"The first mana systems were ineffecient and volatile. Sure, you can name the Phoenix and Tidebringer, debate their destructive power, and sing tales of their exploits, but no one talks about how they died. Fire drove one mad and she burned herself. TIdebringer lost all faith in the war and the people he was fighting for and disappeared into the oceans. The star system might be weaker and it takes forever to reach archmage levels, but it's stable. Now that the gods are trapped in their domains, we don't have to sacrifice our young for the war. Slow and steady wins the race." - Archmage Lorraine Gibson

Mou found Nox as soon as he left the public eye. She wrapped her arms around him, bawling. “I should’ve never let this happen,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “I didn’t like that bitch when she married your father, and I like her even less now.”

The referee escorting Nox cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should save this conversation for the dressing room, madam. The Gedge house is currently out for blood and might jump at any opportunity to hurt Master Ratra. They might very well call your sentiment treasonous.”

“That’s because they are.” Nox sighed. “You can’t be talking like that, Mou. I love you. Don’t let this ruin your and your children’s lives.”

“How can I not?” She asked, holding him even tighter. “I might not have birthed you, Nox, but you might as well be one of mine.” Her words grew increasingly unintelligible as the sobbing intensified. “You’re all that’s left of Pallav, you fool!”

“He won’t be alone,” Lillin said, appearing out of thin air as she always did. The young woman had a talent for moving soundlessly and blending in with her surroundings without relying on magic or sigils. “Nox isn’t going anywhere without me.”

“I don’t know whether that’s meant to reassure me,” Mou said, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “Most of the time, I have to bail Nox out. It's your fault.”

“Excuse me, Mou!” Lillin feigned offense. “I’m an angel. More than often, I’m in trouble because Nox screws up—”

“While deviating from whatever scheme you cooked up.” Mou finished the sentence for her.

Nox almost chuckled. Even though he had a mother, halfsiblings, and maternal relations on the Golden Isles, the two women were the only people he considered family. Lillin was there when his father died, and he suffered crippling injuries. She was there when his mother disinherited him and had him removed from the palace. She was there when the Gedges and miscellaneous aunts and uncles tormented him. Nox knew no truer friend beside her.

“Either way, Nox won’t be alone. Wherever he goes, I’m going with him. I’m an orphan and a mere employee. No one will get in my way if I decide to cut ties and leave.”

“Thank you,” Mou said, hugging the younger woman.

“I insist you continue your conversation in the changing rooms,” the referee said, clearing his throat again. “Some people wish to speak to you, and the queen ordered we not keep them waiting.”

The women continued their conversation as they walked. Nox brought up the rear, watching the pair. He didn’t know when he’d get to see them together again or Mou and wished to memorize the scene for when times got tough. Nox tried to recall his father’s face and looked for familial resemblances between him and his baby sister.

Mou shared the same dark hair and olive skin as Nox and his father. They originated from the southern continent beyond the Sapphire Straits to the south. The Imperium had brought their people north to work as cheap labor, and few existed outside their borders. The Merchant Empire had a considerably diverse population with giant pale folk from the Nepjung Mountain range to the dark-skinned oasis dwellers from the Bleached Wastes. Yet Mou and Nox stood out amongst them because of their odd combination of features.

Meanwhile, Lillin’s black hair, pale skin, and azure eyes helped her fit right in. By Nox’s count, over a dozen men had expressed interest in the young woman, but she had turned them all down. Mou claimed Lillin had eyes for him, but Nox knew better. Their childhood trauma during the godfall had forged an unbreakable sibling relationship that left no room for romance.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?” Mou asked when they reached the changing room. “The guards won’t let you leave with any equipment or ingredients. You’ll have to start from scratch.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Nox replied. “I reckon a dungeoneer license will take priority. We can attempt low-ranking rifts to gather materials and make some money.”

“The Imperium has too much competition,” Lillin said. “Perhaps we’ll start in a free city, build a reputation, and Nox can get certification from the local alchemical authority. It should be smooth sailing from there.”

“I think you’re underestimating how difficult it is out there,” Mou stated. “When it comes to alchemy and trading, reputation is everything. The banishment is going to follow you, making everything significantly harder. I’d suggest you change your identities and start afresh. It means you’ll have to regain all your alchemist qualifications, but a blank slate is better than a tainted one.”

