Kor led the way, every footstep guided by the faint glow of a mana trail that snaked deeper into the library’s forbidden stacks. Kor shot Lena a sidelong look. Her dark eyes flicked between the countless volumes towering into the gloom above. Both of them were very aware they had left the recommended safe areas behind. Here, the air felt thicker, charged with more than just dust motes. Occasional flickers of magical light hovered in the distance, spaced too far apart to give comfort.

  The ancient stacks seemed energised, as if the living magic itself churned with unrest. A few books fluttered overhead like nervous birds, their pages rustling in a silent hush. Each time he strained to catch a whisper, it fled the instant he focused. A prickling sensation crawled across his skin as if something tracked their movements.

  They passed rows of shelves that loomed ever closer together, the aisles narrower and darker than before. The glow from the mana trail lit their path, but cast everything else into deeper shadows. Kor’s shoulders tensed as a faint chill crept along his spine.

  Kor cleared his throat. “So… the Shadow Lock. Any idea what it actually is?”

  Lena slowed, considering his question. “I’m... not entirely sure.” Her voice trailed off, hanging in the air, and he wondered if Ether was listening, too.

  Lena brushed a stray lock of black hair from her forehead. “My parents didn’t give specifics, only that they believed it was connected to my specialisation. When I unlocked my magic back home, there wasn’t any book to guide me the way Ether gifts out. No record that explained how to master it.”

  Kor frowned. “How did you learn about it at all?”

  She offered a small shrug. “Trial and error, mostly. That’s why I still don’t have a firm grasp on what I can do. My family keeps detailed records of all our ancestors and their powers, but none of them had the same magic as I seem to have. So I’ve just been piecing things together from scraps of knowledge.”

  Kor mulled over her words. He had many questions, but it was rare for a mage to talk about their specialisation. He hadn’t revealed the true nature of his powers to anyone, though Talen knew snowflakes weren’t his genuine talent. “That sounds... challenging,” he ventured.

  She nodded. “Some of my ancestors’ journals offered useful clues. Even if they covered different abilities, they showed me how crucial it is to explore every facet of your own magic.”

  “How so?”

  As they continued on, the flicker of mana guiding them veered slightly to the left, like a wary fox seeking a hidden path. The library grew quieter still, as if Ether itself held its breath.

  “Well, my ancestors’ entries from their earliest days are always scattered—the notes of impatient teenagers who’d rather be out practising than documenting. But over time, those who continued to develop eventually realised that their initial assumptions about their powers were incomplete.”

  She glanced sidelong at Kor. “Take my grandfather, for instance. When he started out, he believed himself a stone mage.”

  Kor’s eyebrows rose. “Wasn’t he?”

  “Not exactly. His understanding changed. As he matured, he discovered while stone was a part of his power, it wasn’t the whole. In time, he defined himself as a ‘Mountain Mage,’ though he admitted even that label wasn’t perfectly accurate.”

  “So he was always a Mountain Mage,” Kor reasoned, “just misunderstanding his powers at first.”

  “Exactly.” Lena’s voice echoed softly in the deserted aisle. “He says that once he realised how his perspective had been too narrow, his capabilities increased dramatically.”

  They turned left as the mana trail beckoned, pushing between two shelves that felt more like looming canyon walls. The smell of old leather and musty parchment grew stronger, overpowering the senses until Kor could practically taste the dust. Here, the ceiling vanished into darkness, and the single thread of mana seemed to float just out of reach.

  “It’s easy to get lost in here.” Kor and his companion moved through the maze of wider aisles, each indistinguishable from the last. The trail pulsed faintly ahead, its glow dipping and twisting deeper into the Archive’s unseen depths. He pictured countless students wandering these endless corridors, their footsteps fading into the oppressive hush, their voices swallowed whole by the labyrinth.

  Lena edged closer to him, her previous confidence waning. “Supposedly, the most skilled mages are the ones who come close to grasping the true nature of their powers. But there are others who go the opposite route—never realising just how specific their specialisation might be.”

  Kor glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

  She gathered her thoughts as the mana thickened like a twisting thread of silver. “If you imagine my grandfather’s situation, consider another practitioner who thinks they’re a rock mage. In truth, their specialisation could be far more specific—such as Igneous Rock. By focusing on obsidian or basalt, for example, they’d uncover entirely new depths of power that someone casting a generic ‘rock spell’ would never touch.”

