Jonas’ world was light. And darkness. At the same time, in a way that also made and didn’t make sense. He thought he was probably dead. The French had managed, somehow, to destroy the Gilded Gate of Britain, and he had been caught in the cataclysm that was sure to have happened.

 

 

There it was. The same kind of flickering sign he saw… at the Gate. Jonas didn’t understand it any more than back then in London. But this time – if there was a time in this incomprehensible state – the sign held. Although he wondered how he could read something while there was nothing to be seen.

 

 

The sign’s incomprehensible words slid somehow out of view, as they were replaced by others.

 

 

Did someone adjust something? Who and what?

 

 

Jonas dropped to the ground, fire coursing through his veins and limbs. He fell to his side, screaming. A massive splitting headache, worse than the one he’d gotten the day after trying rum for this first – and last – time threatened to overwhelm him.

The pain was already slowly receding. He merely felt as if someone had taken a club and proceeded to beat him everywhere, leaving him bruised from head to toes. He peeled his eyes open.

Jonas was lying on something that looked like a marble floor. A polished expanse of white, perfectly smooth stone, with veins of black and gold. He tried to lift his head, causing him to wince from the burst of pain.

The marble floor was a kind of wide, circular plaza, surrounded by pillars of more marble, and lintels above joining them in a circle. The plaza was open to the skies above, pure unmarred blue rather than the slightly cloudy ones that were there a moment before.

There were bodies scattered around the plaza.

Jonas put himself on his knees. The effort of standing up seemed infinitely hard. There were a dozen… no, half a dozen… Focus, Jonas. Half a dozen bodies at the border of the plaza.

He managed to raise himself, his knees wobbling for a second, and looked at the bodies. Was that…

“Ira!”

He tried to run, but only managed a slow shuffle as his legs kept sending pain spikes. The spikes were slowly diminishing as he moved, but he couldn’t do better for now. He reached the body of his friend and turned him. Ira’s eyes fluttered, then focused.

“Jon?”

“Ira? You good?”

Ira bent in two, looking like some cramp had seized him, before relaxing again.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been worse. But eh. If I feel so lousy, I’m not dead then.”

Jonas smiled. His friend had always been a pragmatic one. A bright-eyed boy, a dreamer at times, but pragmatic to the core.

He looked around. One of the other people had rolled on his back, looking upward. He spotted some woman curled up… no, the same girl that had been running with them toward the Gate.

“Bollocks. Where are we?”

 

 

Jonas blinked. A sign… like the ones he’d seen in that non-space before arriving here. And when he had looked at the Gate, back in London. But this one seemed to be answering his question.

“Ovildian?” Ira said.

Jonas started. Then he realized the obvious.

“You see that too?”

“You mean… that kind of sign in my mind? The one that says Location?”

“You see that one.”

“But what is Ovildian? And I’ve never heard about a Virman Valley,” Ira wondered.

Suddenly, Jonas realized something.

“It says… that this is tier 1. Like Profession tiers?”

Ira’s eyes shot wide open.

“Are we… are we in the Labyrinth?”

Jonas answered him.

“I think that’s the only thing that makes sense. It doesn’t look like any place in London. And… well, we were next to the Gate when it went off.”

“But you can’t get into the Labyrinth. You need to be a Professional, and they’re all exceptional people unlike us? We’re not Profess… oh.”

Jonas startled as well. The question about being Professional… had just received some kind of answer.

 

 

“I think we are now,” Jonas said.

There was a low moan coming from the side. Jonas turned and saw a boy hobbling toward them in a way that told him he’d gotten beaten up as well.

“Hello?”

The young man blinked, bending and putting his hands on his knees. He visibly took a breath before asking.

“What happened? Does any of you know?”

Jonas made a face.

“I think we were blown up into the Labyrinth when the French did… whatever they were trying to.”

“In the Labyrinth? But that’s not possible. I mean cousin Luther came once and tested me, and I didn’t qualify for a Prof…”

His gaze went unfocused for a short while, but snapping back to reality.

“Fuck? What happened? Luther said my best two potentials were both 17, very good, but one short of the Labyrinth minimum… but… I have this sign and I have… 20?”

“Who’s Luther?” Ira asked.

“Cousin Luther. He’s a Professional. A company called Artefact Hunting hired him two years ago. Last Christmas, he came on leave from the Labyrinth and brought with him some contraption that measured potentials for the Labyrinth.”

The boy shook his head.

“But that doesn’t make sense. I had 17 in Strength and 17 in Wisdom. But this says I have instead 20 in both.”

Jonas immediately made the link.

“Did you see something? A kind of sign, when we were in something like the limbo.”

“I… think so. It changed a few times before I was struck down.”

“It said something about adjusting. Twice. With a +1, then a +2…”

“Yes. Exactly. That’s what it said.”

“Then I think I know what happened. We were the ones being adjusted. It added 1. Then it didn’t work, so it added another 2. And that’s why… you went from 17 to 20. It added 3 to those… potentials.”

“Oh.”

The boy pondered the idea for a few seconds.

