembled slightly as she extended her hands over the makeshift portal.
“I’m going to try something,” she said—not as a warning, but a declaration. A small breath followed. She closed her eyes.
The glow came quick. White, the color of stars and unsolved questions. She felt it in her chest first, arcs of energy curling from her skin to the air like she was drawing static from another world. Then came the hum—low and even, tuned like a sine wave.
She reached toward the rings, let her field brush the shimmering surface Allan created. At first, nothing happened. Then—like slipping into resonance—his thread caught hers. The woven structure shimmered. Stabilized. Danika’s eyes flew wide. “It’s holding,” she said. The astonishment in her voice was quiet, reverent. “Allan—it’s holding.”
She didn't breathe, didn't blink. The fields layered in an overlay of harmonics to a song someone else had started humming. Nothing she did overpowered his; it reinforced, synchronized. His pattern had heart. Hers gave it something to reverberate against. The rings sparked once—soft, like a pulse. Between them, the air folded, rippled.
And then: a doorway. Small. Imperfect. But real. Not just theory. Not simulation. Open. Danika stood very still, her eyes wide, her voice excited with wonder.
“It’s staying open. Let’s move the rings apart and see how far they can go.”
“I think,” she said carefully, slowly, “you didn’t just make something. You opened something.”
Danika moved to the center of the room, cleared off a flat workspace with a brisk sweep of her arm, and gently placed the rings in a steady configuration—roughly the same spacing Allan had instinctively used. Her fingers trembled slightly as she extended her hands over the makeshift portal.
“I’m going to try something,” she said—not as a warning, but a declaration. A small breath followed. She closed her eyes.
The glow came quick. White, the color of stars and unsolved questions. She felt it in her chest first, arcs of energy curling from her skin to the air like she was drawing static from another world. Then came the hum—low and even, tuned like a sine wave.
She reached toward the rings, let her field brush the shimmering surface Allan created. At first, nothing happened. Then—like slipping into resonance—his thread caught hers. The woven structure shimmered. Stabilized. Danika’s eyes flew wide. “It’s holding,” she said. The astonishment in her voice was quiet, reverent. “Allan—it’s holding.”
She didn't breathe, didn't blink. The fields layered in an overlay of harmonics to a song someone else had started humming. Nothing she did overpowered his; it reinforced, synchronized. His pattern had heart. Hers gave it something to reverberate against. The rings sparked once—soft, like a pulse. Between them, the air folded, rippled.
And then: a doorway. Small. Imperfect. But real. Not just theory. Not simulation. Open. Danika stood very still, her eyes wide, her voice excited with wonder.
“It’s staying open. Let’s move the rings apart and see how far they can go.”
"Magic is just science we don't understand."
