The fair is ending. People have chosen professions and thus move into student housing. Those who fail either return home or leave in search of something else. I consider several certifications while convincing myself that I am among the failures. Once the Fair ends, I settle in the Athenary, searching for references to the mage test.
It is such a collection of books that I have never before beheld. There are more than one could read in a hundred lifetimes lining the shelves above. On the ground floor, you can stand on the mosaic tile and stare up at the higher levels restricted to the likes of me. The levels of balconies stretch ten stories into a domed central structure. Here on the ground, you could spend ten lifetimes reading.
The tiles on the floor create an optical illusion whereby the solid surface looks like a widening pit which sucks up the color in the room with its pearly black surface. Bits of that black speckle the walls in decreasing abundance as you raise your eyes to the upper levels. The stone color brightens until you reach the translucent dome and a chandelier luminous enough to light the whole place.
After a time, I found only a vague reference to rituals conducted by an Alvin tribe millions of years ago. These rituals use some kind of mind-altering drug in a coming-of-age ceremony. The journal referenced tells of journeys leading into caves underground. Is there something underground that is essential in this ritual?
Another scholarly text cites this for a theory, postulating that large amounts of mana coalesce underground. These pockets of mana create the gems that we extract from the mines. I skim for evidence of similar rituals or more profound descriptions of this theory. A few days of this searching yields nothing else: many leads with little to show.
On the fourth day of my fruitless endeavor, High Mage Castillio approaches me in the streets outside my tavern. They strike a jarring figure; their elegant robes and stately demeanor set them apart from the crowd. Spotting me, they smile before walking over.
“Hello, Vesh’dan. It is nice to see you again,” they greet me.
“And you, High Mage,” I reciprocate.
“I apologize that we took so long in deliberating your recruitment.”
“I appreciate your concern, though it isn’t necessary.”
“Nevertheless, I apologize. Now, regarding your certification, after much consideration, I am pleased to inform you that we have accepted your enrollment into our program.”
“Y— you are serious?” I stutter.
“Serious as a fireball. I am one of your main proponents.”
“Why?”
“You see, I was extremely impressed at your showing in the tournament. This prowess alone did not assuage the majority of our board. However, it was enough to allow you to take the entrance exam. I did not share my colleagues' dismissals of your ability. After seeing you fight, I knew you could do well.”
“Why exactly are they against my enrollment? Can you explain to me further why my test is so abnormal? And that kept me in the test for three days?” I ask.
“Ah, yes. Reserving the right or privilege to practice magic for those from pristine lineage is a common belief. This tendency was never much of a problem before. Nobles entering the test know their affinity and some magical skill. A person has never completed the exam without some innate ability or prior magical training. Ruling out the possibility that you, in some way, have been assisted leads only to the fact that you have an innate ability— No, we are not sure what that is,” they firmly state when I open my mouth to interject. “Further confusing is how you solved the test using mundane techniques. That led to your test lasting longer than usual by about two days.”
Anxiety emanates from the edge of my grin, each bit of knowledge adding to my confusion. I have to take a moment to consider what they tell me. The fact that nobility hoards information about magic is no surprise. High Mage Gallah comes to mind, with their immediate disapproval of me. The other stuff is more telling, like how I wasn’t going to succeed in a test that requires magical ability. The difficulty of certain portions makes sense now; those tasks are for people who know magic stuff. It is also disappointing to learn that I will not yet be able to figure out what my magic is.
“What do you know of my innate ability?”
“This question is one we have no answers to, though I have searched. I haven’t found a situation comparable to yours. We believe, with time, we will discern both your innate ability and its impact on the test.”
“Well... it is a lot to take in. Since we don't know my innate ability, which courses will I take?
“We considered this for a time. The best option I can think of is an introductory course in every type of magic. Upon completing these, hopefully, we will better understand the direction you should take going forward.”
“How much exactly will this cost?”
