Attired in his new academy robes, Kor strode away from class, his back straighter than usual and a faint smile playing on his lips as he hummed to himself. The warmth of the midday sun filtered through the faintly shimmering barrier overhead, casting dancing prismatic patterns across the walkways. Conflux Academy’s Nexus tower loomed in the distance, its crystalline spire catching and refracting the light like a beacon of magical achievement.

“The rest of the day is mine,” Kor murmured under his breath, the thought bringing a rare flicker of excitement. Free periods meant an opportunity to catch up, and he had a lot of ground to cover. The book on basic mana control was a solid start to his studies, but Professor Terra Firefall had hinted at countless other fields to explore. A visit to Ether’s Archive seemed in order. He only hoped the sentient library didn’t decide to test him again, even if the last encounter had proven fruitful.

Around him, the academy bustled with life. Students in identical robes streamed past, their chatter forming a lively backdrop. “Did you also get tested this morning?” one girl exclaimed, her voice rising above the din. “Professor said I had some real potential with my mana sphere!”

Kor’s attention snagged on a crystalline bird perched on the shoulder of another first-year—a boy with sharp features and hair the colour of sunlit wheat. The boy gestured animatedly, speaking to a girl who stood opposite him, her arms crossed in a stance of skeptical amusement. They stood by a row of meticulously manicured plants, the greenery punctuated with mana-infused flowers that glowed faintly in the shade.

The bird tilted its head, the motion unnervingly lifelike as its gem-like eyes glittered. Kor wondered if it was a pet or something more. He’d read that some spellcasters formed bonds with magical creatures, but identifying such connections was another skill he lacked. “Perhaps I could ask them,” Kor mused aloud before shaking his head. Consulting books seemed the easier solution. He continued along the path, the hum of distant conversations and the occasional burst of laughter filling the air.

There was so much to research, so many questions vying for his attention, he hardly knew where to begin. His thoughts churned as he walked, but after several paces, the world around him changed abruptly.

The sky above the city lit up with an intense, blinding, golden hue. “What in the…?” Kor stopped mid-step, heart pounding as he realised it wasn’t the sky at all—it was the protective shield encasing Conflux. The golden light rippled across the barrier, crackling with energy as though fending off an unseen force. A low, resonant hum followed, growing louder until it vibrated through the ground beneath his feet.

“What’s going on?” someone near him exclaimed, their voice tinged with panic.

“Is it an attack?” another voice called. The words carried on a rising tide of nervous chatter.

Dean Velleth’s magically amplified voice resounded across the campus, his authoritative tone slicing through the rising panic like a blade. “Students, please make your way to the nearest safe area or building immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Maintain order and activate personal barriers if you have them.”

Kor’s stomach tightened. Around him, students sprang into motion. Some hesitated, eyes wide with confusion or fear, but most moved with surprising calm. Personal shields shimmered into existence, faint bubbles of protective energy encasing the more prepared among them. Kor reached instinctively for his badge, the subtle hum of its protective power reassuring against his chest.

“Come on, let’s go!” someone urged, their voice cutting through his daze. Kor fell into step with the flow of students heading toward the nearest building, a stately hall with reinforced doors already swinging open to admit the crowd.

As he joined the briskly moving line, Kor strained to catch snippets of conversation. “Do you think it’s voidlings?” one student whispered.

“Probably just a precaution,” another replied, though their tone lacked conviction.

Kor’s mind raced. What in the void was going on? The golden light from the shield still flickered overhead, an ominous reminder of the danger beyond. He cast a glance over his shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of the Nexus tower. Its spire seemed to pulse faintly, as though in resonance with the shield—a silent sentinel watching over the academy.

The tension in the air was palpable as students funnelled into the building. Kor clutched the strap of his pack, trying to ground himself amidst the nervous energy.

“Are we going to be safe?” a girl near him asked, her voice trembling. Her friend, a taller boy with a calm demeanour, gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing.”

The crowd had begun to gather in the foyer, a large, high-ceilinged space with walls adorned with shimmering runes. Conversations buzzed around Kor, a mix of fear and curiosity. A wizened old man in professor’s robes approached their group. His presence exuded an unflappable calm, and his steady gaze quickly quieted the chatter.

“Calm yourselves, students,” the professor said, his voice carrying effortlessly. “This is merely a minor voidling incursion. It will be dealt with shortly. However, it’s best to remain indoors until we receive the all-clear.”

Kor found himself speaking before he could think better of it. “Does this happen often?”

