Caelum awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. His body felt like it had been dragged through a storm, every muscle aching from the strain of the previous day. For a brief moment, disorientation clouded his thoughts as his eyes blinked against the persistent darkness surrounding him. Had he been asleep for hours? Days? The world around him hadn’t changed—still just as dark as when he had first collapsed by the campfire.
The only sound was the steady crackle of the flames, faint but constant, casting flickering shadows on the unfamiliar ground. His mind raced, struggling to make sense of time here. Had he slept at all? There was no sign of the passing of time—no dawn, no movement in the sky, not even the dim glow of starlight.
He pushed himself up, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. It felt like he had been asleep for days, yet the oppressive, unchanging stillness of the pocket dimension made it impossible to tell. Everything here existed outside the normal flow of time. How long had it been?
A soft rustling drew his attention across the fire, where Seraphine sat, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp as she glanced up from the journal in her hands. The firelight flickered in her deep violet eyes, casting an almost ethereal glow over her features. She was already awake—had she slept at all?
"You’re finally up," she said, her tone neutral, though there was a hint of amusement in her gaze. "I wasn’t sure how long you’d be out. The first Shift takes a toll on the body. Your muscles aren’t used to phasing through different layers yet."
Caelum rubbed his eyes, groaning softly as the lingering nausea from the previous day clung to his senses. "How long was I asleep?" he asked, his voice hoarse, the weight of exhaustion still tugging at him.
"Long enough," Seraphine replied. She gestured to the campfire, where a plate of food sat waiting for him—eggs, sausage, and buttered toast. The rich aroma wafted toward him, stirring his senses. "You should eat. It’ll help with the aftereffects."
Caelum blinked at the plate, suddenly aware of the gnawing hunger in his stomach. He hadn’t even noticed it in the chaos of the previous day, but now, with the smell of food filling the air, his hunger became undeniable. He dragged himself toward the fire and sat down, the warmth of the flames a small comfort against the eerie stillness of the pocket dimension.
"How did you…?" he started, glancing around the empty space. There were no pots, no pans, nothing that could explain how the meal had been prepared. The food looked almost too perfect, too untouched by any conventional cooking methods. His gaze flickered back to Seraphine, who simply raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a slight smirk.
"What, you think we don’t eat?" she said, a teasing edge to her voice. "Just because we’re outside the mortal realm doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a good meal."
Caelum stared at the plate for a moment before picking up a piece of toast, the butter melting into the warm, crispy bread. He took a bite, expecting it to taste... ordinary. But the moment the flavors hit his tongue, his senses exploded with something far deeper. The taste wasn’t just delicious—it was alive, vibrant, like the food itself carried a kind of energy he had never experienced before. It was as if the flavors danced in his mouth, intertwining with something far beyond mere sustenance. He could feel it in his very core, the warmth of the food spreading through him, reaching beyond just hunger.
He blinked in surprise, the sensation both overwhelming and comforting. "What is this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Seraphine leaned back, watching him carefully as he ate. "Food. Real food," she replied. "Something you probably haven’t had in a long time, if ever."
Caelum frowned, his mind struggling to process the intensity of the experience. "It’s... different," he muttered, taking another bite of the sausage, the flavors bursting with even more depth than before. "Why does it feel like... like there’s more to it than just eating?"
Seraphine’s eyes glinted, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Because food is more than just fuel for the body. In the mortal world, you’ve been eating processed ingredients—things that have been stripped of their life, their energy. Most of the food you’re used to has been reduced to something barely resembling what it once was. Eggs harvested from chickens locked away in sterile factories, fed the cheapest cornmeal, kept far from the earth and the sun. By the time they reach your plate, they’ve been dead for weeks, maybe longer. That’s what your world has been feeding you—food that’s barely alive, barely nourishing."
Caelum paused, her words cutting through him like a revelation. It made sense, in a strange, twisted way. The world he had grown up in had always felt... dull. Stagnant. And now, here he was, sitting in this strange place, eating something that felt like it was bursting with life. He swallowed another bite, the flavors almost overwhelming his senses, every taste connected to an emotion he hadn’t realized he could feel.
"But here?" Seraphine continued, her voice softer now. "Food is life. Everything here is closer to magic, to the earth, to the natural energies that fuel everything. You’re feeling that now—the life force in the food. It’s what nourishes us in the magical plain. You’ll get used to it, eventually, but right now, it’s a shock to your system."
