AELLARIA

It was official. Aellaria had little to no efficiency with all of the magical schools. After all that practice, the issue wasn’t her mana pool; it was how effectively her body utilized the mana she had. It was equal parts amusing and disappointing to Aellaria because of the name Zenithor chose for the body he created. It had an emotional connection to an old friend but was also the perfect name for a great Aeromancer.

The trinket showed that she wasn’t going to be a great Aeromancer. The opposite was true. Aellaria would have to invest twenty times more mana into an air spell to get the same effect Zenithor had. Aellaria was going to be a poor Geomancer and a terrible Aeromancer.

Zenithor had known how to cast spells using the five other elements, but the base for magic his entire life as a sorcerer had been air. Aellaria would have to completely relearn magic from this element’s new perspective and would still be inefficient with her mana.

Aellaria wasn’t devastated, far from it. This challenge was exciting and welcome.

On top of that, Aellaria realized this was the most significant thaumaturgical finding since Zenithor published his findings on manufactured intelligence and enchanting decades ago. Aellaria had conclusive evidence that the soul and mind did not determine mana efficiency. The arcane discrepancies between Aellaria and Zenithor could fill multiple tomes, but Aellaria would not be sidetracked from her primary task.

At the end of the class, Aellaria stayed behind for her meeting with Niall. Marin stayed behind for a second to thank Niall for the lesson and let Aellaria know she would visit the infirmary.

Once it was just Niall and Aellaria, Niall picked a chair and sat beside his student.

Niall looked concerned. As if he was about to start his lecture with, ‘I’m not upset with you.’ Instead, Niall said, “Aellaria, you have almost zero magical talent. How did it even manifest?”

Aellaria told a half-truth. “When I was younger, I tried to steal some bread from a bakery. I got so nervous that the bread exploded in my hands from chaotic wind energy.”

Niall studied Aellaria, looking for the truth below the wide brim of her hat, “Who was your tutor? Who approved your recommendation for Spire?”

Aellaria responded again without the spirit of truth, “Zenithor Whisperwind of Frostholm wrote my recommendation.”

“Zenithor? He's still alive? I see it now! The hat!” Niall laughed while tracing an imaginary brim in front of his head.

“Zenithor died four days ago,” Aellaria said, trying to imbue her voice with a calm sadness. “He wanted to give me some of his legacy but had grown too old to see it through.”

Niall shook his head empathetically. “That is a shame. Zenithor was one of the greats, but he hasn’t published anything since I was a boy. I am surprised he took an apprentice so late in life.” Niall responded.

Aellaria had slowly felt these fake emotions turn real in her stomach. Aellaria felt her heart grow heavy and didn’t know if this was because of the conversation, reflecting on Zenithor’s life, or an anomaly caused by inhabiting the new body, “I think he- he became more sentimental in his older years.”

“Dean Flamescale likely wouldn’t have taken you in had he known you had no talent, Aellaria. With what we saw in that cube, I don’t think you have a future here at Spire.” Niall explained to the emotional student in front of him.

“No, I do have a future here, Niall. I proved it already with my fight with Flair,” Aellaria said.

“Your fight with Flair proved you have spirit and can cast one cantrip. However, the students below you will learn your limitations and climb past you to secure their own safety. I don’t want you to end up hurt. What would Zenithor say about where you are at?” Niall said.

“He would tell me to get off my ass and figure out how to break each and every person that tried,” Aellaria responded, smiling at the level of honesty in her words. Zenithor was still in her. His passion burned deep inside her like an undying furnace.

Niall laughed heartily. “Fine, but you have to prove to me that there is something worth teaching here. I want you to put everything into the casting of one spell. Impress me, and this won’t become a factor in my judgments of you going forward.”

Aellaria thought to herself for a moment. According to the cube, her best element was earth. It's almost twice as efficient as Air. Aellaria debated pushing everything she had into a Wind cantrip, but the great sorcerer Zenithor wouldn’t settle for anything less than the flashiest of examples. Aellaria decided on a course of action and stepped onto the table.

Exertion was necessary for a great exhalation of mana. Aellaria would have to perform a feat of physical prowess to empty her reserves and cast with an element that was not habitual.

Niall watched on. Aellaria could tell he was taking this moment seriously.

