The stairs weren’t as bad as she’d feared they’d be. Seleth survived the same ascent without complaint, curious eyes cast high over his head the whole time. Azia spent the entire climb concerned that he would trip. If he tumbled back down to the first floor of the Institute, she refused to scrape him off of the bottom steps herself.

  The spiraling stairwell that rose towards the apex of the building took five minutes to scale, at the very least. Azia spent most of it still steeped in discomfort, by which the thought of Seleth and Precipitation on the same battlefield once more was twisting her stomach into knots. Were she to admit it aloud, she knew the reassurance she’d earn--if not the teasing that would follow, probably. In a perfect world, she could throw her distress down the stairs, instead.

  She’d never actually been to the Institute’s observatory before. She knew of it, granted, and Azia didn’t hesitate to intrude through the little door past the top step. If there were restrictions barring entry, they were far from obvious. She threw caution to the wind and embraced sprawling space with a boy at her back. Azia herself was most definitely fresh to the facility. Still, she doubted her wonder exceeded Seleth’s.

  If she spoke too loudly, her voice would probably echo. Strikingly spherical as the room was, Azia’s own words would surely return to her so soon after she opened her mouth. It wasn’t dissimilar to a library she’d come to love, really, peppered with shelves harboring papers in turn. It was a miracle they hadn’t crumbled to dust. She doubted she’d find fish, should she peer past every ancient book. The telescope was utterly impossible to miss, by comparison.

  It was astounding by size alone, a mechanical marvel ensnared in railings. What steps led to the metal left it even more imposing, rising high in the center of the room. Azia couldn’t see the lens, trained distantly beyond the severed dome as it was.

  That might’ve been for the best. If she caught the reflection of the pouring sunshine, she might’ve gone blind. Useless as it still may have been in broad daylight, the urge to try her hand at stealing the stars beyond was ever-present.

  She was mostly transfixed by the crown jewel of the observatory. Seleth outdid her on everything else. He did, in fact, echo. “Oh my God, it’s huge.”

  “Yeah,” Azia breathed, still staring endlessly.

  She was fairly certain he followed her eyes at least once. “I mean, it looked big from the outside, but…damn. Exactly how much can you see with that thing?”

  “A lot, I’d assume,” Azia said bluntly, finally tearing her eyes from the telescope. “Not just the stars. The moon, the planets, everything.”

  Seleth's hands settled onto his hips. “Look, the Alchemist Institute is awesome, but you guys have some serious competition. You should get one of these.”

  Azia smirked. “I thought you were loyal.”

  “I didn’t say I was leaving, I’m just appreciating,” he argued playfully.

  “Hello?”

  Azia meant to argue back. Instead, whatever far-off voice traveled along the ring that was the curving room came soft and loud all at once. More than anything, it was foreign, tethered to a face unseen. Azia hardly needed to raise her voice in return, and sound floated of its own accord. “Is someone here?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Azia heard, still just as soft. Every clack of nearing footsteps echoed in turn, just as with all else. “Can I help you?”

  It took her a moment to remember the name. “We’re looking for Cailin,” Azia finally called.

  Where the echoing ceased, she found a stranger. He brought along a smile, equally as gentle as his drifting words. Azia had done what she could to manage her volume on the way in. Even then, she wasn’t immune to the reverberations. In contrast, his presence so close was perfectly tailored for peace, and he spared the floor of harsh noise beneath his feet. “That’s me,” he said.

  She did what she could to match his quiet. Matching his smile was easier, at least. “Are you the keeper of the observatory?”

  He nodded, folding his hands together neatly in front of him. “Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”

  Azia gestured to herself and Seleth respectively. “I’m Azia. I’m an alchemist. This is my friend, Seleth. Someone told us that you’re the person to talk to about Rain, out of everyone here. I wanted to ask you some things, if you had time.”

  His gaze floated to Seleth, and his eyes widened slightly. “Were you the ones at Dissemination?”

  Seleth gave a two-finger salute loaded with too much pride. “Yup. That was us.”

  “You were there?” Azia tried.

  The boy shook his head. “No, but someone told me about it. Was…all of that true?”

  Azia’s own eyes flickered to Seleth. He took it as silent permission. His grin, as such, was outright explosive. One palm arose, and little bubbles sprang to life. For a demonstration, they were almost excessive, tickling his fingertips and glittering beneath the lights above. Seleth’s audience of one, too, was glittering just as much.