Caelum stared down at the plate in his hands, a strange mix of awe and discomfort settling over him. How could something as simple as breakfast carry so much weight? And why did it feel like his entire body was waking up in ways it never had before?
"You lived in a world that was designed to suppress you," Seraphine said quietly, her gaze steady. "Where everything you ate, drank, or breathed was working against you, dulling your senses, chaining you to a reality that’s far from the truth. Here, you’ll start to feel alive in ways you never could back there."
He set the plate down, his appetite suddenly replaced by a deeper sense of unease. The mortal world—his world—had always felt off, but now, hearing her words, it was like a veil had been lifted, revealing just how far removed he had been from the truth.
"Why?" Caelum asked, his voice hollow. "Why is it like that? Why did it feel so... dead?"
Seraphine shrugged, her expression turning thoughtful. "Incentives, mostly. The world you come from was built on convenience, mass production, and profit. It wasn’t always that way—there was a time when food, water, and air held more magic, more life. But as the mortal realm advanced, it started to cut itself off from the magic that once flowed freely through everything. Now, it’s a world where people are disconnected from the natural energies that used to sustain them."
Her eyes flickered with something deeper, almost regretful. "You’ll learn more about it once we get to the university. But for now, just know that the food here is meant to heal you, to reconnect you with that life force. You’ve been deprived of it for so long that your body is still adjusting."
Caelum stared at the fire, his mind reeling with everything Seraphine had said. Healing... He hadn’t realized how starved he had been, how much his body had needed this. And it wasn’t just the food—it was everything. The air, the energy, the magic that hummed quietly in the background of this strange world. It was all alive, more alive than anything he had ever known.
But with that life came a weight, a realization that his old life, the world he had once known, was slowly fading into the background. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or terrified.
As he took another bite, savoring the complexity of the flavors, one thought stuck with him: there was no going back. Not now. Not after this.
Caelum set the plate down carefully, his mind still swirling with Seraphine’s words. The food had brought him comfort, but now it also served as a stark reminder of just how far he’d come from the world he once knew. A world that, in Seraphine’s words, had been working against him from the start. The realization gnawed at him, heavy and unsettling.
He looked up, catching Seraphine watching him again. Her violet eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight, studying him with that same calm intensity that had unnerved him from the beginning. There was something predatory about it—like she was always measuring, always calculating.
He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the need to break the silence. “So, can you teach me magic?”
Seraphine raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Teach you magic?” she echoed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You think I’m here to play mentor?”
“Well, you’ve been throwing a lot of information at me,” Caelum said, shifting uncomfortably. “Seems like I should start learning how to... I don’t know, defend myself or something.”
Seraphine’s smirk faded slightly, her gaze sharpening. She closed her journal and set it aside, her posture shifting as if she were about to tell him something he wouldn’t like. “My job isn’t to teach you,” she said, her voice steady, almost matter-of-fact. “I was sent to retrieve you, to bring you to the university. That’s it.”
Caelum frowned. “But—”
“I’m not here to be your friend, Caelum,” she continued, cutting him off, her tone turning colder. “And while there weren’t any explicit instructions not to teach you, it’s clear that the people who sent me weren’t sure if you were friend or foe. That’s why I’ve been watching you.”
He stiffened, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. “You don’t trust me.”
Seraphine shrugged, her eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not about trust. It’s about caution. You’re an unknown, a variable no one saw coming. The people who sent me don’t even know what you’re fully capable of yet. Neither do I.”
Caelum’s heart sank. He had expected as much, but hearing her say it outright made it feel even more real. He wasn’t just an outsider in this world—he was a potential threat. To everyone.
“But...” Seraphine said after a long pause, her eyes softening just a fraction, “if you want to learn, I suppose I can show you a few things. Nothing advanced, just... the basics.”
Caelum looked up, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest. “Really?”
She nodded, though her expression remained guarded. “Don’t get excited. It’s just enough to keep you alive until we reach the university.”
Caelum swallowed, the gravity of the situation hitting him harder. Even with Seraphine’s help, he was still woefully unprepared for whatever lay ahead. But he had to start somewhere, didn’t he? He nodded slowly, the weight of his decision settling over him.
“Alright,” he said, his voice quiet but determined. “Show me.”
Seraphine stood up, brushing the dirt from her robe as she moved to sit beside him. “Before we get into anything,” she began, holding up her hand, “let me show you something.”