Aellaria sprinted the length of the table toward the center of the room. There was a fountain between this desk and another desk on the far side of the room. When Aellaria ran the length of the desk, she leapt into the air. As she jumped, she cast an earth cantrip with everything her mind and body could give. A massive wedge of stone erupted from the floor under the fountain, cleaving it in half and sending water flying. Aellaria twirled through the air, firmly setting a hand on the tip of the wedge of stone before pushing off of it and safely landing on her feet atop the table on the other side.

Niall looked at the giant axehead of stone Aellaria had pulled from the floor of his classroom. Aellaria read awe on his face. A student with zero efficiencies should have been almost useless magically. However, Aellaria’s lithe performance was commendable, and if any student underestimated her, they would surely leave the arena with a loss.

Aellaria climbed down off the desk. Exhausted, she breathed heavily. She couldn’t help but smirk. ’Factor that into your evaluations, whelp,’ She thought.

MARIN

During lunch, Marin ate with some of her new friends from Niall’s class. Callo, Syn, and Behngi. It was one of the most ordinary moments of her life since she arrived at Spire. It felt like she was back home with her brothers and sister.

Syn and Marin bonded over their holy symbols to the god of the sun. Marin learned that the blonde woman with the muscular build wanted more than anything to become a paladin of Phoenix and always had a beautiful ruby and gold necklace around her neck, stylized as the phoenix.

When Marin produced her twine loaf of bread, she was prepared for Syn to make fun of her. However, when Syn inspected it, she first said, “Your Ma or Pa really made this for you?”

“My mother.”

“That’s so cool! Ain’t no way we coulda made mine,” She hooked a thumb under her amulet’s chain to draw attention to it. “My Ma had it commissioned by the Craftin’ guild in Pyrelight so that I could use it as my focus. Maybe if you’d some topaz, you could fit those in and use this for your focus.” Syn said, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

Callo swallowed a bite of celery to chime in, “Don’t use topaz. You want to use something with a bit more flash and arcane acuity. Like amethyst or sapphire.”

Syn looked insulted at his response. “What?! Who’d ever heard of purple or blue bread? Bread is golden brown, or it is an insult to his radiance,” Syn responded. “Also, amethyst ain’t more flashy than topaz.”

“Purple is my favorite color,” Callo responded sheepishly.

Behngi chimed in here. His voice sounded practiced, as if he strained slightly to maintain accentless common speech. “Your Phoenix is a knight of common birth. I find it unlikely that he would be insulted. I think he would be charmed at the novelty.”

Syn thought briefly, “Maybe I’m overthinkin' it then, but my family always strove to prove ourselves to him. When I think of the paladins of the father, my mind goes to the Dean. Wait, Behngi, is that insensitive?” Syn looked worried momentarily, hoping not to insult her new friend.

“No, of course not,” Behngi said with a smile.

Marin needed clarification at this exchange. “Why would Behngi be insulted by you talking about Dean Flamescale?”

Callo answered, “Behngi is a ward from Arcane– one of the many brought here after the war with Arcane. Dean Flamescale was part of a decisive push to end that war. Some Arcanists believe him to be a war criminal.”

Behngi expanded on Callo’s answer: “And still, many Arcanists believe Dean Flamescale is a war hero for helping us broker peace. We love our home and our trees, but most Arcanists can recognize that charred land yields the most growth.”

Marin started to think about her life so far from anything else. By the western sea, nobody even talked about a war with Arcane. She wondered what else she didn’t know about. “Do you have gods in Arcane? Are they the same gods but look different? It would be weird for you to worship some commoner knight born a human.”

Behngi smiled, “Yes, of course. High elves like me believe in Zobu. She is the most beautiful person in the world and is the goddess of nobility and wisdom.”

Syn chuckled to herself.

Behngi turned to Syn, and he seemed worried he had said something wrong. “What is it?”

“In the gardens at home, Ma kept statues of all fourteen gods and goddesses. Zobu was b-e-a-utiful.” Syn emphasized.

“You’re a lesbian?” Callo asked.

Syn giggled like a schoolgirl. “If I wasn’t before seeing that statue, I was after, I'll tell you what.”

“What’s a lesbian?” Marin asked, which caused all three heads of her schoolmates to snap towards her. The look on their faces was enough for her to break character. She burst into laughter, and all three new friends followed suit.

AELLARIA

Aellaria prepared for the physical activity required for gym class. She changed into her blue tunic and wrapped her chest tightly. Aellaria had the advantage of having a body pre-made to be a heroic sorcerer, except for that pesky lack of mana efficiencies. She also had the benefit of having experienced Hell Week before.