  Astonished eyes dove deep into the same waters. The boy’s gentle smile brightened into something elated, and he leaned in close. “That’s incredible,” he praised.

  Seleth had already shown off once today. It wasn’t enough, apparently. For a single boy alone, he was even flashier about it. Two hands instead wove a familiar stream, blues born of nothing tangling together above his touch.

  He offered them up with flair, quick motions of his fingers leaving their newest stranger orbited by the smallest of rivers. The soft, joyous laughter he earned in return was payment enough for the show. At the very least, it was enough for Azia to beam.

  The boy’s eyes followed his personal ring of purity as it passed him by again and again. “This is…amazing.”

  Try as she might, and pure as the reaction was in turn, Azia couldn’t stem her own happiness. “He can do a lot more than that, honestly.”

  “If you’ve got any requests, let me know,” Seleth said with a wink, never ceasing the effortless movements of his hands.

  Just the same, his flowing tides never stilled for a moment. Enveloped by traveling waters or not, the boy found enough focus to offer exactly half of a bow. “As I’ve said, I’m Cailin. I’m an astronomer and meteorologist. Is this your first time at the observatory?”

  In contrast with a crass researcher she’d previously banished to bed, his formality was almost jarring. Still, Azia appreciated it. “Yeah. Like I said, we were looking for you, specifically.”

  His delicate smile was growing on her, a bit. “Welcome, then. You said something about Rain, correct?”

  It was probably the stark difference between him and the vibrant grin at Azia’s side, aglow as it still was. Seleth confiscated his stream with flair, too, one likely-unnecessary snap of his fingers shattering his beloved blues to mist. He really was showing off. The astronomer recoiled, briefly, and yet still gave the same enraptured gaze to every fleeing sparkle.

  For how much brighter he seemed to sparkle himself, Azia had a feeling that Seleth enjoyed the reaction. “Dunno why you’d wanna study it in the first place. It’s pretty gross, from what I’ve seen of it so far.”

  Cailin chuckled. “I don’t disagree with you at all. Still, it’s fascinating in its own way.”

  “So, you do handle the weather, then?” Azia asked.

  He nodded. The pride in his voice was easily one-tenth of anything Seleth had ever offered up. It was almost a relief. “I can’t take credit for everything, but I handle all of our forecasts and predictions. I help refine the models, where I can. Of course, we’re always looking into new methodologies. I help with that, too.”

  “Talented,” Seleth praised. He jabbed one lazy thumb backwards. “And the massive telescope?”

  For a moment, Cailin followed his eyes. “That’s more of my personal research than anything. Celestial orbits, solar flares, things like that. My hope is that it can shed a bit more light on the Sunburst, at some point.”

  Seleth tapped the tip of his shoe against the floor awkwardly. “Right. I, uh, forgot about that.”

  “There’s even been speculation of the presence of water on other planets,” Cailin went on. “It’s…a lot to take in.”

  Azia crossed her arms. “And you do all of this yourself? That really is a lot to mess with at once. You’re the only person in the whole observatory?”

  In lieu of distress, Cailin still kept the same smile. “I enjoy it, actually. It’s peaceful up here.”

  “Hey, does this thing work during the day?” Seleth asked, surrendering his presence in favor of distracted footsteps.

  Azia called him on it as he made for the telescope. “We’re here for a reason, you know.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware, but I still wanna try,” he complained loudly.

  Seleth’s volume was unnecessary. He was echoing again, distant as he was becoming. Cailin took it well enough, any offense to his dismissal be damned. “It’s a solar telescope. You can safely observe the sun through it, if you’d like. Unfortunately, that’s about all you’ll be able to see until nightfall.”

  “Better than nothing,” Seleth called back with a shrug. He’d forgone asking permission to begin with, already scaling the steps to the mechanism two at a time. Azia groaned.

  Her annoyance got a laugh out of the astronomer, at least. Cailin led, and she reluctantly followed. “You’re more than welcome to look, too.”

  “I’m good. I appreciate it, though,” Azia mumbled. “About the Rain. Do you have a forecast for this week written up already?”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Cailin beamed. The luminosity of even that much was notably soft. If Kassy bore scathing sunshine, then Azia could see him as gentle starlight. In that way, he wasn’t so out of place in his field of choice. “And next week, if you need it. It’s been a bit active recently, so it’s supposed to Drizzle in a few hours. Standard the day after tomorrow, sometime around noon or so. Another Drizzle on Sunday morning. After that, next week is clear until it Drizzles again on Friday.”

