In the halls of the Academy the clack of tens of feet drum. Mostly spider like in form with a couple of mantis like blades at the front. The Watcher navigated the halls with the familiarity of a long time resident. But even then, he wasn't the type to get lost, no matter where he was.

As he approached the meeting room he began to see students again. They would part as he came by, some in awe, some in revulsion. The Watcher was used to the reactions to his kind however. The Academy really has changed. Such as shame, it used to be so lively.

A place of learning should not be so empty. Tendrils writhe with agitation as regret fills him. If only I had more power. If only I could have foreseen the results. But no, even with the power of foresight changing the past is impossible. Regrets are for those who lacked the power to move forward. Next time I will be ready.

As he approaches the meeting room the doors open with a gesture of his hand. Numerous eyes swivelled his way but the heated argument in the centre of the room is what drew the most attention.

"How I teach my class is my own concern. None of yours!" Quills shrill voice echos the meeting room. Beak snapping in annoyance.

"What do you think we called this meeting for? Do you think the Academy exists to entertain you?!" The usual jovial General slams his fist onto the table. Luckily Academy furniture is sturdy, however it does make a worrying groan. "We need all the students we can get! We lost so much precious talent and our mentors! We all need to put in the effort to raise the Academy back up to it's previous greatness."

He harrumphs before folding his arms. The Watcher removes the chair from a place at the table having no use for such an item. Setting his lower torso on the floor he tucked his legs by his sides. He observes, waiting for the perfect opportunity to intercede into the argument if needed.

Looking around the room he ticks off those in attendance in his mind. Many of them look a little haggard from their busy schedule. Having taken on more classes than they felt comfortable juggling. If we're not careful this Academy will become a mono-culture of technique. More brittle and vulnerable to the next incident that comes our way. Too many teachers teaching their own interpretation gave way to identical, unimaginative students, who couldn't exert their true potential.

The Watcher could only see one missing teacher. Scribe had not come this time either. A sigh leaves him as he turns back to the ongoing argument.

A rather furry creature raises his arm. If Mel were to see him they'd describe them as a yeti. Except this yeti wears old fashioned spectacles with lenses that look like bottle bottoms. "Ah! Please settle! You both have valid points! Can we not compromise?"

""No!"" Comes a joint response from General and Quill.

A quiet but cold voice joins the debate. It sent shivers down the spine of the listeners. "We do not have the leeway for personal preference." Glade didn't show a single sign of her anger, a pleasant smile spreads across her face. But her voice contains a gale of animosity. "Your games are holding back the Academy's growth."

Feathers ruffled Quill tries to snap back a response. But her voice trembles at the intimidating atmosphere. "Th-they wouldn't pass anyway. Why should I expend any effort on those talent-less chicks."

"That is not for you to decide! Through hard work and study they should pull through the challenges themselves! Talent isn't the only measure of worth!" Her words seem to have struck a nerve with General. His kind jovial expression turns into a fierce scowl more fitting for his bestial form. "It's your job to support them through such a trial and succeed despite the lack of talent. You're a failure of a teacher."

That gets a response. Gnashing her beak she moves to respond, but the Watcher deems it his time to intercede. "Enough. I must inform you that this meeting was called for a different reason. As much as Quill's malpractice irks me, this isn't the main topic. So unless we move to sanction Quill, again, we should move on."

General's expression slackens. Having been chastised he rubs the back of his head ruefully. Quill on the other hand smoulders having not gotten her chance to snap back. The Watcher couldn't care any less about her feelings though.

"It has come to my attention that the admittance criteria have been amended recently." The Watcher continues. He looks to a particular teacher as if to indicate who exactly he deems responsible.

General goes stiff. "Ah, well, you know..."

"The last one of use to conduct maintenance on the enrolment magic was you General, was it not?"

General finds himself on the back foot now. Seeing his large body squirm like an embarrassed school girl has the Watchers skin crawl. The little of which he has.

