I stand at the focal point, my hands raised, my mind stretched to the absolute limit of its capacity. I am not just holding the magic; I am holding the concept of the Academy. I am holding the stone, the wood, the grass, the wolves, the children. I am telling the universe: This exists. This is real. Do not let it be unmade.
Then, the Void hits the perimeter.
It doesn't crash like a wave. It doesn't burn like fire.
It simply arrives, and reality begins to fray.
The temperature in the courtyard drops fifty degrees in a single second. Frost explodes across the grass, turning the green blades into brittle, black glass. The golden-silver dome of our lattice flares brilliantly, screaming as the cosmic erasure presses against it.
I gasp, my physical body dropping to one knee. The psychic fee