Caelum watched as she turned her hand over, revealing the thin, unadorned black-gold ring on her pointer finger. It was so simple, so ordinary-looking, that he hadn’t even noticed it before. But now, with the firelight casting faint shadows on the delicate metal, there was something almost... otherworldly about it.
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“This is a storage ring,” Seraphine explained, twisting it slightly on her finger. “Similar to the ring I used for Shifting, this one allows access to a small pocket dimension. It's where I store most of my things.”
Caelum’s eyes widened, his mind racing with questions. “A pocket dimension? Like... where you keep everything? All your supplies?”
Seraphine nodded. “Yes. It’s a small, self-contained space where I can store objects, food, tools, even some basic potions. Nothing too complex. But it’s incredibly useful, especially when traveling.”
Caelum leaned closer, fascinated. “So... can you store anything in there?”
“Almost anything,” she replied. “The main limitation is that you can’t store living things inside. The pocket dimension doesn’t have oxygen or any natural environment. Anything alive would suffocate in seconds. That’s why you can’t just store animals, plants, or—well, people—in one of these.”
Caelum blinked, the idea sinking in. “So, how does it work?”
Seraphine pulled out a simple golden ring and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. “This is a cheap ring I was given around my fifth year. Hold it up to your eye and look through the center.”
Caelum hesitated for a moment, then did as she instructed. As he looked through the ring, his breath caught in his throat. It was like peering through a tiny window into a vast, empty room—a void, but with the faintest shimmer of light outlining the space. He couldn’t explain it, but the ring seemed to hold more than just emptiness.
“It’s like... a whole other space,” he murmured, lowering the ring and handing it back.
Seraphine nodded. “Exactly. The storage space acts like an empty room, separate from normal physics. Anything you put in there stays exactly as it was—if you put something hot inside, it stays hot. If you put something cold, it stays cold. Time doesn’t pass in the pocket dimension, so objects don’t age or decompose.”
“That’s... incredible,” Caelum said, his mind spinning with the possibilities.
Seraphine mindlessly twisted the black gold ring adorned on her finger, her gaze still fixed on him. “It’s practical. But remember, this is just a low-grade ring. The storage space is limited, and it doesn’t have any fancy enchantments. It’s functional, but that’s about it. My ring, is a few levels higher than that one, but the main difference is the amount of space inside,” holding up her hand showing the black-gold ring.
Caelum nodded, still absorbing the information. “And the ring you used for Shifting? That’s more advanced, right?”
“Much more advanced, and a completely different type of magic,” Seraphine said, her tone shifting slightly. “The ring I use for Shifting is an artifact of lost magic, a relic from a time when powerful mages could craft items that could manipulate reality itself. But that’s a story for another time.”
She glanced at the black-gold ring on her finger, her expression softening. “Here,” she said suddenly, pulling the ring out once more and tossing it to him. “Consider this a gift. It’s only basic level 1 storage ring. It’ll come in handy.”
Caelum caught the ring, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’re giving this to me?”
“It’s just a basic ring,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t get too excited. It’s worth about fifty mana crystals, give or take. You can wear it and access the pocket dimension using your mana, or just look through it like you did before. Either way, it’ll serve you well for carrying small items. Even though it is only a basic level 1 storage ring, it can still hold about 50 cubic feet of space, that is like a small trunk or coat closet worth of space.”
Caelum stared at the ring in his hand, the weight of it suddenly feeling far more significant than before. “Fifty mana crystals?”
Seraphine nodded. “That’s about a month and a half’s worth of mana accumulation for the average person. It’s cheap by most standards, but it’s enough to be useful. You’ll learn more about mana crystals and how they’re used once we reach the magical plain.”
Caelum slid the ring onto his finger, a strange mixture of gratitude and unease settling over him. He had been given a glimpse into a world he still barely understood, and with every new piece of information, that world seemed to grow larger and more dangerous.
“How do people get mana crystals?” Caelum asked, still staring at the ring.
Seraphine’s eyes flickered with amusement. “They’re either mined from natural mana arrays—places where mana is dense and crystallizes naturally—or created artificially by arrays set up by wealthy families, universities, and factions. Cities are often founded near these formations because of the mana economy that surrounds them. Farmers, artisans, mages—they all trade their goods for stones.”
Caelum’s mind spun with questions, but before he could ask more, Seraphine stood up, stretching slightly. “Enough questions for now. The shift ring needs a little more time to recharge before we can move again. Rest up, and get used to your new tool.”