The professor turned to him, a faint smile creasing his lined face. “Often enough, lad. Every few weeks or so, a small number of voidlings manage to puncture the fabric between our worlds. But worry not, they’re easily handled by the Voidguard.”

Voidguard. Kor had heard the term before—the name alone made their role obvious. He nodded, his curiosity piqued as the professor continued.

“Unlike Lexica, many of the other worlds have seen these incursions grow more frequent,” the professor said, his tone shifting to a more instructive one. “It’s an important lesson for you all. The Voidflame Edict is not just a rule; it is a necessity to repel these invaders. While they are inexorably drawn to our mana-rich worlds, they are also weak to our power.”

Kor listened intently as the words sank in. He’d fallen under the misapprehension that only those who enlisted fought voidlings. Yet as the professor spoke, he recalled the First Magus’s speech during their induction. There had been a hint of their roles as protectors, though Kor hadn’t fully grasped its implications until now.

“You may have thought the Edict unreasonable,” the professor continued, his gaze sweeping over the group. “But for many of you, this is your first time realising the very real threat of the Void. This is why you are trained—not just for yourselves, but to protect your worlds.”

As the students murmured among themselves, some pressing up against the tall windows to peer outside, Kor wondered. Would he have to fight voidlings as a student? None of the teachers had mentioned anything explicitly, but it seemed inevitable. If they were expected to protect their homeworlds, they would surely need to learn how to combat these invaders.

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Through the tall windows, Kor glimpsed a swirl of neon light in the sky. Defensive spells, perhaps? Moments later, the protective barrier glowed golden again. Shouts echoed from somewhere beyond the campus walls, their urgency muffled by stone and warding enchantments. Around him, students shifted uneasily, sharing worried looks.

Thankfully, the incursion was brief. Within half an hour, the golden glow from the shield faded back to its translucent state, and the professor informed them that it was safe to leave.

As Kor stepped out into the sunlight once more, his thoughts churned. The incident had given him much to consider as he set off toward Ether’s Archive, the Nexus tower glittering faintly in the distance.

The path to Ether’s Archive was quieter than usual, the hum of the shield still fresh in Kor’s memory. As he neared the Archive’s entrance, a faint vibration tickled his senses, a subtle hum of recognition emanating from the ancient structure. It brought a small smile to his face, a sense of belonging stirring in his chest.

This time, he resolved to ask one of the staff for guidance. As much as he appreciated Ether’s enigmatic presence, he couldn’t rely on the entity for every book he needed, especially when he wasn’t entirely sure what to look for.

Inside, the Archive’s towering shelves loomed, their shadowy depths punctuated by warm pools of light from floating orbs overhead. Intricate brass railings bordered winding staircases, and the air carried the faint, musky scent of ancient parchment. Kor’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the sight of students scattered at tables, some immersed in books, while others whispered animatedly. The gentle rustle of pages and the occasional metallic creak of ladders formed a soft, studious symphony.

Relief flickered through him as his eyes landed on the reception desk. A second-year boy sat there, his uniform slightly rumpled as he leaned over a book, idly tapping his pen against the counter. Kor approached, joining a short line behind two other first-years who whispered nervously among themselves.

When it was finally his turn, Kor stepped forward, offering a polite nod. “Excuse me. Do you know what books would be suitable for a first-year to cover all the basics?”

The boy glanced up, his tired eyes sharpening slightly. “Lexican?”

Kor nodded. The boy let out a small sigh, reaching out to ring a small, inaudible bell. The action seemed routine, his attention already drifting back to his book.

“One of the librarians will be by when they’re free. Take a seat while you wait.” He gestured toward the tables scattered nearby.

Kor murmured his thanks and found an empty table. Settling in, he began organising a mental list of what he might need: something for each of his core classes—Fundamentals of Mana, Basic Spellcraft, and Practical Combat. He tapped a finger absently against the polished wood, thoughts drifting toward his struggles in spell formation.

He hadn’t been waiting long when a light touch on his shoulder drew his attention. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with perhaps the shortest person he’d encountered on campus. The woman’s mousy brown hair framed her round face, and a pair of oversized glasses perched precariously on her nose. For a moment, Kor mistook her for a young girl, but the distinguished robes of a professor and the confident tilt of her head quickly corrected his assumption.

“What did you need help with, young man?” she asked, her voice brisk but not unkind.

“Young man?” Kor stifled a smile, straightening in his seat. “I… well, I’m a complete novice to magic,” he admitted sheepishly.

The woman held up a hand, cutting him off with an understanding nod. “The full package, then,” she said, her tone laced with gentle amusement. “Follow me.”