"Ah, yes, you see. I have been thinking." He wavers before making up his mind to defend his actions. "We need fresh talent. We need to try new ideas. So I loosened the criteria a little. We haven't had an problems right? The morality settings remain unchanged after all."

Quill see the opportunity to strike but is interrupted by the least combative of those assembled today. "Will that work?" Shell asks. She has a nautilus shell as a home with a flexible but humanoid form emerging from it. Her large doe-eyes speak of innocence. If you look closer however her form is made entirely from intertwining moist tentacles woven into her chosen form.

"Hm~ Hm~! It should. We already had a higher intake than last Term. I can not wait to see what new ideas and techniques they produce!" General seems proud of his meddling.

"The increase was negligible. Less than a percent. The rules have been the way they are since the inception of the Academy for a reason." The Watcher sighs. Fate is a fickle mistress, small changes such as these throw his calculations off completely. He only noticed that something had changed in the Academy when non of his predictions seemed to make sense anymore. Some element had thrown a wrench in his plans.

Coughing to clear his throat he continues. "I detected a change in the flow of fate in the Academy recently. The timing coincided with the induction of new students. After a little investigation with the help of Shade..." He nods toward the shadow occupying a seat. "We discovered evidence of two students admitted from worlds which we would consider desolate."

There is a sharp intake of breath. Desolate worlds are worlds where conventional magic is impossible. They often lack life as well, but that isn't the criteria by which the staff mark them desolate. Indeed an Academy staff member may even become stranded if they were to visit one of these worlds. Unable to work their magic to perform the return technique, even with emulation.

"There were traces of two strange signatures within the summoning matrix. Of course it's impossible to match the worlds to the students now that they have been admitted. Their soul is the anchor which holds them to the Academy, not their world."

The gaunt figure of Wanderer raises his hand. "Is it a problem that these two students are admitted? Surely they will either succeed or fail like all the other students? I see no problem."

"Apart from the fact that we are wasting resources on students that cannot contribute to the Academy, at least one of them may be disrupting Oracle Arts. That's possibly an entire class unable to properly perform and learn their chosen field." The Watcher leans forward with a little menace in his voice. "My class." General tries his best not to meet The Watchers gaze.

Shade speaks up with his hollow echo of a voice. "We have tracked down one of these irregular students. They come from a world with a rhythmic pulse of magic. It seems the natives have adapted to the unstable but predicable world they inhabit. Giving them a rather unique but functional magic system..."

"Eh hem!" Someone coughs. Don't let that man ramble, we'll be here forever. Was the unspoken comment.

"Ah yes, sorry where was I? Well, he's harmless. Although we may consider his world desolate, he isn't disrupting others and has a reasonable chance to succeed in classes. We shall keep an eye on him but otherwise there is no harm in admitting him."

Some of the tension leaves the room. The members of the meeting coming to the conclusions that this incident would come to a swift and agreeable end. But The Watcher clacks his feet as his irritation becomes plain.

"The issue is the other student. However we have a problem. Tracking them down will be difficult if they never emulate their own world. And being a desolate world they are unlikely to have magic of their own. The previous example being the outlier here. So our only choice is to observe the students and try to spot the ones having trouble keeping up with classes."

This didn't sit well with many of those present. More work on top of the tight schedules they'd already packed themselves into. A couple of grumbles could be heard among them.

"This is no laughing matter." Shade echos out. "From the small sample of Law gathered in the summoning matrix, the world is volatile and most likely malleable."

Numerous heads perked up at this news. A malleable world was a nightmare to navigate. Ever changing it's rules, influenced by the worlds it neighbours in unpredictable ways. Malleable worlds were often designated as desolate by their very nature.

"How did you change the summoning rules General?" The Watcher pushes. If he didn't change the morality settings what did he change? Ah... "You didn't relax the mastery condition did you? I can't understand how a student could be admitted if they couldn't even master the rules of their own world."

"Ah, no, I didn't touch that one. It still scans for a thread of fate connecting the potential student to mastery of their world. However I may have tweaked the condition that it needs to be achievable independently..." General trails off to the end.

