The mana on the ceiling had stopped bubbling.

  It wouldn’t be long before the spell crystallized from the accumulated energy.

  “You, old man—Boelong, be ready. We’ll have only a few seconds to contain its effects,” Baryon warned, pacing rapidly the balcony deep in thought.

  He seems rather happy to be in danger, I noticed.

  “Don’t you think I already know that?” Boelong snapped back, annoyed, but he still raised his staff slightly, preparing to act. “You underestimate me, you third-class mage.”

  “I suggest you all step back,” my master gestured for us to move behind him. “If we need to cast a protective spell, we should stay as close as possible to avoid unnecessary risks.”

  We quietly fell back behind the two mages, waiting in suspense to see with our own eyes what would emerge from that amorphous mass of mana.

  Next to me, in the faint light emanating from my mother’s spell, I saw Prince Raeran swallow nervously.

  “Not bad for a birthday, huh?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the Empress shooting me a sharp look. I ignored it.

  “It’s… not quite how I imagined it,” Raeran admitted anxiously. “Have you ever had a birthday like this?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, but technically, there’s still time. If this mess drags on until tomorrow, I might have to reconsider my answer.”

  “Is your birthday tomorrow?”

  “Yep,” I replied.

  He chuckled. “Let’s hope this nonsense ends on time, then. We’ve got things to do tomorrow.”

  Hearing that warmed my heart a little, and even more so since it came from a boy I’d met not even two hours ago.

  I’m glad I’ve been his first friend here and not some snobbish noble.

  “Look!” Bianca exclaimed, pointing at the mass of mana.

  “It’s manifesting!”

  “Everyone behind us!” Baryon shouted, pushing us deeper into the balcony with his free arm.

  “Boelong, the barrier is yours! I’ll try to contain it!”

  Boelong didn’t argue and immediately began chanting a spell; it was something in Ancient Elvish about erecting impenetrable walls. The incantation was fairly long.

  “Globe of greater invulnerability,” Boelong uttered once finished.

  A brilliant blue shell enveloped all of us; I didn’t feel any particular change, but I imagined it was a rather powerful barrier.

  “It’s not enough!” Baryon cried out, now surrounded by mystical symbols resembling runes.

  “You’ll have to put on a wind barrier to prevent sounds from coming in! I have a strong suspicion that a Wail is coalescing.”

  “A Wail? Have you completely lost your mind?” Boelong exclaimed in frustration. “Not even assassins would go this far—not even to kill the Emperor! It would be suicide! No man can hope to tame such a spell.”

  “Not if they’re controlling it with a magical object,” Baryon countered as the runes around him began to spin. “Given how long this spell is taking to cast, they seem to have taken all necessary precautions.”

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  “Boelong, do as he says,” Emperor Areyon ordered firmly. “If there’s even a chance he’s right, we must do everything possible to prevent it.”

  “But… as you wish, Your Grace,” Boelong hesitated as if about to protest, but then thought better of it.

  He resumed chanting his spells. “Zone of silence.”

  I knew this one. I had read about it in the Ars Incantandi; it was not that complex, but its benefits were remarkable.

  Zone of silence was a wide area spell that manipulated air composition to negate the effect of sounds coming from outside the spell radius.

  If a sound-based spell were to be cast on the outside, its effects would be cancelled inside the protected area.

  The spell began to work instantaneously, muffling and then tuning out all the noises coming from the hall downstairs.

  “Are you happy now?" He asked, evidently annoyed by my teacher’s commanding behavior.

  “Good enough,” Baryon casually commented, still focused on whatever he was doing.

  “Have you still not ended your chants?” Boelong teased him, hoping to sting a weak spot.

  “My chants were long finished way before you cast your spells,” he scoffed back. “I’ve always been very proud of my speed-casting skills.”

  “What are you waiting for then?”

  “I happened to be preparing a spell quite adept at counterspelling,” he explained, throwing him a glowering glance. “It would be most unfortunate if it were to undo one of the spells you’ve worked on for so long.”

  The old mage kept his mouth shut, at a loss for words after my teacher’s sassy reply.

  “I can’t believe my eyes…” The old mage stammered, his eyes fixed on the blob of mana. “Holy–it truly was a Wail… a Chaos Wail.”

  I didn’t know that spell, but his frightened expression and his stutter suggested it was nothing promising. Mana froze shortly in place and then suddenly vanished, replaced by a dark blue circle, completely covered in esoteric runes I didn’t recognize.

  A thick, grey smoke streak exhaled from the magic circle, slowly descending from the roof, describing wide spirals along its wake. The pungent smell of smoke was mixed with the one of rotten almonds. The smell alone was enough to have my stomach churn in disgust.

  My instincts were screaming to get as far from that grey fog as I could. If that thing were to touch the ground or anything else on its path, I had the feeling the effects would be catastrophic.

  My master did not hesitate to lash out his spell, “Seven screens of Mash’or.”

  The seven runes surrounding him jolted away towards the thick fog, interposing between it and the crowd below.

  “Release,” Baryon snapped his fingers, and the runes came to life.

  They melted into seven different colorful barriers that encircled the fog in complex magical circles, but they did not seem to manage to stop the Wail's descent.

  “Did the spell fail?” Raeran wondered in a whisper.

  Just as the prince, I couldn’t help but think that my master might have failed. His spell seemed to have had no effect at all.

  “The Seven screens of Mash’or are a complex spell,” Boelong explained to us, unable to keep admiration from creeping on his unsettled, pale face.

  “But its complexity is quite a deal considering its benefits. I wonder where he did learn it, I have never been able to find a single grimoire with the correct incantation.”

  Baryon drew up to us, as fast as his tottering gait allowed him to. “Each single screen has been thought to counter a different effect, hopefully dampening a spell until it becomes as harmless as it can get.”

  “Are you alright, master?” I rushed to his side to help him stand. Lelya and Bianca rushed to the other side.

  “I’m fine, I swear. A few minutes and I’ll be okay,” he sighed. “Old age won’t get the best of me.”

  “Did you manage to block the spell?” The Empress asked, worry-lines appearing on her face.

  “Yeah, kind of,” he replied. “I surely negated the instant-death effect and the madness effect that would have taken the few survivors. I don’t know for sure how many layers a Chaos Wail has, but the screen should have dealt with the worst ones.”

  We all sighed in relief.

  “Good job, Baryon, you were amazing,” Father complimented him.

  “Thank you, Lord Damyon. Ah, you’d better brace for impact, though,” he casually added as he sat down.

  This last remark was welcomed by a general dismay.

  “Impact?” The Emperor echoed him, frowning confused.

  “Nothing to worry about. That shouldn’t do much damage, just one hell of a noise. It may be possible for the Zone of Silence to be partially breached.”

  “You’re spouting nonsense now, a sound-effect could never breach into—”

  A strong gust of wind reached us in the box, coming along with the scariest sound I’d ever heard.