As Aellaria effortlessly ran along the newly sculpted track in the gymnasium with thirty-one other young women, she also practiced spellcasting. She sprinted and alternated between small puffs of frost to cool her warming body and trickles of water to drink. Aellaria only put the bare minimum of mana into these two spells, but she found her limit a half hour into the run.

The track ran the perimeter of the sizeable warehouse-shaped room. In the center of the room were sixteen designated spaces for fighting and one larger stage for official matches.

Of the thirty-two women running the track, only Terra and Aellaria appeared not to be struggling. Aellaria looked at the woman running in the red vest and wraps. Cryomancers and Pyromancers had more control over their body heat, which was evident in Terra's composition. Terra’s training started well before she got to Spire.

“Let this be a lesson, ladies. Bind your chest while you are training. Bind your chest before fighting. Unless the mother sculpted you to be as flat as the lilypads in her garden, save yourselves the struggle. I am going to put you through enough pain as it is.” Coach Tilly shouted.

In the afternoons, the four teachers responsible for the first-year class taught their respective Sophomores instead. So the women went into Coach Tilly's loving hands, and the men went to Coach Berry.

Tilly was a tyrant. Without warning, she made them start running. They would run for as long as they could for an hour. Then, they would do weight training for thirty minutes, acrobatics for thirty minutes, and close out with an hour of sparring. There were fifteen-minute breaks between each of the blocks. Only thirty minutes into the run, it was clear most women had not expected the intense bootcamp.

Tilly had black hair tightly tied up in a braid knotted in on itself many times. The woman had a punchable face, but Aellaria knew anyone who played that game wouldn’t walk away from the challenge. “Marin, are you hearing me? Because I worry when you stop bouncing, you’ll give me a repeat performance of your fight yesterday.” As Coach Tilly ran alongside the struggling Marin, she mimed the action of falling over.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Marin said.

“Tomorrow, when you come into class, wear the right clothes, and maybe you won’t feel and look like you are dying,” Tilly said, commenting on how Marin was wearing the sorcerer robes she had grown attached to over the last two days, and not the tunic or vest.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Marin shouted.

Aellaria, to her credit, had planned to warn Marin about Death Week, but Marin did not return to the dorm room after class. They called it Death Week because, by the end of the four days of working out, you felt so sore you could die. It was also Death Week because it had the highest dropout rate before first-year finals.

The worst thing about Coach Tilly was that she knew how to do her job too well. She was like an expert ringmaster. She used her words as a whip to keep the women who were underperforming right at their body’s limits, not letting them relax but knowing just how far to push them while not exhausting them completely.

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Marin was far from the least fit in the group. There were apprentices in the group who were unwarned of Spire's physical standards, and there were more who knew and thought they could handle it. Many of these apprentices were learning the hard way; they couldn’t cut it.

At the end of the run, Aellaria sat down to meditate, and Marin collapsed beside her. “How… did you… do so well…”

“Magic,” Aellaria replied. Despite her composure, she was out of breath. She knew she would be doing herself a disservice if she failed to push herself as hard as everyone else.

“But the cube, it said you can’t do magic,” Marin said, struggling to speak past her beating heart and heavy breathing.

“I can do magic. I just can’t do magic well.” Aellaria said. “Are you hoping my handicap will make me drop out so you can have the room to yourself?”

“Honestly, the silence… might drive me more insane… than having a roommate.” Marin wheezed. “Can you teach me your secrets? You passed me, like, a million times. You and that Terra woman are insane.”

“Teach you my secrets?” Aellaria started. She opened an eye to look at the struggling young woman lying on the stone next to her. “To get started, you have water and frost efficiencies. Learn to get your body temperature under control and keep yourself hydrated.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Marin joked. She tried casting a basic Water cantrip on her face, but only half hit her target. The other half flew over her shoulder and hit another woman.

Bren squealed when the icy cold water hit her in the back. When She recovered from momentary embarrassment, she shouted, “Who threw that?!”

Marin shrank as small as possible, but some girls glanced toward Marin nervously. That was all the evidence Bren needed to storm up to the sitting woman.

“You think you can just splash people with freezing cold water? This is Spire, not whatever whorehouse your dumb EAMP-ass slid out of to get here.” Bren accused.

Marin hid her face in embarrassment. “I — I'm sorry. I was just thirsty, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I di-didnt mean anything by it,” Marin confessed.

“You can make it up to me by challenging me to a duel. You can be a woman and challenge me now, or I will break you the second you step foot off of campus,” Bren threatened. Only the weaker student could challenge the stronger student, and Bren must have known that an unsanctioned fight on campus might get her expelled.

