“Mm! There you are,” Ms. Denner said and finished taking a bite of her pastry. She tossed it onto a plate, dusted off the crumbs, and used two fingers to fish a file from a cabinet.
It wasn’t the only open file and it wasn’t the only open cabinet. A breeze from a cracked window cut past [Candle] and made corners ruffle.
She waved him closer and gestured at the chair. “Come in, come in. Take a seat. Water? Coffee?”
There was a box on the chair and a poster tube leaning against it. Micah shook his head and moved them aside. The tube almost rolled off so he placed it upright, but then it began to sway so he stashed it under the desk.
He still hadn’t answered. He jerked up and smoothed down his uniform. “Uhm, no. Thank you.”
He remembered the last time he had drunk coffee, the week before his admittance interview. He had lain awake at night and resisted the urge to ask, Hey, Ryan? Psst, Ryan? Are you still awake?
They weren’t roommates anymore, and Micah didn’t need any more reasons to sleep worse than he already did. Not yet, at least.
Ameryth shrugged and knocked her cup back. She peered inside and did it again to get the last dregs before she headed for her pot to refill. Hot wisps of vapor rose around her outline.
The moment she turned back, Micah asked her, “Uhm, you wanted to speak with me, ma’am?”
He couldn’t take not knowing why anymore.
She must have caught on because she relaxed with a smile. “Straight to the point? Yes, I wanted to check up on you. Ask you about your exam, your studies, and other things, but … You’re too impatient for the pleasantries today, aren’t you?”
He nodded and was a little worried he was being too blatant that it would come off as rude. But if she had a main reason for why she would want to speak to him, he would rather they got to that point. He did have an appointment after this that he couldn’t afford to miss.
“Alright, then. I wanted to ask: Have you furthered your [Essence Path] yet? Have you gotten any new Skills?”
“Oh.” So that was what she wanted. Maybe they should have done the small talk first, after all. Micah fidgeted in his seat and considered handing her his journals before he let his shoulders fall and said, “No.”
He could sense her watching him. After a moment, she set her cup down and said, “Well, it’s only been the first half year of school, has it not? You’ve been learning extensions of your classroom subjects. And it’s been a busy year besides, with all that has happened. The Tower, the city adapting to its changes, your injuries. No wonder you haven’t had time to focus on your Path—”
“No, that’s not it,” Micah blurted out and shut up, realizing his faux pas. He hadn’t meant to interrupt.
She raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to go on.
“Sorry. It’s, uhm— Well, I have been working on it, ma’am. For months. But … nothing concrete has come from it? I haven’t gotten a Skill, even though I’ve been practicing longer than I did for [Condense Water] and this is my Path.”
“Ah.” She leaned back in understanding. “You believe you might be doing something wrong?”
Micah nodded earnestly. “I got [Controlled Breathing] from my most recent level up and—”
Ameryth rolled her eyes far up and shook her head in an exaggerated gesture of annoyance.
“—uhm?”
“I ask if you have gotten any new Skills and you say no, but you forgot to mention a level up?”
She hadn’t known?
“I thought you meant from my Path?”
“You can receive Path Skills from your Class. You should have learned that by now, Micah.”
“Huh?”
He wasn’t sure what she meant.
She didn’t look happy when she realized, but not annoyed either. “Say you have the [Mage Path] and are a [Mage] level one—” she started to explain instead.
Micah nodded.
“—and you practiced [Firebolt] for weeks but you leveled up before you can explore your Path to receive the Skill. So instead, you obtain it from your Class.”
“Oh.”
“And this is important because, depending on how far you were and how complicated the Skill was, it might affect any other Skills you may have gotten or may someday get.” She sat closer. “See, I learned it as imagining a trip. You walk from Point A to Point B and your level up is like a friendly wagon driver who gives you a lift to the end.” She mimed it on the table with single fingers. “Depending on how far he has to take you, it might slow him down, too. Meaning in this context that it has a toll on any Skills you might have gotten from that level up.”
