Sara’s success was short-lived. She wasn’t exactly surprised, but it was still disappointing. 

For a moment, she basked in the joy of it all. The prismatic glow from the glass door's, the lingering sparks dancing under her fingertips, and even the feeling of actual magic, curling around her and whispering yes, you fixed it, this is what you’re meant to do. But as soon as the door’s glow finished fading, reality came crashing back down, accompanied by a literal roar. An explosion followed, shaking the ground under her.

“Goddammit,” Sara muttered. She wasn't particularly panicked, she didn't have time to feel much of anything other than exasperation before the chaos started. Armored guards were already turning the corner back down the hall, metal armor clanging loudly enough to cover the muffled roars from outside. Marion dragged her back as five of them rushed out into the gardens. As the doors flew open, Sara caught a flash of fire over the garden’s back wall, and the roars were almost deafening. Marion, though notably frazzled, seemed to at least have an idea of what to do. The maid snagged the last guard as he ran by, yanking him to a stop. 

“Go get Father Gavric!” She demanded, “Tell him Miss Sara is in the hall of portraits.” 

The guard looked between his fellow guards and Marion, but decided on obeying her pretty quickly. Marion pushed him back the way he came before taking Sara’s wrist and dragging her down a side corridor. She wasn’t running, but her grip on Sara was ironclad, pulling her deeper into the castle as Sara stumbled over her heels. Marion didn’t lecture this time, even as roars faded to distant rumbles. It made Sara more nervous than the commotion had.

Marion only stopped when the corridor opened up into a massive room, one lined top to bottom with dozens of oil paints. There were no doors, only square archways on each wall, leading out to other corridors and hallways. Red couches ran symmetrically down the center of the room, matching the large curtains that covered the space between portraits. At the center of it all was a crystalline chandelier, hung from the highest point in the room and filling the space with warm light.

“We’ll be safe here,” Marion said, “This room is as heavily warded as the treasury.” She smooth her hair back, taking a deep shaky breath, before straightening her back and staring pointedly away from Sara. 

"What was that?" Sara asked, her palms suddenly sweaty. She grabbed the skirt of her dress, wringing it.

"I'm not sure," Marion said, "But Father Gavric will know, and he'll explain once he arrives." Her voice was flat, but her breath was still shaky, belaying her nerves. Sara's hands began to tremble. 

She had done something wrong. Revitalizing the door's enchantments had been a good thing to do, the right thing, even if she wasn't entirely sure how she did it. Sara knew it in her core, could feel it in the sparks of magic that still lingered around her. But Marion, who was a bit pushy but otherwise had been nothing but kind to her during her short time in Tithia, wouldn't even look at her now. She didn't know what she'd done, or how it related to the door or the roaring, but she had clearly done something wrong. She had to fix it, somehow, or even just apologize.

Words and feels choked her. Sara couldn't even begin to speak. So instead she dropped her head, staring down at the hem of her dress.

She stood beside Marion, head down and trembling. The air in the room was oppressive, the waiting agonizing. Now and then distant noises would float in - armored footsteps, a door slamming. It all faded back into silence, until finally the silence stretched on longer and longer. Sara didn't look up, not until Father Gavric arrived.

"Oh my dear," he said, his long cape rustling as he swept in. "You've given us quite the proof of concept." He smiled, kind and comforting, but the soot on his robes and the magic buzzing around his staff made guilt turn her stomach.

"I'm sorry," Sara said, gripping her dress tighter. The old man put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.

"No no, you did exactly what you were brought here to do," he said. He sighed, pulling her a bit away from Marion. "No, this is my fault. Had I known you were such a natural, I would have warned Marion until a proper teacher could be brought in." He smiled down at her again, almost teasingly. "Forgive her if her reaction was less than composed. Even at the heart of the kingdom, magic has become rare enough that the younger generations aren't used to seeing it manipulated in person." 

Sara thought back to the people she first saw when summoned. They had all been in their late 30s at least. Marion, while older than her, couldn't be older than 30. Her shoulders slumped in relief. She hadn't pissed off the kind woman, though scaring her might not be much better.

"Oh," she said, finally unclenching her fists. "What happened then? Was anyone hurt by the fire?" Father Gavric paused. For a moment, something akin to contemplation flashed across his face. 

"A few knights were injured, but the situation has been handled," he said. "Sara, when I inspected the garden door, the enchantments were stronger than when they were first carved. How did you do it?"

He avoided my first question, she noted. "I'm not sure," she admitted, electing to go along with his distraction. "I just touched it and thought it was beautiful, that I didn't want it to break if the magic faded. Then there was lightning and wind and—” Sara waved her hand, trying to encapsulate all of the glowing and roaring that it caused. Father Gavric nodded, rubbing his chin. He stared up at one of the larger paintings absentmindedly. 

"Given what I've observed," he said, slow and thoughtful, "I believe that your desire to preserve it acted as a conduit of sorts, connecting the door's isolated enchantments with the ambient magic around you. Due to their fading, the ambient magic was likely drawn into the enchantments, refilling the space left by the spent magic."

"Like opening a dam!" Sara exclaimed, clasping her hands together. It couldn't be a 1 to 1 comparison, but the visualization cemented the concept for her. 

"Yes," Father Gavric agreed, "Except, when you opened this "dam", the magic was diverted from the spells it was already connected to." 

Sara's shoulders jumped.

"Spells are not like enchantments," he continued, "While an enchantment is like a cup of water, drawn from but simultaneously cut off from Tithia's ambient magic, a spell will continue to feed off its source. Revitalizing the door's enchantment weakened and even broke several nearby spells, and your average mage cannot easily fix that."

"Oh," Sara said, her ears burning. I really did fuck up, she thought miserably.

"You couldn't have known," he comforted her, "You are not to blame for this old man's oversight. No one was seriously hurt, and I have already recast the more vital spells." He squeezed her shoulder one last time. "Most importantly, you have given us proof that the stories of those other worlds hold some level of truth. That is what you should take from this incident."

"But I only redirected magic," she said, "If the issue is that your kingdom's magic is collapsing from overuse, how does changing where it's being used help?"

The head priest smiled kindly. "All in good time, dear Sara," he said, "The King returns the day after next, he will explain then. For now, I believe you were on a tour of your wing before this interruption. Shall I accompany you? Insure you don't touch any more enchanted objects?" His eyes danced at his joke. He offered his arm for her to take.

"Okay Father Gavric," she said, taking it. As they walked through the archway, Marion close behind, Sara was hit with a thought. She glanced at him, suspicion creeping up in her throat.

Father Gavric never mentioned the roaring.