  Azia’s eyes widened. “That’s impressive, honestly. You can predict that far ahead?”

  “The tropospheric model works great so far,” he said. “I’m happy to put all of that on paper for you, if it helps.”

  It was probably strange to admit that she was growing gradually more impressed. Fragile as the boy seemed, the competency was striking. Azia kept it to herself. “You memorized all of that?”

  “Of course.”

  She smiled. “I see why they’ve got you running this place.”

  Of all things, Cailin blushed. “I-I’m not perfect. I don’t know if they’re angry with me about the Thunderstorm.”

  Seleth probably shouldn’t have been touching a telescope he didn’t know how to operate. Seleth probably shouldn’t have done many, many of the things that he’d put her through. If Cailin didn’t object, it was enough for Azia to keep her mouth shut. She took the steps less urgently than he did, at least, slowing on behalf of her humble guide. “Science is flawed. Rain is Rain. They can’t expect you to be absolutely perfect.”

  She’d stolen the sentiment from Seleth. Still, it was applicable. Cailin averted his eyes anyway, the tail of his cloak just barely scraping the stairs as he ascended. “I chose a pretty bad tier to err on. A lot of people were in danger. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it happened at all.”

  The actual mechanism came with a seat, comfortable and necessary by visuals alone. Seleth had figured that part out splendidly. Azia had half a mind to wonder if his water would compromise the interior components in any capacity. It was the first time she’d ever stopped to wonder if he could make it by accident, actually.

  Excitement was a humorous catalyst to consider. Azia straddled the line between laughing at the idea and preemptively strangling him over the concept. If Seleth broke anything in the Institute, she was going to kill him long before the Rain did.

  “Get up,” Azia hissed in a whisper. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t figure out how to do it myself,” Seleth confessed, tapping his fingers against the metal.

  “You weren’t supposed to!”

  “Here,” Cailin offered, reaching past him. Motions far more steady and infinitely more skilled overtook Seleth’s own, and he handled every little component of the eyepiece with care. “You have to adjust the lenses first. And the focus, after that. I was using it this morning, so you shouldn’t have to move it. Try now.”

  Cailin stepped back, and Seleth obliged. Cautiously, he leveled his gaze with the eyepiece. There was, admittedly, something hilarious about the way his grin erupted and fizzled within seconds. Even before he pointed it out, Azia had an extremely solid idea as to why. She was already stifling a laugh.

  “Oh my God, that’s the sun?” he nearly cried.

  Cailin wasn’t laughing, by comparison. Azia probably shouldn’t have been, either. She finally couldn’t help it. “Yup,” she answered bluntly.

  “That’s what that looks like?”

  “I warned you.”

  “No, I know it was bad, but I thought you said it was fixed now!” Seleth sputtered, never parting from the telescope.

  Azia was almost embarrassed about laughing at him in front of Cailin, actually, given the subject matter. “I never said it came back together nicely.”

  “I…wow,” he said at last, blunt and baffled all at once. “How the hell does it shine with all the huge cracks in it?”

  Azia shrugged. “It just does.”

  “He doesn’t know about the Sunburst?” Cailin asked, turning to the alchemist.

  “He knows. He’s just learning some other things,” she clarified.

  “I mean, you didn’t tell me the freakin’ sun was still broken,” Seleth argued, gesturing blindly towards a sky he could hardly see.

  Cailin folded his hands together again, just as neatly as before. “You’re welcome to come back at night, if you’d like. I could…show you everything else. There’s a lot more to see then. Not tonight, though. It’s supposed to Drizzle. The clouds will end up blocking everything out.”

  At last, Seleth leaned back, freeing the shattered sun from further scrutiny. “Drizzle?”

  “Rain,” Azia translated. “Tier One. Harmless. It Drizzled the night we met, actually.”

  He leaned back in the same seat far enough that Azia briefly wondered if he’d try to lounge against the telescope. Had he attempted, she probably would’ve pushed him down the steps. “How many kinds of Rain are there, exactly? I feel like it’s different every time I see it.”

  “You’ve just been unlucky,” Azia muttered. “There’s not that many.”

  Her eyes flickered to Cailin. He caught her gaze, and there was something almost endearing about the way his face lit up. To be fair, it was his specialty. If nothing else, it was something she wouldn’t have to explain to Seleth herself--for once.

