When I first entered the Academy, I had little interest in reading up on the Archmagi of old. They were the strongest, the most skilled, and the most important mages in our history, so studying them had merit. However, three things had dissuaded me.

First, I was a complete and utter novice. When learning mathematics, you start with basic numbers, after all. Studying the Archmagi and their magic was akin to introducing a child to complex equations.

Second, most Archmagi were singular beings. They combined esoteric abilities and self-made spells into a deeply personal and unique style. Worse, most tended to guard their secrets, and even their closest allies might glean only a fraction of their knowledge. Replicating their full abilities was impossible.

Third, and most importantly, there had never been an Aether Archmagus. In fact, according to Master Barlow, there had only ever been two worth a damn, and one was a Founder.

All told, there was not much information, less I could understand, and whatever was left might be useless. It felt like a waste of time and effort. But Master Barlow's words had driven me to dig further if only to prove the woman wrong. I was not opposed to hard work or sacrifice, but casting aside everything? I was not sure about such a step.

The further I read, the more my hopes fell.

Elden was the most recent Archmagus and the most relevant story to explore. He was a prodigy from the start, sprinting through the earliest stages of development and standing out even as a first-year. Every anecdote told of a brilliant apprentice with unmatched talent and drive. He perfected every spell, bested every rival, won every challenge, and graduated as the best student in a generation.

Yet, there was nothing else but magic. Elden had no spouses or children, owned no businesses, and had no notable friends, mentors, students, or allies. Even his familial title had passed to a younger sibling upon request of the Archmagus. His sole asset was an estate given by King Lyos himself, and even that was famously unoccupied for months at a time.

The story could be a lie, written to portray the ideal mage dedicated to his craft and country, but if it was, it was repeated across the centuries.

Torros the Titan-Bane was a lightning mage who had perfected just one spell. He had publicly dedicated his life to Ferris, battling all manner of threats and pushing his magic further than anyone since the Founders. He also died alone, with the only testament to his life being his writings and his accomplishments. No family, no apprentices, and no one who could say anything about the man personally.

Alexandria, the current headmistress of the Academy, had spent the first thirty years of her life as a recluse. Famously, her single-minded focus on pursuing mind magic had caused her to nearly flunk out as an apprentice. But there was no record of children, cousins, spouses, or anything else.

Not every Archmagus had such a complete absence of non-magical pursuits, but it was consistent enough. Every single one had only gotten so far by casting aside their interests and relationships in favor of ambition. If I wanted to get far enough, would I have to do the same?

----

"Now, we've discussed taming magical beasts through non-magical means," Master Kendell said as she paced before a blackboard. She turned to us and smiled, "But those aren't what we're interested in, is it? Let's discuss something a bit more magical. Who can tell me about familiar bonds?"

I raised my hand, and the master nodded, "Yes, Vayne."

"Familiars are magical creatures bound to a mage using what is effectively a magical contract," I answered, "You form a tether using your mana and the creatures, which lets you share thoughts, feelings, and abilities to some extent."

"Precisely, well done," Master Kendell smiled brighter, "Now, the difference between a trained beast and a familiar should be obvious. Familiars are bound to you, and this bond expands your magic. You can send orders to the beast, allowing it to spy on others or battle alongside you. The bond lets you draw upon their mana or push your own into the familiar, strengthening it. Some mages can even replicate their familiar's innate magical abilities."

Another student raised her hand, and when Master Kendell gestured towards her, the apprentice asked, "Familiars sound very powerful, master, but I've never seen one. Why don't more mages use them?"

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Master Kendell nodded and began to write on the board, "Good question. First, familiar bonds are tricky. Both parties must be willing, or the bond will fail. Second, some feel the utility gained isn't worth the time. You could invest a year into a possible familiar or take that time and reach the next stage of mana density. But third, the bond is a two-way connection."

The master tapped the board where she had drawn two figures, a human and a dog, "While the mage may influence the familiar, the familiar may do the same. This often manifests as strange instincts and impulses, such as a fondness for rare meats or a distaste for particular climates. Of course, smarter or more powerful beasts can actively manipulate this bond."

Master Kendell turned back towards us, "That said, if you understand their limitations, a familiar is an excellent ally. If any of you are interested, I'd be thrilled to help you seek out the best possible partners...provided you keep me appraised of any developments, of course."

The master continued with more details on familiars and a few of the safest choices for interested students. I dutifully noted her every word, though I doubted they would ever prove helpful to me. Still...an idea formed in my head, and I told Leon to head out without me as I stayed behind to speak with Master Kendell.

"Do you have a question, apprentice?" Master Kendell asked as she noticed me lingering near my seat.

