I... I'm okay. I need to keep reminding myself that I'm okay. We've retaken the Wizard's Tower since the first attack; I'll thank whatever spirit or god I can for that. But things in Amnytas are still grim. I feel completely useless in battle—can't stop thinking about when it happened. When Soo-Won...when she died. Aesor squeezed my hand to keep herself upright. At least two of my scholars passed out. We were inside the library listening to one of Isgarren's lectures on runic magic when the world started to rumble below—even from the clouds, we could hear the land crack and shake. We'd just settled where we are now. I thought the northern coast would be more peaceful than Janthir. Isgarren and Dagda raced to the Bastion of the Celestial, but it was already too late. Whatever surge of magic that erupted with the death of the Elder Mother crippled our magic. The beacons, the spire, and the tower—who knows what else shattered in the broken corners of the world. There was no hope of repairing them on time, not before... It didn't take long for the Kryptis to catch on. As soon as the spire faltered, they came right in. Balance was gone.