Micah sat there with his mouth open and felt stupid. Why hadn’t anyone told him that?
Oh, right. Because callings were explained in the last two years of classroom or as they got relevant, and he had lied about his callings, skipped those two years, and run away from home.
He was such an idiot.
“Leveling properly is all about balance,” Ameryth told him, “which can mean pacing yourself because you don’t want to receive a Skill you might have gotten from your Path. But pacing yourself too much? Most people don’t have the time, patience, or resources to make a perfect plan. And we, here, don’t want you to. We want you to hit the road running and see what happens.”
She smiled and Micah chuckled despite himself, or the implications. They really were just guinea pigs for the Registry, weren’t they?
But he supposed his [Essence Path] was both a blessing and a curse then, because he didn’t have to worry about getting Skills from his Class that he might have gotten from his Path.
Which brought him back to the topic on hand. “So my [Controlled Breathing]?” he asked with a frown.
“Maybe,” she said. “What is it that you trained? How does it related to your Path in the first place?”
“Uhm—”
He closed his eyes for a second to check his light blobs. They were clean enough, he supposed. Dirty enough that he would want to clean them, but he could do that in one fell swoop afterward.
“I can do this?”
He took in a sharp breath and the breeze that cut past [Candle] and all the other minor currents in the room shifted their flows into a cycle around him as he took them in.
Corners ruffled the other way and Ameryth slammed her hand on a page before it could float off her desk. She looked around. The other things went still before he could even stop as she looked past them. Drawers rolled shut and the window closed.
He winced, a chest full of wind essence that made him feel light and restless. “I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s …” Ameryth frowned and sat back. “That’s something. I’m guessing that wasn’t an esoteric way of casting [Shape Wind]?”
“No?”
She made a grabbing motion at him. He needed a moment to catch on, then handed her his journals. As she turned the first page, she asked, “And you can use this how? Or rather, you started to practice this why?”
“Uhm, I saw Lisa do something similar,” he admitted. “But I was looking for ways to manipulate essences anyway. Because I can wax essences with my sight? But that’s rigid and unintuitive. This gives me more options. And I’ve been practicing other ways of doing it, too.”
“Show me?” Expectation lurked beneath her expression as she turned another page and watched him.
Micah almost winced again. Great. He’d opened his mouth too far. “I had much less success with this one?”
Her expression eased up a little. “That’s okay, too.”
“Okay. Okay.” He sat up and pushed an arm out to pull back his sleeve. He leaned forward and eyed the wood essence of the desk. “Okay,” he said a third time and focused on his hand.
Just a finger, he reminded himself. It was much easier that way. He didn’t know how else to describe it than trying to make a muscle he barely had twitch, like a pec, his ear, or nose.
He tried to make something in his finger twitch and the moment it did, he dragged it across the wood. The wood essence shifted to the side like water caught between two panes of glass.
Micah jumped in his seat. “Yes!”
Ameryth’s eyebrows shot up and she leaned over, the corners of her lips tilted up in small amusement. She looked at the desk, searching, then him, and asked, “What did you do?”
His elation fell. She hadn’t even noticed? No wonder. He had moved surface wood essence an inch to the side. It was pitiful. Embarrassing, really. Micah sighed and sunk in his seat.
“No, really,” Ameryth said. “What did you do? I can’t see it.”
“Huh? But I thought— Didn’t you say you can perceive essence, ma’am?”
“Some. Not all of them.”
“And wood essence?”
She considered. “Vaguely. As a fuel source more than anything. A surface to hold paint. Lingering potential. Space with which other essences interact. Why?”
“Oh, because I just moved a little bit of wood essence to the side, but—”
“You still need to practice.” She nodded. “Of course, it’s fine. And the other thing you did; how do you see yourself using that?”
“Well, uhm, the most effective way to use it, I guess, would be”—this would sound so stupid—“that I can breathe monsters to death?”
She blinked. “Come again?”