  The thread of mana led them to a short row of shelves pressed close together. Just a few paces ahead, a soft glimmer shone from a single book, the faint aura that had guided their steps fading away. Lena’s eyes lit up as she hurried forward.

  “That must be it.” Excitement and nerves edged her tone.

  Ether’s presence shifted, a silent ripple running through the row of shelves. Kor turned to face the emanations. “If this book is truly about your specialisation, Lena, then Ether might—”

  He broke off, realising he could no longer hear her. Turning back, the corridor of shelves stood empty. A second ago, she had been right there, only a step ahead. Now, the swirling mana ended abruptly where she should have been.

  “Lena?” His heart pounded, breath catching in his throat. “Lena!”

  He scanned the aisle, its gloom revealing nothing. A spike of guilt stabbed at him—he ought to have warned her more clearly. Ether was known to test those who sought knowledge beyond the safety of the main section.

  The library’s awareness pressed against him—silent yet palpable.

  “Ether?” The surrounding books remained still. Even the faint breeze that had once ruffled pages seemed to vanish. As though Ether was letting him know: This was Lena’s trial, and hers alone.

  And so Kor stood there in the musty darkness, the last echo of Lena’s footsteps still lingering in his ears. All he could do was wait, calling her name into the silence while the library watched with detached patience.

  Kor’s pulse throbbed as he paced in that gloomy corridor, wondering how long he would have to wait for Ether to whisk Lena back. The silence in the stacks pulsed with a strange vitality, pressing in around him like the weight of unseen eyes tracking his every step.

  He shifted from foot to foot, resisting the urge to call out her name again. Instead, he backed up until his spine pressed against a towering bookshelf. The closeness of the shelves and the stifling silence made it feel as though the entire library was holding its breath.

  A sudden surge of mana engulfed him—an invisible current that ripped him off his feet. Panic flared in his chest as his vision blurred, and before he could cry out, the corridor vanished. When his surroundings refocused, Kor found himself in a circular room with shelves packed high on every side. A single desk stood in the centre, a book resting atop it.

  His heart raced, throat tightening. “Round two, is that it?” The memory of Ether’s last similar test flashed through his mind.

  Cautiously, he approached the desk. The book lay open, as if waiting for him. Only one line of text greeted him on the yellowed page:

  Kor, I need your companion’s help.

  A confused frown creased his forehead. “Who? Do you mean Tortoise?” The mere mention of that sleepy presence in his mind made his temple throb. “He’s done nothing except give me a headache—plus, he’s always asleep. How did you even know about him?”

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  His voice echoed faintly in the tiny room. Still, the library’s attention was undeniable, and he had the sense that Ether heard him despite the silence. He glanced down at the page, unnerved to see new words forming.

  His essence is indelibly bound to you. Even without his corporeal form, his signature is unmistakable.

  Kor couldn’t help a wry laugh. “So I’m not going crazy. But how am I supposed to get him to assist you, anyway? He’s done nothing but nap so far.”

  The surrounding shelves seemed to quiver, as though faintly amused.

  Concept Companions are drawn to those of power. Grow your mana pool until you are capable of birthing him.

  Kor raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t a fat joke, was it?” He paused, then waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, I’ll ask him to help once he’s…born? I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

  The more potential he holds, the longer it will take.

  “I’m not sure how useful a Tortoise will be,” Kor shook his head, “but I’ll do my best. When the time comes, I’ll ask for his help.”

  A gentle wave of warmth washed over him, unmistakable as Ether’s gratitude.

  “When you said birth him, that was metaphorical, right?”

  Only silence greeted his words.

  “Right?!”

  The high wall of books shifted. A doorway shaped itself in the bindings and spines, opening with a low groan. Kor let out a low chuckle. “No one warns you about the Archive’s sense of humour.” He stepped through the gap.

  His transition was abrupt: one moment, he passed between shelves that shimmered with Ether’s magic; the next, he stood right back where he’d lost Lena moments earlier. The ancient hush returned, broken only by the quiet rustle of distant pages. In the air, the luminous thread of mana still hovered, but it felt subdued, as if waiting.