Sighing the Watcher tries to clarify. "So this student had no chance of mastering magic without the presence of the Academy? Or at least a vanishingly small chance. Why do you believe they deserve our support?"

"Why shouldn't they? They can still reach mastery! They only need a small leg up!" General puffs himself up like the gorilla he takes after. One would never think he was the Combat Master of the Academy.

But it could just be a student who forces the Academy rules on the world they come from. That wasn't strictly a possibility if General made his changes correctly but the Watcher couldn't see another valid possibility. Would that satisfy the mastery condition? He didn't know.

There were likely a number of bugs General could have introduced. The Watcher didn't like the uncertainty added to the scenario. We need fresh blood not copy cats, and that's only one possibility. What other cases am I going to have to anticipate and make adjustments for. Sigh...

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"This is why you're an idiot General." Comes a snide response from Quill. "Of course they can't master a malleable world. There has to be some sort of trick to their path. Or you introduced a bug to the system!"

"Now now! Their must be a simpler explanation." The yeti like teacher interrupts. Ever the diplomat. "Perhaps if its a malleable world they master their worlds magic while under the influence of another world?"

There are several nods at this suggestion. However The Watcher knew better. No, it doesn't work that way. Master is mastery over the whole. Mastery of a malleable world is a terrifying prospect. Something else is happening here. Not that I would enlighten them. I simply want the problem child gone.

But the Watcher couldn't put his finger on what made him feel so unsettled. The conundrum over the riddle before them wasn't simply solved. It irked him. Tapping his scythes on the ground his seat mates either side shuffled away slightly. The conversation continued but a good solution other than wait and see couldn't be found.

The Watcher fell into silent contemplation. The students path to mastery was only a possibility after all. One that should be minute given their origin. We'll just have to wait them out and keep vigilant. All the Watcher could do was Watch.

------

Gathering a few bits and bobs in a shoulder bag I leave the accommodation aiming for a particular destination. My heart feels heavy.

As I close the front door a biting chill catches me. The evening is arriving but I'd rather do this today than put it off again.

Through dimly lit streets I travel my usual path to work. But as I reach a particular cross road I take a turn down towards a more industrial part of town. The walk is short and I'm not sure I'm thankful or disappointed by the time I find myself arriving at my destination. Joe's Storage Depot.

Good old Joe doesn't run a tight ship. I fish out the pair of keys I'm looking for and let myself into the run down business.

Rows and rows of garage like storage sheds are laid out in lines. Counting down the number I find my row. A few of the garages are completely open. Yet to be rented they remain unused, except for the collection of dust they gather. Joe doesn't really take care of this place does he? It was the cheapest place, but the only one I could afford after all.

My feet stop. An iron shutter stands before me, locking away childhood memories and nostalgia. But I can't stand still, not anymore. Holding the key tighter than I should I reach down to unlock the padlock. The grimy lock comes away easily but I pause. Nothing will change. It's only memories.

The clatter of metal rings out as I force myself forward. A clutter of items are arranged before me. Mostly packed away in cardboard boxes, but the few that are visible fill me with an indescribable longing.

Clair's cello sits in the corner. Something she always loved to play at Christmas. Cheerful Christmas songs tickle at the ear of my memory. A kite wrapped up in a bundle, the memory of the scent of grass fills me with nostalgia. Running back and forth that holiday we stained our clothes with so many grass stains our mother tutted when we returned to the tent. A deck chair she always used to relax in the garden. Mom would always spend the height of summer relaxing in her one particular favourite spot. And so many more memories just siting here in boxes like coffins waiting to be buried.

A rectangular frame on top of one of the boxes catches my eye. I walk up and turn it over. A family of four are displayed. Rosy cheeks on display as they laugh. I'd forgotten about this picture. It was the one I kept in my dorm last year. A holiday photo. Everyone was smiling. Unable to bear seeing it I'd left it here along with the rest of the stuff from the house. My eyes begin to blur. I'd almost forgotten what they looked like. Slowly the memories were fading into the past. How callous.

