Many years ago, out of the timeless primordial void, the universe appeared.

Yet as the universe appeared out of nothing, it too would return to nothing. The Law of Conservation of Being states that for each type of object or energy created or an equal but opposite action, object, or energy appears. The many beings of the Astral Plains use this to their advantage, bending the laws of the world to their very will. For most, this has little meaning; perhaps managing to snuff out a light or catch an expensive item before it shatters with a concentrated effort of the mind. Yet to the dedicated, rich or desperate, weaving their desires out of the strings of the universe becomes more than an occasional commodity; it becomes a lifestyle.

[...]

If one wishes to survive, or at least not cause ireparable damage to themselves, one needs to heed the cost exerted by the world. A Will-Weaver may see themselves lifting buildings, bringing the dead back to life, or gaining unlimited knowledge, but then be crushed, killed, or wrought an imbecile by the debt the world demandsonly moments later. Smart Weavers, however, know that while the price is set in stone, how it is paid is not. Cautious Weavers realise that no one, not even the universe, may escape this cosmic debt. Yet to the most brilliant, caution is unnecessary, for even the most terrible of consequences may be leveraged to their advantage.

J.C. Winwron, Excerpt from "Will-Weaving for the Bright and Insane"

Savas, the prodigal child of Gatestone town, talented dancer, and potential genius in Will-Weaving, was unbelievably bored. There's only so many times you can reread the same books over and over again before getting bored, and it wasnt as if Gatestone was particularily exciting. He started to ponder his situation. It was after all, his 16th birthday...

“Savas, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!” Shaken out of his reverie by the shout, he looked behind him. His brother Morin, an image of the man he hoped to one day become (if only in height) went through the door of his room. Uh, hold on. He'd forgotten to clean his room. He was going to get an earful. Unless...

“My dearest brother, why, what a pleasure it is to see you on this wonderful day!" He jumped from his bed and sauntered over with a massive grin, before gently pulling one of his shoulders to lead him out of the room. "I'd love to hear what you have to say, but perhaps we should discuss matters in a more... appropriate place." Thankfully, he'd bought it. Hopefully he hadn't noticed the...

"I'd love to discuss the matters at hand, my beloved sibling, but perhaps you should clean those clothes you left on the floor up. After all, I could hardly live with myself were I to..." Mildly annoyed at losing his own game, Savas interrupted his brother.

"Fine, I'll do it." Picking up a pair of underwear from off his desk, Savas couldn't help but ask why exactly Morin was so frantic. He was usually a picture of calm, or, well, at the very least, lazy enough not to look for him so frantically. The shameless little... something... even had the guts to withhold what he wanted to tell him until he had cleaned his room.

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"There, done. Now spill."

"What about..."

"Im not organising the papers."

"Fine, fine. Mom would have probably thrown you out the window for that, though." Savas snorted at that.

"As if she'd even dream of having me touch something that brittle."

Positioning himself in a pensive pose on the desk, Morin replied; "If you think about it, you'd only touch it for a very short amount of time in that scenario."

"Shush, not in the mood for semantics. Whats up?" It couldn't be anything that important if Morin had made him clean up before hearing it.

"Your applications to several of the Academies were accepted."

Savas felt his heart speed up. An Academy? Or just an academy? He hoped he was talking about an Academy. Of course the assclown would delay telling him that. In the end, it was irrelevant. An Academy. An Academy! OhmycreatorigotacceptedinanAcademyholyfuck.

"YEAAAAAH! FUCK YES! FINALLY!" Whilst jumping up and down shouting various nonsensical profanities ("Holy tree-eating shit!") a thought came to him. Even with his talent, he was unlikely to get in without some serious clout. How did he, one of many potentates from Bumfuck, Nowhere get in?

“I had to talk with some acquaintances in the Capital. The details are irrelevant, but what is important is that your scores and talent were enough to get you anywhere.”

Morin seemed unwilling to talk about it. Savas realised that setting this up had cost him more than he was willing to admit. The asshole even had the nerve to hide what he went through for him. Well, that deserved a punishment. He slowly walked towards him, and gave him a hug. They stood like that for a few moments, before Savas backed off and jumped back on the bed.

“So. Whose son did you kidnap for this? Was it the Chancellor's? Oh, its probably one of the Headmasters'." Savas shook his head, channelling his inner old man. “Nothing good comes from crime, young man.”

Snorting, Morin took out a letter. “Hilarious. Now listen up.” Huh. Morin was usually very perceptive to his old man act. He had to get new material at this point, if he wanted his career as the King of Clowns to take off. Cutting that thought off, he looked at the letter. Morin looked at him, and told him as serious of a tone as he could.

"Listen. I remember what it was like when i was 16. Frustrated from years of inactivity, counting the days until I could finally start Weaving." In fact, Savas had bought a small and ridiculously overpriced watch for that exact purpose. "I had to wait almost six years to move beyond the basic excersises; it was hell. I expect it to be worse for you. But i want you to wait until you get to the Academy to start training." In a low voice, he whispered "I dont want you to turn out like me"

Savas couldnt help but swallow. Savas was, in fact, absolutely sick of the basic exercises. If he had to spin a pen one more time he would go insane. The minimum age for proper Will-Weaving was 16. Before that, and sometimes even after with the wrong excersises, intensive Weaving would kill you or cripple your ability for further Weaving. Yet the sooner one manifested a Working of Will, the more potential they had. Morin had presented his first Working when he was ten, creating a wall of air to stop someone falling off a scaffolding. For the town they lived in, he was an absolute genius. The day he turned 16, the town held a celebration, and the day he came back from one of the lesser academies, the whole town held a massive party.

Savas had made his first Working when he was 6, accidentally blowing the room he was in up because he didn’t like eating goat cheese.

It was traditional wisdom that ones’ first working was indicative of their character, moral standing and personality. He really hoped that was untrue, as he he was not particularily inclined towards leading a crusade against dairy makers.