My spatial lessons revolve around watching High Mage Phylius and Shannai’s abilities. Sometimes, he will explain the finer points of spatial magic, but only after I have annoyed him with my interruptions. His knowledge is clearly in external practices, and learning anything from him becomes intolerable. So, I spent these lectures talking to Shannai.

“Would you like to have lunch together and discuss this further? I plan on spending it in the Athenary anyway,” I whisper.

“No, thank you,” She rejects.

“Oh, That’s cool too. May I ask why?”

“I hate everything about this place and all its customs.”

“Don’t be too optimistic on my account.”

“I mean it. Phylius is looking, shh— Okay. Everyone here acts like magic is the end-all-be-all. Like to have been chosen, or even more to have an innate ability is some sort of divine approval.”

“Why?”

“Why indeed,” She evades.

“You know what I meant,” I accuse.

“Do we have to get into this? Is my rejection of your lunch date that offensive? Considering the studying, it's not like it sounded enticing. I think you mentioned the Athenary. You have things to learn.”

“I wa– Oh, you’re not getting me that easy. I am curious about what you hate. I’ll drop it if you want.”

"Everything…" She whispers with a sigh as the spatial Mage, finally noticing our lack of attention, slaps his hand on my desk.

“You, especially, should pay attention,” he blusters.

I stop because she will tell me when she's ready. With my list of things to study growing exponentially, I focus on exploring areas that will allow me to speed up or maximize my studying efficiency. With the permissions already granted for the Trietis Atypicality, I can look into the less relevant volumes I had skimmed before.

Jerice, the pious, demonstrated an innate meditative state that allowed him to rest with only two hours of sleep a night. The closest comparable recreation shaves a few hours off. In the journal, there are accounts of the man feeling connected to creation as mana nourished him. He had been a successful High cleric from the abbey near Naza. His only meaningful achievements are bolstered by what's considered a miracle of creation. It's hard to disagree in the light of an innate ability that manifested randomly.

Knocking out avenues of study leads to one breakthrough after another. For my studies of macro-runing techniques, I learned that I could use the borders rune, with a slight adjustment, to hold the mana. Connecting the activation rune to the borders can fill the border rune with ambient mana. This shortcut will increase my productivity, but I’ll need more to afford the following bimester. I also reference the Compendium of Internal Projections for another Idea I have. The only helpful entry is that of a Mental Fire Mage who’d built an obstacle course using fire magic.

Next, I reach into my bag to grab my sketchbook—an unfamiliar smoothness. Pulling the book from my bag, I stare at the plain black cover. The memory leaking into my brain curls my lip with confusion. I received this book from the time mage who appeared in the Athenary. I forgot about it. How? The thoughts need to be corrected—they are not bright enough. The name is out of reach. I set aside my rising concern and cracked open the book.

Time. All the everything in one. It is an ocean of rivers embanked upon the edges of understanding, a state that exists in the awareness of it. Know that all time exists always. Our movement through it is why time feels to 'go' forward. Time can not be changed or splintered. For one to attempt to do so will mean you already did, and it doesn't work. Time is not constant; it flows at different speeds according to external and internal constants. Most importantly, time is the certainty to which all forces bow.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

For your first assignment, once you look past the enchantment, try to experience a moment. I returned after you were capable of doing this. Good job!

Blank pages fill the remainder of the book, each obnoxiously empty as I flip through. What is this? Who is this person? My other problems or goals seem ridiculous compared to the absurdity of the being I interact with. I won't stop. I can’t. That could be another enchantment. What is an enchantment? No. I have to be careful with them, they are dangerous. But I need what they have to teach me.

My free time over next week goes towards runeing for Crucus. I suspect they are used in concert to channel large amounts of mana. Two sacks of materials await me at the storehouse, each containing fifty tubes, weighing twice as many kilograms. Grunts emanate as I drag the burlap sacks into the amalgamations workshop. Alright, let's get working.