  Kor’s eyes swept the aisle. “Is Lena coming back here when she’s done?” His voice a whisper.

  A faint flicker of agreement brushed his mind before Ether’s presence dissolved, leaving him alone once more. Now that the tension of his own test was past, a surge of worry returned. He turned his gaze across the endless shelves. Just how many tomes filled Ether’s walls? Even in Lexica, famed for its libraries, he had never seen such a collection. Titles upon titles lined the shelves, most of them in scripts he couldn’t even recognise. He could spend a lifetime here and still not see it all.

  Before his thoughts could stray further, a wisp of mana spiralled down the aisle, and suddenly Lena popped back into existence with a soft thud. Hair dishevelled and breathing hard, as if she had wrestled with a rogue spell. She clutched a book in both hands, and the faint sparkle of discharged magic lingered in the surrounding air.

  “Lena!” Kor hurried forward. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. “I’m fine.” Her voice carried a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Then she lifted the volume cradled in her arms, her eyes shining with triumphant joy. “I’ve got it.”

  Kor smiled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “That’s great! Sorry, I didn’t warn you about the testing. Ether…well, it can be unpredictable.”

  “It’s fine,” Lena said, surprising him with her calm tone. “I half expected something like that. Everyone knows the rumours.” Her gaze flicked around them, as if searching for any sign of further trials.

  He wasn’t exactly certain which direction they’d arrived from. “Let’s get out of here. Being this far from the main path is more than a little unsettling.”

  “You’re right.” She cast a wary glance over her shoulder. “Feels as if we’re being watched—and not just by Ether.”

  Kor cleared his throat. “Uh, Ether? Could you guide us back?”

  Silence. More of the Archive’s humour? “Guess we’re on our own,” he shrugged. “I think it was back this way.”

  They started retracing their steps, turning down a narrow aisle walled by shelves stuffed with thick volumes. The air smelled of parchment and dust. Before long, Kor realised something was off; They were headed deeper into the stacks, not outward. He paused, cheeks flushing. “Actually, wait. Perhaps it was the next turn.”

  Lena gave him a teasing half-smile. “Or maybe it was the previous one.”

  With a grimace, he pivoted back. “Right. Let’s try over here instead.”

  They retraced their original path—an L-shaped route winding between looming stacks. Lena’s careful sense of direction kept them on track, noting familiar landmarks like the wide shelf where the mana trail had veered off and the alcove with its glowing runes. At last, the aisles widened, and the gloom receded.

  A comforting hum of conversation reached them, followed by the sight of broad, well-lit desks arranged near the front of the library. Students hunched over open texts, oblivious to the labyrinth lurking so close to hand. The tension that had weighed on Kor’s chest lifted like morning fog. He hadn’t realised just how tense he’d become until he saw the familiar face of the main reading hall.

  Kor let out a relieved sigh. “We made it.”

  Lena tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, managing a tired grin. “Thanks for your help, Kor.” Her violet eyes met his. “I couldn’t have done this on my own.”

  Heat rushed to his cheeks. “It’s, uh, no problem. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  Her warm smile brightened her face. “Exactly. If there’s ever anything I can do to return the favour, just let me know.”

  He ducked his head in a quick nod. “Sure.”

  Lena straightened, glancing at the cover of her new book. “I’d better go. I don’t want to miss the next class—Darkness Fend.”

  “Darkness Fend.” The words hung heavy with the experience they’d just shared.

  A comfortable silence passed between them before Lena stepped away, carefully cradling the mysterious volume that had put them both through such a harrowing experience. At the library’s exit, she turned back. “See you in class, Kor.”

  “See you.” An odd flutter of anticipation stirred in his chest as he watched her disappear past the archway, her prize in hand.

  Only then did Kor realise how tightly he had been gripping the strap of his pack. With a shaky exhalation, he turned toward the reading hall’s desks, letting the normalcy of quiet students and softly turning pages soothe his nerves. Even as he calmed, he felt a faint stirring somewhere deep in his mind—Tortoise, perhaps, lazily shifting in his slumber.

  Practical Spellcraft! The thought electrified him. How long had they spent in there? His eyes snapped to the library’s clock.

