That first morning Syndra was shaken awake by Yima. "We have morning seance, just meet us in the courtyard" she had said. Syndra put on her worn, coarse, linen, and headed out. The corridor was quiet in the early morning hours. Mocassins echoed through the hallway. On the stones stood the sixteen or so students, with Konigen beside. They were all dressed in the same mat lagoon-green robes. Tentatively and with light feet, she stepped into the group. Konigen listed a name, and a duty. Person by person, task by task. Until everyone had been named. "Syndra: you need new clothing. We can't have you freeze solid on my watch. Afterwards I have an introductory course in magical channeling that I think you can join." He put his hands together, looking east as the orange light was just peaking over the horizon. The crowd dispersed, leaving Konigen and Syndra alone in the courtyard. Syndra looked to her feet when Konigen stepped closer. " I have not your exact size, but I have some that are too big for Yima that should fit. Follow me.” Mat teal silken over-shirt was much too long, while the shirt and pants were too baggy. They were scratchy and the straps used to pin the clothing to her body were tight. Still, they were warmer and softer than the tattered clothing that had been her companion for months. She would no doubt grow into them as time went on. Syndra sat along four of other students, a young woman in her twenties, an older man with greying hair and a thin beard, Yima, and her. All deep in meditative trance. Konigen guiding their spirits opened their soul to let magic stream through. To her it felt like opening a cavity inside her chest to let boiling water pour through. Sweat beading on her forehead. Managing magic that flowed through her system was a straining process. The older student was clearly a practiced caster, yet his way of training was much different to what Konigen taught. Syndra did not understand the difference, she only knew that this more experienced mage was also struggling. It satisfied her to some extent, that even a trained and knowledgeable sorcerer suffered the same struggle as herself. It was truly exhausting. The other three seemed to make breakthroughs, and as the hours came and went, even struggling older man had achieved some grasp of the principles. Yet she sat and struggled for hours in the cold, a painful endeavor. An ocean crashing against a cliffside. Being a conduit for this magic heated her soul, tricking her body to feel a warmth it had not. She stood at the edge of an impossibly massive pressure. A sea held back by a wall of stone. A partition between the world of spirits and the elemental world. Tumultuous waters below, that kept the magic enclosed. When the gong finally called for the end of the lesson and beginning of lunch. Defeated, frustrated, and exhausted she picked herself up and carried her body on numb legs towards the mess hall. The first step sent a jitter of a hundred bees through her leg, making her stumble slightly. She looked around realizing she was the only person still there. Silently she cursed her weakness, before pushing herself onto faltering legs. Step by step she forced her sore legs to comply with her will, stepping into the gardens toward the temple proper. “Syndra. A moment of your time.” Konigen’s voice sounded from among the berry bushes. Happy to comply, if only to rest a moment, she staggered into the plot where her mentor was weeding the garden. Letting her body be victim to gravity, she fell. Silently she stared at him, as he pulled foreign plants by their roots, cleaning the garden. “Snowplums are hardy bushes. They grow in winter, a rare trait to say the least. As a result, they are vulnerable to contestant plants. It has thin branches and shallow roots, so one must always take care of it, lest its food source be stolen by plants that grow beneath it. We, as gardeners, must help and remove the parasites, and in turn it provides us fresh fruit in the winter. Remove its hinderance and it flourishes. Tell me Syndra, what hinders you?”

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