  “There’s four different tiers of Rain,” Cailin began. “We classified them based on severity. The higher the tier, the more dangerous the Rain becomes. Some are much more common than others. Others are so rare that most people will never encounter them in their lifetimes. In terms of the latter, that’s definitely a good thing.”

  Seleth sat up straight, facing the astronomer in full. “I’m guessing we haven’t dealt with those kind.”

  Azia bit her lip. “Debatable.”

  “Tier One is called a Drizzle,” Cailin went on. “It won’t generate Precipitation. It’s the most frequent type of Rain you’ll see, and it usually occurs several times per week. I still wouldn’t recommend coming in contact with it for too long, regardless. Just because there’s no Precipitation doesn’t make it any less toxic.”

  “I think I was a bit distracted the first time I saw that one,” Seleth said with a smirk, his eyes drifting to Azia.

  She scoffed wordlessly. When she clung to silence, Cailin continued further. “Tier Two, we refer to as Standard. That kind does generate Precipitation. It tends to be unstable, and sometimes the forms don’t stay together well. It’s still Precipitation, though, and it’s still dangerous. Standard Rain tends to happen every few weeks, on average.”

  “And I got to see it in my first few days at the Institute. Lucky me,” Seleth joked.

  She'd just handed him the opposite sentiment. Apparently, he didn't care. “Yeah. Lucky,” Azia grumbled.

  He shot her a half-hearted finger gun. “And that’s where you guys come in, right? All the fighting, and whatnot.”

  It was Azia’s turn with pride, for once. She embraced it. “Yeah. We’re trained to take care of it, when it happens.”

  Seleth shifted the same pointed gesture towards Cailin. “Can you fight, too?”

  Cailin flinched. “Oh, no. I’m not combat-certified. I don’t think I could ever be. I’m not really…cut out for that. I have nothing but respect for those who are, though. I hope what I do makes up for it.”

  Seleth grinned. “Nothin’ wrong with that. You’ve got a hell of a lot going on already.”

  The smile Cailin gave him in return was warm, if not infinitely softer. It fell off soon enough, regardless. “Tier Three is called a Thunderstorm. They’re…not good. They’re very rare, thankfully, so we don’t have to deal with them much. There’s still Precipitation, but it’s faster. It’s stronger, and it’s more lethal. The forms hold up much better. It’s even a different color. Of course, there’s the excessive Rain, and the lightning…you’ve definitely seen this one firsthand.”

  Seleth tilted his head. “Are you talking about yesterday?”

  Azia nodded in unison with the astronomer. Seleth once more leaned back in his seat, more exasperated than anything. “Yeah, that was gross. Everyone was freaking out about it. I’m guessing that’s not a normal thing?”

  “On the contrary,” Cailin said, his voice as dark as it was quiet. “That was the first Thunderstorm in this part of Tenaveris in twelve years.”

  Seleth’s eyes widened. Given the number, Azia couldn’t help but do the same. “That long? We’ve had at least two at the Alchemist Institute, just in the time I've been there.”

  “Then I suppose we were lucky,” Cailin murmured. “Ideally, it’s the last one for quite a while.”

  He turned to Seleth again, answering a question unspoken. “Years, at worst. Decades, more realistically. You’ll hardly ever see them. That’s the way it should be. I’m…sorry you experienced otherwise.”

  Seleth met his sorrowful gaze with muted hurt of his own. Even by proxy, it was painful to see. “It’s okay,” he reassured simply. “I’m fine.”

  When Cailin only sank deeper into the same spreading sorrow, the shaky grin Seleth threw together was somewhat surprising. “I took it all out myself, you know. Did they tell you that part?”

  And only then did he smile, weak and fragile as it was. If Azia chose her words poorly, she was all but certain it would shatter. “Yes,” Cailin said. “I’ve heard. You really are incredible.”

  Seleth’s grin was false, probably. The pride in his voice might’ve been the same. Still, he tried. “Why, thank you,” he teased. “It’s a shame that you missed it. I’ll show you whatever you want to make up for it, alright? Your own personal little show. Anomaly Seleth, at your service.”

  In the wake of a playful salute, Cailin’s soft laughter was a tiny victory. Where Azia couldn’t grin in turn, she found a smile, instead. If Seleth could cleanse the boy’s misplaced guilt, then that was all the purity he needed to offer.

  They settled into the same silence, eventually. It was Seleth who submitted to solemn eyes first, his shining grin faltering at last. “You said there were four kinds, right? Tiers of Rain, I mean?”

