Kor leaned closer, his breathing shallow. “Talen, what’s going on?” The words slipped out, barely more than a whisper.

  Talen didn’t answer immediately. The plants stirred, growing bolder as their magic surged in sync with his every breath. Kor swallowed hard, a creeping unease twisting in his chest. The strange, hypnotic display blurred the line between waking and dreaming, leaving him unsure of what was real.

  Kor moved towards the light switch, his hand brushing against the wall, before Talen’s voice stopped him.

  “Wait, Kor, almost done.”

  The tone was calm but carried a weight Kor couldn’t ignore. He sighed, dropping his hand and retreating to his bed.

  He pulled on his robes, settling in as he waited for whatever arcane performance his roommate had orchestrated to reach its crescendo. The only source of light remained the dim, pulsating glow of the plants and the campus lights filtering in. Outside, muted sounds of activity filtered through—a conversation, footsteps against stone paths, laughter muffled by distance. None of it seemed to match the ominous energy saturating their room.

  ‘This is normal... for Conflux,’ Kor thought, attempting to focus his attention elsewhere. He summoned a fractal, letting its geometric precision distract him. It began as a simple snowflake, a form he knew well, but quickly expanded into something more complex. Triangles spun outward, spiralling and weaving into ever-more elaborate patterns. He had to stay focused on maintaining the ruse, but the more he practised, the more he itched to try new things.

  ‘Focus on the basics,’ he reminded himself as he erased the shape to start over. Working with fractals had taught him a great deal. The snowflakes were useful, though they weren’t as flexible as he’d hoped. Other more exciting avenues of research were pulling him astray, such as lightning. After seeing the professor fight off the Voidlings with powerful blasts of electricity, he even did a little reading on the subject, uncovering something interesting. Lightning itself was fractal in nature, its branching structure a result of atmospheric interactions.

  His reading had also shown him other potential applications, one in particular that promised an explosive release. But he’d need to tread carefully. Testing it out required, at minimum, the use of a training room if he didn’t want to blow himself up. Magic wasn’t like math; its rules were far more fluid. With his mathematical mindset, he still struggled to think creatively, which seemed a necessary pre-requisite to capture its full potential. Still, his fellow students and even his roommate were proving ample inspiration.

  A hum from the plants snatched his attention. A deep, resonant tone vibrated through the air, raising the hairs on Kor’s arms. Mana sight revealed their auras flaring in unison, brighter and sharper than before. Talen, sitting cross-legged, seemed to merge with the energy flow. The vibrations grew until practically their entire room buzzed; Kor was certain their neighbours would complain—if they dared.

  Then, just as suddenly, the sound ceased. The energy dissipated, but not before Talen and his plants shone with a strange, vivid vitality. The leaves and vines gleamed as though lit from within, their glow pulsing in time with an unspoken rhythm. The crystal palm, at the heart of the display, briefly flashed through a dazzling prism of colours, casting refracted light across the room before dimming to a shimmer. Only the faint resonance of Talen’s mana signature lingered, filling the space with an almost tangible sense of harmony.

  “Thanks for waiting, Kor,” Talen said, his voice carrying an usual serene depth, as if the ritual lingered within him.

  A brief flex of Talen’s mana and the lights snapped on. He blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness. Talen stood now, stretching as if he’d just awoken from a nap. His plants swayed lazily, their glow subsiding to a barely perceptible glow.

  He really ought to start trying that himself, now that his control had improved.

  “A few questions,” Kor began, raising a hand like he was in class. “First, why is it still dark outside? It is morning, right?”

  “It’s the Occlune.” Talen chuckled softly as he crouched beside a vine glowing like captured starlight, pouring water over its roots. “Conflux’s moons and suns align today. Total darkness for the next twenty-four hours—it marks the changing seasons.”

  Kor frowned. “Okay… normal enough for Conflux, I suppose. But what was with your… ritual? It looked intense.”

