Monday morning came quickly. Blake's bed was empty, the covers still thrown back in the same position as Saturday morning before his fight. He would be sleeping in the triage for the next couple days.

Jacob groaned at the prospect of classes. He'd woken up Sunday morning at almost noon on Archie's couch. He'd helped Archie clean his spacious suite up and had spent most of that day recovering and avoiding doing the readings for the upcoming week.

He would have gone for a walk to clear his head and shake off the grog but he didn't want to be out and about on campus by himself before light. Easy to forget the vampire with the excitement and immediacy of the tournament.

Instead he sat on his bed for a while and practiced engaging his magic, casting the strength spell. He knew he shouldn't be nervous for his fight next weekend. He'd fought the rogue mage. He'd survived in the magical world by himself; survived that interaction with that chimera. Not to mention he obviously far outclassed John Altman in terms of magical strength. But no matter what he told himself, he couldn't stop being nervous. Sure he'd engaged the rogue mage and had taken a blow from him at the end of the fight, but he'd never actually voluntarily fought before. All of that had been forced on him. It had been life or death. He was going to have to defeat Altman. Actually make him surrender or beat him up. Altman had wasted no time in overpowering Maria Levesque yesterday. Could Jacob do that? Would he have to injure himself like Blake? He didn't know if he could do that. He didn't have his family to think about to give him strength. They didn't even know he was here.

Jimmy would have wanted him to win. Yeah, that was true. He'd trained Jacob and believed in him. If he wanted to be able to protect himself from guys like the rogue mage, he had to get more combat experience. He had to learn how to fight and cast stronger spells. Altman would be good practice.

Feeling a little better, he checked his phone.

It was time for Magical Basics.

The class was a poor distraction. While Ms Sterling raged on about interacting with magical creatures, he couldn't stop the anxiety creeping in. He was the eleventh seed, for Chrissakes, he should beat Altman handily. He had the boy's Strength Chart open on his phone, which he scanned over and over again while pretending to follow along in the textbook.

Class was noticeably less than full. At first Jacob wondered if people were still recovering from Saturday night, but then he realized that people were probably training for their matches, practicing, or reading up on their opponents. Grace and Camilla were there but Archie wasn't. Blake was noticeably absent as well.

How you doing? Jacob texted Blake.

Everyone else seemed so excited, but he was only nervous. He wondered if he should go to Production and Decomposition Basics this afternoon. He needed to train, but he'd already skipped Intro once last week. Juvenile delinquent. That would be a bad precedent to set. But wasn't training for the tournament more important than a single lecture? Was John Altman training right now?

Jacob never thought he'd admit this but he kind of missed the simple consistency of high school. Everything here required a decision.

The lecture ended. Camilla and Grace went to get coffee at Fireball Roast. Jacob said he was going to go study. As he was walking through campus he realized he hadn't learned a single thing in that lecture. Not because Ms Sterling hadn't taught anything, but because he'd been too distracted, too anxious. Maybe there was no point going to the lectures this afternoon.

He sat down on a bench along the path between the dorms and the Magical Basics lecture building and booked a training slot for this afternoon from 4-5pm. There, that decided it.

He smiled, thrilled with himself. Now he had to skip, otherwise he'd miss his only real training slot that day.

His phone buzzed. It was Blake:

Not bad. Recovery is going smoothly. Should be back in class tomorrow.

The smile slipped off Jacob's face. He'd just assumed he'd train with Blake, but that had been a stupid assumption. With his arms busted, Blake wouldn't be able to train until next week at the earliest. Jacob could just go by himself, but it wouldn't be as helpful.

Archie?

No. Jacob shifted uncomfortably. He had Camilla's number. He'd gotten it for this exact purpose and hadn't texted her once since. Despite himself, he shivered with nervous excitement. Would it be weird? No, she'd want to train too, right? She had a match next weekend as well. Yeah, it would be beneficial for her too. It wasn't like a date at all. He should stop thinking that way, it was weird. He just wanted her help for his match.

Blake's words echoed in his head: Kinda like asking a girl out.

A little thrill shot through him and before he could stop himself he'd typed out hey I have a training slot booked at 4 if you wanna join, and had sent it.

Jacob closed his phone and put it in his pocket and stood up and hurried away from the bench, as if distancing himself from it could make him forget what he'd just done.

Ahhhhh! He'd just sent it! He hadn't even read it over! What was he thinking?!

Buzz.

His hand shot to his phone. It was Camilla:

Sure, what room?

A noise escaped his throat and he quickly shot back:

Room 3. Cya

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. Suddenly everything seemed alright and he was glad he had asked and a little ashamed he had worried about it so much. He slowed his walking pace and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Maybe Blake was right about this stuff after all.

----------------------------------------

A knock came at the training room door. Jacob emerged from his concentration on his magic, sitting in the middle of the floor. He checked his phone. It was 4:02pm. It had to be her.

He opened the heavy training room door. Camilla stood on the other side. She wore a sleeveless blouse and black yoga pants and had her hair tied up in a bun.