As tears roll down my cheek I wallow in the memories left in this worn down storage shed. Reliving forgotten moments once more.

------

It's a while before I'm centred once more. I wipe my dried tears on my sleeve. I can't say I don't still feel lonely. But some of the feelings I'd bottled up have been let out. The wound doesn't feel so raw now.

Looking around the room I can recall various memories. They seem to percolate to the surface. Many more are locked away in the clutter of cardboard boxes though.

The room is a mess. I considered using this space to test a few of my magical experiments. But given it's current state I can't say that it's the best idea.

Lugging boxes around I begin to tidy the space a little. Shifting the boxes to one side of the room. At one point I uncover a small wall outlet and begin to vacuum dusty piles of boxes.

The work becomes some what cathartic. Tidying memories away at the same time as I clear up the space. It gives me time to sort my own thoughts out.

Eventually as the hours get later I eventually feel satisfied with the work. Most of the boxes have been stacked over to one side. The few remaining possessions left from my late family take a lot less space. I cordon off the area with a set of screens I found among the furniture. A few bits of furniture are left out to help with my experimenting.

I have a desk setup with a desk chair. I'd brought out all the bits and bobs I'd bought for magic circle drawing and placed them on the desk. The photo of my family has also been setup with a view of the room. So my family could watch over my magical experimentation. I'm sure Clair would have loved this...

I would have loved to get started today but it was quite late now. With a substantially lighter heart than when I arrived I close up the shed and lock it again.

------

It was a Saturday. I had no lectures today, and it was the perfect opportunity to experiment with magic. During the morning I was completely distracted. I got some strange looks from Maiha during breakfast.

Which kinda begs the question. Why don't I tell my friends? The biggest reason being I had nothing to show for it. Imagine the scene. 'I'm a wizard!' 'Well show us some magic?' 'Uuh, Sorry?'

Yep not happening. At least not yet. So for the time being I was keeping this secret. I may never get any magic up and running.

Even after that there is more to consider. If I can manage to do magic, it's possible there are secret magical entities here on Earth. Apart from being paranoia fuel, I really have no clue what I'm getting into. What would I need to be careful of?

Telling my friends could drag them into my mess. So it may be better to wait until I have a better idea of whats possible. Magical scrying is a possibility after all. Wonder whether that comes under Oracle Arts. Almost makes me regret my class choice. Nope there's always time later to learn the subject.

Before long I find myself in front of my storage shed. A quick click of the lock and I'm back inside. I lower the garage door again and lock it from the inside. Thankfully it's possible from this side too.

"Hi Mum, Dad, Clair. I'm back." I greet the photo still sat on the desk.

The room is awfully dull given the only light comes from a small skylight. I walk over to the desk and switch on the small desk lamp I'd setup. The electricity in here should only really be used for the vacuum cleaner. Hope Joe doesn't mind.

I try to avoid thinking about all the fair use policies I'm breaking by using this room to experiment, with magic no less. But beggars can't be choosers.

I decide to do my first experiments in the corner of the room away from anything flammable. I even set up one of those mini extinguishers near me in case... well in case magic.

Phew... resting my knees on a place mat and leaning on a loose shelf I get to drawing my first circle on Earth. No worries, my first circle has a limiter. It shouldn't be dangerous. I hope...

After a brief hesitation I began to get the hang of drawing the circles. Especially now that I had the tools. My first attempt was still a mess. The compass slipped and I ended up missing the connection as I returned to the start. Hmm, need to be more gentle. As I recall having a slant on the compass as you draw makes it easier.

A couple of practice circles later and I had the technique down. OK, attempt two! This time I was making better progress. However I would have liked to draw guiding lines in pencil and inked the finished circle. But I was unsure whether that would effect the result.

All the while my mind was racing with the content I'd read in the book. Order matters, can't just draw in any order, or I may trigger effects before I want them to occur. For instance having a run away circle without a limiter would be a disaster... if it worked in the first place.