“Well, what I do is breathe essences in, right? And monsters and crystals are nothing more than essences—”
“Is that in here?” She pointed at the open page. It was on ‘winter morning rain at seven degrees Celsius with no snow on the ground, or in recent days, and only a minor breeze’ essence.
That journal was mostly full of reports for essence variations he had made, as Lisa had told him to. Had he even made notes on monster and crystal structures yet? Micah shook his head. “Uhm, no—”
“You should add that. Anything you can find relating to essences and your Path, write it down.”
But he had barely even seen living monsters in months, aside from as summons or familiars. The school had gone a few steps back on its new rules concerning them, though they needn’t have. After the novelty had worn off, many people thought they weren’t worth the effort.
He still saw the occasional inert lizard run along walls, where nobody could trip over them, but some assholes always tried to intercept them in the hopes of catching juicy gossip. If they didn’t, the note was tossed aside instead of delivered to the end. Because of course, they wouldn’t.
The only real upside was that some people took it as a challenge and got more creative with their designs.
“I would need more research opportunities,” Micah said, “and I … don’t really see the point? I mean, I have half a journal full of slight visual variations on essences I’ve seen and it’s been no use to me yet.”
Ameryth smiled in bemusement. “What? This isn't for you. It’s for me and everyone like you who comes after.”
Micah blinked. “Huh?”
“You want to be a climber, not a researcher. I don’t expect you to be interested in anything that doesn’t have practical value … yet.
But, I still want you to write down everything you know about essences, whether it be from observation, hunches, or your Path. You have a unique perspective on this, Micah, and someday, you might make a great discovery. You might not. Either way, we can put all these journals full of clues in the Registry for those who come after. That way, they won’t face the same headaches you did.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. ‘Oh’. Now tell me how you want to—and I quote—’breathe monsters to death’, mister climber.”
“Well, uhm—” Was he really nothing more than a climber, though? “Monsters are little more than essences, right?” Micah said, distracted.
“Mhm.”
“And if I wound them, I can breathe in the light they leak just as I could wind essence to wound them more.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, but it makes me cough? A lot. For monsters, at least. It’s much easier with a crystal. So … my [Controlled Breathing]?”
She hadn’t answered his question. Micah focused on that rather than any existential questions.
“Right.” She stopped flipping through the journal and looked at him. “In that case, it wouldn’t be like practicing [Firebolt] and leveling up too soon, but practicing [Fireball] and it being out of your reach. Your level would give you something like [Lesser Capacity]—shoes to help you reach your destination.”
“So this could be something as big as [Fireball]?” he asked. Wouldn’t that mean he had skipped his version of [Firebolt]?
She nodded. “Maybe. It could be. Or you really are doing something wrong and your Class is trying to patch up your broken ankle.”
Micah shoved the spike of fear aside to focus on the metaphor. The conversation. She was actually teaching him something useful. “Which I broke from going off-road, I take it?”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
“So how do I get back on the road? Or know if I’m on it at all?” It wasn’t like there was a sign telling him, Two more kilometers to your next Skill.
“I can’t tell you that, sadly. It’s your Path, not mine.” She raised a finger. “I can tell you this: You need to consider what you’re doing and which Skill you might end up getting from that behavior; find out how it works, and then what you’re doing wrong that is keeping you from reaching it. And maybe, you need to consider if you constructed the wrong Skill, mentally speaking.”
“I practiced forever to get [Condense Water],” Micah said, working through her explanation as she gave it, “and it turned out that I had forgotten to make the water cold to draw the humidity?”
“Yes.” She pointed. “Just like that. Which mistakes are you making or which requirements are you not fulfilling for this? Keep in mind, it could be something like [Fireball], that you just don’t have enough control or mana yet.”
Control?
His essence capacity had risen over time along with the … firmness, he supposed, of his light blob lungs. There had been a sudden growth after he’d gotten [Controlled Breathing] from his level up.
Was that it? Did he just have to exercise them until they were strong enough for a Skill?
Otherwise, which Skill was he hoping to get? [Essence Breathing]? What could he possibly be doing wrong that he wouldn’t get that? He could already breathe in essences, right?
