Kor’s footsteps echoed softly through the quiet halls of Ether’s Archive as he emerged from its maze-like corridors. The journey had taken longer than he expected, but he finally held his prize: a worn, leather-bound copy of Basic Mana Control. The book’s cover, scuffed and faded, bore testament to the generations of students who had studied it before him.
Outside, the twin suns of Conflux had already dipped below the horizon, their absence casting the academy grounds into a twilight lit only by the faint glow of enchanted lanterns. The air had cooled considerably, but the vibrancy of student life persisted. Groups of peers crowded the pathways, their voices carrying through the night as they showed off their spells. Kor tightened his grip on the two books he carried, avoiding the tempting spectacle with deliberate focus. The day had been taxing enough, and he had no desire for further distractions.
At last, the looming silhouette of his dormitory came into view. Kor’s student badge hummed faintly as he passed it over the brass plate by the door, and with a soft click, the entrance swung open. The familiar, earthy scent of the room greeted him immediately—Talen’s plants. The outlines of their pots and vines sprawled haphazardly across the floor, illuminated faintly by the moonlight filtering through the high window. Across the room, his roommate’s steady, muffled snores suggested Talen was already deep in sleep.
Kor sighed, suppressing the urge to groan outright. His plans to review the Fundamentals of Mana before morning would have to wait. Carefully, he placed his new books into his backpack, taking care not to disturb Talen. Tomorrow would bring his first class—an opportunity to learn how to use his mana at last.
As he sank onto the mattress, his thoughts scattered. He needed an alarm-clock. Perhaps his mother had packed one for him. Yet the soft embrace of his pillow, combined with an exhaustion that settled over him like a heavy fog, swept away any desire to check. Sleep claimed him almost instantly, and the world of Conflux faded to a merciful silence.
Even despite his fatigue, various dreams punctuated Kor’s sleep. Everything started off fine, with gentle hues and indistinct shapes dancing in his mind. But soon, the darkness crept in, coalescing into twisted figures that haunted the edges of his subconscious. Voidlings. They moved like shadows, their forms fluid and monstrous, with glowing eyes that pierced the gloom. They surged toward the academy, blackened claws raking through the air as they closed in.
Kor’s legs burned as he fled, the landscape shifting unpredictably around him. One moment, he was sprinting across the sunlit gardens of Conflux Academy; the next, he stumbled through a fractured version of Ether’s Archive, where books floated in impossible patterns and whispered ominous secrets. No matter how far or fast he ran, the voidlings loomed ever closer, their guttural cries echoing in his ears. He reached for his mana, for some semblance of control—but it slipped through his fingers like sand.
Just as panic tightened its grip on his chest, a familiar voice pierced through the chaos.
Kor, it said, gentle yet commanding. It’s time to wake up.
The nightmare flickered, the voidlings’ snarls giving way to a soothing warmth. He knew that voice—it had been his constant companion as a child, a steady presence that filled his youth with warmth and guidance. In recent years, it had faded away, slipping into silence as he’d focused on becoming a serious academic.
Only at the testing crystal had it reached out to him again, clear and unmistakable. He’d forgotten how comforting its attention could be, how it seemed to understand him in a way nothing else could. Just as he was about to respond to the call, he felt himself shaken awake.
Kor!
This time, a sharp shake of his shoulder accompanied the voice. Kor’s eyes snapped open with a gasp. The hazy remnants of the dream dissipated, leaving only the comforting glow of his dormitory. Talen stood over him, smirking.
“You’ll be late if you don’t get up soon,” Talen said, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Classes start in ten minutes, Kor.”
For a moment, Kor simply stared at him, blinking away the grogginess. Then, as understanding dawned, a bolt of energy shot through him. He sat up so fast that his head spun. “Ten minutes?” he croaked, scrambling for the clock he’d neglected to unpack.
“Yup.” Talen gestured vaguely toward the door. “You’re welcome, by the way. Figured you wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on your first day.” He waved casually and stepped out, leaving the door ajar.
“Thanks, Talen!” Kor called after him, his voice muffled as he shoved his head into the depths of his pack in search of clean clothes. He appreciated his roommate’s thoughtfulness and made a mental note to repay the kindness. But that could wait—right now, he had to move.
His hands closed around the alarm clock nestled at the top of the bag. With an internal groan, he moved it aside, revealing the neatly folded robe his mother had packed underneath. He pulled the robe free, its crisp fabric still smelling faintly of lavender. Her careful packing was a powerful reminder that he couldn’t rely on his parents anymore; success or failure rested squarely on his shoulders.
He jammed on his shoes without bothering to undo the laces. The welcome booklet slid out of his bag as he wrestled with them, and he snatched it up, frantically flipping through the pages to land on the campus map. “Eighteen-A, eighteen-A,” he muttered, scanning the timetable for his first class. Fundamentals of Mana. His finger traced a path from the dormitories to the classroom.