  Talen paused, considering Kor with an unreadable expression before breaking into a grin. “It’s part of my specialisation—my bond with the plants. Synergy.”

  “That doesn’t sound like typical Verdana plant magic,” Kor said. “You’re a Synergist?”

  Talen nodded. “Half-Verdanian, technically. My other half’s Genisian. Makes things… complicated.”

  “I see.” Kor gave him a measured look. Even in Lexica, interplanetary relationships were rare. Their obsession with technology often clashed with the magically driven worlds around them.

  “Well, since we’re being honest, I’m not just a snowflake mage. I’m a fractal mage.”

  Talen’s grin widened. “Of course you are. Makes sense for a mathematician. Fractals are fascinating. You know that they have formed throughout nature, don’t you? From the root systems of plants to the way tree leaves grow.”

  “Yeah, I’ve only started to crack the surface of what they’re capable of.” He glanced at the still-dark windows. Kor rubbed the ache in his shoulder. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

  Talen gestured towards a massive, empty pot by his bed. The ceramic container was enchanted with a subtle magic that defied his understanding. He really needed to improve his mana sensitivity, Terra had mentioned how advanced practitioners could understand the intent behind a spell, with sufficient practice. Where did Talen keep getting the funds for all of this? He wasn’t some rich scion, was he?

  “We’re going outside to retrieve a new plant.”

  Kor tilted his head. “By ‘outside,’ you mean beyond the golden barrier protecting us all, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s not suspicious at all.” Kor crossed his arms. “How exactly do we extricate ourselves without being noticed? The professors have been on high alert since the last Voidling attack.”

  A brief flash of Tortoise’s ominous vision almost soured his expression before he shoved it aside. That existential dread could wait till he was stronger.

  “Relax,” Talen said, patting Kor’s shoulder. “I’ve got a solution. If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be out and back before anyone notices.”

  “And if things don’t go according to plan?”

  Talen shrugged, his expression mischievous. “Then we improvise.”

  Kor sighed, eyeing the massive pot again. “What did you need me for anyway, moral support?”

  “Hah, that pot’s not going to carry itself. Besides, if I smothered it with my mana, that would likely disrupt the seed.” Talen flashed him a sheepish grin. “It’s a rare plant, Kor. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

  “And the pot? Where do you keep getting these? They must cost a fortune.”

  “Trade secrets.” Talen winked, a sly grin creeping across his face. “Now, are you in or not?”

  Kor’s gaze dropped to the pot, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched as he weighed his options. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he stood. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

  “Thanks, Kor!” Talen had already opened the door, his excitement palpable as rushed back to the ceramic container. “Let’s go plant hunting.”

  The pot landed on the ground with a dull thud, Kor’s arms aching from the weight. The ceramic surface shimmered faintly under the golden glow of Conflux’s barrier. He collapsed next to it, muscles already protesting.

  “This thing better bloom gold,” Kor wiped sweat from his brow. “Why couldn’t you have purchased a smaller pot?”

  Talen crouched beside it, his fingers already tracing the runes as if coaxing it to life. “Because it needs room to grow, and magical plants don’t enjoy being messed about.”

  The barrier loomed in-front, an iridescent shimmer pulsing with a faint golden light that exuded such strength that it seemed almost physical. Kor stared at it, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as the potent pressure from the shield pressed against his senses.

  “So, how do we get out?” he said, nodding towards the glowing wall. “I’m assuming it doesn’t just let errant students stroll through.”

  Talen ignored him. A pulse of green energy flashed out, carving a shallow trench in the dirt. With a flourish, he unpinned his student badge and dropped it into the hole.

  Kor gawked. “Are you insane? Without that, we’re defenceless out there!”

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Relax.” Talen tossed something to him—a smaller, duller badge. “Temporary passes. They’re standard for visitors. Weak, sure, but they’ll hold long enough for a plant hunt.”