He did it again. A single page ruffled as he took in a breath of just air essence from the stilling blanket around him. It was as easy as willing it.
There. Now, where was his Skill?
He gave himself a wry smile and shook his head. If only things were ever that simple for him.
When he glanced up, Ameryth was handing him one of his journals back. “They’re very nice pictures,” she said as he took it. “I wish I could see them myself. But I would advise you to focus less on the visual minutiae, as I suspect they vary from person to person anyway.”
Micah nodded in the instinctual understanding of hearing something true—his Path advising him, for once.
“They do.”
“Is there anything else you can see yourself doing with that skill of yours?”
“Uhm, there’s alchemy,” he said, but he knew she wasn’t as interested in that topic. “And, oh! I once used it to direct a healing potion toward my head?”
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“You did what?”
“I, uhm— I hit my head,” he explained, “and I wasn’t thinking straight. So instead of drinking a healing potion, I breathed in its essences and directed them toward my head inside my body.”
“Huh. That's something. Alchemical proficiency Skills exist on a consumption basis. Some callings receive enhanced control over their insides in general, but I’m unsure to which extent they do so by manipulating essences. I do know of one type of magic that does.”
Micah perked up. “Really?”
She nodded. “Many Northerners manipulate essences inside their bodies. That might be something you could study?”
Northern magic again? Micah frowned and tried not to let his confusion show. Was that some kind of trick question? A test from her?
“Of course, you are an [Alchemist],” she went on, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you received those alchemical proficiency Skills anyway and took them one step further. Be careful, though. Maybe wait until you receive more Skills that equip you with the tools you need to safely experiment.”
So would she actually be fine with him studying Northern magic? Micah nodded in answer to the rest of her answer and tried to shake off the distraction.
He was an [Alchemist]. He knew the dangers better than most. But it also seemed to him like he was better equipped to weather those risks than others.
She shifted in her seat and asked, “Now, on the topic of equipment: As I mentioned earlier, we want you to hit the ground running, Micah. See what happens. But we don’t want to do that without giving you the proper tools, training, and”—her voice shifted for a moment—”opportunities to do so.”
She shook off a scowl, clearly just as frustrated about the limitations of the Tower changes as they were.
One of the largest appeals of her school had been its close ties to the Tower after all, and now they were stuck here reading, studying, and discussing reports from others.
“So is there anything else you would like to pursue on your Path? Are there any tools that you think you need that could help you grow?”
Micah opened his mouth to joke, Money, but she quickly added, “Within reason, of course. I want to make sure that even the most individual Paths at our school are being taken care of.”
He nodded again. It was kind of her. He had come to her office nervous and worried, but ended up learning a lot already.
“There was one thing,” he said. “After the Tower changes, while we were in the hospital, Mr. Walker came to visit us. He was interested in the rain jacket. The uhm, ‘yellow fleece’ we had found?”
“Is it yellow?” Ameryth asked, amused.
Micah frowned. He didn’t follow.
She shook her head and waved for him to go on. “Nevermind. Ryan wears it during sparring matches, doesn’t he? An adaptive ward and filter, I believe?”
“Uhm, yes. But the thing is, Mr. Walker appraised the jacket himself and he let me try as well—”
“He did?”
Micah nodded.
“Huh. And?”
“And I, uhm, seemed to have an affinity for it? I asked if I could borrow the glasses because I thought they might help me further my Path and he told me to ask him again after things had calmed down.”
She seemed surprised for some reason.
Micah hesitated and twiddled his thumbs before he asked, “So … have things calmed down?”
Ameryth used her thumb to mark her page and shifted. The journal fell shut. She took a deep breath and seemed to consider—not the question in itself, but how she would let him down easy.
“Walker is very protective of his appraisal collection, Micah,” she started. “You have to understand, the items he has are incredibly valuable—”
He nodded, then shook his head, and interrupted again to save her the effort, “Yeah, no. I mean, uhm, I would take extremely good care of the glasses if he did let me practice with them, of course. In a controlled environment. But it wouldn’t have to be those specifically?”
