The practice room lay hidden deep within the spire, its thick stone walls isolating it from the outside world. Mana-deadening crystals jutted from every surface, their gleaming facets refracting light into warped shadows that danced and shifted with every movement. The air buzzed with a low, vibrating hum, a steady undercurrent of magic held tightly in check. Kor stood still, attuned to the faint tremors beneath his feet—the ghostly ripple of distant spells colliding and echoing through the testing range.

  With only a month until mid-terms, the pressure was building. Three core courses had announced tests before the break, and there was still too much to do. Mastering control over his magic had always been his priority. Now more than ever, he needed to push himself. To test his latest spell against the unyielding training dummies.

  Or at least, he tried. Mana surged through him, warm and tingling, radiating from his body as he shaped the mental image. A spinning spiral, twisting inward as it expanded outward—a miniature galaxy coalesced in his mind’s eye. At its centre, a brilliant white core radiated intense light, surrounded by swirling bands of softer, pearlescent hues, like cosmic dust caught in an endless dance.

  Yet as the construct took shape before him, it remained inert. A flat, sluggish disc hung motionless, refusing to spin. The surrounding air shimmered faintly, a subtle distortion that hinted at the potential locked within—potential that refused to be unleashed.

  A crease cut across his brow as he pushed more energy into the spell, his eyes narrowing on the stubbornly still construct. Nothing visible changed. Yet deep in the back of his mind, where his innate sense for fractals hummed like a plucked string, something was happening. The construct was growing denser, its mana compressing inward like a star on the verge of collapse. Maybe it just needed more power to ignite. He shook his head slightly, dislodging a loose strand of tied-back hair that fell against the edge of his glasses.

  Outside, the muffled cacophony of other students’ spells bled through the thick walls. In a nearby room, energy crackled sharply, followed by a dull, resonant thud. Then a faint ripple of force brushed against his chamber.

  His goal had been ambitious: a miniature galaxy, spinning, twisting, and unfurling outward in a dynamic showcase of fractal magic. Instead, this lifeless thing hung in the air, stagnant and inert. The disc seemed to pull at the surrounding air; the space growing heavier, thick with unspent potential.

  He maintained the flow of mana. It drained steadily from his reserves, leaving a deepening hollowness in his chest. Sweat beaded on his brow. Whatever he’d created was condensing further, the area around it crackling with invisible energy. But as his mana dwindled to its limit, he let out a frustrated sigh and released the spellform.

  His father had sparked this journey into fractal experimentation, and Kor could sense the vast, untapped potential lurking within it—if only he could coax it into reality. Yet his miniature galaxy remained stubbornly static, refusing to spin or move, inexplicably compressing its fractal patterns instead of expanding outward as intended.

  During his last visit to Ethers’, he’d barely scratched the surface of chaos theory, but what troubled him most was the entity’s absence. No playful brushes against his consciousness, no flicker of its vast, sentient presence—only an unsettling silence that permeated the sprawling archive. The single book he’d found merely echoed his father’s explanation, offering nothing new. If he hoped to refine this spell, he needed more than fragments of knowledge. He needed methodical research—genuine, deep insight into the chaotic principles he sought to harness.

  The essence of randomness was vital, yet reconciling recursive mathematical logic with raw, unbridled chaos was maddeningly complex. Perhaps his grasp of the fundamental concepts was too tenuous for such intricate work. He needed to delve deeper—into the equations, the theories, and the very bedrock of fractal magic itself.

  His hour dwindling, Kor shouldered his pack, its familiar weight comforting as he left the practice room. The spire’s lobby hummed with activity. Other students’ voices echoed off the vaulted ceiling as he passed through. Some debated spell theory, others engaged in casual conversation. The lingering scent of ozone and burnt herbs—telltale signs of magical workings—hung heavy in the air.

  Was Ether avoiding him? The Archive had always felt playful, even teasing at times, and he had agreed to get stronger… Could it be upset that he hadn’t undergone more rounds of challenges? He’d long since finished reading the Logos, after all. His stomach twisted into a knot of worry.

