The temple emerged from the dunes like a mirage, its spires reflecting the violet light of the approaching eclipse as the gas giant Thalor gradually drifted in front of the sun.

 

Morgan brushed sand from glyphs etched into the stone. "These symbols, they're structured. Like a code."

 

Jaela stood barefoot on a sandstone slab, her cloak shifting in the breeze as she watched. "They are. They're the foundation of spells: language shaped to command reality."

 

"You mean instructions?"

 

"Yes," she said firmly. "They are recipes. Spell formulae. Magic. Call it what you will. The Weave is waking."

 

Morgan looked up. Above them, Thalor hung in the sky, its violet bands swirling slowly as it passed in front of the sun, causing it to look like one of the glass marbles she had played with as a child.

 

The daylight dimmed with the eclipse, but the desert didn't fall into darkness, only into a strange, violet twilight. The filtered sunlight gave the sand an eerie shimmer, like heat waves mixed with something older, something otherworldly. It felt like something still lingered in the dry air.

 

"My readings are spiking," Morgan muttered, checking her tablet. "Radiation, magnetic flux, quantum noise. This isn't magic, Jaela. It's physics."

 

Jaela raised her hand. A flame flickered to life in her palm. "Then why does it feel like magic?"

 

Morgan stared. "That's quantum coherence. The starlight filtered through the gas giant is aligning the field. You're collapsing probability with intent."

 

"You say physics," Jaela said softly. "I say the Weave. It listens either way."

 

"How often does this happen?" Morgan asked, watching as the sky shifted with Thalor's eclipse deepening.

 

"Spellfall?" Jaela said. "Every seven years. But the Weave doesn't sleep in between. It lingers."

 

Morgan looked at her. "You mean the effects will last?"

 

Jaela nodded. "Some of us can still feel it. Use it. The Weave leaves echoes, threads that stay woven into the world. If you're born during a spellfall, it never leaves you."

 

Morgan considered that. "So you've had this ability your whole life?"

 

"Not always. It started small. Sparks. Dreams. Then, one day, I lit a fire with a whisper."

 

Morgan looked down at her tablet. "That would mean the field remains semi-coherent between cycles. Residual entanglement. That's incredible."

 

Jaela smiled. "If you listen, If you really listen, you will hear the Weave awaken. You will feel it and have no desire to measure its details."

 

Morgan turned back to the glyphs. "This one is called 'Aion,' a root function. A failsafe?"

 

Jaela's smile faded. "It's also known as the Last Spell. My grandmother said it was only for when the world was dying."

 

Morgan's tablet buzzed in her hand. A flashing alert appeared at the top of the screen. Drilling begins in 12 hours.

 

"They're not just mining," Morigan muttered. "They want the energy. The planet's core is a quantum battery."

 

Jaela's eyes narrowed. "They want to steal the Weave."

 

"Let's go deeper," Morgan said.

 

They crossed a courtyard. The sand glowed faintly beneath their feet as it was disturbed, alive with the energy of Spellfall.

 

"Security's already here," Morgan said, spotting drones above the temple.

 

"They think we're a threat," Jaela muttered. "They don't understand what they're breaking."

 

They reached the temple's heart — a sunken chamber carved into the rock, its center marked by a crystalline pedestal encircled by more glyphs.

 

Morgan placed her tablet on it. "I'll translate. You cast."

 

Jaela closed her eyes. "Weave, hear me."

 

The glyphs lit up one by one as Jaela called their names. Morgan's screen was filled with indications of cascading quantum states. "It's working," she whispered. "It's rewriting the field."

 

An alarm echoed through the chamber: Unauthorized access detected.

 

Morgan's eyes snapped to the console. "They're triggering a lockdown."

 

Jaela's hands lit with a faint glow. "Then we cast faster."

 

Outside, boots scraped across the sand.

 

A voice barked from beyond the entrance: "Morgan! Step away from the console!"

 

Dr. Elira Voss, lead scientist of the extraction project, stood at the entrance, flanked by armed guards.

 

Morgan didn't flinch. "Hello, Elira."

 

Voss's eyes narrowed. "I should've known you'd come here."

 

"You taught me to follow the data," Morgan said. "And the data brought me here. Do you realize you're about to destroy a living system?"

 

"You walked away from your post," Voss snapped. "From me. From everything we built."

 

"I walked away because I saw what we were doing," Morgan said. "This planet isn't just some rock; it's entangled. It's alive."

 

Voss raised an eyebrow. "We're not destroying it. We're unlocking it. The core holds enough quantum energy to power a dozen other colonies."

 

Jaela stepped forward. "You mine the core; you kill the Weave. You kill everything."

 

Voss's voice sharpened. "My orders are to extract. Not entertain superstition."

 

Morgan looked at Jaela. "Now!"

 

Jaela placed her hand on the pedestal. The glyphs flared.

 

A pulse of light surged through the chamber. The guards staggered back. Outside, the sky shimmered. Drilling rigs froze mid-motion, suspended in a lattice of quantum light.

 

"What was that?" Voss shouted. "What did you do?"

 

"We put a field around the core, Elira, protecting it from your machines."

 

"Leave this place," Jaela said, flaring fire in her palms.

 

One of the security guards tugged at Voss's arms, "Nothing is working, weapons are dead. Voss, we need to go."

 

"This isn't over, Morgan," Voss hissed, letting herself be pulled out of the pedestal room.

 

Later, as the desert sand cooled and Thalor drifted from the sky, Morgan sat beside Jaela on the temple steps.

 

"So… what now?" she asked.

 

"Aion sealed the core and silenced the machines," Jaela said. "But the Weave still breathes."

 

Morgan looked up at the stars. "So it's not gone?"

 

Jaela smiled. "No. It's safe. Hidden. Waiting for those who know how to listen."

 

Morgan nodded. "Then I'll stay. Help translate. Maybe teach you the science behind the Weave."

 

Jaela looked at her. "And maybe I'll teach you how to feel it."

 

Morgan smiled.