CH405 · Rewrite
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Chapter 405: Accompany

Mystery Moon ran to Roland’s office the next morning with larger dark circles than the day before.

“Why would the glass ball light up?” she said, before she had properly entered the room. “It didn’t work afterward no matter how hard I tried—”

“That fast?” The prince set down his quill. He took the small device from her hands and turned it over. “I thought it would take two or three more days.”

Mystery Moon propped her chin on the edge of his desk and blinked up at him. “What was glowing?”

“Electric light,” he said. “You released lightning from the sky.”

“Lightning?” She turned the word over, quietly, then shook her head. “It didn’t look like lightning at all. This was red-orange, and it kept glowing — lightning is just a flash.”

“The lightning lit the filament. The filament glowed continuously.” He twisted the glass ball free, reseated the two copper wire ends closer together, and set it back. “You’ll see real electric light eventually. For now — keep practicing.”

She took the wire frame back, thoroughly disappointed.

“And don’t forget to draw the curtains.”


Lily was sitting at the foot of the bed reading Natural Science Theoretical Foundation when Mystery Moon returned to the room.

“You’re up early,” Lily said, without looking up. “Since you’re moving around, bring me breakfast. An omelet and bread. No porridge.”

“I’m not bringing breakfast to a traitor,” Mystery Moon said darkly. She crossed to the window and drew the curtains. The room went black.

“What are you doing?” Lily frowned.

“Practicing my ability. His Highness’s requirement — curtains drawn, Stone of Light put away.”

“Fine.” Lily marked her page. “Then I’ll read in the hall.”

“No, you can’t!” Mystery Moon spun around.

“Why not? I can’t read in the dark, and I’m not going to sit here and starve—”

“I’ll bring breakfast,” Mystery Moon said quickly. “Can you stay?”

A pause. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

“Absolutely not!”

Another pause, longer. “You just need company.”

Mystery Moon puffed her cheeks and said nothing.

She wanted someone to witness her progress. Even if she failed, she wanted someone nearby to see it — and to say something ordinary and unhelpful afterward, the way only Lily could. But she would take those words to her grave before she said them aloud.

“All right.” Lily sighed with theatrical suffering. “I’ll stay. Breakfast. Quick.”

Mystery Moon brought the food over with a resentment she was also, quietly, grateful for.

Lily ate her egg with evident satisfaction. “What’s the practice? Magnetize the things in your hand?”

“No. Rapidly release and withdraw the magnetic forces. His Highness says that produces thunder and lightning.”

Lily went still. “Thunder and lightning?”

“Yes. I’m going to start—”

“Hold on.” Lily slid her chair back until it was flush with the door. “Good. Proceed.”

Mystery Moon exhaled slowly and drew her magic power up. If this had been the Witch Cooperation Association’s camps, Supervisor Cara would have punished her for even attempting it in the barracks. But His Highness had replaced every iron fixture in the room with copper — nails, brackets, everything — so that she could practice without disrupting anyone or anything.

She had been generously treated here. She was not going to waste it by sitting idle.

The memories arrived without invitation as the power built: the kindness she had been shown, the ways this place had gone out of its way for her. Image after image, vivid and fast, like a carousel. She found her rhythm more quickly than any previous session. The magic moved between her hands with rising intensity.

And then she saw it.

A blue ghost, peeling itself out of layered dark. Transient, gone in an instant — but she had seen it clearly. A tiny arc, bridging one copper wire end to the other, accompanied by a soft, precise snap. Not the warm glow of the glass ball. This was different. Alive.

It was far from finished.

A second arc. A third. Each time the magnetic forces transformed, dazzling light broke from the gap and moved with the field’s motion. She increased the rhythm. The direction switch, the thing she had struggled with most, came more naturally now — her body learning what her mind could not yet articulate. A bridge of blue and white took gradual shape between the copper wire ends: not stable, but real, continuous in its interruption, persisting in its own stuttered way.

“What is that?” Lily asked from across the room, her voice entirely different.

This was insignificant beside yesterday’s orange glow. But this made Mystery Moon’s hands tremble with a different kind of excitement — because this she understood. The invisible lines of magnetic force had never felt like hers before. But the arc’s rhythm and direction were utterly under her control. She had made lightning. Not nature’s lightning. Hers.

Electricity generates magnetism, and vice versa.

She got to her feet and set the frame on the desk, releasing the power slowly, letting it die down — but the copper wire ends kept glimmering faintly, like far stars in the receding dark.

She stared at them.

In other words: electricity is magnetism. Magnetism is electricity.

She understood this now not as a sentence from a book but as a thing she had touched.


Roland kneaded his neck with the quill clamped between his teeth.

“Do you need a hand?” Nightingale’s voice came from somewhere nearby.

“Please.” He nodded, and felt her hands settle on his shoulders — the right pressure, the right warmth. He let his eyes half-close.

Three days working before the guards woke had left him stiff through the neck and back. But the draft was finished: the first code of Border Town, the foundation from which the Basic Laws would expand. Ten articles in plain language, no longer than two pages. It contained nothing that would impress a legal scholar from his previous life, and everything that mattered — ideas and ideology that had no precedent in this world’s feudal architecture. Whatever kingdom he built on top of this would be distinguishable from the others by its bones.

The office door flew open.

“I finally got it!”

Mystery Moon burst in with the copper wire frame in her outstretched hand. She didn’t touch it. She didn’t have to. Between the cut wire ends, an arc of pale light persisted — no source, no battery, no hand pressed to the frame.

The quill slid from the corner of Roland’s mouth and fell to the floor.

He stared.

The arc held.

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