“May I suggest an alternative?” A female voice asked, making everyone but the referee jump.

“How long have you been there?!” Lillin demanded, dropping into a defensive position. The light appeared to warp around her palm, and the purple runes painted along the back of her hand glowed lilac.

“Lady Kris has been waiting for you,” the referee said, facing Nox. “Queen Mercer thought you, and she needed to meet.”

“I’m no lady,” Kris said. “Just Kris is fine.” She approached Nox. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You were sitting with Mother,” Nox stated, glancing between Kris and the referee. “I don’t understand. Why would she want us to meet?”

“Have you ever considered attending Woodson University?” Kris asked.

“That place is for heirs and the similarly privileged.” Nox turned away from the woman and to the chest where his clothes and remaining potions lay. “I don’t have the time to attend a magic academy and study with people eight years my junior. Besides, I’d need Mother’s permission to attend anyway.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Why?” Kris raised an eyebrow. “You’re exiled, a legal adult, and an accomplished alchemist. You don’t need Queen Mercer’s permission for anything ever again.”

“Still. I don’t have the time to start from scratch and waste time amongst children.”

“Besides, I’m not allowed to give Nox any money,” Mou stated. “Woodson University’s tuition is astronomical from what I’ve heard, and his savings won’t be enough. Are you offering to sponsor Nox?”

“Oh, by Gaia, no,” Kris answered. “I make good money but not enough to sponsor someone’s education. However, I can arrange accommodation, tuition, and a workshop for one semester.” She faced Nox. “Between your alchemical skills, showmanship, and natural charisma, you should have no trouble paying your own way.” Kris raised a hand, silencing Nox and Mou before they could interrupt. “This isn’t charity. It’s a loan. I’ll expect you to pay me back eventually.

“Finally, you don’t have to start from scratch,” she continued. “You’re an accomplished alchemist, already have a Protostar, and the recorded mana levels suggest you’re ready to transcend to the next level. Woodson University doesn’t work like most academic institutions. There are a handful of necessary modules everyone must complete, but afterward, you can study whatever you want. Certain units have prerequisites, requiring you to pass relevant exams or milestones, but you can study whatever you want. We divide classes based on ability and merit, not age. You’ll likely work mostly with people in their early to mid-twenties.”

“This is an amazing offer,” Nox said. “It really is. But I’ve got plans and goals. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to follow my father’s footsteps and attend Woodson University, but that time is long gone—”

“You’re pursuing an Archon-ranked dungeon. I overheard most of your conversation, and Lydia—Queen Mercer filled me in on the rest. It will take you decades, maybe half a century, before you gain the strength and permission to challenge such a dungeon legally. However, if you attend Woodson University, specifically the Department of Dungeon Studies, you could cut that time by half, if not more. Did I forget to mention that joining the department comes with a basic dungeoneer’s license? As you complete more modules and prove yourself, your clearance level will increase. This means access to dungeon materials for alchemy and greater riches to help pay your way.”

“That does sound good.” Nox hesitated, glancing at his aunt and dearest friend. “I’m still not sure. Can you fund Lillin for a semester as well?”

“I don’t know,” Kris stated. She turned her attention to Lillin. “What can you do?”

Lillin raised her left arm, palm pointing at the ground. Clothes rained from her palm. “I turned the Heavy cantrip into Gravity and am working on a Shaping planet to access spatial magic. It’s mana intensive, but—”

“What are you doing wasting your talents in a production house?” Kris asked, frowning. “I’ll support both of you, but instead of an entire semester, it will have to be two months. That’s the best I can do. That means you’ll have eight weeks to find a way to fund the remaining six and the following semester.”

“I don’t understand, though,” Nox said. The sudden developments had his heart pounding. “Why are you going out of your way to do this? Why are you even on the Golden Isles? You’re an outsider and, from what I can tell, not affiliated with any trade organization. You don’t belong here, Kris. What’s your agenda?”

“That’s rude,” Mou said, smacking Nox on the back of his head. “Lady Kris’s offer is beyond amazing. Thank her and make the most of it.”