Shoving the booklet into his robe’s inner pocket, he grabbed his pack and bolted for the door. His heart raced as he sprinted down the corridor, the slap of his shoes against the polished stone floor echoing in the muted halls. Late on the first day. The thought twisted uncomfortably in his chest. A good Lexican was never late.
Outside, the academy grounds were already buzzing with activity, students moving purposefully toward their classes. Kor weaved through the throng, clutching his pack’s strap like a lifeline. He caught sight of a clock-tower as he ran and felt a fresh pang of urgency. Five minutes. He could make it. He had to make it.
Kor sprinted across the campus, sweat beginning to bead on his brow as he wove through the labyrinthine walkways. The morning air felt cooler in the shadow of the tall, crystalline spires that made up the academy’s architecture, but his frantic pace left him overheated and breathless. His pack thumped rhythmically against his back, its weight growing more cumbersome with each step.
The academic block loomed ahead, a stately structure carved from white stone that shimmered in the sun. The din of students loitering in the hallways hit Kor as he burst through the archway. Conversations buzzed around him, a cacophony of idle chatter and last-minute preparations for the day’s lessons. He drew more than a few amused glances as he barrelled through the crowd, his dishevelled robes flapping and glasses slipping perilously down his nose.
“14A, 14B, 14C,” he said under his breath, his eyes darting to the plaques affixed beside each door. His heart pounded as he scanned for his assigned classroom, 18A. Just how many rooms were in this block? Panic surged as the numbers crawled closer to his target, each second feeling like an eternity.
Finally, near the end of the hallway, he spotted the engraved sign marking 18A. Relief and urgency collided as he made a last dash for the door, wrenching it open and stumbling inside. The room fell silent. Kor froze in the doorway, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Every head in the classroom had turned toward him, a sea of curious and amused faces.
Several students chuckled softly, their snickers cutting through the oppressive quiet. Kor’s cheeks burned as he stepped further into the room, his feet feeling leaden. At the head of the class stood a woman who commanded attention. Her fiery red hair, threaded with strands of molten gold, tied into a high bun that looked less like a hairstyle and more like a flame frozen mid-dance. Amber eyes, flecked with orange, sparkled with amusement as she focused on him. Her robes, adorned with intricate flame-like patterns, seemed to breathe and shift with each subtle movement, as if the fabric itself were alive with barely contained energy.
“If only every student was so eager to study,” she said, her lips curling into a wry smile. Her voice carried a lilting warmth, but the gentle mockery in her tone was unmistakable.
Kor’s mouth went dry. He glanced around, hoping to find a free seat before her remark could provoke further laughter. The professor pointed toward the back of the room. “Plenty of space there,” she said, her tone more neutral now.
He nodded mutely and hurried toward the indicated row, his shoes squeaking faintly against the polished stone floor. Sliding into a seat, he slumped down, wishing he could sink entirely out of sight. His damp robes clung to his back, and he shifted uncomfortably as he dug through his pack.
Kor pulled out his two recently acquired tomes along with his notebook, placing them carefully on the desk. As he retrieved a pen from his pack, he shook his head, realising he still hadn’t unpacked his underpants and other clothing. The memory of his disorganised dorm nagged at him briefly before his attention shifted.
Looking about, he noted he was alone at the back of the classroom, except for a black-haired girl with pale skin. She sat a few seats away, her posture upright and her eyes focused intently on the professor. Her studious demeanour radiated an unspoken command for quiet, and Kor respected the boundary she had created.
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The clock-tower’s magical chimes rang out, their resonant tones signalling the start of the hour. Kor straightened in his seat, his gaze fixed on the front as the professor stepped forward, her confidence radiating through the room.
She was younger than any professor he’d seen before, but her presence was commanding as she stood before the chalkboard. “Welcome to Conflux, first years,” she began, her voice clear and dynamic. “My name is Terra Firefall, and I’ll be guiding you on your first steps in the Fundamentals of Mana.”
Her gaze swept across the seated students. If Kor had to guess, the class size was around thirty. He felt her amber eyes briefly land on him before moving on, making him sit a little straighter despite himself.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Terra continued, clasping her hands lightly in front of her. “Every student here has been tested and found to possess high levels of mana. It’s essential for casting even the simplest spells. Mana saturates every part of nature, even our own bodies. But what is mana?”
She paused, letting the question hang in the air. Kor kept his gaze down, unwilling to draw attention, but another student spoke up.
“I was taught that it’s a force of nature, like gravity,” said a boy near the centre of the room.
Terra nodded approvingly. “That’s a good start. Just like gravity, mana affects everything. It supports life and enables the fantastical creations we rely on.”