  Cailin’s gaze slowly drifted to the floor, and he fidgeted with his fingers. Once more, his soft voice grew poisoned with something dark. “Tier Four is…extremely rare. On a geological timescale, there’s no notable pattern to it. It’s called a Tempest, and it’s absolutely foul. There’s Precipitation, as you’d expect, but it’s…different. It’s inescapable. It’s so powerful that it might as well be indestructible. You could hypothetically destroy it, yes, but you’d almost certainly die trying. I don’t even know if you’d want to. Their forms are perfect. Aside from the color, they look just like…people.”

  He paused. The strain on Seleth’s face surely wasn’t encouraging. To the astronomer’s credit, he went on anyway. “There’s more to it, meteorologically, but the Precipitation is the most concerning. It’ll level everything in its path and slaughter all that it touches. I thank God every day that they’re as rare as they are.”

  “How rare?” Seleth tried.

  Cailin hesitated. “In the past 6,000 years, there have only ever been eight recorded instances of a Tempest anywhere in the world.”

  Seleth simply stared. The absolute shock in his voice more than made up for it. “Eight?”

  Cailin nodded wordlessly. Seleth pushed. “When was the last one?”

  Azia hated the way she stiffened. It wasn’t voluntary. She was relieved that Seleth didn’t notice, fixated on the astronomer as he was. From him, she caught the softest sigh.

  “Fourteen years ago,” Cailin said, “in the town of Raverna, Tenaveris.”

  Seleth’s eyes immediately shot to Azia’s. “Isn’t that the place we--”

  “Yes,” Azia answered quietly. “We were there.”

  He fell silent again. Cailin’s gaze still scraped the floor. “That’s…all of them,” he concluded.

  Of every response he could’ve given, Seleth chose the most crass one imaginable. “Eww.”

  If it was enough to make Cailin laugh again, Azia could forgive him. That, too, was growing on her, in stark contrast to his sorrow. “It’s definitely not pleasant, I agree.”

  Seleth stretched nonchalantly in his seat. “I mean, Thunderstorms are rare, right? So, if the Precipitation comes back, it’ll most likely be the more common tier, I’m guessing. Is that the one we want?”

  His eyes floated to Azia. She groaned. “I still don’t want this at all.”

  Cailin tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  Cracking his knuckles above his head was mildly obnoxious, if not unnecessary. Seleth did it anyway. “I’m gonna take on the Rain alone again. They get to study how I fight. I suppose it’ll be weaker this time, though. That’s probably a good thing.”

  The astronomer only stared. “You’re…going to fight the Rain on purpose? All by yourself?”

  “Did it once,” he boasted. “I can definitely do it again. Wanna come watch? You like all the Rain stuff, right?”

  Once more, the way Cailin’s eyes sparkled over Rain, of all things, was jarring. “Really? Would that…be okay?”

  Seleth met his excitement with a grin. “I mean, if anyone could get something out of that, I figure it’d be you. Besides, I could use a supportive audience.”

  And again, his knowing gaze was on Azia. She frowned. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Seleth only laughed. By comparison to a gentle astronomer, his satisfaction snuck beneath her skin--as usual. “When are we doing this, anyway?”

  He turned to Cailin. Azia didn’t bother answering for him. “Are you asking about the next time it’ll Rain? Tier Two will occur two days from now. Do you remember which one that is?”

  Seleth brought his finger gun back. He brought two of them, actually, cocky as they were. “Standard. Got it. I was paying attention.”

  Cailin beamed. “Very good.”

  “The rest of us will be there for backup, if it’s an emergency,” Azia explained, “but you won’t be in any danger. You’re free to take notes on whatever you want. It might end up a bit crowded, though.”

  “It still gets you out of here for a while,” Seleth added, gesturing aimlessly around the vast observatory. “A little social interaction, and all that.”

  Azia scowled. “Hush,” she whispered.

  Still, Cailin’s smile was nice. For the lack of stars on a shining day, he gently compensated in one room alone. Given his morbid field of study, he was out of place in a different way than Seleth. Even now, the contrast between them as they stood so near was unsettling. Azia didn’t hate it. Her one and only lament, then, was the way he’d cursed Seleth with poisonous knowledge.

  If Azia had her way, as she’d so often wished, his name would never so much as share the same sentence as Rain. That Seleth would share a battlefield with it by choice, grinning all the while, was yet one more way he’d found to stress her out. He was great at that.