“No. He’s right to question me.” Kris smiled. She approached Nox and looked him straight in the eye. “Queen Mercer invited me, hoping I’ll take an interest in your half-siblings and personally mentor your half-sister, perhaps your brother, too.”

“And will you?”

“I have no interest in Louis. He has potential, but he has much growing up to do. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with an eighteen-year-old boy’s hormones. Your sister, on the other hand, has a lot of potential. She has the charm and arcane potential to make a great queen. I might not be right for her, but I’ll probably recommend another, more skilled teacher. That’s a long way away, though. It’ll be another eight years before she’s old enough to attend the University.”

“Then why are you so interested in me?” Nox asked.

“A war is coming,” Kris answered. “The gods may have fallen, but they’re not done. The bastards want revenge and will never settle for humanity ruling the world free of their influence. I’m looking for young mages with the ability and drive to end the war before they can begin. We need to mentor individuals hungry to infiltrate divine domains and destroy them from the inside.”

“You want dungeon killers.”

“Precisely.” Kris paused. “Before I invest in you further, I have a few queries.”

“Ask away,” Nox replied, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the proximity.

“Someone at your rank shouldn’t be juggling so many concoctions and gases. Why didn’t the neurotoxin paralyze you?” Her eyes drifted to the flask on his hip. “More importantly, how is that cocktail not making you throw up blood?”

Nox unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a kite-shield-shaped tattoo at the base of his sternum. Lines extended from its three corners and met in the middle, dividing the shape into three sections. A skull-and-bones symbol occupied the top left corner. The section next to it had the faint outline of an indiscernible shape, while the final bit sat empty.

“Of course! A Sigil of Immunity. I should’ve expected such of an alchemist of your caliber.” She tapped the top left section. “Near-complete toxin resistance? It's surprising that you’ve advanced it to such a level at your age, though.”

“When the godfall struck the Sundar Ruin, a toxic miasma came with it, and I got caught in it,” Nox explained. “My father pulled me out and gave me his sigil even though it left him weak and vulnerable. The Archon-ranked toxins accelerated its growth, and it’s had almost two decades to grow. I’ve been hesitant to fill the other two sections, though.”

“It looks like life took the decision out of your hands,” Kris stated, prodding the section with faint lines. “Either way, this makes you even more desirable.”

“Whatever this is, it wasn’t planned. What else do you need to know?”

“What’s wrong with your mana zone?” Kris asked. “Slow is typically a ranged cantrip, but you only used it once Edward was within touch range. Using the spell with that level of power shouldn’t be possible with such a quick cast. You’re either hiding your mana system’s stage, or your mana zone is abnormally concentrated. Queen Mercer said you were broken, but she refused to elaborate.”

“He’s not broken,” Mou said. “A broken man doesn’t get to the finals of the Queen’s Tournament.”

“I don’t intend to slight your ward, Alchemist Mou.” Kris offered an apologetic bow. “I’m merely curious about my investment’s condition.”

“Since you’re offering a loan and intend to invest in my future, you have the right to ask.”

Nox unbuttoned his cuffs and removed his shirt altogether. Scars resembling warped handprints marked his forearms just below the elbow. Angry red tendrils extended from the burn-like imprints towards his wrist and shoulders. Their density lessened further from the central scars. Precise lines and rune arrangements in blue ink ran across the almost mirrored scars. They had the same precision and flair as the paintings on the back of Lillin’s hands.

“I got them during the godfall,” Nox explained. “My mana circuits are damaged. All the healers and scholars in the Golden Isles studied my injuries and attempted countless remedies. Nothing worked. I can’t project my mana zone far from my body. It used to be a hair’s width initially, but it's grown since. Now, I can project my mana just over an inch from my body. On the bright side, my range and power are significantly higher than my peers in similar ranks.”

“Your mother was wrong then,” Kris said. “You’re not broken. You’re unique, and I reckon my guidance could make you a formidable dungeon killer.” She glanced at Lillin. “You too. Gravity mages are rare but not unheard of. However, you’re the second person I’ve met with spatial magic. I reckon the two of you will make a terrifying duo.”