“I can't–” Marin started.

Aellaria heard a new voice come from behind Bren. “If you wanna fight, I’m happy to oblige you. Or do you only feel comfortable fightin’ someone fifty ranks below you?” Syn said. The Pyromancer’s eyes burned bright, ready to go to blows for her new friend. Syn was the tallest girl in class, and despite only being ranked twenty-seventh, she had an imposing figure.

The tension in the room loosened at the sound of a real fight challenge. Some of the more prone to shit-stirring classmates let out a small chorus of “oooohs.” Some theatrically covering their mouths, eyes darting between the two.

“What are you, part orc?” Bren accused. “You look less like a woman and more like the beast that burns a village and takes some poor helpless man to her cave.”

“Yeah, your daddy,” Syn responded, “Fun fact, he was a bitch too.”

Bren was flabbergasted and clearly about to lose her shit.

Luckily, Coach Tilly returned to the Gym, ready to continue Hell Week. Flair managed to pull the hot-tempered Bren away from Syn. Syn reached down to help Marin to her feet, and the class continued with a grueling hour of weight lifting and stretching.

The last and longest stretch of the day was sparring. Roommates fought each other without magic. Teachers learned that roommates typically had a sense of camaraderie at this point, and grudge matches between friends were less common.

Of course, this meant that Aellaria would have to spar against Marin. Aellaria took a fighting stance, and Marin raised her hands, mimicking Aellaria’s pose.

Aellaria had to consider the best method for this stretch of training and decided to loop in her sparring partner. "Do you want to be a better fighter?"

Marin considered the question, "I want to be a powerful sorcerer. I have only had to scrap against my little siblings, though. Is fighting that important?"

"A sorcerer can be a genius, talented, and hard-working. Just having one means you fail. You are talented, but you haven't pushed your body to its breaking point, and you haven't grown up with enough money and foresight to be a prodigy." Aellaria answered.

"So unless you can punch brains into me, you are going to push my body to its limit?"

“Precisely,” Aellaria said.

Marin ran at Aellaria and used this moment to raise a leg into a thrusting kick. A kick that Aellaria sidestepped and grabbed. As Marin stood there with one leg caught by Aellaria, she flapped her arms to keep her balance like an injured bird. She went to pull herself free, but Aellaria had already swept her remaining leg out from under her before she could try.

Marin fell to the sparring area mat, and Aellaria offered her a hand. Marin wasn’t too proud to take Aellaria’s assistance. Marin looked frustrated but was met only with Aellaria's professional patience.

“Keep trying. I won’t let you strike me, but even when you miss, you will learn something.” Aellaria said.

Marin closed the distance and threw a flurry of punches, aiming to land a solid strike on Aellaria somewhere, anywhere. However, Aellaria’s movements were subtle and graceful. She was redirecting direct hits and shifting out of the way of glancing blows. Eventually, Marin wasn’t trying to get a decisive blow. She was swiping furiously just to try to get a hit on her opponent.

Marin overextended her reach and saw what was coming too late. Aellaria hit her directly in the nose with a swift elbow strike, hard enough to stun Marin. While looking incredulously at her roommate, Aellaria did not let up. Aellaria struck Marin in the sternum with an open-palmed strike that floored her again.

Aellaria went to help Marin up again. Marin asked, “You hit me?”

“I did tell you there would be pain, didn’t I?” Aellaria asked. She still had no mana, or she would try to stop the bleeding of the young lottery apprentice’s nose. Aellaria reached into a small pouch on her waist and offered Marin a cloth patch.

Aellaria noticed Marin’s resolve when Marin was ready to spar less than a minute later.

Marin was highly efficient with water magic, but Aellaria moved with a mystical fluidity as they fought.

Marin tried harder not to overextend herself, and Aellaria found fewer openings in Marin’s defenses. Around them, the sounds of blows landing and grunts of effort continued. During the fight, Marin noticed fewer women were in the room than had started. Half of the sixteen training arenas were empty. “Where did everyone go?”

Aellaria stepped back from the fight and responded, “Some girls went to the infirmary for injuries. Some went to get some rest.”

“But, aren’t you supposed to stay for the entire class?”

“Four hours of training can be overwhelming if you don’t expect it. I am surprised you haven't given up, given your outfit and how our sparring has gone.” Aellaria responded.

“Because you aren’t teaching me pain. You are teaching me self-discipline. You are teaching me to control my emotions in a fight.”