He had her attention, which seemed completely alien to him.
Amerythg had looked like she was squeezing two weeks worth of procrastination into her lunch break earlier, but now she sat at her desk with one of his journals in hand, using her thumb to mark the page, and was hearing him out on another topic. Was this really alright?
“Like, we practiced with basic magic items in our mana manipulation class to get used to the feeling?” he asked with a nervous smile. He just hoped he wasn’t taking up too much of her time. “So I would like to do something similar to help expand my sight. Because I’ve been trying on my own, but I’ve only been able to find a handful of ‘new’ essence types among the ones I can already see.”
The method Lisa had told him of, to just ‘roam’, didn’t work for him and it frustrated him to no end, because nothing sounded like it would be more fun, but he couldn’t do it no matter how much he tried.
“You want to use magic items as a learning aid,” Ameryth said. “That’s a perfectly viable method. But if not Mr. Walker’s glasses, which enchantments would you imagine yourself using?”
“Uhm, anything at all? As long as it expands my vision, I’d like to practice with it. Things like [Darksight], or [Tracking], or— Oh! I would really like to try out [Mana Sight] first?” he asked. “Those are pretty common, right?”
Ms. Denner cocked her head with a smile. “Mana? Now that’s interesting. Why would you want to practice that first of all things?”
He shrugged and his voice became small, “Because it’s useful?” He smiled to make it sound like a joke.
“That’s it?”
“Well, I mean, I want to learn more spells in the future and it would be useful to know what I’m doing, so …”
She leaned forward and peered at him, journal faced away at her hip. “And you’re sure there isn’t any other reason why you would first want to be able to see mana of all things?”
Oh, so she hadn’t known about his new Skill and level, but she knew about this? That was alright. Micah knew who her favorite was.
“Uhm, yes?” He fidgeted in his seat again.
“Can you tell me what?”
“Because—” He floundered and gave up, rambling, “Because Ryan got the [Mage] Class and Lisa’s a mage, and—”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“—they’re probably going to learn a lot about mana and stuff, and I don’t want to fall behind or be useless. Uhm, ma’am. I mean, I know my [Condense Water] spell looks horrible so …”
He had confided the rest in her but didn’t finish. If Ryan became a [Mage] and could see mana someday, he didn’t want him to think less of him for that. He wanted to be able to keep up with the others.
She frowned and got up, then placed an empty glass in front of him and said, “Show me.”
Micah did.
And waited.
Her expression remained impassive as she watched the spell, then sat back down. “Well, nevermind that. The real question is, why do you think mana would fall under the purview of your Path?”
Oi. Don’t just change topics.
Micah grumbled in exasperation. “Because I’ve seen something similar before. I can see silver shells around people that I think might be a form of mana. Or are related to it, somehow. And when I hit my head during the exam, I could see these blue dots rising like spores from me. They were similar to something Lisa had described to me once as … mana leakage?”
He glanced down at his hand and wondered if they were still rising, now. Could he shift his sight to that?
“Just to clarify, but you can’t see actual mana even when viewing these two forms of essence?” she asked.
“Not with the former,” Micah said. “I haven’t tried with the latter. I can catch hints of mana sometimes, like brief flickers. But the other two, I don’t think it’s true mana, just something similar or related.”
“Oh, definitely,” she said. “The latter does sound like mana leakage, which quickly decays as it loses proximity to people. You can do some things with it, like use it to fuel body spells like so—” She snapped her fingers and a halo of red light radiated off her body like a Winter sunrise.
Without a cue, the effect stopped and Micah was left sitting there in open surprise. And a little awe.
She had his attention.
“—but once it has decayed too much, it’s practically worthless. It may be that it breaks up into a type of essence?”
He nodded. “And the shells?”
“It could be a variety of things. People have many, many different overlapping auras. And in this case when I say ‘aura’—”
“You mean any kind of magical radiation?”