“There is bad news. The board ruled that you won't be able to receive assistance as we cannot value the usefulness of your innate ability. You will have to pay the full cost of tuition, which will be twenty gold pieces in the first bimester of your first year. The second bimester will be cheaper as you won't have as many classes. Beyond that, the costs vary greatly depending on the specialization. I can only assure you it will be more than first-year tuition.”
“Well...”
“I know such an amount can be daunting, and I wish I could help you further. Sadly, I have done all I can at this time. I know you will be able to figure something out. Here is a class schedule, syllabus, list of required materials, housing documentation, and campus map. Do not hesitate to contact me with any problems that you have.”
“I appreciate your help, High Mage; thank you.”
“It is my pleasure. I will be seeing you, Vesh'dan.
I look over the sheets of information with a grimace. This one bimester will cost almost all the money I have, and the year will cost more than the revenue of our farm for four years. Why had I said yes? How can I make that kind of money? Why had I said yes? Yet one notion shines through, casting my face in exuberance: I have magic. Meaning there is no other choice but to go through this door.
Nervousness precludes restful sleep, tossing and turning me in my bed. As daylight strikes the corner of my window, I rise. I am up early to purchase supplies for the first three introductory classes. Some materials, like the abacus and the writing tools, are helpful for all subjects. Only two of them require specifics aside from the standard. Altogether, the assortment costs two gold pieces. Paper and ink alone are fifty silver. But this, at least, is a wound that will bleed slowly.
I need a profound source of income. The only means I can attain such resources will be with skills from the Sanctum. I have to save my money accordingly, rationing each coin with greed. High Mage Castillio believes I am capable of doing this. I do not. However, there is little use in not attempting. These fears humble my stride to the Sanctum. The centermost tower of the giant city dwarfs even the mountains in comparison. The top isn't visible through the clouds breaking against its immenseness.
The walls are more than the treasure coating them; they are composed of precious metals. A palace built with platinum bricks would have less value than these walls. Inside that towering tower is my destination. It is enough to daunt, but I stiffen my lip and step in.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Arriving at my first Introduction to Mental Magic class, I sat towards the back of the monochromatic lecture hall. Soft light permeates from the walls, making a joke of the light provided by glow gems. Every other student wears better attire than my own. Jewels and fancy robes are staples of their class, juxtaposing my worn linen tunic and cotton pants. I wouldn't have these things if I could, but the difference increases the likelihood of conflict. Several passersby stare as I take my place. One such pudgy individual approaches me with a self-confident sneer.
“Are you lost?” the person scoffs.
“Is this Introduction of Mental Magic?”
“Yes?” The person confesses, confusion casting their sneer.
“Then I am in the right place,” I inform, looking past them to the front of the hall.
The younger person looks ready to put me in my place until the professor rushes in. Setting down several papers on the podium at the front, they clear their throat while looking around. The initiate notices the Mage before they can further harass me. The teacher seems to be middle-aged and approaching disheveled. Their dark blue robes match lighter blue eyes that roam about the room, finding me without difficulty.
“You are meant to be here?”
“I am,” I mumble.
“You will need robes; speak to your R.A. for that.”
“Yes, Mage.”
"I am Mage Randor, and I will instruct you on the theory and practical application of mental magic," Mage Randor establishes, "Mental magic was discovered, like most other magics, during the Magical Revolution in N.E.F.C.D. 23000, over two million years ago. At this time, the discovery of magic and subsequent studies of each categorized branch led to the development of the world. We theorize that Grevs’ were the last to discover magic. Referencing the few texts we have on other races supports this theory, as mentions of their practices with magic date back far before our magical revolution. For instance, sixty million years ago, the Alvin tribes practiced soul magic as early as N.D.J.I.F. 78000. Though there is little information on anything Pre-N.E.F.C.D. ”
As the professor speaks, I scribble across a loose paper. I organize my notes as I transcribe them. Several students look back at me without restraint. This information is less noteworthy to them. Crucial points are all I can get, such as the speed of new information disallowing for detail.
