Julian's face shifted again, turning stony. I once more stood before a true master and an unhappy one at that. For a moment, I wondered if I had made a mistake.

"Choose something else," Julian said, in a voice that was less request and more command.

I met the man's eyes, cast aside my second thoughts, and shook my head.

"No," I said, "With all due respect, I need to know this. Only two Aether mages have ever become exceptional, and one is a Founder. If I cannot learn anything from one myth, then another will have to do. And as far as I can tell, Cortos is not far from one himself."

Julian seemed to weigh my words. Seconds passed into minutes before he blinked, his expression softening a hair. The master glanced over my shoulder and flicked one hand, almost like swatting away a fly. I heard the click of a lock, but more alarmingly, the mana within his room shuddered and shifted.

With that done, Julian walked to the far side of the room, returning with two chairs. He set them down, took one more trip to retrieve two glasses, and filled both halfway with a pale yellow wine. Julian sat in one chair and then gestured to the other.

"How much do you know about our early history?" Julian asked after I took my seat.

"The specifics vary depending on how spiritual the person you ask is, but the general story remains the same. Our ancestors lived in small, semi-nomadic settlements, struggling to survive the wilds. Each settlement understood magic insofar as eating the right herbs and flowers prepared the right way granted strange abilities. About a thousand years ago, the seven largest groups allied together and either created or were given by forgotten gods the Awakening."

"Precisely. Now, the Founders and their earliest followers used a master-apprentice system. A mage would get trained by a master, eventually go off on their own for a decade or two, then take up an apprentice and pass down everything they knew before dying. Discoveries added up, and magic progressed, but progress was slow and wrought with failures, such as magical dead-ends and convergent innovations."

"One master and one apprentice would have advantages, though," I remarked, "Such personal instruction would make for a better mage, I would imagine."

"Usually, but that's not as important as you might imagine. We didn't need a single Archmagus to divert rivers, clear roads, or grow crops. We needed hundreds of well-trained adepts, and the master-apprentice system wouldn't work."

Julian sipped his drink, then continued, "Now, a few hundred years after Ferris' founding, a group of mages came up with an idea. They wanted to gather all magical knowledge and inventions and store them in a single, central, well-protected location. We could study, experiment, and most importantly, train the next generation."

"The Academy," I filled in, nodding once, "Smart. You ensure progress heads in one direction, give all mages access to important knowledge, and limit the chances of an apprentice learning the wrong lessons."

"Exactly. It would also keep all those headstrong, arrogant young mages in one place, so there was less risk of blowing up a house with a stray spell.

The cat made a mewling noise, and we both turned to see it open its eyes again and take another mouthful of water before falling asleep again. I glanced at Julian, who shrugged before continuing, "This, of course, had problems. Plenty of mages had no interest in sharing their secrets and felt it was a tantamount insult to demand as much."

"And Cortos was one of these mages?" I guessed.

Julian nodded, "We don't know much about his youth beyond a few things. We know that by his mid-twenties, when talks of the Academy started, Cortos had a reputation as a brilliant, preposterously arrogant mage. He was beyond almost any other person in Ferris, and he was also the most outspoken critic of changing our system. Officially, he felt it traded quality for quantity and innovation for reliability."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, I would guess he hated giving away chunks of his knowledge and power. He was an Aether mage who had scraped and clawed out every secret and scrap. Giving away all that for nothing must have burned at his pride."

Julian's words hit a little too close to home. I tried to set that aside and waited for Julian to continue.

Again, Julian took a sip of his drink, then cleared his throat, "By itself, public opposition wasn't a problem. Though most mages send what they learn here, a handful of older and wealthier families tend to 'forget' to inform us of certain discoveries. If that was the extent of it, Cortos might go down as a loud, outspoken, but abnormally powerful mage. But that wasn't all that he did."

Master Julian stood, setting his drink down on the workbench before walking to his blackboard. He had thrown a sheet over it at some point but now threw it off and spun the board to the opposite, blank side. A stick of chalk lanched itself to his open hand, and Julian began to write.

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First, he drew a massive triangle divided into four sections from top to bottom. Then, in each row, he wrote the words apprentice, adept, master, and Archmagus, moving from the bottom-most row to the top.

"Mages go through four formal stages. You start as an apprentice, rising through the ranks til you hit Archmagus. Along the way, your skill improves, your mana grows denser, and you gain new abilities. Higher-rank gaseous stages develop a passive shield against foreign magic. Drops can affect ambient mana in response to their emotions, though never to the extent of an actual spell."

I had heard about this only in passing but nodded regardless, "Mana affects mana. I imagine your internal reserves can affect external sources after reaching a certain density."

"Exactly. The process is also a winnowing, which is why we have only a few hundred masters and three to four Archmagi at once. Not many have what it takes to get that far."

Julian drew a star at the top of the triangle, then turned to face me, folding his arms over his chest, "Like I said, Cortos was a prodigy. He's already bordering on Archmagus in his mid-twenties and showing no signs of stopping. The problem is, he knows it. Cortos starts to wonder what'll happen if he doesn't stop. If a liquid-density Archmagus is so powerful, what would a solid-density mage with even more skill than them look like?"

A memory flashed through my head of my future counterpart mentioning something about solidifying his core. I had read into it, and while it was theoretically possible, no mage had yet managed to make that jump.

"I would imagine just a stronger Archmagus," I said.

