I close my eyes and release a small magical shock wave. This flashes on the table in the crisis room, letting Maguerite know I’m ready. Moments later, I hear Maguerite’s voice in my ear.

“Communication spells have been activated and keyed to your intent, Sorcerer.”

I am now in contact with Maguerite and the Wizard Corps. When I speak, my voice will be heard by whomever I intend it to be.

“Maguerite give me a full report of our status.”

“Internal magic levels of the demirealm are normal, aetheric interference is minimal. Your predictions for the window were perfect. The members of the Wizard Corps are spaced evenly around the perimeter of the continent.”

“Your spell is ready?”

“The link can be activated at any time.”

Excellent. I turn my attention now to the Corps. Formerly an elite unit under my command in the Carlisle Home Guard’s Magician Corps, now my Wizards serve as the magical regiment of the Royal Guard of our Mistress. They are good men, all of them.

When I next speak, I am audible to the whole of the Corps, though I address only their commander.

“Captain Nelfas.”

“Sir!”

“Give me a full status update.”

“Sir,” he says. “The men are spaced, primed, and ready. You’re clear on our end to begin the spell at any time.”

“Maguerite,” I say, now audible to both her and the Wizard Corps. “You may conduct as soon as you are ready.”

What we are about to do is dangerous magic. A mind-ensemble without a good conductor can leave one or more of the participants unresponsive, their identity permanently subsumed into the meta-entity created by the spell. Fortunately for us, Maguerite is a superb conductor with considerable experience.

The spell begins.

I feel my power and personality rise and join with those of the Wizards and  Maguerite, becoming something greater than the sum of its individual parts.

Maguerite conducts the direction and flow of the groupthink, the groupmind. She brings my mind to the surface, putting me in control of the sum of our magics. The Wizards are extensions of me, like fingers or toes.

Under my control, they act as one, activating the shield that will contain the demirealm’s atmosphere. And now we are ready. As one, every Wizard in the Corps joins me in casting a massive transport spell. Our continent is ripped free from the demirealm and hurled through the aether. Collapsing the remainder of the demirealm will have to wait; I don’t want the Corps to know about that trick just yet.

Before my eyes can even begin to cope with the madness that is the human mind staring into the Meta-space of the aether, Maguerite takes the reins of the spell, instantly shunting us into our home realm. To Earth.

The spell ends. For a moment I feel an immense loneliness overtake me as the connective being, the synergy, is ended. The emptiness quickly passes and my breath catches as I look out the window. Looming on the horizon is the sight of the Earth from orbit. Of home. A quick glance of the continent with magesight confirms that the wards and seals are at full strength. The hard vacuum of space will not be harming us anytime soon, nor do we have much to fear from an enemy attack.

I turn and bow to my Mistress.

“It is done, my Lady.”

“Excellent work, Sorcerer. You may have a two-hour rest period before you depart,” she says as if doing me an enormous favor.

I bow again, deeper this time. “You are most gracious, Mistress. I shall return to my quarters and ready for my departure.”

“Very good. Go on then, Sorcerer.”