Chapter 15. Rest

  Raven stirred as the first light of dawn filtered through the boarded-up windows, casting slanted shadows across the room. His body protested as he shifted, a dull ache settling in his limbs, but it was a far cry from the agony he had expected. The exhaustion from the previous day still clung to him like a heavy cloak, but rest had done him some good.

  He didn’t feel ready to face the world just yet.

  With a yawn, he summoned his grimoire, the familiar weightless tome materializing in his hands. The worn pages fluttered open on their own, shifting until they landed on a new section—one that hadn’t existed before.

  Raven’s gaze locked onto the first new page, where a pictograph of the ether sink crystal was etched in stark black ink. Below it, a block of text provided details in a structured, almost clinical manner:

  Ether Sink – Sprout

  Ether Capacity: Full

  Ether Accumulation: Active

  Ether consumption: Inactive

  On the following page was a map of the city surrounding the sink from what he could guess, it covered about five hundred meters in a circle around him. If he was identifying the buildings correctly, the hospital sat almost dead centre.

  His brow furrowed. So many questions came to mind, if the ether capacity was full did that mean it could be emptied, did ether accumulation fill the reserves and what would cause consumption? More questions than answers.

  Turning the page, he found a single line scrawled across the next few sheets:

  Ether Constructs.

  That was it. No further details, no instructions, just those two words hanging in the empty space like an unsolved riddle.

  Raven had no idea what any of this meant beyond the obvious, and if there was one person who might, it was Uri. For all her irritating habits, her ‘skill’—if that’s what it really was—seemed to provide her with insight into things he had no clue about.

  His eyes flicked toward the room’s entrance as he wondered where she’d wandered off to. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left the rooftop the day before. For a brief, unbidden moment, he found himself hoping she was alright.

  He scowled and shook the thought away.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, the door creaked open, and in walked Uri, deep in conversation with none other than Wilkes. Their voices were low but intense, and Raven caught snippets—"stabilization," "long-term defence," "ether efficiency."

  He barely had time to sit up before Wilkes turned his sharp gaze on him.

  “Well, well, the hero of the hour finally wakes up.” The man’s gruff tone carried a weight of experience, though there was no outright hostility—just wary assessment. "Your little stunt with this ether sink might've just saved everyone here."

  Raven rubbed at his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”

  "Yeah? Then you’ll be glad to know I want control of it."

  That woke Raven up faster than any bucket of cold water. “Come again?”

  Wilkes crossed his arms, his stance firm. “You’re a lone wolf. I’ve got officers and civilians who depend on me. If this ether sink is as important as she says, it needs to be in the hands of someone who can actually protect it.”

  Raven let out a breath and flicked a glance at Uri. She gave nothing away, her expression calm and unreadable.

  “And what exactly do you think having control of it means?” Raven asked.

  Wilkes shrugged. “Simple. You hand it over, and I use it to make this place safer.”

  Raven barked a laugh. “You make it sound like I can just sign a deed and be done with it.”

  Wilkes narrowed his eyes. “Can’t you?”

  Raven hesitated. Technically? Maybe. The grimoire had given him new pages after he claimed the sink. It was possible he could transfer control, though what that would actually do was still a mystery.

  Uri, ever the spectator, finally chimed in. “It’s not quite that simple.”

  Wilkes let out an exasperated sigh. “Then why don’t you enlighten us?”

  Uri tilted her head.

  “Raven is the sink’s claimant. That makes him its controller. He could give you authority over it—partial or full—but the claim remains his. That means if he hands over too much control, he might not be able to take it back if things go sideways.”

  Wilkes scoffed. “Sideways? I’m trying to keep people alive. I’m not planning on taking the damn thing and running off with it.”

  Raven crossed his arms. “That’s great, but I don’t know you. And I don’t hand over the only real advantage I have to someone just because they ask nicely."

  Wilkes’ jaw clenched. “You think this is about power? About ego? I’ve got injured officers, scared civilians, and a damn city full of monsters out there. This isn’t about you, kid.”

  Raven met his glare with one of his own. “No, but it isn’t about you, either. You said it yourself—I'm the one who claimed it. Like it or not, that makes me responsible for it.”

  Uri watched with mild amusement.

  Wilkes let out a breath, clearly biting back a more heated response. He studied Raven for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. We work together, then. For now.”

  Raven sighed, rubbing his temples. “Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

  Wilkes smirked. “You don’t.”

  Raven arched a brow. “Equals?”

  Wilkes hesitated—just for a second—but then nodded. “Equals.”

  Raven studied him. Wilkes was a hard ass, no doubt about it. But he wasn’t wrong, either. The hospital and the people in it needed real protection, and Raven couldn’t do it alone.

  "Alright," Raven said at last. "I’ll keep the sink, but I’ll give you authority to use it. You’ll be able to access whatever functions it has without me constantly hovering over it."