"Most would," Julian agreed, "But Cortos' hypothesis was a bit loftier. He thought this would produce a 'perfect' mage, a singular being of impossible strength. Their mana will be so dense and their skill so surpassing they don't use their element so much as rule it. He theorized that they could cast magic with only a thought and replenish their reserves in minutes, while most take hours. But his most terrifying proposal is their control over mana would be so absolute that other mages could not cast a spell unless this being allowed it."

I considered the idea and shivered a little, though I could not say why.

"That sounds ambitious," I replied, "And if I had to guess, Cortos planned to become this being?"

Julian nodded, "Probably. Cortos had already proposed this hypothesis, though he never stated his intentions. When he refused to cooperate with the Academy, people started to worry that he might have another reason for keeping his secrets."

The master waved a hand, and the board was wiped clean with a gust of wind as he returned to his seat, "History is unclear about this part. We know a few prominent mages met with the queen and shared their fears that Cortos was unstable and dangerous. The queen requested that the two living Archmagi and their apprentices meet with Cortos to try to make peace."

"And it ended poorly."

Julian snorted, "That's putting it mildly. The official story is Cortos struck first, cutting down Archmagus Umari and several apprentices in a single blast. Izora and the remaining mages engaged him in retaliation, and when the dust cleared, only she survived. Izora then limped back to Volaris, leaving Cortos' estate in flaming ruins, and lived the rest of her life a shadow of her former self."

"This is all fascinating," I said honestly, "But it raises questions. Why have I never heard of any of this? Cortos seems a good, cautionary figure if nothing else, but he's been scrubbed from every history book I can find."

Julian sighed, leaning back in his chair, "Because Cortos is a national embarrassment and a dangerous example to follow. Ferris is not nearly as stable as we pretend. The biggest threat to our country isn't dragons, phoenixes, or even Tinkerers and their Wandering Cities. It's too many mages starting to think our system doesn't work and deciding to break off and form their own little kingdoms."

"Do you think he was right? About his theory, I mean?" I asked after a long pause.

Julian waved one hand in a 'so-so' gesture, "Yes and no. We are sure solid mana is possible, and we've seen mages since then affect external spellcasting. However, most experts think control on the level Cortos theorized would require way more power than anyone could accumulate in a lifetime. Maybe even several lifetimes."

The room fell silent, and I let myself turn over what my master had said and what he did not.

Cortos was...alarmingly close to me in many ways. I had an arrogant streak that I did not particularly like but knew existed. I tended to chafe at the control put on me by others, and becoming an unattached, peerless mage held a deep appeal. Only a few months earlier, I had mused that a cave in Aresford felt more freeing than a comfortable Academy dormitory.

Beyond that, I could understand his frustration. Nearly every master I had met spoke about how useless Aether was as an element. How would I feel if I spent a decade struggling to understand my magic, creating and mastering abilities that no one else had bothered to consider, only for those same people to demand my secrets? What right did they have to something they had called worthless when it was the culmination of my life's work?

Of course, while I could understand his motivations, that did not excuse his actions. If the story was true, Cortos had butchered other mages to maintain his individuality, a decision that seemed driven by ego more than anything else. That was a step I could not and would never take.

"Did Cortos leave behind anything?" I finally asked, "Any...spellbooks or notes? Designs suited to Aether, maybe? I know he did not plan to pass down his secrets, but maybe Izora found something?"

Julian shook his head, "If she did, no one bothered making copies. My bet is anything worth a damn was destroyed along with Cortos' home."

"...I apologize if this is overstepping, but do you know where that was?"

"Vayne," Julian's took on a hard edge, "I'm warning you now. Cortos isn't some forbidden secret that'll get you killed for knowing, but it's not public knowledge, either. That's doubly true for you. Another Aether mage emulating the greatest traitor in our history will earn you enemies."

I nodded, "I know. But Cortos nearly killed two Archmagi before he turned thirty. He was brilliant, by your own admission. And most importantly, he was an Aether mage, like me."

Julian seemed to be considering my words, and I continued, "I am the only mage of my element at the Academy, and half the masters here cannot help me with my magic. Even if the man was a traitor and his actions monstrous, his knowledge might be able to do some good in the right hands."

"And that's you?"

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

"I suppose we'll see now, won't we?" Julian nodded, "It's not like there's much to tell. Cortos lived on the eastern border in a small, forested valley. Yes, that's all we know. No, I don't have a map, and I won't help you look."

With that, the man's patience seemed expended. He stood, forced a smile, and gestured towards the cat, who remained sleeping on the floor.

"Why don't you take your fuzzy new friend back to your room and get some rest?"

"It is midday," I reminded him.

"If you're going to own a cat, you should understand nighttime and nap time are not the same thing."

Julian's voice sounded lighter, but I could hear the edge underneath it. If I did not know any better, I might call it concern.

I returned the man's smile and nodded, "Two lessons for the price of one, then. Thank you, master."

"Of course."

I knelt to pick up the cat, who made a strange, muffled half-meow, half-hiss in response. It seemed he was regaining a bit of his spirit now that he was a hair further from death.

As I turned to leave, I paused near the door. There was one thing I had not asked, and curiosity once more reared its unsightly head.

"Did he give it a name?" I asked, turning over my shoulder.

"Hmm?" Julian responded as he carried the chairs back to the edge of his office.

"The rank above Archmagus," I replied, "Did Cortos ever give it a name?"

Julian stared at me for a few seconds. Another shadow crossed his face, and I could name it as worry this time. Finally, Julian nodded.

"He called it the Archon."

With that, the older man turned his back to me. I inclined my head again, adjusted the cat in the crook of my arm, and exited his office.