“Mental magic was the second type discovered; its opposite, elemental magic, was the first. A nameless scholar discovered magic. In the infancy of its research, mages used mental magic to control living creatures. It wasn’t till nearly four decades ago that we uncovered further applications. Nowadays, we utilize mental magic for several positions ranging from mental healing to mental imprisonment.”
“Yes?” mage Randor finally allows, pointing to me.
“Could you explain the application of magic used in the testing?”
“Interesting. No, if you wish to discuss such a thing, you must come during my office hours. I will not derail the lesson plan to explain things to you.”
“I thought-”
“I do not wish to hear what you assumed, as you are an initiate. I wish for you to stop saying things unless they are productive to the discussion; initiate,” Mage Randor admonishes with little emotion.
“I apologize.”
“Back to what I was saying, mental magic has abundant application. The most predominant use today is in the legal system. Mental mages are used in courts to determine the validity of claims and, in some cases, access the minds of the accused. This effect wholly differs from truth seers in that the latter can enter your soul. Both draw from internal magic-”
After being called on again, I ask, “Internal magic?”
“Magic is mostly derived from external sources.”
Mage Randor explains many other forms of mental magic, none of which interest me much except mind palaces. Their speech is soon over, and they take us through the syllabus. They then inform us of our classes in the practical application rooms, denoting our class schedule. My spot at the back allows a quick exit to avoid the bulky person.
My next class is Introduction to Soul Magic with Mage Rainer. The race to arrive offers exercise. I grab a seat in the back while readying to ruin another silver in parchment and ink. Mage Rainier enters the room a minute later in gray robes, and calm, mossy ponds stare out of a porcelain face with sharp, angular features.
“Hello, I am Mage Rainer. Soul magic is the oldest recorded form, first practiced by Alvin tribes over sixty million years ago. It is the fourth magic we Haim uncovered. Early adopters used it to corrupt souls. The most pronounced career choice available is that of a truth seer, though I will recommend looking into other avenues. You will all be able to create soul space, enter altered states of being, sense auras, etcetera.”
The rest of their lecture follows the previous professor's explanation of the syllabus and practical lessons. When I first raise my hand during their opening preamble, they ignore me, so I lower it. Instead, I mark each question in my notes as they come up near the corresponding section. The next class is Introduction to Creation Magic. It is the magic I’ve had the closest interaction with, hurrying my steps to the class. As I enter, a spindly older person stares from the front of the room. They wear a tired expression. Their robes are pure white, reminding me of healers. I sit towards the front of the class.
“I am Mage Saria; I will deepen your understanding in the purest form of magic. Creation magic is pure creation. Applications using this form of magic include healing, plant cultivation, and matter creation. Healing and plant cultivation are self-explanatory; instead, I will explain its lesser-known form of matter creation in depth. Contrary to the name, creation magic cannot create matter. What it can do is form matter out of magic. You cannot create matter due to the Laws of Magical Conservation, which state: ‘Magic, and therefore matter, cannot be created or destroyed.’ Creation is limited to the efficiency of the caster, as well as the amount of magic available. Creation magic is external, meaning any source must come from mana gems.”
The professor dumps information upon me as I scratch my parchment. I sigh when the familiar lul of agenda-related matters slows my cramping hand. Every new question seems more important than the last. I leave the classroom with lines of inquiry spilling from my head in confused mutters. I must now direct those to one of the professors during their office hours, but which one? Firstly, I go to the Soul Mage’s office. I chose them because, of the three teachers, their style is the most direct and helpful to me. I arrive at a small room and knock on the wooden door.
“Please come in.” Mage Rainer calls.
“Hello, Mage Rainer. I was hoping to ask you a few questions?”
“How can I reduce your suffering today?”
“Well, that’s the thing, after just three lessons, I already have dozens of questions.”
“Oh? Dozens. Hmm, I have an easier solution that will help,” they offer, standing and then shuffling to the small bookshelf behind them.
“Please do,” I accept.
“Here you are.” They offer after grabbing a book from the shelf.