"Yes, master," I nodded, "Would it be possible to form multiple familiar bonds at once? And if so, would they need to be of the same element as the mage, or could a wind mage bond with beasts of water and earth?"

Master Kendell smiled, "Ambitious, aren't we? But last I checked, you're an Aether mage. Unless you're asking for someone else."

"Possibly, but it is mostly a hypothetical."

"Of course," Kendell chuckled, clearly not believing me, "The answer to yes is both, though most would never attempt it. A highly dedicated mage with the same affinity as a beast still needs a year to form a stable bond. Multiple bonds with non-matching elements would take a decade, most likely."

"I see," I nodded a few times, "If they were successful, what sort of abilities might that mage expect? Could they draw upon the familiar's mana and cast spells like a mage of that element?"

"Yes, to a degree. Magical beasts store the bulk of their mana within flesh and bone, so the amount to draw upon is far lower. You might be able to use it for a trick or two, but never to the same extent as a mage of comparable advancement."

"That makes sense. Thank you, master," I turned to leave, but something occurred to me, and I paused, "Ah, one final question. Do you know what might cause magical plants within a region to die even when the mana nearby is still abundant?"

Master Kendell rubbed her chin, "A blight seems the likeliest culprit. There are other possibilities, but I'd need a sample and a second opinion. I teach magical beasts, after all."

I thanked the master again, realized I was running late, and hurried out with an apology thrown over one shoulder.

----

Over the months, I relied on potions and elixirs to stave off physical exhaustion. Training felt more important than sleep, but I still tried to get a good night's rest at least once every few days.

But since my conversation with Barlow, that habit fell by the wayside in favor of study and training. Tonight, I was going on three days without sleep, but the haze that normally hung over my thoughts had fallen away in light of my accomplishment.

I opened and closed both hands as mana pulsed through my arms and legs. It flowed along my blood, and it felt as if every inch of flesh had fallen asleep, only to regain life at that moment.

Slowly, I raised a foot and took one step. Aether followed the motion, threatening to break free every inch of the way. Yet despite that, my constant practice had tamed the magic, and the pattern remained steady. One step became two, then three, and soon I was pacing my room.

As I walked, I focused on my mana, monitoring the spell and my internal reservoirs. When I had made three complete circuits of my room, I stopped and crouched before pushing off hard, trying to jump as high as possible.

Mana surged through muscle, tendon, and bone as I shot off the floor in a rush of movement. I looked down and found that I was at least a foot higher than a regular, non-enhanced jump. When I landed, it felt softer than usual, and I barely had to bend my knees to absorb the impact.

Perfect.

I had enough time to brush myself off before my core ran dry apart from those scant green droplets in the corner. Despite the exhaustion that hung under the surface of my mind, I could not stop smiling.

My new spell was "complete," or at least complete enough to start testing it in more practical settings. I wanted to run a full array of tests, but the fact that I could maintain it without losing control within seconds was a good start.

Still, I needed more than a good start.

I could maintain the spell for a minute or two once I had more experience. During that, I would be stronger and faster than nearly any non-magical foe, but what did that matter? I doubted it was more than a fifteen to twenty percent increase in any trait, which was ultimately meaningless. I could get a two hundred percent increase, and that invader would still outmatch me a dozen times over.

The question was, what could I do to make it work better?

I sat back at my desk and examined the problems. The spell's raw power would rise as my mana grew denser, but the efficiency remained a problem. How could I improve that? Was there a fix I had missed? What about my other spells? How strong would I be if I could combine them? Was that even possible?

No easy answers came to mind, so I returned to the mystery of the monster from the pool. My investigations into the corruption had not yielded much success. There were not enough Aether mages to find anything worthwhile. But when I broadened my search, a few possibilities arose.

Apprentices were taught that mana of your element was uniform aside from density. Haze and Mist fire mana had the same properties, aside from the latter having greater potency by volume. But this was not truly the case.

All mages colored their mana to a degree through their training and a fundamental aspect of who they were. Some mages had taken it far enough to create an almost personal "flavor" of mana with properties that no longer cleanly mapped onto their original affinity.

Maybe whoever or whatever that person had been, they had done something similar to their Aether. That alteration allowed them to, in turn, affect their body, though clearly not perfectly. The question was, what? And more importantly, could I safely replicate it?

I glanced out my window and saw the sun beginning to peek out from the horizon. Though tomorrow was my day off, I had made plans to head out on a hunt with Leon. The noble had jumped at a chance to indulge in his favorite pastime, and I wanted to repay Julian soon.

There was a moment when I debated continuing to study and putting off sleep for another night. Then, common sense won out, and I chuckled before standing and heading to my bedroom. Surely Master Barlow did not consider sleeping a "half-measure"?