She nodded. “Then the real question is, how do you expect that to give you mana sight?” She didn’t ask it like an honest question, but like she already knew the answer and was hoping Micah did, too, or that he would at least figure it out.
He didn’t. “I tried to study the way mana influences essence and work backward from that—” he started.
She nodded.
“—but I saw nothing.” He fanned his hands out, journal clenched in one to funnel his frustration a bit. “It didn’t work. I know mana can influence essence, I’ve seen it, but when I try to see other people’s influences— Back during our admissions interview, I didn’t notice a thing.”
She opened her mouth to say something and he rushed on. He didn’t want to just be venting. “Instead, I thought I could study the ‘mana essence’ that I can see. Maybe, if I could see more types, I might be able to … combine them all into one field?”
Her expression tempered as she sat back, considering. She was giving him a chance. “How would you hope to do that? I mean, which other types of ‘mana essence’ do you think you need to see?”
Micah furrowed his brows for a moment as he thought it over, then looked up. “All of them?”
“Do you know how many there are?”
“No. I would have to look that up. But I know there are few others, though. Like the aura we use to cast cantrips? That could be a start.”
She sat upright and nodded. “Oh, I could help you with that. Here.” She waved her hand.
The window opened. Micah blinked.
She looked at him. “And?”
“Nothing.”
She did nothing this time and the window closed again. “Really? Nothing? Maybe another cantrip ...”
She waved her hand and the fire elemental yelped and scurried into itself until it vanished. The fire went out. She waved her hand again and it crawled back out of nothing and glared at them as if it were plotting their demise.
“And now?”
She waved her hand again to make something else happen.
“Hold on!” Micah shouted. “Uhm, I mean, thank you for trying to help, ma’am, but maybe I need to switch to seeing those mana types I mentioned?”
“Switch? You should be able to see the effect regardless, from your perspective. I influence essences to do that.” She pointed at the window. It opened and closed, opened and closed.
Micah saw nothing and tried to rack his brain to figure out why, then frowned down at the journal he held in his hands.
The moment he realized, he raised it up with a groan and pressed it into his face. He wanted to curl into a ball.
He knew why.
Ameryth sounded bemused rather than concerned as she asked, “Micah?” Hopefully, that meant he didn’t look like a total lunatic.
‘Your perspective’ was the keyword. They had just been talking about it and he hadn’t realized. For years now, Micah had been seeing his version of the world. His surface. And essence subtly changed based on his perception of them. And they changed based on his influence.
Not others’.
The only times he saw essences react to mana was if the affinity was strong enough, the spell large enough, it affected nature, or if they otherwise moved many essences—like Lisa’s spellcraft or … Camille’s?
He remembered water dancing around her sleeves. He shook the memory away. Nevermind.
The point was: He never saw mana influence essences on its own. He never saw the subtler aspects of the craft because their effect was too subtle to influence his perception of the surface.
If he couldn’t let go of that, he would never be able to see another person using their aura to cast a cantrip. Or study the effects mana had on essences in more depth. It would all be tainted by his observation of it.
The solution was easy, then: He needed to learn to let go. He didn’t know why a part of him balked at the idea, though, as if sounded easier than it should be. Micah would love to see the way other people saw the world.
He moved the journal and said, “Uhm, Ms. Denner, if it’s alright with you I would like to try something?”
“Sure?”
“But it might involve me sitting here and doing nothing like an— like a stupid person for a moment?”
She smiled. “As if you were meditating?”
“Uhm, yeah?” He went up with his voice, both hopeful and afraid that he was asking too much. She was his principal and he had taken up enough of her time. He didn’t want to bother her.
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Can I continue to work while you sit around and do nothing?”
Micah nodded vehemently. “I just want to observe a powerful [Mage] for a moment to see if …” He couldn't find the right words.
“I understand,” she said. “By all means, go ahead.”
Micah sighed in relief and thanked her. As she went to open her file cabinet and sort the ones from earlier inside, he considered how to do this.