The first circle should only produce a soft light. Drawing with tools is so much better! In your face Quill! The activity becomes quite fun after a while. I make a couple of simple mistakes but learn from the experience every time. A smudge here and slip there, until...

"Done!" I cheer. Only to realise the complex pattern I've produced shows no reaction. Ah! A brief bite of disappointment does deter me. This was only the first possibility of many.

Light could have many forms on Earth. "Don't worry everyone, that was just a hiccup. It has to work eventually." I tell the photo watching from the desk.

With a sigh I try to recall the procedure to enumerate the forms for light. I never really got there did I? Just a couple more examples came to mind. The generalised result was hidden behind a better understanding of Mystic Poetry. I haven't had those classes yet. Better make do with what I know now.

So I set to reproducing the other circles I'd seen. First were the light variants. Some were subtly different and it didn't take long to adapt my procedure to reproduce them. Only for the same non result to occur. Come on, a splutter or a flash or something!

I moved onto a couple of exotic examples. One where the components were scattered in a seemingly random pattern. Which is really hard to do without adding extra marks! And another with several concentric patterns that grew smaller and smaller.

The last was meant to be the most robust of the lot. Almost always having a result. But nothing, not even a whisper. I could spoof the starter circle. Perhaps these circles don't self start. Also, perhaps they require special pigments, or chalk.

Arg! So much to consider! I laid the finished circles I was happy with in one pile while I moved onto new circles for different concepts. There was a fire circle and a water circle which would almost certainly destroy the paper if they worked. They were especially useful in worlds where light wasn't a native Aspect to the world. Nothing. A sound circle which could make a variety of sounds depending on the Laws existing in the world. A great circle for the intermediate Explorer trying to skip several steps to learn more about the world. It took me an age to finish, but I was proud of the result. Whatever Law means, but still nothing. A glue circle which should bind things together...

My wrist was sore. Nothing had worked. It was clear now that I was doing something fundamentally wrong. I sigh. It was time I used a little of the points I had to spoof the starter circle. I wasn't sure I wanted to see a reaction or not. That would indicate that circles on earth needed that ignition step. Which could cost me a lot of points in the long run.

Given all the practice drawing the small ignition circle from the simplified Laws of the Academy was easy enough. I chopped up the paper to make it easier to hold.

To play it safe I retrieved the last light circle I made from the pile. The robust one with the concentric circles. It's better if I experiment with something safe like this...

I retrieved my medallion and placed it on the starter circle paper holding them both over the target magic circle. Holding my breath I gave it a quick twist. The starter circle lit up, puffing out an iridescent cloud over the target circle. I waited. Nothing again...

The paper crackled. A small ball of lightning hovered above it. It strobes through various colours before it seems to eerily freeze in place, like it was frozen in time. Then as I watch it fades from the edges inwards until nothing is left. I breathe...

"Holy carp!" It worked! "Did you see that!" I call back to the photo.

It shouldn't have stopped on its own, but at least this is a start... Oops! I noticed the starter circle was still active and quickly twisted the medallion off again. Got to remember to switch that off! Next time I would have to do a quick twist. Perhaps half a second?

Looking at the medallion the point hand was a single nudge bellow the 4 mark. It was hard to gauge how much I'd actually lost. But it wasn't a tremendous amount.

I need to see that again. With a quick twist followed by an untwist half a second later I watch as the cloud of mana hits the circle. Eyes glued expectantly to the circle it'd painstakingly drawn I wasn't expecting the gout of lime flame that licked out.

"Uwa!" Scuttling back I watch as the flame dances in bubbly joy as it paints strange patterns over the paper. Consumed by flames of all different colours my hard work turns to ash. But before the light show is finished it freezes once more. Caught in a slowmo snapshot it slowly degrades like the last attempt. Dissipating from the edges inwards I'm left with a pile of ash.

What the fudge was that!

------

Points Remaining: 39.89