"Yo," Jacob said stupidly.

"Hey," She entered the training room. "What are you working on?"

"I was just concentrating on engaging my magic."

"You nervous for your match?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Jacob was surprised by her bluntness. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk strategy?"

Jacob had been expecting them just to do something similar to what he'd done with Blake, but it was Camilla. Maybe it was better to let her take the lead.

"Yeah."

"So, what are you thinking?"

Jacob shifted. "Jimmy told me that it's better to specialize your spells than try to learn a bunch of different stuff. So I think I just want to keep improving my strength spell."

Camilla folded her arms. "But you saw what happened to Blake."

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That was true. He'd thought about that a lot since the match. What if John Altman could cast projectiles and just hadn't shown that in the match yesterday? Would it benefit him to learn a projectile spell? Well, he couldn't learn from someone better.

"I think a projectile could be a good idea," Jacob said.

"Have you been practicing one?"

"No."

Camilla shook her head. "It's too late to learn something new."

"You think?"

"I have no doubt you can cast Production and Decomposition spells. I've seen you do it in class. But you have, what, four days? Right now I don't think you can learn an entirely new spell in that time frame and get it to the point where it's functional in a fight."

Oh.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to be mean, but I want you to win and I don't think that's the right way to do it. I think you should stick to Jimmy's advice for now."

Jacob nodded. "Okay. That's good. That's what I've been doing. What about you, though? What do you want to train?"

Camilla sniffed. "I will be fine. And my father is always saying how teaching is a good way to learn stuff yourself, so, maybe it will help me too."

Jacob admired her confidence. "Okay, I did some stuff with Blake, but how do you usually train the strength spell?"

Camilla grinned like a shark. "I have an idea."

She grabbed one of the large stone blocks that served as seats in the training room. Consumption flared out of her and she picked it up as if it were fluff and dropped it in the middle of the room with a thud. She knelt on one side of it and put her elbow on the block, her palm open.

"An arm wrestle?" Jacob chuckled. He didn't really want to arm wrestle with a girl. That was something elementary schoolyard goofballs did.

"Oh? Do you think you can beat me?" Camilla asked.

Jacob hesitated, then went and knelt across from her. "Alright. What do I get if I win?" He joked.

Camilla furrowed her brows.

"I was joking."

"No, it's a good idea," She smiled. "Have you learned perception yet?"

"Not really."

"Tell you what then. If you beat me, I'll help teach you perception, since it will help with strength-resilience."

Jacob shifted into a more comfortable position. "Bet."

"Cast strength," Camilla said.

Jacob did. He felt her cast as well.

"Let's go."

They clasped. Her hand was small in his, her palm smooth, her fingers delicate. He started to push her down.

She didn't budge.

Jacob cleared his throat and leaned into it. He intensified his strength and pushed.

She didn't budge.

"Come on," Camilla said.

Jacob poured magic into Consumption until he was sweating with effort. He squeezed Camilla's hand and threw every ounce of strength into pushing her down. Her arm tilted back ten degrees then stopped. She was straining now too, gritting her teeth in a rictus. She pushed him back to neutral, then began pushing him down.

"Gonna need more than that!" She hissed.

Jacob tried to push more in and momentarily lost his hold on his magic. His arm twitched back.

"Get a hold of it!" Camilla said. She visibly eased up.

"I'm trying!"

Jacob took a deep breath, focused, took a firm hold of his magic, and squeezed as much as he could out of it, putting all his power in for a maximum output sprint. He gasped, heart pounding.

He pushed Camilla up back towards neutral. She weathered him. He flagged, his intensity dropping.

She slammed his arm down onto the stone.

"Not bad," Camilla nodded. "Your maximum output is pretty good, but your endurance needs work."

"How do I improve that?"

"How do you improve endurance in anything?" Camilla stood. "Magic isn't special, Jacob. I know you probably think it is because you haven't been in this world that long, but it's not. It's like anything else. Think of, like, running. You can work on your maximum sprint speed, or your distance running. They're two different functions of the same thing, in this case, the strength spell. But it's important to be able to do both."

Jacob had never thought of it that way. He'd always been trying to just push as much magic into the spell as he could. "So I should be working on holding the spell for a longer period of time?"

"Yes, that's a good place to start."

"Alright, what's next?"

For the next little while they did various strength training exercises. They started with picking up the big stone block and hurling it as hard as they could at the wall, seeing who could send it the furthest. Then, when Jacob was sweating and tired they switched to endurance training. He had to pick up the block on his shoulders and carry it across the room and back. The most he got was three trips back and forth and at the end he flagged and the stone came crashing off his shoulders. It must have weighed a couple hundred pounds.

He stared at it and laughed, his vision swimming, sweat dripping off the end of his nose and making little dark spots on the stone.

"What?" Camilla asked.

"You don't find this a little funny? That we can lift all this weight?"

"Why?"