Putting action to words, she conjured a small, densely packed ball of mana, letting it hover just above her hand.
Kor felt the subtle shift in the flow of mana around the room, a sensation somewhere between touch and sight, yet distinctly unique. Awe flickered through him, mixed with frustration as he tried to comprehend how she manipulated it so effortlessly. Was there a pattern, a formula he could decipher? The display teased the edge of his analytical mind, but remained just out of reach.
Terra began strolling between the rows of desks, the orb of mana still suspended in her palm. “Mana is both universal and unique. It’s used by everyone, yet different for each of us.”
The ball split into two smaller orbs, which began orbiting each other as she spoke, her movements fluid and deliberate.
“Anyone with control over their mana can learn basic techniques like the one I’m using now by feeding it to power the spell.”
Another student called out, “But how do we cast a spell? Isn’t there some kind of formula we can use?”
Definitely another Lexican, Kor mused, glad that someone else had asked.
Terra’s face lit up as she turned to the student, her two balls now splitting into four as they swirled around each other in a dizzying display of control. “If only it were so easy! Just as no two people’s mana signatures are identical, neither are their techniques for channelling and controlling it. Though mastering control may seem daunting, its eventual rewards will prove worth every effort.”
Her balls of mana drifted higher now, the four of them circling around Terra’s head as they ignited. Terra Firefall. The name made sense now as several of the students gasped at the display. Some sat on the edges of their seats, clearly captivated, while others exchanged wide-eyed glances. One boy near the front even whispered, “Incredible,” his voice tinged with awe. Yet a few seemed unnerved, shifting uncomfortably as the orbs blazed brighter.
“As you attune yourselves to the mysteries of mana, each of you will develop a unique connection with it, allowing you to wield it in a way entirely unique to any other.”
With a click of her fingers, Terra brought the four balls together as they merged into one large sphere in front of her. It grew in size, almost reaching the desks beside her as the students around shuffled back in their seats.
After a few dicey seconds, the ball of fire dissipated as Terra clapped her hands and smiled impishly. “Make no mistake—the path ahead is treacherous, and the skills you’ll learn here are forged in sweat and determination. I won’t coddle you or pretend this will be easy. What I offer is a crucible—a chance to transform yourselves from uncertain novices into practitioners with real power. Meet me with half the fire I bring to this classroom, show me a hunger that burns brighter than your doubts, and I promise you’ll leave here not just educated, but fundamentally changed. This isn’t just about learning; this is about becoming something more than you are right now.”
Her gaze swept over them once again as the students collectively held their breath. Her eyes snapped to Kor, then quickly down to his desk as she moved purposefully toward him.
Kor almost froze on the spot as she drew close before reaching out to touch The Logos. Her burning gaze nailed him to the spot as she stated to the class, “We’ve already got one overachiever in the class. Not even a full day at Conflux and already you’ve braved Ether’s testing to take your first steps in developing your specialisation! Fantastic!”
Kor stared down at the desk as the eyes of the classroom drilled into him.
“You’re the first Lexican I’ve taught with such fire! What is your name?”
“Kor,” he said, a quick glance meeting her animated look.
She nodded, removing her hand from The Logos. “Normally I don’t advise students to attempt Ether’s first testing till midterm, but you’ve definitely set the standard, Kor.”
The professor walked back toward the front of the class as countless stares focused on him. He hadn’t thought he’d done anything that special, and now the professor already thought of him as some kind of prodigy. He didn’t even know how to cast a simple spell!
He turned aside to see the black-haired girl give him a nod of respect before returning her gaze to Terra.
“By year’s end, you’ll need to master mana sensing and gathering, as well as the fundamentals of magical theory. Your grades will mostly come from written tests on topics like mana dynamics, spell formation, and the factors affecting spellcasting effectiveness. However, with practical spellcraft lessons starting soon, we’ll focus on mana control today. This isn’t a subject I’ll be testing you on, but we’ve found many students arrive without basic control skills.”
Kor felt the knot in his stomach loosen. This was just what he needed—a chance to gain his first understanding of spellcasting. He’d always been one of the brightest students back home, and the thought of lagging behind the others was not one he’d be able to tolerate for long.
“Let’s start by having each of you close your eyes. This is a temporary crutch to help you focus on the sensations within, but each of you should be able to sense the mana living inside your body.”
Kor followed her instructions, quickly locating his mana once again, waiting for further directions as he felt the mana flowing through his body. He could feel the power within it, the life that seemed to suffuse its very nature as Terra spoke.
“How it feels will be different for each of you, but your first goal is to form a small ball of mana. Place your palm upturned on the desk, and without opening your eyes, attempt to shape your mana.”