  Perhaps Terra would know more, since she’d mentioned being tested by Ether as part of the grading for Meta-Casting. Perhaps she could shed some light on the Archive’s unusual behaviour.

  Stepping into the bright sunlight, Kor squinted against the sudden glare. Behind him, a voice rang out, clear and familiar.

  “Kor!”

  He turned to see Talen practically sprinting towards him. A small smile tugged at Kor’s lips.

  “What’s the rush, Talen? We weren’t supposed to meet for training yet.”

  The boy grinned, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement. “Student rankings are up for the combat classes,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Thought you might want to check them out.”

  A spark of anticipation lit up Kor’s face. He hadn’t expected the rankings to be released today, and his pulse quickened at the thought.

  “Sure. Where exactly?”

  “Amphitheatre,” Talen gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Where the First Magus addresses the first years.”

  The pair set off, the afternoon suns glinting off Talen’s hair. Something odd caught Kor’s eye. The roots of Talen’s hair, usually a consistent brown, were tinged with a distinct amber hue.

  “Talen,” Kor said, pointing to the top of his friend’s head. “You know your hair is changing colour, right?”

  “What?” Talen quickly pulled a lock of his hair around to look at it, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you on about, Kor?”

  “At your roots,” Kor clarified, miming the top of his head with his hand. “It’s turning amber, like your Morthus… is that normal?”

  “Oh.” Talen dropped his hair, his expression turning thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say it’s abnormal for a mage like me, but it usually only occurs when the bond has strengthened significantly. Can’t say I’ve heard of many teenagers reaching this stage already.” Talen’s voice trailed off, his gaze taking on a distant, far-away look, as if lost in thought.

  They walked along the paved pathway, the grand marble amphitheatre looming into view a few minutes later. Kor spotted the portal he’d arrived through in the distance, now more heavily guarded. Dozens of figures in gleaming armour stood sentinel.

  The pathway leading towards their destination was less overwhelming than his first arrival in Conflux. The sights and sounds of the magical academy campus, with its constant hum of enchantments and visible streams of magic weaving through the air, were becoming commonplace. Intricate runes etched into the very stones of the path pulsed with a faint inner light, and the air carried the mingled scents of exotic blooms and parchment. They followed behind a small group of chattering students, their voices a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

  With Talen lost in thought, a snippet of conversation drifted to Kor from the group ahead. One boy, his voice laced with bravado, was speaking to another.

  “What do you think of your competition, Mira? Rumour has it that Lexican boy with the coins is quite powerful–”

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  Another student, a girl with an acid tone, abruptly cut him off. “A Lexican? You think Mira fears a Lexican? Don’t make me laugh.”

  “I’m serious. He beat Serris in a duel.”

  The girl snorted derisively. “She might be strong, but if she’s already been defeated, what does Mira have to worry about?”

  The group continued to bicker amongst themselves, their voices rising and falling in a mix of boastful claims and dismissive remarks, all vying for the attention of the tall girl walking at the front. She moved with a calm, almost regal air, her silver hair swaying gently around her shoulders, her expression serene, completely unbothered by the surrounding clamour.

  “Mystrian’s,” Talen murmured, dropping his voice as he spoke.

  “You know them?” Kor asked.

  “I share a few classes with them. That girl up front is arguably the strongest first-year.”

  “What?!” Kor’s voice boomed a little too loudly, drawing a brief, curious glance from the group ahead. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he quickly softened his tone. “Sorry.”

  “Surprised you didn’t feel it for yourself. Take a look.”

  Kor frowned slightly, reaching out with his mana sense, extending his awareness like a tendril of energy. The sensation was staggering.

  ‘By the Void!’ The girl was like mana incarnate. A dense, swirling vortex of power. Her presence was so potent that Kor almost trembled with the metaphysical contact, a faint buzzing sensation running through his veins.

