The look of horror on Maguerite’s face tells me she has misinterpreted my intent.

“I have no plans to use this technique anytime soon, Maguerite,” I reassure her. “At least not for anything that I didn’t personally create. Do you really think I’d be so eager to unravel our very universe?”

She frowns at me. “Then how is it significant? A technique that can’t be used might as well not exist.”

“Traversing the aether to travel between one’s home realm and the demirealms is not difficult if one uses the proper techniques. However, travel between true realms is incredibly difficult. There are no methods guaranteed to work, and a trip is almost always one-way. The Elders are an excellent demonstration of this. Their universe was near the end of its life cycle, so they moved to ours.”

Maguerite shakes her head. “What does this have to do with anything, Aldain?”

“As a universe grows older, the magic it is built on develops. An old, cold realm on the verge of being reabsorbed into the aether is brimming with magic. There is much power to be gained from ending one of those. I’m trying to find a way to easily travel back and forth between proper realms. If I can do that, I’ll gladly end the realm that the Elders abandoned. Unfortunately, it will probably take much more study and experimentation. I haven’t even been able to detect any other realms apart from ones I’ve created, much less travel to them.”

Maguerite sighs, but she’s smiling at me.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“You remind me of-” a pause, “-better days. I remember when we were in school you’d always get so wrapped up in explaining every new concept you learned to me. I never quite realized how much I’ve missed that.”

She looks around, taking in my realm. Now that the shock of my so-called blasphemy is fading, she seems to be enjoying beauty of watching a universe form firsthand.

“You know,” she say. “I can see why you spend so much time here, Aldain. It’s peaceful. No Gerran, no Mistress, no duties.”

And now comes the time I’ve waited for.

“I can show you how it’s done, if you’d like.”

A look crosses Maguerite’s features that I haven’t seen in years. It’s an impish little smile that she hasn’t had call to use since our school days. Back in the castle, such a moment would only fuel my hatred for the Elders and the life they stole from my people and me.

But here, in this void with matter rushing to fill it, I can experience a little happiness. The anger is still there, but it’s background, distant.

“I don’t think I could do anything like this,” she says, at length. “I’m just an enchantress. A creative act of this magnitude is far beyond me and outside my specialty.”

That look is still there. She’s willing to try. I just have to convince her. “I have every ounce of faith in your abilities,” I say.

Her expression changes to another that I haven’t seen in years. “That’s reason enough for me to try.” She extends her hands, palms up. It’s a gesture from our homeland, a symbolic act of submission and trust one directs toward a mentor.

I begin to teach.