I pull out a tube to start engraving transference runes, doing this process first because it will give me less material to cleanse. If I make a mistake engraving, I won’t lose any cleansing productivity. Once I have engraved ten tubes, I switch to cleansing. The process is tiring, though luckily, my magic comes back quickly, one benefit from a small magic pool. I finish cleaning the fifth tube when someone starts pulling on my shirt, lifting me out of the trough.

“Oh, destruction. Why does this buffoon show up? I'll kill the idiot if they aren’t dead,” the voice pleads.

“Please, stop pulling on me,” I instruct, standing from kneeling.

“Whatcha doin'? Nearly thought ya drowned yourself,” the storehouse attendant I had met earlier splutters.

“Just a technique for cleansing. Everything is fine here. Sorry to worry you.”

“Strangest— Well, we're closin’ soon; you must leave.”

“Is it that late already?” I ask, scratching at my wet head.

“It is. I’ll give ya a few minutes, but there are other people with stuff to be about,” They order, looking at the mess of metal scraps and spilled water. “I can give ya a hand,” they begrudge, possibly from pity or for expedience.

“I would appreciate the help.”

“It's been a while since I’ve seen a death mage here. Ya a Kirkian?”

“Yeah, Willow’s Grove, just north of Brinx. How can you tell?”

“Even the help has heard of the farm mage. Heard ya came in all caked in mud,” they insult, but with a lighter tone than most.

“Bigotry looks worst on the oppressed,” I quote, pushing the scraps into the pan.

“Ah yes, but ‘folie lies in assumption,’” they quote back, clearing off the worktable.

“What do you believe in then?”

“I believe all got the same right to be here, anyone who can be allowed. But things ain’t fair. I had a friend, a younger woman I met as a child. In the south, our cities have more people.” They take a moment here, and I see a withered pain glancing off the side of their eye. “We have more walls than the one around the city, invisible barriers that keep the views of the prosperous clear. We crossed those walls, and I met everything I wanted to be when I became a young woman. Quick-witted, appealing, and regal; you know that way some folks got? A life picked as easy as you’d pick a branapple. My life’s not been easy by any means— Yet, we were similar; we both longin’ for somethin’ more than we had. In the end, I think that is what is most important. Not that people have or have not, but we can strive towards more together.” They finish as I arrive at the door with the tubes.

“What happened to her?”

“She left to live her life, and I stayed to live mine. We had the time we needed together,” she answered, smiling at me as she opened the door with a sack of scraps.

I consider the story as I leave the workshop with my proceeds. There are currently six blocks of campus buildings between me and my dorm. I had been wishing for more exercise. The conclusion is sad. That's what it was. I wanted them to overcome and remain friends. To ignore convention and do what is the right thing. They should have stayed in touch if her life took her somewhere else. Or am I wrong? Could fate be unavoidable? Something in my mind rings out, correlating this thought to time magic nature. The choices are not some apotheosized deity but will manifest. Soon, my dorm is at hand, and I am collapsing into bed.

The following day my chief task is straightforward: now that I have a feel for the people, I need to start making inroads and covering my ass. Finding the office of Mage Randor, my mental magic instructor, will help with the latter. The dark wooden door is closed, so I knock softly. After a few moments, Randor opens the door to me with a smile. The smile seems genuine enough if formality is the bar; its temperature feigns warmth while poorly concealing a slight head tilt. The falter compounds when they fail to stretch the middle of their lip with the guise.

“Is this a bad time?” I offer, staying at the door.

“No, do come in. I have been working through this theory.” They refuse, gesturing at the chair opposing theirs.

“I would love to hear about it?”

“Yes, this theory my sister has been pushi—” They stop, looking at me intently.

“I apologize. Is it confidential?”

“In a way, most things regarding magic are. A fact you will begin to realize.”

“I’ll have to leave that distinction to my superiors.”

“Well— yes, you came here for a reason, I imagine?”

“I hope to run an experiment with you and request time in the experimental room.” I summarize.

“Go on,” they bite.