Relax his eyesight? No, not that. Shift his vision? He couldn’t do that either because he wanted to see nature essences, just not his.
How did Ryan influence his Skills? Was that even relevant? Did Micah want to relax his [Essence Sight] until it went blurry or his thoughts on what [Essence Sight] should show him? The latter. So what did he want to do?
He considered her advice from earlier.
What was the Skill he needed to construct? He wanted to give up control. What was he doing wrong that is keeping him from reaching it? The partial opposite, the passive version of what he did when he flared essences, breathed them in, moved them, or wounded monsters.
If he didn’t know how to do give up on his preconceptions, could he maybe do the exact opposite of that instead? The opposite of asserting control? Did he know any better how to do that?
Essences had no dominion, no, but Ameryth did.
Repeat after me—
“I am humble Guest, here,” Micah whispered.
The room was warmer all the sudden, brighter, and much, much more red. Even if not all the colors were warm ones, contrasts made them stand out. Shadows grew darker and the colder colors were bleached to warmth, pastel clouds contrasted against deep oils on canvas.
Instead of a soapy sheen, the wood essence dried up. Its bark patterns ran deeper and formed brittle ravines that gave traction and pores for paint or fire to sink into. It wasn’t glossy like treated wood because treated wood was protected. All things here were left bare to the elements.
Even those that seemed as though they should have survived them showed signs of fray. Hair-thin cracks broke up fresco paintings and forced them to struggle rather than rest. Their impact relied on might rather than adamance.
And every time Micah moved his head to see something new, the blanket of air around him seemed to have shifted. It didn’t move or billow, but it was constantly billowed. It kept its fluff as if it were ready to move, just waiting for the impetus. It didn’t settle because they weren’t done here yet. Tools and supplies weren’t cleaned and stored away while one was still using them.
The walls were shields that soaked up warmth and kept out the chill. The windows were portals armies of heat essence went through to do battle, though they would fall all the same.
The heat coming from the coffee cup was caffeine manifest, pouring out like a flood. Not as a fluid, but electricity. A toddler after drinking a haste potion running wild across her desk.
Some of the papers looked so thin and fragile it almost hurt. He could see light and essences shine through them like spiderwebs as if they were clumps just barely kept together.
Others would make for a much better canvas, he saw, even if they would burn easily all the same.
And running through it all were the rivers he sought. Lines where the paint had been scratched away to reveal the canvas underneath. A negative painting. Not white, but nothing at all. A distortion.
Micah only caught flickers of them here and there until Ameryth waved her hand and the drawers rolled shut as she walked away from them. Then he saw her field of influence in its entirety.
The comparison to the flimsy invisible lines a magnet drew through metal dust was laughable. Her rivers punctured the walls and subsumed the entire room, probably the entire building.
A Skill? Or was she just that high level?
Ameryth must have noticed him staring because she stopped and asked, “What, already?”
He nodded. “It was, uhm, much easier than I had thought?”
She smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Her version of the world really was beautiful, and strange, and also horribly, horribly ugly.
It was in constant strife; emotion, and motion that left things so vulnerable. He would have switched back if he could, but he couldn’t. He was guest here and that would have been rude.
Still.
Ameryth did something. A pair of lines flowing from her swept to the right. By the time Micah dragged his eyes away from their starting point and that sunrise, [Candle] was already gone.
She did it again and a flower of fire elementals bloomed around the fireplace, eyes, teeth, and flames stretched out in a flare. Micah had to squint against the brightness for a second before he could see.
A second ripple went through the essences, almost like a voice, and one elemental clawed its way past all the others until it popped into existence and hunkered down with a pointed glare.
She tested him a few more times by doing things without any indication and Micah would follow the rivers of influence to see what it was.
“Huh. So you really can see them. And now?” Again, she asked him like she knew the answer but wanted to see if he could find it.
Micah hesitated. He looked the other way and worked through all his awkward expressions for a second before he turned back and admitted, “I’m not sure? I can see three of them, now. Maybe I need to practice or see if I can find more essences that relate to mana …?”
