Fenn rubbed the embroidery on her left sleeve while making her way through torchlit corridors. Her fingers were running over the embroidered rune on her left sleeve again and again.

Full rune. No more kiddie stuff. You got this.

A staircase and two more corridors later, Fenn arrived at her destination. The large wooden door said ‘Testing Room’ and Fenn pulled it back to walk inside. Beyond the door was a large and empty room made of the same stone as the rest of Tall Tower. It was probably two stories high and even larger along and across. Subtle orange patterns ran along all the stones of the walls and glowed dimly. The ceiling gave off a uniform glow that put the whole room in a midday lighting. Near the door was Master Joran’Teek, standing and reading a book. His cloak was covered in far more runes than Fenn had. The usual mark of an experienced master who has been accumulating spells for decades. He turned to Fenn as the door opened. With a flick of his wrist, the book gave off a puff of smoke and disappeared into the sleeve of his cloak.

“Excellent, you’re here,” he said, “and on time no less. It’s appreciated. I trust that the dressers made the requested modifications to your runes>”

“Yes,” Fenn replied, “I just got them. Only one got changed but they were quick to pull out and reset the embroidery with the new design.”

Fenn held out her arm. The rune on her bicep was changed from before with new and more intricate designs around the edges. The fresh thread was a shade lighter yellow than the older threads near the centre that had weathered.

Joran’Teek looked it over carefully. “Lovely. The work is exquisite. The spell is greater now so we’ll get you adjusted to the expanded power and ability. First, a standard ice lance, just like you’ve been trained. Just blast a wall anywhere you like.”

Fenn reached into the pouch by her right hip and grabbed a pinch of dust. She held out her left arm towards the wall. She spread the dust across the rune with her right fingers then pressed her hand down in a smooth motion to hold it all in place. The threads underneath her hand glowed blue for a moment and were followed by a shaft of ice flying outward from her outstretched arm. The icicle was four feet long and flew fast in a straight line before hitting a wall and exploding into shards.

Fenn looked puzzled. “It used to be smaller.”

“More stitching, more detail, more power.” Joran’Teek replied.

“So the lance is bigger and faster? And I guess it will go farther.”

“Increased violence is not our goal, Fenn’Taeram. The beginner runes are intentionally limited, both in capacity and training. A new acolyte has a young mind and drawing out too much magic from the Allomir isn’t healthy. What is on your cloak now is vastly more versatile and deeper magic always brings deeper risk of madness. You need half the dust you did before. Try again. This time hold you hand out flat, fingers spread, and focus on holding onto the ice, not launching it.”

Fenn copied the motions as instructed and tried to keep her mind on task.

Hold the ice? Ok. Focus. No problem. Just think about ice.

Her sleeve glowed blue same as before but this time the ice spread out from her hand. It made a saucer a few feet around before the base nearest her hand started to grow. It wrapped over her fingers almost completely before Fenn felt the shock of cold and lost her concentration. The whole thing fell off her hand onto the floor and shattered.

“Well done, Fenn! An excellent beginner try.”

Well done? I feel like my fingers are going to fall off.

“You’ll develop more control with practice,” Joran’Teek said, “The ice can now do nearly anything you want. It isn’t just a spike. With the motions of your hand and the focus of your mind, you can shape it and form it. You’ll eventually have no problem making a small shield. Enough to stop a sword or musket but meaningless to a cannonball.”

And still freeze my hand off.

“Something particular about being the acolyte on a naval warship,” the master continued, “is that violence isn’t your assignment. The cannons do violence enough. You’re there to heal, help, and support. Healing is always obvious. The dust is too rare and precious to waste on regular rations. Much of your work is communicating in the guidefires, relaying messages, and doing the things that only your magic can do. Your ice can be anything; a shield or a wall; a bridge or an obstacle; or even a refreshment for a dignitary you need to impress.”

Chill drinks for snobs. Got it.

Joran’Teek put a pinch of dust on the edge of his sleeve and waved his hand. A large line of yellow paint splattered onto the floor. “Violence always comes naturally. Creation is tougher. Let’s make a bridge. Don’t launch the ice fully but don’t hold it close either. Somewhere in the middle. Fix in your mind the object you want to create. Just cross the yellow line with enough ice that you can walk across it.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Fenn grabbed more dust and guessed at a hand position somewhere between all the way out and all the way back. The ice came out slowly and she started making the base for one half of the bridge. She moved her hand up and over to make the base on the other side, then waved it across a few times to fill in the gap.