  Wilkes nodded. "That’s fair."

  Uri smirked, clearly entertained by the whole exchange. “How lovely. You two might just make it through this alive after all.”

  Raven rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  With the matter settled, Wilkes turned to go. “We’ll meet in an hour to discuss the next steps. I need to check in with my people.” He gave Raven a final look. “Don’t go running off.”

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  Raven exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as the door clicked shut behind Wilkes. He wasn’t sure if he had just won a battle or stumbled into an even bigger mess. He had control of the sink—but what did that even mean?

  He turned to Uri, who, of course, was already watching him like she had been waiting for him to ask.

  Uri broke the momentary silence. “That was surprisingly reasonable of you.”

  Raven shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She smirked. “You don't seem to play well with others.”

  Raven scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to his grimoire, flipping through the pages on the mana sink.

  He set the grimoire down.

  He looked at Uri. "Alright—start talking. What makes this thing so damn special?"

  Uri leaned against the windowsill; arms crossed. “Mana sinks are a rarity. They’re locations where ether pools naturally, creating an environment where magic is stronger, and life is… different.”

  Raven’s brow furrowed. “Different how?”

  “Well,” she continued, “Ether saturation changes things. It strengthens those who live in it, allows for the development of new abilities, and—most importantly—it stabilizes reality. That’s why the goblins stopped spawning. When ether is wild and uncontrolled, it breeds chaos—new creatures, distortions, anomalies. But when it’s harnessed?” She gestured around. “It can be used to reinforce barriers, heal wounds, create constructs… assuming you know how to use it.”

  Raven absorbed that information, staring at the numbers in his grimoire. “So why does it store ether? What’s it used for?”

  Uri’s smile turned wry. “That, my dear Raven, is the question. We have a lot to go over."

  Uri spent the next hour walking Raven through his grimoire’s new functions, showing him how to navigate the information it contained about the sink. It wasn’t just a static reservoir of ether—it was a tool, a foundation for something greater. Through it, Raven could summon information about various constructs, which turned out to be facilities and utilities that could be created or powered by ether.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Raven said, rubbing the back of his head as he took it all in. “The sink doesn’t just store ether, it can use it—to build things, to reinforce things. Like… what exactly? Buildings?”

  “More like structures and enhancements,” Uri clarified. “Think of it as an extension of magic. Ether constructs can be physical or immaterial, but they require stored ether to manifest. Some might strengthen defences, some might automate certain tasks, and others…” She tapped on one of the grimoire’s pages. “Well, they might do things we don’t fully understand yet.”

  Raven stared at the page. “So... what? I just pick something, and it magically appears?”

  Uri smiled. “Try it and see.”

  He shot her a flat look. “You could just tell me.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Raven groaned. Of course.

  If these constructs could provide real benefits, it made sense why Wilkes wanted control over the sink. This wasn’t just a resource—it was the foundation for survival.

  Before he could question further, the door opened again. Wilkes had returned, but he wasn’t alone.

  Three others followed him in—a stern-looking older man with streaks of grey in his cropped hair, a tired yet sharp-eyed man in a worn doctor’s coat, and a middle-aged nurse who carried herself with quiet efficiency.

  Wilkes gestured toward them as he entered. “Figured it was time to make introductions.”

  He nodded at the older officer first. “This is Lieutenant Charles Henson—been with me since this whole mess started. He’s been coordinating the defences and making sure we keep our people alive.”

  Henson offered a curt nod, his lined face unreadable.

  Wilkes gestured to the doctor. “This is Dr. Morris Carter. He’s the one keeping our wounded breathing.”

  Dr. Carter barely spared Raven a glance before speaking. “Medical supplies are running low. If we don’t secure more, we won’t be able to help anyone in a few days.”

  Raven arched a brow. Straight to the point, huh?

  Finally, Wilkes motioned to the nurse. “And this is Margaret Liu—she’s been keeping order in the wards and making sure things don’t turn into a free-for-all.”

  Margaret inclined her head politely. “We’ve had to make do with what little we have, but people are getting scared. They need something to hold onto.”

  Raven took in the trio, sensing their exhaustion but also their resolve. These weren’t just people trying to survive—they were trying to hold things together.

  Wilkes got straight to business. “Let’s go over what we’ve got. Doctor?”

  Dr. Carter sighed, rubbing his temples. “We have enough medical supplies to last maybe a week—less if we get more wounded. I’ve been rationing antibiotics, but that won’t last forever. We need bandages, antiseptics, anything we can get.”

  Margaret followed up. “Food is also a problem. We’ve been stretching our supplies, but people need to eat, and we don’t have a steady source of clean water. A lot of the taps seem to be failing.”