He went up with his voice, unsure.
Ameryth smiled. “You mentioned flickers.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You said you could see flickers of mana. You can cast [Condense Water], can’t you? Levels aren’t the only wagon drivers who can give you a lift, shoes, or patch up your broken ankle.”
He worked through the metaphor until he realized, “I could learn [Mana Sight] as a Skill without a proper Class or Path?”
Why had he ever worried about mana not being a part of his Path, then?
“That was what I wanted to tell you earlier,” she said, “but I wanted to hear what you had to say, first. Of course, you could learn [Mana Sight] through sheer practice with some learning aids. We have [Mana Sight] enchantments at school for students that need them in the appropriate courses. You could have spoken with your mana manipulation teacher about that.
Another option would be that your [Alchemist] Class could be the wagon driver that takes you to the end.”
She raised a finger.
“But, it might take years before you get it as a proper Skill without any assistance, and months with tangentially related assistance. Most only learn to see those flickers you mentioned and settle for getting the Skill ‘someday’. Is that the Point B you want to head toward?”
Micah considered it with furrowed brows and shook his head. “I want to further my Path. I want to head for a place that involves those ‘mana essences’ I can see and have [Mana Sight] be the shoes that help me get there, not anything else help me get to [Mana Sight].”
She smiled as if that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Great. Then practice over the break. Head in that direction. We’ll see about getting you a pair of glasses from Mrs. Burke in the new year.”
She pulled a pen from a holder on her desk, an organizer from her drawer, and made a note.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She looked up, pen still poised, “And I could ask Mr. Walker about his glasses for you if you want? Things should have calmed down enough by the new year to bother him with that.”
“Ah, uhm,” Micah said and raised a finger halfway as to ask a question, “could I do that?”
“You want to ask him?”
He nodded. “I think it would be more polite. Or rather, I would want him to give me permission to use them because I asked and he allowed it, not because you asked him to, ma’am.”
“I get that. Well, then.” She stood and handed over his journals. “I think this has been a very productive first check-up on you.”
Micah slowly followed her lead and accepted them, then shifted them to his left hand for the inevitable handshake.
“I look forward to the next one, either after the break or in a few months.” She glanced at the clock and he followed that glance, too.
He jerked up in surprise and slammed his knee against the desk, then groaned and leaned over to cradle it.
Ameryth looked bemused, one hand still halfway toward him for the shake. “Is everything alright? What happened?”
Micah limped away from his chair and took a panicked step back. “I’m late. I mean, I’m going to be late.” He hadn’t realized just how much time had passed. He really had taken up far too much of hers, as well as his own.
“For what?”
“I have an appointment after this and, uhm—” He would have to run if he wanted to make it on time.
“Then you better hurry,” she said and made herself tall. “Just a second, are you wearing— Ah, good.”
She waved a hand and said, “[Red Blessing: Strength].”
[Skill — Red Armor: Lesser Strength obtained!]
He forgot the urgency for a second and blinked at her. “Wha—?”
She smiled. “Why do you think the school uniform is red? It’s nearly literally the least I can do. Now, run. It’ll last you about an hour.”
“Oh, uhm—” He skipped back a few steps. “Thank you, ma’am. So much. For this and everything.” He awkwardly looked back at her as he inched toward the door with hurried steps and drew up his backpack.
“You’re welcome.”
He was almost through the frame when he ducked back and called, “Oh, and happy New Year!”
“You, too, Micah.” She must have sensed his hesitation because she mouthed the word, “Run.”
He did. He rushed out from the office and past her secretary, waved, and called a brief goodbye. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he stumbled as his world lurched.
The colors returned to normal, wood regained its sheen, and the air quieted down around him. Her influence was gone. Of course. He wasn’t her guest anymore.
He slipped his backpack around, hurriedly stuffed in his journals, and speedwalked toward the exit while wrapping his scarf around him. The moment he was outside, he did as she had told him, used the Skill, and ran.