With his eyes closed, Kor felt the swell of mana from the rest of the class, a rhythmic hum of power that seemed effortless for his peers. The hum of the other students’ success filled the room, each faint pulse of mana reminding Kor of the helplessness he’d felt in the dream. The voidlings—those dark, shifting forms—had overwhelmed him then, his mana slipping away just as it was now. Terra said to form a ball of mana, but how exactly? It wasn’t like he could use an ice-cream scooper.
In fact, as he tried to interact with his mana in any meaningful way, it seemed to slip through his mental grasp, defying every attempt to control it. His impression shifted to that of a rebellious equation, one that refused to balance no matter how many variables he adjusted.
He was familiar with geometrical shapes, had drawn countless spheres and circles over his studies, but attempting to form one from mana was something else entirely. It was like trying to cup water with his hands, only to watch it spill through the gaps in his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on.
“Good. Most of you have done this before. But for the rest, don’t be disheartened if this doesn’t come easily. Some casters find that ordering their mana about works, others need to treat it gently, and others still find it responds to their desires and that words simply get in the way. Explore every angle until you find what works for you.”
The advice reminded Kor to think rationally. In his rush to catch up, he simply wanted his mana to do as it was told, to fill in the variable of this equation. With a deep breath, he tried following Terra’s advice, speaking to his mana internally. ‘Please form a sphere of mana above my right hand.’
He waited, straining to detect even the faintest whisper of response. Nothing. Tentatively, he cracked his eyes open, searching for any sign of the mana sphere he’d willed into existence. All around the class, most of the students held balls of mana above their hands, some even making them orbit or bounce playfully. The ease with which they succeeded only deepened Kor’s determination. He clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes tightly and blocking out the sight of their progress as he renewed his efforts.
Think, Kor, think. You’ve got the mana, but how do you get it to listen to you?
He immersed himself in the challenge and started by visualising a perfect, grey sphere in his mind, holding the image steady as he reached out to his mana. He tried to coax his mana into copying his creation, reaching out with his metaphysical senses to float in the eddies streaming through his body.
It felt as if his mana looked at what he wanted, but held no interest in obeying.
‘Please help me out here. I don’t want to be the only guy in class who can’t even make a simple sphere.’
Once again, he got the distinct impression that his mana understood him, but it wasn’t willing to budge.
Frowning in concentration, he tried another angle.
‘Perhaps there’s something you want in exchange? A mana bath or something?’
Nothing.
Time slipped away unnoticed as Kor tried again and again to control or move his mana. Around him, the room was alive with murmurs and faint hums of success. The pulsing flow of mana from his classmates threatened to distract him, but he pushed their sensations aside, concentrating solely on his own attempts.
He shifted tactics, imagining the mana as water flowing into the confines of his mental sphere. Yet, each time it rippled and scattered, droplets refusing to gather. He tried directing it with careful, deliberate thought. Then, he switched to expansive gestures in his mind, but every attempt unravelled faster than the last.
‘Please, just work! I refuse to be the only one sitting here empty-handed.’
The mana swirled restlessly, responding but not obeying. Frustration clawed at him, but he couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop—until Terra’s voice shattered the bubble of his focus.
“Good work today, everyone. I can see the effort you all put in.”
What? Kor looked around as the students began gathering their packs, the lesson ending. He’d only just got started… The lesson was meant to be two hours long.
“Those of you who’ve yet to gain control, don’t give up.” Terra’s eyes flicked to him and a few of the other students around the room. “Focus on developing a connection to your mana, develop an understanding with it. Next lesson, we’ll talk more about mana gathering, whilst working to further your control.”
His classmates filed out of the room. The respectful looks he thought he’d seen before now all evaporated as he packed away his books. He hadn’t succeeded this time, but he wasn’t about to give up that easily. Basic Spellcraft didn’t start till 14:00, so he should have four hours to prepare.
As he gathered his things, a voice broke his thoughts. “How did you manage to pass Ether’s tests without control over your mana?” The question came from the girl sitting beside him—Lena Nightwhisper. Her tone held a genuine curiosity, her bright eyes studying him intently.
Kor blinked in surprise. He hadn’t noticed her hanging back. “Well,” he began, fumbling for words, “Ether seems to be quite nice once you get used to his... style of communication.”
She nodded thoughtfully, as though weighing his answer. “Thank you. I’m Lena,” she said, offering her name in greeting.
“Kor,” he said with a nod.
“Practise every day, every hour until you establish your connection,” she said firmly. “Talent is no replacement for hard work.” Her advice didn’t feel like a reprimand, and he offered his thanks back as she nodded one last time before heading off.
She hadn’t made him nervous like other girls; perhaps it was the calm smoothness of her voice, which seemed to carry no judgement, only quiet encouragement. But he pushed the thought aside. Like she said, he needed to practise, but with his lacking control, the dorm wasn’t ideal. Perhaps one of the training fields...