“Thank you so much; this will be helpful.” I thank, snatching the book on the Basics Of Magical Theory and flipping its pages. “Why isn’t this given to all the initiates?”
“Anyone coming here is aware of everything covered in this book. You’ll have some catching up to do. Is there anything else?”
After thanking them again, I sew the book to my chest before leaving the office. I fly three blocks over to the student housing administration. All the initiates already have housing assignments, leaving the building quiet. A frail person at a desk assesses sheets of parchment, marking them with red ink. From them, I receive a bed in the Soul Magic dormitories.
I arrive at a gray building in the innermost circle of the housing district. A symbol of flowing lines hangs on a sign above the door. I startle at the level of character decorating that plasters the main foyer, expecting the dormitories to be as monochromatic as everything else thus far. The brick building's lobby sprinkles overlapping icons and signifiers. Poster clustered signboards set here and there. The smell of paint points me to two initiates currently adding their touch. I reach the fifth floor, a hallway of doors that we walk until one marked 10B20.
The room is light blue, with several paintings adorning each wall. Two sets of identical furniture appoint the room, one prominently laid out and the other stuffed in a corner. It also appears someone bogarted pieces from the latter into the former—but that isn’t all. The water comes out of the faucet hot without any bother. The beds are clouds. There is also a reflective surface that hangs from a wall. In it, I see someone who doesn't fit.
The clock ticks away the minutes as I examine the strangest objects. It gleams on the nightstand by the bed. The class one lever looks like a crane holding its head just above the water. Pressing down on the lever connects it to the base. I would examine it further, but I don’t. I set the search aside in favor of my books, deciding to start with the basics.
Mana is everything. The Grand Magus Referious first discovered it in their eloquent equation: M equals eL squared, where ‘M’ is mana, ‘e’ is mass, and ‘L’ is the speed of light mana. Furthermore, we categorize this mana into eight opposing groups: creation and destruction, mental and elemental, soul and death, and time and space. Each has several subcategorized types and mages that fall into multiple categories.
The book explains the principles of magic. It states the three laws of magical dynamics. The first law, Conservation of Mana, states that mana cannot be created or destroyed. So, all mana merely changes states. The second law states that the destruction mana in an isolated system always increases, meaning all things will eventually convert. The third law states that the destruction of mana in a system reaches a constant level when total magic approaches absolute zero. Essentially, progress and decay slow with reduced magic.
Isolated systems are any biome isolated by a boundary. For all the races that inhabit Terminus, that boundary is the vast space between us and the moons. Nyx has only one continent: Terminus. We are considered an isolated system. While absorbing the material, I fail to notice someone entering the room. I do hear when the person starts shouting. I spin around, crashing into the bed behind me, and fall over, flailing. I shoot back up, raise my arms in defense, and start with bewilderment.
“There is a stranger in my room!” The familiar person yells.
“I am no stranger! Well— I mean— Fuck— I don’t know you. Well— I mean— I’m not— not supposed to be here. I mean— I am supposed to be here-”
“What are you doing in my room?” Shannai Sage asks.
“This is my room as well. I am Vesh’dan; I was late to enter.”
“Well… actually... I already knew that. We met before at the tournament. That, and my mother told me.”
“Oh?”
“She isn’t supposed to, and I thought it would be funny to alarm you.”
“Quite a performance.”
“My apologies; it is unusual to meet people here. We all know each other, you see, or at least know each other‘s houses. It is nice to meet you again. Oh, this will not do.” She claims, looking at the corner.
“I don-”
“Nonsense, you’ll get your share of the room. I’m not one of those.” She refuses in an offhand manner, walking up to the bed to pull it out.
“Let me help, at least.”
While rearranging the room, we got a few swings at getting to know each other. There is a tepid vibe that keeps the conversation simple. I describe myself as a farm worker and my proficiency with a rapier. She describes herself as a noble on a path to great power, leaving us with little meaningful information. Before she vanishes, she offers caution that rings deeper than the rest of the conversation.
“Your appearance is crucial to maintain; keep that in mind.” She warns.