Aellaria scrunched up her brow. “I’m not your master, trying to teach you the martial arts secrets. I am fucking exhausted and putting in the bare minimum to stay on my feet.”

At the end of class, only eighteen girls, including Flair, Bren, Terra, Syn, Marin, and Aellaria, were left. All the women looked spent and drenched in sweat; some even spent these last moments of class lying down. All of the women—except, of course, for Terra. Terra sat at the front of the class as calm as when she entered.

“Good job today, ladies. I am surprised so few of you are still in class. This must be one of the weaker years–” Coach Tilly started. Her muscular build towered over the tired women.

Terra spoke up calmly. “I see what you’re doing. It won’t work on us this year.”

Coach Tilly smirked at the student, “Oh? Did your brother, little Professor Aeren, tell you what to expect?”

“Yes, and I know that you have more bark than bite. You get us to work ourselves tired to trick us into having undeserved authority. You are a coach and not a Master, after all.” Terra observed with apathetic grace.

Coach Tilly laughed, “Your brother must love you less than you thought. Any day of the week, I can break you, child.”

Terra went to stand up, ready to back up her words with actions, but Coach Tilly cut her off. “How about this? You get some rest, and we can settle this in front of the class tomorrow. Whoever is left. If you beat me, I will let you manage your own time and give you the respect you deserve. However, if I win, I get to be the coach for the year, except you all will call me Master Tilly.”

Terra settled back down. She showed more emotion than she had all day training. To Aellaria, it seemed Tilly’s words had affected her.

“Finally, gym class will be where you act on your challenges for the year. If you want a ranked match, you will do it under my loving and watchful eye. Remember, you can challenge one of your higher-ranked classmates once weekly, so if you want a rematch, you better be prepared to wait.” Tilly explained. “Now go get some rest. You are in for more of the same tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Terra said.

***

That afternoon, Aellaria was recovering in bed from the intense workout. Despite the ability to physically prepare her new body, its muscles still had to fully adjust to this demanding new reality. However, that wasn’t what went through Aellaria’s mind. Aellaria focused on the limitations of her new body and the ultimate goal of coming to Spire.

When Lilium died, Zenithor searched for the answer to his daughter’s death by reaching into five items that meant the most to her. Each of these five items brought faces and emotions to Zenithor. However, his body did not have the correct pattern to read Lilium’s experiences thoroughly.

Aellaria held one of these five items, her fingers tracing over the familiar patterns. It was a simple gold locket with a picture of Lilium’s mother.

Aellaria wanted more than anything to cast the second-level spell required to experience the events that mattered most to the previous owner. She wanted to understand wholly why Lilium felt the way she did. Why would people like Bren, Flair, and Callo hurt her so much? However, Aellaria didn’t have sufficient mana for a level one spell, much less level two. Aellaria’s mind buzzed with routes toward the casting of the spell. It was anguishing being this close to the truth but unable to do anything about it.

Marin cut through the fog, saying, “Aellaria, are you okay?” Marin was lying on her side, looking across the room at her roommate. “You’re looking at that locket like it owes you a purse of silver.”

Aellaria lay on her side. She changed her focus to the lottery apprentice in the other bed. “I had someone close to me. I gave them this locket a long time ago, and eventually, they had no use for it.”

“You had your heart broken,” Marin said.

“Yes,” Aellaria confirmed.

“Was it bad?”

“It was as bad as heartbreak gets,” Aellaria said. She studied Marin’s empathetic expression. Aellaria hoped that her roommate never had to experience the mind-shattering heartbreak that accompanies the loss of a child.

Aellaria briefly wondered if it was worth telling these half-truths. A part of her wanted to tell her simple roommate and her enthusiastic teacher to ‘fuck off and mind themselves.’ However, Aellaria knew she was stuck with people like Niall and Marin for the foreseeable future. They didn’t deserve the after-effects of her mourning.

Marin asked, “Is it something you want to get off your chest?”

Aellaria briefly imagined what it would feel like to tell Marin the truth. What caused Zenithor’s pain? The societal, ethical, and magical taboos Aellaria demolished, and the bloodthirsty vengeance that corrupted her. “No. Thank you, Marin.”

Marin sat up in bed, having had enough time to rest her sore body. “Then I will get us something to eat. Something salty for supper and something sweet for dessert. I owe you for helping me with training and your advice about my shark problem.” Marin groaned as she pushed onto her feet.

“Thank you, Marin,” Aellaria repeated.