Eight-year-old Maeryn crouched behind a thick stone pillar, her heart pounding with excitement. The dimly lit council chamber buzzed with tension as the Elders of Geova gathered around a grand table, their voices echoing softly in the vast underground cavern. Flickering lanterns cast long shadows on the walls, highlighting the solemn faces of the Council of Elders.

  "Ambient mana levels are continuing to lower despite all efforts," Elder Harvin stated, his slightly gravelly voice edged with frustration. Maeryn strained to hear every word, her wide eyes reflecting the faint glow of the lanterns.

  "What's causing it?" Elder Liora demanded, slamming her fist on the table. She was one of the younger Elders, only forty-some years old, but her reedy voice was as sharp as any of her compatriots. "The Zephyrians refuse to acknowledge their floating cities drain immense amounts of mana."

  A murmur of agreement swept through the chamber. Maeryn's pulse quickened as she listened intently.

  "What happens when the ambient mana levels get too low?" Elder Theren asked, his aged voice trembling. He was the oldest of the Elders, though he wasn’t in charge. He’d declined the offer years ago, claiming to be too old. Maeryn had seen him up close once, and kinda had to agree - he was super old.

  Elder Harvin's expression darkened. "At a critical point, the mana barriers we use to repel the Mist won't function. We'll have to seal the entrances to the surface to prevent the Mist from invading Geova."

  Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Maeryn's breath caught in her throat. She knew the importance of surface farming. School had taught her about it a few weeks ago, and taken her on a field trip, too. A lot of food grew up there, food that couldn’t grow underground for some reason. Something about pollination and the sun? But without surface farms, they wouldn’t have enough food for everyone!

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "If we seal Geova, we'll lose our primary food source," Elder Liora pointed out, unknowingly echoing Maeryn’s thoughts, her voice heavy with concern.

  Elder Harvin nodded. "At the current rate of mana depletion, the barriers will fail in 15 years."

  "When did this begin?" Elder Theren asked, his brows furrowed.

  "About five years ago, as best as we can tell from the records, but it was ignored at first," Harvin replied. "But isn't that when the Mist started worsening?"

  A heavy silence fell. The Elders exchanged worried glances. "Let’s not jump to premature conclusions. Is the Mist the cause of the mana depletion, or just a symptom of it?” Elder Liora pondered aloud, shaking her head. “We don’t know yet. It’s a question for the alchemists."

  "It's the Zephyrians!" Elder Beren spat, drawing himself up angrily, his deep voice booming and reverberating in the chamber. "Their reckless use of mana produces the Mist as a waste product, intending to destroy us. They don't have to worry about it up in the sky!"

  Angry muttering rippled through the chamber. The Head Elder, Alric, raised his hand for silence. "Speculation won't save us. We need an investigation into the Mist and its origins." His voice was firm, a thoughtful tenor that nevertheless projected easily to the rest of his peers.

  "But how?" Elder Theren exclaimed. "The barriers we have can't be made portable. Investigating the Mist would be a death sentence!"

  "We must find a way!" Alric declared, his voice resolute. "Whether through steam or sorcery, we must make it work, or our civilization is doomed!"

  Maeryn felt the weight of his words etch into her mind. She vowed to remember this moment, her young heart filled with a determination that would shape her destiny.