She gave him a faint smile, though her eyes remained as guarded as ever. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Caelum couldn’t take his eyes off the ring now resting on his finger. The idea that something so small could hold a world inside it—well, a room at least—was astonishing. But it wasn’t just the practicality that intrigued him; it was the reminder that this world he had been thrust into was so much more complex, so much more alive than anything he had ever known.
He twisted the ring absently, rolling it around his finger as he thought about everything Seraphine had said. A whole world of mana crystals, trading, cities built around these magical resources. He tried to imagine what it must look like—a place where magic was woven into every corner of life, where people used it as naturally as breathing. It was a stark contrast to the dull, industrial world he had left behind.
Fifty mana crystals, he thought. That’s what this simple storage ring was worth. A month and a half of energy for the average person. What kind of place used mana as currency? The thought alone made his head spin.
Seraphine stood a few feet away, pacing slightly, her gaze fixed on the shimmering fire as it crackled softly in the quiet. There was a tenseness to her now, a subtle impatience that Caelum hadn’t noticed before. She seemed... restless, like something was gnawing at the edges of her calm demeanor.
“How long until we can leave?” he asked, breaking the silence. His fingers still played with the ring, rolling it around as if it held the answers to all his questions.
Seraphine’s violet eyes flicked toward him, narrowing slightly as she considered the question. “Soon,” she replied. “The artifact’s mana reserves are nearly restored. A few more hours, maybe. We’re safe here for now, but we shouldn’t linger any longer than we have to.”
Caelum nodded, trying to ignore the knot of unease tightening in his stomach. The thought of moving again, of shifting through those disorienting layers of reality, made him feel sick all over again. But he knew they couldn’t stay here. Whatever—or whoever—was out there searching for him, they had to stay ahead of it.
Seraphine seemed to sense his discomfort. “You’re handling this better than most,” she said, her tone softer than usual. “Most people wouldn’t have made it through the first few shifts without losing their nerve. Then to consider the life you left behind...”
Caelum shrugged, though he appreciated the sentiment. “I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Seraphine’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No, you didn’t.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the fire once more. “But still, you’re adapting. That’s more than can be said for most who find themselves ripped from one world and thrown into another.”
There was something in her voice—something almost... sad? Regretful? Caelum couldn’t tell. But before he could dwell on it, she straightened, brushing a hand through her long, dark braid.
“You should try using the ring,” she said abruptly, changing the subject. “Get used to it before we leave. It’ll be useful once we’re on the move again.”
Caelum hesitated, looking down at the thin band wrapped around his finger. He hadn’t tried accessing the pocket dimension yet, and despite his curiosity, there was a small part of him that was afraid. Afraid of what it meant to step deeper into this world, to accept it fully. But he knew he didn’t have the luxury of fear anymore.
He closed his eyes and focused, just as Seraphine had instructed earlier. He reached inward, searching for the faint pulse of mana that he had begun to sense in the air around him. It was subtle, like a current running just beneath the surface of his skin. With a deep breath, he pushed his focus toward the ring, trying to connect with the pocket dimension hidden inside.
At first, nothing happened. The ring remained cold and inert on his finger. But then, slowly, he felt a shift—a tiny, almost imperceptible tug in the back of his mind. He latched onto it, willing his mana into the ring, and suddenly, the world around him seemed to tilt.
He opened his eyes, and the campfire, the trees, and the sky all blurred for a moment. He blinked, and when his vision cleared, he found himself looking into the pocket dimension, like the two images, his surrounding and the pocket dimension, fought for his focus.
It was... empty. Still and silent, like an untouched closet waiting to be filled. There was no sensation of cold or warmth, no sense of gravity or pressure. Just space. Pure, unyielding space.
Caelum exhaled slowly, his pulse quickening as he stared into the void. “It’s... empty,” he said, more to himself than to Seraphine.
“For now,” she replied, watching him closely. “It’s your space now. You can store whatever you like in there. Tools, weapons, supplies—anything.”
He glanced back at her. “So, if I put something in there... how do I get it back out?”
“You just will it to return,” Seraphine explained. “Focus your mana, and the object will appear in your hand. It’s simple, once you get the hang of it.”
Caelum nodded, still staring into the emptiness of the pocket dimension. It was strange, thinking of it as his—a space that belonged to him alone. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would feel like to fill it with things from his old life. His schoolbooks, his drawings, the little knick-knacks he had collected over the years. But he quickly shoved the thought aside. That life was gone. It didn’t belong here.