The result was two odd looking piles of ice with holes all over the platform she was supposed to walk across.

“A good start, Fenn. Try again. Less speed and more focus.”

Fenn grabbed a larger bit of dust and started a second attempt. The bases were lower and smoother. More time filling in across the top.

Keep it slow. Be patient. This one’s going to work.

After twenty seconds or so, Fenn had completed her bridge. It cleared the paint line by at least two feet. Each side was a gentle incline rather than a blogck of ice. Taller, stronger, no holes. Joran’Teek gestured towards it.

“Well, let’s test it out.”

Fenn walked over and took one step onto her bridge. Her sandal immediately slid down back to the floor. Another attempt and more sliding.

Who knew ice was slippery? Great job, Fenn.

Fenn tried to jump passed the first bit to land on the flat part of the platform. She nearly lost her footing but recovered. With a few nervous steps, she ventured out into the centre of the platform. The ice gave a creak but held. Joran’Teek smiled.

“Excellent work, Fenn,” he said. “The difficulty of getting on is an important lesson. Let’s try again. Larger this time, wide enough for two, and with steps up and down.”

Fenn hopped down, stumbled, then found her footing and set up again for her next attempt.

Way to nearly roll your ankle over nothing. Let’s do this one right. Imagine what you’re after. Fix it in your mind.

Fenn took an even larger grab of dust and set to work on the bridge. It was more comfortable now. The steps fell into place and she reached across to the far side. Steps there were easy and Fenn started going back and forth to fill in the platform between them.

Nice and gentle. Maybe even a handrail when you’re wrapping up.

A subtle whisper came to Fenn’s ear. She couldn’t make it out. Muttering. She glanced quickly to Joran’Teek, who was too far away to whisper and watching the bridge intently.

Another whisper. Black started to creep into the edges of Fenn’s vision. The whisper became louder but not clearer. Multiple voices started and the oily black at the edge of her vision was growing. From the rune on her sleeve, it felt like an oily tendril reached out and wrapped around her arm. Fenn jerked her arm, broke concentration, and sent a line of ice flying across the far wall.

The voices and vision all stopped and Fenn felt like she was going to throw up. She looked at her sleeve where she felt the tendril. It was wet, nearly slimy. Joran’Teek was beside her before she noticed he was moving.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” He asked.

The sound of the whisper was stuck in Fenn’s head. Her stomach started to settle and she straightened up. “That was the madness, wasn’t it?"

“Yes,” Joran’Teek said with slight regret. “I was hoping you would run into it. Every acolyte faces it sooner or later. We can pull dust out of the Allomir and use that dust to fuel our magic but all of it comes with a cost. The Allomir is a realm of sheer madness. Draw in too close, stay too long, and it starts to take hold. One of the most important parts of being an acolyte, whether on a ship or at home in the towers of our Coven, is knowing your limit. You’re in a new phase of training now. We’re going to push you to that limit so that you can know how to stay back from it. If the madness of the Allomir starts to build up then you won’t have anything of your mind left.”

Great, I can do my job and go insane as a reward.

“Is that why so many masters have nightmares?” she asked.

Joran’Teek stayed solemn. “Regrettably, yes. A lifetime of skirting around that horror will eventually break even the strongest minds. But our service is worth it. Don’t lose focus. Our magic keeps the navy running and takes the edge off of their aggression at times. We bring the compassion that the military cannot. It’s the balancing act that has built our society.

“But for now,” he continued, “this is a lesson complete. You’ll be hearing those voices for a few hours before it settles down. Take the afternoon and find Ayana and Imtha. You’re all doing this together. Everyone always feels like they’re the only one struggling until someone opens up and we realize it’s happening to all of us. Talk through it. Process the experience. Trust your friends. These months will be the hardest of your training but they are your final trial before being ready to go to sea.”

Best for last I guess.

“Uh.. master, may I have a final question before I go?” she asked.

“Happily.”

“Ayana and Imtha, they’ve been doing this? Are they okay”

“Ayana began a few weeks ago and has made great progress. Imtha will start soon.”

I guess that’s why Ayana has been quiet lately. And why she’s ready to ship out.

“Has… uh… Jaali been okay?” Fenn asked.

Joran’Teek paused a moment. Fenn could tell he was considering his words.

“I appreciate your concern for a childhood friend. As you well know, Jaali is altogether unique. It is often wiser to ask him rather than ask about him. Take some rest now.”