  Kor turned the badge over in his hand, extending his mana sense toward it. Unlike the complex swirl of patterns in their student badges, this one boasted such a small aura that it would likely fold under a single attack spell. “This feels more like a death certificate.”

  “Only if you’re careless.” Talen fit his own visitor badge to his robes. “Besides, it’s not as if we’re venturing into a mana-storm. We’re just taking a little stroll by the lake.”

  Kor sighed, but the pit in his stomach refused to settle. He dropped his student badge into the trench and stepped back as Talen waved a hand over it, closing the earth with a gentle hum of mana. The barrier’s light wavered as if acknowledging their exchange.

  “On three,” Talen said, grabbing his end of the pot.

  Kor nodded reluctantly. “One, two—”

  The titanic barrier swallowed them. A golden radiance engulfed his vision, warm and oppressive all at once. Several paces through the powerful aegis and they emerged on the other side as an entirely different force slammed down on him. A suffocating pressure that squeezed the air from his lungs. His body resisted instinctively, mana bubbling from within to force back the oppressive atmosphere.

  The raw, unshielded power of the magical world bore down upon him.

  Kor gasped as his body fought back. Just like his first visit to Conflux, the sheer potency of mana was intense, many times more than when he’d arrived. He halted in his tracks, forcing deep breaths as his body acclimated to the difference. If any normal person stepped out here, the pressure would crush them. Heck, it might have crushed him if he’d had to face this on his first day.

  “Could’ve given us a bit of warning, Talen.” Kor slowly righted himself, shooting his friend a dirty look.

  Talen shrugged. “You get used to it. The closer you are to the city, the milder the force. Farther out, though…” He trailed off, grinning. “Well, let’s just say there’s a reason that only spellcasters are typically allowed in Nexus.”

  The world outside the barrier pulsed with life, even in the consuming dark. Shadows shifted with purpose, a restless rhythm suggesting unseen creatures at the edge of his awareness. The air carried a faint hum, as if charged by the breath of a living planet. Strange scents teased Kor’s senses—earthy and rich, with an undertone of something sweet yet sharp. The ground beneath their feet was warm, almost thrumming, as though the earth itself held its own heartbeat. Far from the sterility of Conflux, this place maintained a wild vitality, both alluring and unnerving.

  The landscape before them extended far beyond the glow of the barrier. To the east, the lake shimmered faintly under the reflected light of the city. Further still, an ominous shape darkened the horizon, the vague outline of trees barely discernable in the dark.

  “This looks like the perfect place to get eaten.” Kor’s voice barely carried as he scanned the shadows, his mind instinctively reaching for a fractal.

  Talen laughed. “Stop being dramatic. Worst-case scenario, we meet a Pellet Owl. They’re harmless—usually.”

  “Usually?”

  “Don’t provoke them, and you’ll be fine.”

  Kor groaned. “I’m not even going to ask what counts as provoking.”

  “So where are we headed? Perhaps a grove of man-eating plants?” Kor peered into the velvety blackness ahead. Without Conflux’s glow, the night pressed down like a heavy blanket, offering no guidance.

  “Other side of the lake. Shouldn’t take long.” Talen picked up his end of the container.

  Kor adjusted his grip on the pot, arms trembling under its weight. “All this physical exercise better be worth it.” His breath came in short bursts as he trudged forward, boots scraping against the uneven ground behind his companion.

  Together they moved through the tall grasses along the lake’s edge, the fading gleam of Nexus’s golden barrier at their backs. A small luminescent orb moved between them, casting just enough glow to keep them from tripping while hopefully avoiding unwanted attention.

  “Was it really necessary to lug this pot all the way out here? Couldn’t we have collected your plant back without one?”

  “No, and keep your voice down,” Talen peered into the darkness as they shuffled along.

  Kor tightened his grip on the ceramic rim, arms growing sore with every step they took. The darkness around them swallowed much of the horizon, leaving only the rustle of reeds and the distant lap of water against the shore.