Bemused, Kor rose and followed her as she led the way toward one lectern stationed at the edge of the seemingly endless stacks. The hallway stretched on beyond sight, the towering shelves lined with books that seemed to pulse faintly with mana.

“You’ve Ether’s favour, young man. Rare for a first year, even rarer still for a Lexican,” she remarked without turning.

“I’d have thought Ether would get along well with us, being a library and all,” Kor replied.

The woman reached the lectern, pulling out a small box to stand on so she could comfortably reach its surface. With a practiced motion, she retrieved a sheet of enchanted paper and began to write, her quill gliding effortlessly as she murmured softly to herself.

“That might be the case,” she said, pausing briefly, “if so many didn’t fail out of the Academy in short order.”

She murmured to herself, as she listed off several works, scrawling the titles onto separate slips of paper. “Fundamentals of Mana... Mana Dynamics, Origins, Meditations, Sensing, Recovery, The Archetypes,” her voice trailing off as she wrote. The growing list put into focus just how much he had yet to learn; and he hadn’t even started researching his electives yet.

She moved on to Basic Spellcraft, then Practical Combat, her quill scratching steadily. By the time she finished, over two dozen slips of paper lay in a neat pile before her. With a satisfied nod, she turned and presented the stack to Kor.

“Uh, thank you, professor. This might be a bit too many for me to carry,” Kor said, eyeing the daunting pile.

The woman’s lip curled in amusement. “Don’t take them all at once,” she suggested. “I’d recommend starting with one for each subject. Just imbue the scrip with your mana, and it’ll guide you to the book.”

She gestured at the scrips. “I’ve numbered them in order of importance. Most professors teach the syllabus in the same sequence, but if you encounter difficulties, they’ll likely direct you to the correct books.”

It dawned on Kor what she’d done, and he gave a hasty, sincere thanks. “Thank you, professor,” he said, his voice firmer now.

Stepping down from the lectern, she offered a final warning. “Try not to wander from the main aisle. Every book listed should be there, and if you step off, Ether may take that as an invitation to your next round of testing.”

“There are more tests?” Kor blurted, a swirl of curiosity and unease tightening his chest.

“Yes, and they grow in difficulty,” Yue replied. “My personal recommendation is to hold off until you’ve mastered the materials Ether has already granted you.”

Just what kinds of rewards would the next testing yield? Whilst Ether seemed friendly, he also had to consider that failure might damage that relationship or cause some other difficulty.

“Thank you, professor,” he said again, though his voice trailed off as he mulled over her words.

“Yue,” she corrected gently, a small smile softening her expression. “And you’re welcome, young man. If you need a place to study, there are many alcoves throughout the library designated for private use.”

With that, Yue strode off, her surprising speed belying her stature. Kor turned his attention to the first scrip on his list.

Fundamentals of Mana. Kor carefully extended some of his mana into the slip as it tore away from his hand, zipping off into the main aisle. His heart raced as he feared it might leave him behind, but it never travelled too far, staying a comfortable distance ahead.

After a brief period of hunting down the first three books to study, Kor returned with them in his pack, searching out one of the private study alcoves.

He had seen nothing of the sort deep in the stacks. As he neared the entrance, a large flock of books sped past, forcing him to step aside; a student ran after them before stopping as the futility of the action dawned on him.

“Gah! He’ll have my hide for this...”

Kor studiously avoided meeting the boy’s eyes, instead finding the rooms all along a wall near to the entrance.

Heading over, Kor found the small room cosy and warm. A padded chair upholstered in soft, well-worn leather, and a sturdy oak desk awaited him as he stepped inside. The door closed gently behind him, and he sat. The alcove was modest but inviting. Shelves lined the walls for temporary book storage, their polished surfaces gleaming faintly in the lamp’s enchanted light. The warm glow filled the room with a golden hue, and the subtle hum of the lamp added a calming background note. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and old paper, mingled with a trace of lavender, creating a comforting and serene atmosphere reminiscent of the libraries back home.

Kor smiled as nostalgia washed over him. The soft lamplight and faint aroma of aged parchment recalled quiet afternoons in his parents’ study—him with his nose in a book, his father bent over intricate equations. That same relaxing hush filled the alcove now, and he found himself strangely at ease, ready to learn.

“Let’s see what the professor found for me,” Kor murmured to himself, his voice low in the quiet alcove. As he spoke, a strange sensation brushed against his awareness—a fleeting impression of Ether’s attention. It felt almost like an encouraging pat on the back, warm and reassuring, but vanishing before he could fully grasp it.