“I have an Idea. I have been in a few practical application rooms and noticed a lot of similarities in the visible rune formations, which gave me this idea based on our time in my mind palace. Can I recreate a practical room inside of my head? It will hopefully help me build my capabilities in time for the exams.”

“I imagine it is possible, but several runes are not visible and restricted. Not that I know much about amalgamations,” they lie.

“Oh? That is disappointing.”

“I have read a journal about a mage that can create an obstacle course in their mind palace. It reports that they can use fire magic with no adverse repercussions,” they dissuade, trying to push my interest away.

“I will have to look into getting the permissions and time in the experimental room?”

“I will see what I can do. Is there anything else?”

“No, that's it. Thank you for your time, mage Randor.” I surrender, inclining my head and exiting the room.

Mage Rainer’s office is far enough to consider Mage Randor’s aversion. Mages have discouraged me from several paths of inquiry. This time is different because I am pretty sure they are lying. They also offered an alternative, which is a divergence from tradition. If I am wrong, what can go wrong? Can I die? The thought makes me hesitate. The shadows of doubt cast over my conclusions reveal assumptions. What is it they say about assumption?

I must do the right thing to create an experimental room inside my mind palace. If mage Randor is suspicious, saying I want to build a practical room instead is a lackluster ploy. But I don’t want anyone to combine the dots if the professors talk. A certain level of familiarity with the materials and mechanisms will be necessary— but I can do that. I am already familiar with a few simple techniques from my work with Balduan. There is only one other problem. What if it does whatever I thought it should do? For instance, what if I made a broom and wanted it to fly around, and it did so? Then I put an amalgamation on it that allows it to float; what if it only holds together and doesn't explode because it is in my mind palace?

I arrive at a doorless frame with a sign hanging down. Mage Rainer sits at their desk meditatively, a wide grin gracing the world with their ease. Now that I examine their face, I can’t help but familiarize them with Mage Randor in the width of the nose and the pale golden hair. I wonder at the resemblance for a moment, comparing their names and the similarity of their magics. I’ll have to ask one of them. Probably, Rainier, they are more sensible. I hadn’t noticed that Rainier had an eye on me.

"Oh, hello. I di— I mean, I wasn't here— I apologize," I sputter while they stare back. "Yes, I have a question, but it is somewhat involved..." I imply, replied by continued silence. "I was reading one of the treatise atypicality journals and found a passage regarding a postulant who has gained access to the order of creation. The young mental Mage has an innate ability to reduce the time it takes to rest. I had originally intended to ask Mage Randor, but the more I consider it, the more I suspect that mental magic can not attain this, at least not alone."

“Hmm… Strange materials I have not heard of. We can add this to our previous request; it shouldn’t delay our appointment. As you have more of a notion than a theory, we might be able to attempt it.”

“Really?”

“I have to say I am intrigued. Gaining so much time in one’s day will greatly benefit all soul practitioners.”

“You might need both mental and soul affinity to accomplish it.” I consider aloud, slipping into my excitement.

“I do have both; most soul mages have a bit of mental affinity, but mental mages don’t share the trait.”

“Why is that?”

“I do not know. It is an observable phenomenon.”

“Is there anyone researching it?”

“It is one of the many forbidden topics. Even professors need permission to do or understand anything besides the basics.”

“Yes… Must keep creation pure.” I muse, tossing out the platitude.

“Indeed. And the dangers of experimentation-”

“Who decides the permissions?”

“That is not something I can discuss.”

“Why are you willing to experiment on this?”

“I have permissions regarding your education that allow for flexibility.”

"Thank you, Mage. I must get going, but I look forward to seeing you soon."

“You will do well to keep this divergence between us.”

I always have to pry at what interests me while aloofing my motive, but for once, someone is willing to say something. I am suspicious. Mage Rainer has always been more liberal with their words, but there is a distinct shift. A new mandate regarding my education? The change could be a way of discerning my true intentions. I must be careful, but I can make some easy headway for now.