  “Morthus trees only shed new seeds on Occlune days. If they don’t land in fertile soil right away, they shrivel and die.”

  “So we need one of these trees to drop a seed straight into the pot. How do we even know when one is ready to fall?”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m sure the tree’s will agree to help us out after I’ve spoken with them.”

  “Didn’t realise they were such great conversationalists. What does this Morthus tree actually do anyway?”

  “I’m not entirely sure.”

  “What? So for all we know it just glows a pretty colour?”

  “Hah, no. It’s different for each Morthus and the person it bonds with. Some yield golden fruit, others gain the ability to walk. I’ve heard plenty of strange stories.”

  Kor huffed. “Why doesn’t everyone just get one, then?”

  “Only mages with certain mana affinities have a chance of forming a bond. Even then, it fails more often than not.”

  Kor opened his mouth to reply, but a sound in the darkness drew their attention. He stopped short. “What was that?” The hush of his voice betrayed his nerves.

  They lowered the pot to the ground in unspoken agreement, hearts racing. Kor let triangular fractals spark to life in his mind, mana simmering in readiness. Another rustle echoed through the grasses—something large, moving closer.

  Talen leaned closer, his voice barely audible. “Get ready.”

  ‘This was supposed to be a simple trip to fetch a plant.’ He steadied his breathing even as a shape broke through the grass. Talen’s orb flashed forward, illuminating the intruder.

  A snake’s head loomed before him, larger than any Kor had ever seen. Its wedge-shaped snout, broad and glistening, was the size of a wagon wheel, and its unblinking eyes glowed with a predatory sheen. “By the Void!” Kor’s breath caught as he thrust his arms forward—

  “Wait, Kor! It’s just a grass snake.”

  “Just a grass snake?” He kept his fractals dancing at the edges of his mind, their intricate patterns ready to spring into form. The creature’s forked tongue flicked in their direction, a slow and deliberate motion that sent a shiver through him. The faint pulse of mana emanating from the serpent was unsettlingly weak—barely perceptible, but he was more worried by the size of its fangs. It felt like the creature was weighing them, a predator caught between curiosity and disinterest.

  The moments stretched, each second tightening the coil of tension in Kor’s chest. The snake’s glistening scales reflected what little light there was, its movement impossibly smooth as it glided closer, its nose hovering just above the rim of the pot. Time seemed to slow as it lingered, tongue darting out again, tasting the air between them.

  Kor’s breath hitched, his mana brushing against the creature’s weak signature. This close, he could almost feel a hint of its true nature. Nothing like a student’s mana—it held a strange, primal cadence that made his skin crawl. What was it waiting for? What did it want?

  The moment hung taut between them until, at last, the snake pulled back. Its sinuous body slipped into the swaying grass, vanishing with a soft, whispering swish. The tension in Kor’s limbs unravelled like a coiled rope, leaving his muscles trembling in the aftermath.

  Talen lowered his voice, his tone calm but firm. “They aren’t dangerous to us. They prefer bugs.”

  Kor stared at the swaying grass where the snake had disappeared. “Those must be some colossal bugs.”

  He exhaled, shoulders loosening. “Any other surprises I should know about out here?”

  “Not if we avoid the lake and keep away from that hill on the far side of the forest.” Talen paused. “Oh, and we don’t want to stray too deep into the woods themselves, or follow strange lights in the dark.”

  His friend looked ready to rattle off a longer list as Kor shook his head, stooping to pick up his end of the pot. “At least I won’t have to worry about the academy catching us.”

  “Why’s that?” Talen said, gripping the other side. They set off again, weaving between towering reeds and patches of damp ground.

  “Because at this rate we’ll end up as some creature’s dinner long before we return.”

  “Don’t be melodramatic. It’s just a little adventure. That snake barely had a trace of mana.”