"Think about it. With a little training I could be the world's strongest man," Jacob wiped the sweat from his eyes. "I could walk into one of those commercial gyms right now and probably lift more than anyone in there. Me. A skinny kid like me."

"Boys and showing off by lifting weights," Camilla shook her head. "I'll never get it."

"What's next?" Jacob gasped, hoping she'd say a break.

"Next we're going to fight."

Before Jacob could think she grabbed him by the shoulders and hurled him across the room. He engaged his magic midair and landed on the rough stone with minimal damage.

"Hey-" He started.

Camilla rushed at him, her ultra-quick movements uncannily precise. He blocked and blocked and tried to go on the offensive but she was too quick for him. He knew she wasn't going 100% but he tried to ignore that and focus on the fight and blocking her attacks.

After a while, she knocked him down and he splayed out on the stone floor and heaved in breaths and wasn't sure he could or wanted to get up. Then her hand was above him, open, and he clasped it and she pulled him to his feet so aggressively he sprung up into the air.

"Let's take a break," He said.

"We're almost out of time anyway."

They'd been here almost an hour?! No wonder he was gassed. He sat down on the big stone block and wiped his face on the hem of his shirt. Christ, he had to admit to himself that he'd never expected magic to be this physically exhausting. He'd never much liked getting sweaty and exhausted playing sports. He had fun in gym class and running around on playgrounds when he was younger, but he'd never liked this. He and Blake had trained hard, but not this hard.

He looked up at Camilla, who was stretching. He'd never noticed it before, but she was lean, and fit. He could see the little muscles in her shoulders flexing as she stretched her arms. Maybe it was because she was wearing something without sleeves. He looked away, not wanting to stare. Did she train like this in that dungeon in the basement of her house? Every week? Every night? Christ, is that what it took to get as good as her?

He frowned, distinctly remembering a wall blowing out of her house as they drove away and left the final Arturo to face the rogue mage.

"Camilla?"

"Yeah?"

"How badly did the rogue mage end up damaging your house?" Did she even still have a house? Was that little training room rubble? He hoped it hadn't been too bad. He didn't want to be responsible for that.

"The south wing was pretty much destroyed, along with the back entryway and the garage."

"I'm sorry," He couldn't imagine how long it was going to take them to get someone to come in and repair it.

"It wasn't your fault, Jacob, and besides, father and I repaired it the day before I left. He'd been meaning to do some renovations for a while, so it actually gave his lazy ass an excuse to stop procrastinating."

Jacob blinked. "Wait, what?" A distinct image came to mind of Camilla and her father in hardhats and overalls, hammering nails into the side of the house. "You repaired it yourselves?"

"With magic, you moron. Duh," Camilla rolled her eyes.

"Like Production magic?"

"Yes."

"So, is the house made of magic?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Costs a whole lot less to build and repair that way. Plus you don't get as many bugs in the walls and floors."

Jacob wondered how that worked. "I'm glad, it's a really nice house."

"Yeah, whatever."

Jacob watched her for a moment, working up his nerve.

"Camilla?"

"Ye-es?"

"Can I ask you something?"

She paused her stretching and shot him a narrowed-eyed look. "Yes."

Jacob looked down at his hands. How to word this? "So, you're like famous and stuff in the magical community, like everyone knows you, and you're super strong, and so, like with this whole white mage thing, people have been talking about me and stuff and it's making me super nervous for my match and like I was wondering how you handle... I guess it's the pressure and 'fame'?" There, it was out.

Camilla stared at him and said nothing.

"Sorry, I know, it's a stupid question."

"I don't care about what other people think," She said abruptly.

Jacob blinked.

"I mean, I do," She said. "But I try not to."

"Oh, okay," He guessed that helped.

She stood and looked at the ceiling and let out a long sigh he wasn't sure he was meant to hear. "It's different for me because I've had this my whole life. I've always been his daughter. You've just started being infamous."

Jacob nodded.

"But that's who you are now. You are a white mage. You can't change that, even if you don't want the fame. So you have to embrace it. It's different for you. Like, it's a change, but change isn't a bad thing. Embrace it."

"Okay," Jacob nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Camilla smiled. "It's 5:00 pm. We should clear out."

They left and walked back to the dorms together, parted to clean up, and met back up in the cafeteria for dinner with the rest of the gang. Camilla had eased Jacob's mind a little, and her confidence about her own match rubbed off on him. The whole evening Jacob mulled over the idea of just 'embracing it.' Camilla was right. He was a white mage for life. There was no going back. Sitting there in the loud cafeteria, half-listening to Archie ramble about some niche stock-trading tip, Jacob realized that ever since that day in VanDusen a part of him had been waiting to wake up, waiting to go back to his parents' house, waiting for this vision of magic to end and for him to be dragged back to reality like a balloon held under water and suddenly released.

His left forearm throbbed faintly where the rogue mage had impacted him.

It was time to stop holding the idea that everything would go back to normal, that this was all a temporary fantasy he'd stumbled into, and embrace it.