  Henson stepped in next. “Weapons and armour are just as bad. We’ve got some sidearms, but ammo’s running low. Our officers reserves are all in the single digits. The riot gear we have isn’t enough to protect everyone either.”

  “We also had multiple incidents through the night,” the older officer reported, his voice edged with weariness. “Small groups of goblins and a few lizards probing the perimeter. Nothing we couldn’t handle; but I don't want to keep risking our men.

  Raven’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even considered what had happened during the night. His exhaustion had been so great he had passed out like a corpse while they were fighting to keep the hospital safe.

  “We lost any of the officers?” Wilkes asked, his expression unreadable.

  Henson shook his head. “No casualties. Just a few injuries—cuts and bruises mostly. Had a bastard of a lizard try sneaking through one of the back entrances, but Carter’s people had raised the alarm before it got in. We’ve doubled watches now, but I don’t like how persistent they’re getting.”

  Raven ran a hand through his hair, frustration gnawing at him. He had been so focused on the mana sink, on his fight, on his own rage, that he hadn’t spared a single thought for how the others had fared. Guilt settled in his gut, cold and unwelcome. While I was out, they were still fighting.

  He wasn’t sure when exactly he had stopped thinking about just himself and started factoring in the hospital’s survival. The realization sat heavy in his chest—uncomfortable, but not entirely unwelcome.

  Wilkes let the weight of their reports settle before turning to Raven. “This is where you come in.”

  Raven leaned back against the table, folding his arms. “I don't see how I'm supposed to fix the taps or make bullets?”

  Wilkes smirked. “Hey, you decided you wanted to keep the ether sink. And if what your oracle here says is true, you might just be able to fix some of these issues.”

  Raven shot a look at Uri, who gave him a completely unhelpful smile. Damn woman threw me to the wolves on purpose.

  “You said this thing can create constructs. Can you look into what’s available? Maybe something to help with food, water, or weapons?”

  Raven exhaled through his nose, flipping back to the Ether Constructs page in his grimoire. Guess I should see what this thing can really do.

  Following the directions Uri had given him earlier, Raven focused his ether into the grimoire, willing it to show him any constructs that might help. The pages flickered, symbols and diagrams shifting as new information surfaced.

  The first, highlighted in bold, was something called an Ether Shop.

  A simple pictograph accompanied the entry, depicting a small market stand—the kind one might find at a country market. Below it, the description read:

  Ether shops provide a direct link for creatures to transfer stored ether into material goods. Availability is dependent on local ether stability and sink tier.

  Raven frowned, scanning further. Creatures? Did that mean people? Or… something else?

  Turning the page, he found additional constructs listed. There were ether-infused gardens, hydroponic farms, and even an option for a medical ward. But a note below the entries caught his eye:

  Specialized constructs require appropriate personnel for optimal functionality. Certain features may remain inaccessible without skilled users.

  He sighed. Of course, nothing was ever simple. It wasn’t just a matter of conjuring up resources—these things needed people who actually knew what they were doing.

  He turned back to Wilkes and the others. "Well, I found some options, but there’s a catch.”

  Wilkes crossed his arms. “There always is.”

  Raven gestured to the grimoire. “Looks like we’ve got a few choices—an ether shop, which… I think might let us trade ether for supplies, and some options for growing food or reinforcing the medical wing. But unless we’ve got people who know what they’re doing, some of it won’t work.”

  Dr. Carter perked up at that. “A medical ward? What does it entail?”

  Raven scanned the description. “From what I can tell, it stabilizes patients and speeds up healing, maybe even prevents infections from spreading. But…” He tapped the grimoire. “It says it needs someone with medical expertise to function properly.”

  Carter exchanged a look with Margaret. “That could be huge. But I need details. How does it work? What does it cost?”

  Raven glanced at Uri, who gave him an expectant look, clearly waiting for him to figure it out himself.

  With a resigned sigh, he focused back on the grimoire, willing it to reveal more.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more information readily available. Raven flipped through the pages, searching for more details, but beyond the basic descriptions, the grimoire didn’t provide any immediate guidance. If there was more to learn, he’d have to figure it out himself.

  With limited information and Uri not being particularly forthcoming, Raven made a decision. If he was going to start somewhere, it would be with the one thing that seemed immediately useful.

  “We should set up the shop first,” he said, closing the grimoire. “It might give us a way to get supplies.”

  Wilkes nodded. “Alright. Where do you want it?”

  Liu, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “The cafeteria is probably the best spot. It’s open, has space, and people are already used to going there for essentials.”

  Raven considered it and found no reason to argue. “Cafeteria it is, then.”

  With that decided, they moved out, making their way through the hospital halls. The tension in the air had lightened slightly since the previous day, but people still carried the weight of uncertainty in their expressions. The night had been rough, and the morning had brought no guarantee of safety.

  Raven hoped that what they were about to do could bring hope to these people.