Evelyn felt excitement run through her veins and new energy filling her with purpose. This was her chance to finally make her dreams come true.

A knocking sound filled the room.

‘Come in!’ Orpheus said.

A man walked inside. Evelyn’s heart sunk. Cal. Her initial excitement deflated.

‘Professor-‘ his smile froze as he noticed Evelyn sitting in the room. The change was momentary, but Evelyn caught it, being used to his mannerism. He quickly schooled back his features to a pleasant expression.

‘Hello Professor,’ he nodded at the man and turned to her. ‘Evelyn.’ He gave her a reluctant smile. It clashed with his confident stance and straight posture. Before she could respond the professor cut in.‘Oh, you know each other, wonderful!.’ The man clasped his hands.

Hesitation shone in Cal’s eyes before he responded.

‘Yes, we studied together here.’ The older man’s face beamed.

They’ve studied together, for sure. Evelyn still remembered him and his group of friends that made sure to make her, Jim, and Codie’s life miserable. Him and his friend Avery. Despite the years of distance, Evelyn felt like she was transported back to those days and back to the person she was then. It was just one year where all the mages and potion makers studied together, but what a year it was. It turns out it remained etched in her memory much stronger than she expected. And now is all of the sudden erupted. She then continued to train in red magic and he went on to become one of the prodigies of their generation in blue magic. Because of course he did.

'Perfect, then I am sure that your cooperation will be fruitful Please introduce Ms. Andrews the scope of the project and her part in it. I wish you both all the best and success.' With these words they were dismissed.

Evelyn couldn’t believe her bad luck, she really thought that she wouldn’t have to meet him even again. But she wouldn’t let it be an obstacle. It’s been years since then and she’s a different person now. Much more composed. And she would tackle it with dignity. This small obstacle wouldn’t stand in her way of succeeding.

They walked out and stood in the corridor at a distance slightly larger than politeness required in awkward silence.

Standing in the corridor, her emotions under a sliver of control, she examined the man in front of her. He certainly changed. His face carried traces of maturity that took place of the teasing smirk he used to wear. She could see the first wrinkles on his forehead, even though he was only approaching thirty. He had a blue band ring on his third finger, similar to her red band one, a symbol of their magical affinity and an old custom. Hers was from red crystal, affordable to anyone. His, on the other hand, was made from sapphire, beautifully polished and quite extravagant.

'I admit, I wasn't expecting you.' He said. Was it disappointment and condescension in his tone? She wouldn’t let it get to her. She was given this chance and he would have to deal with it.

'No, you wouldn't.' Her voice cold.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, then closed his mouth. Then he said:

'This work has to be kept away from anyone who isn't involved, this is really an important topic, I am surprised that you would choose such a thing to work with.'

Of course he would think her not qualified enough for this.

‘I’ll send someone with material to read before we start.’

----------------------------------------

Cal promised to have the materials delivered to Evelyn before they began the actual work. The work required extensive preparation. Though Cal hadn't said so outright, Evelyn suspected he was doing most of the heavy lifting, while Professor Hart contributed little.

On her way home, she wandered through the market. She picked up pears—deciding that the crisp autumn weather deserved a celebratory pear pie—along with potion ingredients she was running low on, though she rarely relied on them. Lastly, she bought raw meat for her cat. When she arrived at her small home, she discovered him napping on her freshly washed and ironed sheets, leaving fur everywhere.

"Leopold," she muttered, exasperated but unable to stay mad. After making herself tea, she settled into her worn armchair by the window, clutching the day’s newspaper. It was a habit inherited from her father. "If you don’t know what’s happening in the world around you, you might as well be blind," she heard his voice in her mind and smiled. She should visit her parents soon.

As she unfolded the paper, an article caught her eye immediately.

"'A great many changes are in need of urgent introduction,' says the current Royal Magical Advisor, Mr. Tavenholm, who has been recently supporting a controversial statement concerning the organization of the magical and regular society. 'It is becoming a great strain on the royal treasure, to continue supporting the scholarships for low mages.' he stated.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

She felt a wave of irritation. Low mages, of course. It was a derogatory term, mostly used by the blue mages, that came from the fact that red magic, in contrast to blue, was much more subtle, and demanded less strain on the wielder.

Evelyn remembered seeing the Royal Magic Advisor once at the official opening ceremony of the year at the Academy. Even now, as she recalled his cold gaze devoid of any sympathy on his pale face, she couldn’t suppress a shudder. He wore a polished sapphire ring that must have been worth more than her parent’s cottage.

Of course, he would use the term, no matter if it was banned on the Academy grounds. He didn’t have to bend to their rules.

"Scholarships cost the kingdom a fortune," the article continued, "and low mages, he argued, contribute far less to society than high mages. Frankly, almost anyone can become a low mage these days, and that reality is draining the economy. Their magic is common and should be treated as such."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the paper. Common? Her jaw clenched. Red magic wasn’t something just anyone could obtain—it was a rare, innate gift. How could a mage like Tavenholm dismiss an ability vital to food production and healing? She continued reading.