He closed his eyes again, willing the connection to fade, and when he opened them, the campfire and the dark expanse of the pocket dimension had separated once more. The ring felt heavier now, as though it held the weight of the possibilities it represented.
“Good,” Seraphine said, nodding approvingly. “You’re picking it up quickly.”
Caelum smiled faintly, though the knot of unease in his chest hadn’t disappeared. He still felt out of place here, like an intruder in a world that wasn’t meant for him. But at least he was learning—slowly, but surely. And for now, that had to be enough.
Seraphine glanced at the ring on her own finger, her expression unreadable. “There’s one more thing you should know about storage rings,” she said, her voice low. “You can’t store mana crystals in there for too long.”
Caelum blinked, confused. “Why not?”
“Mana can flow through dimensions,” she explained. “And while it’s usually stable, if you store mana crystals inside a low-grade ring for too long, they’ll start to leak. The mana will dissipate into the surrounding area, especially if you’re in a low-mana environment.”
“Leak?” Caelum repeated, his brow furrowing. “Like... disappear?”
Seraphine nodded. “Slowly, yes. It’s not a huge amount, and most people don’t even notice. But if you’re traveling to an area with lower mana, the leakage can become significant. It’s something to keep in mind.”
Caelum swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the ring. “So... how do people store mana crystals, then?”
“Most don’t store them in rings,” Seraphine said simply. “At least not for long periods. They’re usually kept in vaults or secure locations with natural mana flow to preserve them. But for short trips or emergencies, you can carry a few crystals in a ring without too much worry.”
She glanced at him, her violet eyes gleaming in the firelight. “That ring you have—it’s cheap, low-grade. But there are higher-grade rings that offer better protection for mana storage. You’ll learn more about that at the university.”
Caelum nodded, his mind buzzing with everything he had just learned. Storage rings, mana crystals, pocket dimensions—it was all so much to take in, but he was starting to see how it all fit together. Slowly, he was beginning to understand the rules of this new world, even if he was still fumbling his way through it.
Seraphine stood up, brushing off her robe and glancing at the fire. “The ring should be fully recharged in an hour or two longer,” she said. “We’ll move as soon as it’s ready.”
Caelum nodded again, watching as she turned her back to him, her braid swaying slightly as she moved. The weight of the storage ring on his finger felt heavier now, a constant reminder of the world he had been thrust into. There was no turning back, no escape. This was his reality now.
And somehow, he would have to survive it.
As he sat there, the silence lingering between them, a question tugged at the back of his mind. “Why didn’t you just use mana crystals to recharge the artifact faster?” he asked, glancing toward the ring on her finger.
Seraphine paused mid-step, her back still to him. “I did,” she said, turning slightly to meet his gaze. “But the process isn’t as simple as just injecting raw mana into the artifact. You can’t feed chaotic mana directly into something as delicate as this ring. It would be like trying to channel a lightning bolt into an electrical circuit. You’d burn everything out in an instant.”
Caelum frowned. “So how does it work, then?”
Seraphine moved back toward the fire, her expression thoughtful. “A magician has to extract the mana from the crystal and then convert it into a form that’s usable. Think of it like a lightning rod—it absorbs the raw energy, but only a fraction of that power can be directed where you need it. The rest is grounded, wasted in the process.”
“So... there’s a lot of waste?” Caelum asked, the implications starting to make sense.
She nodded. “Exactly. It’s not efficient, and how much mana you can extract depends on the mage’s skill. The more experienced the magician, the less waste, but there’s always some loss. That’s why we still need to wait for the artifact to fully recharge. The mana crystals helped, but they weren’t enough to do it all.”
Caelum absorbed the explanation, his mind racing with the realization that even something as powerful as mana crystals had limitations. And that Seraphine, despite her apparent control, wasn’t all-powerful either. There were rules here, systems at play, and nothing came without a cost.
“So you have to be... efficient?” he asked, watching her carefully.
Seraphine smiled faintly, though there was little warmth in it. “Efficiency is everything in magic. The better you get at understanding mana, the more you can do with less. But raw power isn’t always the answer. It’s about control, refinement. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
She glanced down at the ring on her hand, then back at the fire. “For now, just rest. We’ll need to move as soon as we can.”
Caelum nodded, the weight of everything pressing down on him once more. Magic wasn’t just some boundless, limitless force. It had rules. It had limits. And understanding those limits was the key to survival.