“But… after +1, I should be good for a Profession then? So why add more?”

“I think someone else at least didn’t have any 17 scores. So we needed adjusting twice, and that went for all of us.”

“Speaking of which,” Ira said.

“Yes. Let’s see how everyone else is.”

 

There were two other boys and that one girl. One of the boys was resting his head on his knees. When Jonas put his hand on his shoulder, he flinched, before looking at him with huge eyes.

“Hello? Are you ok?”

The boy swallowed nervously before replying, “I think. The pain’s going away. Where’s… Ovildian? Is that where we are?”

“We’re in the Labyrinth, apparently. The Gate dropped us here. And gave all of us a Profession.”

Jonas moved to the girl while Ira went to check the other boy. She eyed him nervously as he approached.

“Miss? You good?”

She nodded silently. Jonas looked around and saw everyone up. He turned and asked, “Can you stand up? Do you need help?”

She blinked twice, then started standing up. She wobbled once, before steadying herself.

“Come. We need to figure out what to do.”

The six gathered. Everyone looked to Jonas and Ira since they had been the first ones to stand and check everyone.

“Okay, everyone. Apparently, we are now in the Labyrinth.”

Jonas saw the glances exchanged.

“The Frenchmen were trying to blow the Gate, I think. I don’t know if they succeeded, but we were thrown in, and… well, the Labyrinth maybe took pity on us, and apparently gave us a Profession. I presume all of us.”

He saw the slightly glazed look that told him they were checking that. He raised his hand.

“So, I’m Jonas Sims, and now an Aetherist. Doesn’t know anything about aether stuff, but that’s something. Anyone else?”

Ira started first, “Ira Heard. Got made as a Defender. Which sounds… good?”

The girl, to everyone’s surprise, went next, “Laura Harvey. I am… a Breaker? I don’t want to break things.”

‘Luther’s cousin’ spoke after her.

“Guss Fullmore. Apparently, I’m now a Mender. Which is a kind of physician, if I remember right.”

“Jonathan Gilbert. The sign tells me I’m a level 1 Watcher. So I’ll watch you all and will do nothing.”

They all laughed reflexively at the joke. The echo of pain was no longer weighing on their minds, it seemed.

“Alton Raby. I am… something called Pointer? What kind of Profession is that?”

“So, anyone knows anything about how those Professions work?”

As the question came into Jonas’ mind, he realized the Labyrinth had a form of answer ready.

 

 

The sign gave him some information, but not that much.

Guss spoke first.

“I don’t know much, but I have a cousin who is a Professional. I mean, he spoke a bit about his Profession. He’s a Solid Aethershaper, which he says is tier-three. He started as an Aetherist though.”

He turned toward Jonas.

“Like you, I guess.”

“So how does that Profession work?”

“Aetherists use aether for magic. They have some elemental powers, like throwing fire, blowing wind, freezing water, stuff like that. You are supposed to… gain experience in the Professions, gain levels somehow, then you go to a tier-two zone and get a new Profession, and you repeat that, getting bigger and better Professions. Apparently, getting a new Profession is supposed to require you getting higher potentials.”

“Potential?”

“The ten numbers listed on our signs. Strength, etc. To qualify for Solid Aethershaper, he needed to get 45 in Intellect and 20 – I think – in Strength.”

“Is that… a lot?”

“Oh yes. He said normal people normally go between 10 for village idiots to 20 for the biggest people in the Royal Academy. Most are around 15. If you have 20, you’re one of the best minds in Britain. Same for Strength, it means you’d be one of strongest people around.”

“Thanks, but… 45?”

“That’s smarter than Old Scratch, for sure. And it grows on. Those people fighting at the gate… I think the defender woman said the French were 7? You need over a HUNDRED in at least one potential to qualify just for tier 5. I can’t imagine how high it’s for a 7.”

Alton snorted.

“That’s meaningless. It’s just a number.”

“My cousin said he knew someone who could throw a thread at a needle on a table, and it would go into the eye.”

“That’s impossible!” Alton insisted.

“That’s a Professional. It takes them maybe decades to get there but they’re so far over anyone else that doesn’t go in the Labyrinth…” Guss countered.

“Anyway, that’s all I know about Professions. I suppose those… Milestone things are how you grow in potential.”

Everyone started to press Guss with questions.

“Do you know where we are in the Labyrinth?”

“Is your cousin around? How do we contact him?”

“What do you know about Watcher?”

“How do we get…”

“Stop!” interrupted Jonas.

He added, “Don’t try to talk all of the same time. Guss?”

“Yes?”

“What else did your cousin tell you about the Labyrinth? Can you guide us?”

Guss swallowed nervously.

“Cousin did tell us a bunch of stories about his work, but not that much. The thing I remember is bad though…”

“Bad? Bad how? Are we going to die?”

“No. I don’t think so. The thing is, he said that the zone next to Britain was something called Grailburg. But the Labyrinth says we’re in a zone called Ovildian, not Grailburg.”

“So… you mean we’re not near the Gate in the Labyrinth?”

“I think so. We’re… lost in the Labyrinth.”