“It isn't yet clear if the King will listen to his Magical Advisor, as he is known for his rather tolerant view of the mages. Meanwhile Mr. Orpheus Mellert, the Headmaster of the Academy of Light Magic together with Mr. Lysandre the member of the parliament, known for his merits in the financial sector, are in opposition to the statement:”

"All mages bring equal value to the kingdom," Mellert had said. "It is tolerance and equality that distinguish us from places like Aven, where mages are conscripted into the military and valued only for their abilities, not their humanity. We must not follow such a dangerous path."

Evelyn was no stranger to the deep-seated animosity between Mr. Tavenholm and Headmaster Mellert. Tavenholm's views on the "proper order" of magical society clashed sharply with Mellert’s staunch advocacy for equality among mages. She had experienced similar sentiments herself from the blue mages at the Academy—subtle slights, cold dismissals, and the occasional outright insult.

It wasn’t enough that red mages were already viewed as a threat by many. In other lands, they were treated as tools—commodities forced into service on the battlefield. And yet here, people like Tavenholm seemed bent on creating more divisions, driven by pride and selfish, shortsighted goals. Statements like his didn’t just stir resentment; they sowed the seeds of rebellion and made life harder for everyone in the long run.

Evelyn sighed, setting the paper down. There was nothing she could do about it.

At that moment, Leopold decided it was time to wake up and demand food. Never mind that his bowl from the morning still had plenty in it—it wasn’t as fresh as he would like.

“Stop making so much noise,” she scolded as she cleaned his bowl and added a fresh portion of meat. “Mrs. Gresley will have me evicted if you keep disturbing her naps.”

Mrs. Gresley, her elderly landlady, was a widow with an uncanny knack for finding fault in everything, especially Leopold’s meowing. The cat had developed the uncanny habit of choosing precisely the moment she fell asleep to start his racket. Evelyn couldn’t fathom how he timed it so perfectly, but it was a constant source of worry. Not that Leopold cared about Mrs. Gresley’s complaints. And, truth be told, Evelyn didn’t blame him; the woman wasn’t particularly kind to cats—or people.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. An errand boy stood on the threshold, clutching a bundle of papers wrapped in parchment and tied with a red cotton string.

“These are from Mr. Tavenholm,” the boy announced.

Thanking him, she set the heavy package on the table. She had expected a modest stack of reading—three or four papers, perhaps five. What she received, however, was closer to an entire book. She frowned. Surely Cal didn’t expect her to finish this quickly? She still had her lectures to prepare.

Tucked under the string was a note in Cal’s tidy handwriting:

Evelyn,

Here are the materials I gathered for you to read. I marked them by importance—please start with those labeled crucial. The Headmaster has decided to free you from student duties for the duration of this project, so you can focus entirely on this work. I remain for your questions.

Cal

She rolled her eyes. Did he think she wasn’t capable of managing both her regular work and this assignment? Then again, she couldn’t deny that the stack looked intimidating. Not that she would ever admit as much to him.

The rest of the evening passed in the glow of flickering candles. Leopold perched on her lap, purring contentedly as she began to read.

She picked up the first paper, marked important in dramatic red ink underlined three times.

It is commonly accepted that light magic has its limitations, and no reports to date suggest these boundaries have been breached. One of the most critical constraints is proximity: a mage must remain near the light they are manipulating. This paper explores a theoretical possibility—could a mage control light from a significant distance using a specialized instrument?

Evelyn coughed, nearly spilling her tea. Leopold stirred, fixing her with a reproachful stare before curling back into his fur. She reread the passage, certain she must have misunderstood. Magic at a distance? It was impossible. Everyone knew that.

The principle was foundational. Even children understood it, let alone engineers or potion makers. Light magic required proximity; it was a law as immutable as gravity. That was why red mages often traveled to tend distant gardens and crops—a prospect she herself had avoided. No potion or charm could circumvent the distance constraint.

But the paper persisted:

This theory hinges on the discovery of a unique material capable of producing “twin beams”—interconnected streams of light. By controlling one beam, the mage could simultaneously influence its twin, no matter how far apart they were.

She quickly scanned the rest of the article and moved to the next paper in the pile, which built on the same concept:

Prior work theorized the existence of a material that could generate twin beams. We believe we have identified such a crystal—one capable of linking two beams inextricably.

Her heart raced as she skimmed the remaining pages. Every document pointed to the same groundbreaking conclusion: a crystal that could connect two light beams, allowing a mage to control one from an unimaginable distance.

If true, this discovery would change everything. It would overturn the very foundation of how magic functioned, shattering the long-held limitation of proximity. No wonder the project was so tightly guarded. The implications were staggering—and potentially dangerous.

Evelyn set the papers down, her mind buzzing. What had she gotten herself into?