  “I’m less concerned about its mana than its mouth.”

  Talen let out a brief chuckle. “Anyway, not far now.”

  The night thrummed with life. Strange pulses of energy shimmered through the air, stirring every blade of grass with the invisible currents of energy. Though the murky darkness masked much of the surroundings, heightened senses told Kor there was movement everywhere.

  He glanced at Talen. “Is this amount of activity normal?”

  “I think it’s the Occlune. The season’s changing, so everything stirs. Just be glad we’re near Conflux. Almost anything truly dangerous has been wiped out around here.”

  Talen raised a hand and pointed through the gloom. “There should be a small grove of Morthus trees between the lake and the woods—just up ahead.”

  Kor kept close to Talen as they pressed through the undergrowth. Every shift of the night brought a new rustle, a distant cry, or the faint whisper of movement that made Kor’s skin crawl. Each sound causing him to push his mana sense further, questing for something lurking in the dark. The forest was alive—not only with the unusual Occlune activity, but with a deeper, stranger pulse of magic.

  He’d been honing his mana sense, trying to grasp the art of pinpoint precision, but tonight it was a flood of impressions: swirls of motion, faint arcs of energy, and ghostly shapes that danced just beyond the edge of perception. If nothing else, it was intense practise for his sensitivity.

  As they continued to move closer to the Morthus trees, Kor marvelled at how Talen manipulated mana with such ease. His friend’s affinity magical heritage had been on full display today, even the light orb he maintained with a graceful adaptability Kor could only envy. He’d need to experiment with how flexible his casting could be, since Talen made it look so easy.

  “Does keeping that light going cost much mana?”

  “For something this small? Hardly. But the expenditure goes up if I make it bigger or push it too far ahead. Almost all spells follow the same principle, losing efficiency the further you are separated from them. Though I’ve heard that static creations like traps or solidified conjurations can be different.”

  Kor nodded, the rim of the pot he carried digging uncomfortably into his fingers. His arms felt like leaden weights, and he adjusted his grip for the third time in as many minutes.

  “Look, Kor!” Talen’s light flared, surging ahead like a living thing. For a breathless instant, shadows crashed over them, thick and smothering, before the glow pierced through, revealing the grove beyond.

  From the darkness emerged a crescent of towering trees, standing like silent sentinels. Their forms defied uniformity: some rose slender and graceful, their silvery leaves shimmering as Talen’s light spilled over them, while others stood stout and unyielding, their gnarled trunks like ancient hands clawing at the earth. Among them, a spindly tree twitched, faint arcs of lightning crackling along the jagged patterns etched into its bark.

  ‘Were trees like these the source of the materials we use on campus?’ The thought itself felt intrusive, a disruption to the sacred stillness of the grove. Even considering the question seemed like a trespass, as though the grove might hear and take offence.

  Despite the amazing variety of Morthus trees, one parent dominated their senses. It loomed above the others, its deep crimson leaves trembling with a life of their own. The bark, dark and translucent as occluded amber, shimmered under Talen’s light as though it hid an inner fire. Its branches spread outward in a great canopy, stretching protectively over the grove like the arms of a titan.

  “Would you look at that,” Talen said, his voice a hushed whisper of wonder.

  Kor reached out with his mana sense, and the sensation hit him like a wave. The tree’s vitality radiated in all directions—down into the earth, through the roots, and high into the air. Its magic was ancient and vast, an interconnected web that claimed dominion over every blade of grass and leaf within its reach. Almost as if they straddled the edge of a wizard’s domain.

  “Wow.” Words failed him as they set the pot down at the base of the tree.

  As his hands left the ceramic, the grove’s attention shifted, a palpable force that prickled against his skin like the weight of a dozen unseen gazes. Kor stiffened, his breath catching before he turned sharply to Talen. When he spoke, his voice wavered, barely holding steady.

  “It is friendly, right?”

  Talen’s only response was to grin.