  The sheer force of her power jolted Lentus from his usual slumber. Sister? His voice echoed in Kor’s mind, a low rumble that resonated deep within his skull.

  “Just another student”, Kor thought back, trying to downplay the encounter.

  Another with a companion just like him. How many were there again? One for each planet? Lentus’ outburst subsided back in quiescence, the Tortoise falling to back sleep.

  Kor quickly pulled his focus from the wellspring of her power, its sheer intensity almost overwhelming. “What is she?” The question escaped his lips as they followed the group through the large, shaded doors of the amphitheatre.

  “The Mystrian Princess,” Talen said, a touch of amusement in his voice.

  “How is she that powerful?” Kor asked, keeping his voice low as they stepped into the vast chamber. The space, which had once served as the stage for the First Magus to reveal a fleeting glimpse of the Voidling threat, was now transformed. Dozens of names hovered in the air, projected in glowing, precise rows that shimmered faintly with mana. Each name bore a ranking beside it, their placement radiating quiet authority. Kor adjusted his glasses, leaning forward to sharpen his view of the list.

  The two of them followed the flow of students closer to the display.

  “When your lineage is that of the strongest magical world’s strongest family, it’s hardly surprising, is it?” Talen said with a shrug.

  “Are Mystrians really the strongest?” Kor asked, his gaze still fixed on the projected rankings.

  “That’s debatable, but their heritage is undeniably the longest. Besides, her blazing mana is more of a status symbol. Any mage at her level can easily control the effect of their dense mana. It’s actually harder to project your mana out like that; it might just be a status thing to intimidate commoners.”

  “Well, it worked,” Kor grinned.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. She’s definitely strong, but most professors around here could do the same if they wanted to. But you’ve probably felt nothing like that from them, have you?”

  “Oh.” Kor shook his head slightly as they got close enough to read the rankings, stopping behind a dozen or so other students. It looked like each of their classes was listed. The pair stared up. Kor quickly spotted Terrak’s name.

  “Marcus, Serris, Jorek, Kelleth, Viree, Perri, Kor…”

  Seventh place. Middle of the pack. A flicker of annoyance tightened his jaw. Who was this Perri?

  “Second place!” Talen beamed, a thin green vine erupting from his sleeve, playfully flicking Kor’s ribs. Kor chuckled, brushing it away. “And you?”

  “Seventh.”

  Talen’s smile faltered. He shook his head, a line etching itself between his brows. “Seriously? Your control is almost as good as mine. Is your group filled with monsters or something?”

  “Yeah. Marcus, Serris, Jorek, and Kelleth… I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

  Talen whistled, low and impressed, and clapped Kor on the back. “Hard luck there.”

  The thought ignited something fierce within him. Adversity had always been the forge that tempered true strength. Marcus remained his benchmark, the standard he relentlessly pursued. Yet as his gaze drifted to Mira, the Mystrian princess, doubt crept in. How would Marcus fare against her? He realised he might not have even witnessed the full extent of his friend’s potential.

  “Oh, any luck with your latest spell, Kor?” Talen asked, breaking the silence.

  Kor sighed, the weight of frustration settling on his shoulders. “No. I don’t think I fully grasp the concept yet. I’ll probably head over to Ether’s and see if he’s willing to help.”

  “Good idea. But you’ve been training practically non-stop. You could use a break.”

  Kor frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Talen grinned. “There’s another duel on Nethday. Two third-year students. Early morning, so it won’t interfere with your work with the professor.”

  “Sure. Are they any good?”

  Nah, just normal third-year students." Talen glanced pointedly towards Mira. “But keep in mind, even the weakest third years could probably wipe the floor with most first years.”

  Kor followed Talen’s gaze to the silver-haired girl. Her pale skin practically glowed in the amphitheatre’s magical light, the surrounding air shimmering with an almost tangible aura of power.

  Talen coughed lightly. “Most first years, anyway.”