  Relief settled over him as he realised he still had some time until class. With a calming breath, Kor exited the archive, the faint hum of its magical essence lingering in his ears. Outside, he conjured a small fractal snowflake as he walked, mana patterns blooming in his palm. It was a simple design, yet intricate enough to keep his mind busy. The conjuration spun, refracting light while he adjusted the angles, testing each subtle shift’s effect on its structural integrity.

  Triangles were supposed to be among the most resilient geometric shapes, and he was determined to optimise his designs for force distribution. Already, he could envision creating his signature snowflake-like barriers out of interconnected triangles, maintaining their fractal symmetry. The challenge exhilarated him. So far, his fractals formed only on a two-dimensional plane, but the deeper his connection grew, the more he glimpsed the potential of three-dimensional patterns. The possibilities were dizzying, the forms almost surreal in their complexity.

  Twin suns blazed in the sky, their overlapping light casting the campus in an intense, shimmering glow. Kor squinted against the glare, adjusting his glasses as he weaved through clusters of students. Their chatter filled the air, lively and energetic, as groups exchanged stories of triumphs and challenges. The heat pressed down on him, but a faint, pleasant breeze rustling through the open spaces countered it as he readied for class.

  The rest of the week flew by in a blur of study and relentless practice. In Practical Spellcraft, Kor’s efforts paid off. Under Professor Moss’s dry but precise guidance, he mastered increasingly intricate shapes. Even despite the professor’s unwillingness to teach, he still imparted valuable information. Before long, his snowflake barriers shone, their enhanced structural integrity quickly surpassing the products of his peers. Though Talen and a few others still outclassed him with fully reflexive shields that moved in perfect synchrony with their users, it was only a matter of time before he caught up.

  Combat Practice presented a distinct challenge. The mandatory laps at the start of each session remained his nemesis. He could tell he was shedding some weight, but the gap between him and the others persisted, though he had closed the distance with Laylee. Determined to improve, he added extra circuits to his training regime. Tired and sweaty, he hated every minute of the exercise, but he began to notice the difference. Graduating from exhausted mess to only tired and aching. However, he studiously avoided Viree’s field for now, intent on returning only when he felt more confident in his progress.

  Every aspect of his studies improved as he devoted every waking minute to practising or reading. More and more ideas for properly utilising his fractal magic bloomed in his mind; he just needed extra hours in the day to complete it all. His competitive streak wouldn’t allow for anything less. Teneth was his first goal; the younger and more arrogant of the two Solarian brothers. It wouldn’t be long now till he’d be ready for the challenge.

  Electives began next week, and the buzz of activity around campus only fuelled Kor’s anticipation. He knew what to expect with Meta-Casting and Advanced Combat, but Arcane Artificing was a completely fresh path. The prospect of weaving permanent magic—and perhaps turning a profit—held an undeniable allure. Though he hoped he would have enough spare time to keep closing the gap between him and the others. Even if background understanding of everything magical was still fundamentally limited compared to many of the students, he wouldn’t let it hold him back.

  By Genday, classes had finished for the week, and Kor awoke with a sense of purpose. Today, he had agreed to assist Talen with a personal project. Yet, as he stirred, the strangest sight greeted him.

  The room was pitch black.

  He frowned at the blackened windows, assuming he’d woken too early. Leaning over to check the alarm clock, he froze—it was already morning. A prickle of unease crept along his spine as he groped for his glasses on the bedside table. Sliding them into place, he exhaled slowly and reached out with his senses, tuning into the ambient mana, searching for the source of the darkness.

  Something was amiss.

  Every one of Talen’s plants glowed faintly with magic. They pulsed and shifted, weaving an intricate network of power. Only a faint glow emanated from them, but the magical energy coursing between the leaves shimmered like an aurora, beautiful and eerie to his mana sight. The plants swayed in unison, as though moved by an invisible rhythm.

  Kor’s enhanced sensitivity allowed him to pinpoint Talen’s presence within the verdant cluster. He was sitting amidst his miniature jungle, entirely still, save for the faint aura of mana resonating from his body.

  “Talen, what’s going on?” Kor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The response didn’t come immediately. Instead, the plants’ movements grew more pronounced, their magical energy intensifying as they seemed to align with Talen’s breathing. Kor’s unease deepened, the surreal display making him question whether he was awake or trapped in some bizarre dream.