  The two of them parted ways, Kor heading toward Ethers’ for another attempt to contact the sentient library. The air hung cool and still, heavy with the scent of old paper and leather. Around him, quills scratched against parchment as students bent over their work.

  But today, the familiar welcome was missing. Stepping inside, Kor found Ethers’ energy saturating the space—the usual thrumming presence—but no greeting echoed in his mind, no playful quip materialized. The vast shelves stretched into the dim recesses, a silent army of countless tomes standing sentinel, their leather and parchment spines holding untold stories.

  He reached out with his own mana, sending a mental call, a beacon in the quiet, but the archive remained unresponsive. The silence pressed in on him, unnerving in its completeness.

  Perhaps he really is ignoring me, Kor thought, a knot of disappointment tightening in his chest.

  Advancement in Terrak’s class hinged on increasing his firepower, and his firepower was gated behind this current roadblock in his advancement. His shield and bomb spells were effective, but predictable. He needed a more potent offensive, something to counter the adjustments his opponents had begun to make against his explosive tactics.

  Everything hinged on gaining Ether’s favour once again.

  He had to consult Terra. She had mentioned that a portion of his credits were tied to Ether’s tests. She might have some insight into the archive’s silent treatment, and perhaps he could solve two equations with a single answer.

  A laugh, bright and warm as a hearth fire, spilled from Terra. Her fiery hair, shot through with streaks of gold, seemed to ignite as she turned her amber eyes on him, the strands dancing around her face like miniature flames.

  “Ether rarely starts ignoring students until the second year,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “You must have really made an impression, Kor.”

  Kor’s brow furrowed. A knot of worry tightened in his stomach. He’d thought his interactions with the sentient library had been positive.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confusion clear in his tone. “I thought we were getting along well.”

  “You are,” Terra reassured him, a gentle smile touching her lips. “But Ether has higher expectations of those it likes.”

  “Oh.” Kor’s gaze dropped to the polished wooden floor of the now-empty classroom. The distant chatter and laughter of other students echoed from the hallway outside, punctuated by the muffled thud of footsteps. Faintly, he could hear the rustling of pages, a subtle reminder of someone studying in a nearby room.

  “I guess that means it’s time to take Ether’s next test,” Kor mused, lifting his gaze back to Terra. “It does come with credits, right?”

  Terra smiled. With a flick of her wrist, her bag floated over to her hand, the movement effortless, a subtle display of her own mastery of mana.

  “Yes, Kor. I grant ten credits for each of Ether’s tests you pass.” She raised a hand, cutting off his next question. “The first one doesn’t count.”

  His shoulders slumped slightly. A small sigh escaped his lips. He wasn’t truly surprised; he’d had a feeling there would be a catch.

  “Does that mean all our points come from Ether’s testing? What would happen if I complete more than ten tests?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kor,” Terra chuckled. “I’m only extending the offer for three tests, but trust me when I say that it’s no easy feat. If you managed more than that this year, you’d be considered a prodigy for sure.”

  “That tough?” He tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity lighting his eyes.

  “Yes. But you have my permission to attempt a testing. You only ‘fail’ if Ether refuses to test you again.”

  A determined set came to Kor’s jaw. He nodded. “I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about his tests?”

  “This one usually involves understanding your specialisation,” Terra explained. “Part of why it’s suited to being a test for Meta-Casting. Other than that… it could be anything.” Terra glanced back at the large clock on the wall, its hands ticking steadily onward, marking the passage of time. The air in the classroom felt still and quiet now, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of moments before.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to run,” she said, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. “See you on Nethday for some more crystal work, Kor.”

  He groaned good-naturedly as she turned to leave, the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway. If he was going to develop his new spell, everything depended on passing Ether’s test. Also, if he got back on Ether’s good side, the archive might even assist with his Arcane Artificing research.

  With half the day stretching before him until Professor Moss’s class on practical spellcraft, he should have ample time to attempt another challenge from Ether. He straightened his shoulders and strode out of the classroom. It was time to take Ether’s second challenge.