With his first class finished, Kor stepped out of the block of classrooms into a hallway abuzz with chatter. Students crowded the space, their voices blending into a lively hum as they moved between lessons. Unlike the older students in their crisp official robes, the first years wore a patchwork of styles reflective of their home worlds. Solarians strolled past in airy, revealing garments, their sun-kissed skin unabashedly on display. In stark contrast, the Netharians shuffled by in their sombre, full-coverage attire, the fabric dark as the perpetual twilight of their shadowed world.
Kor wove through the throng, acutely aware of the strange harmony created by the clashing aesthetics. His stomach rumbled as he headed for the nearest field—a manicured expanse reserved for practical studies. He pushed the hunger aside. Basic Spellcraft started at 14:00, and the idea of being the worst in class was not something he could accept.
Students dotted the emerald field, each practising magic in their own way. Some formed shimmering spheres of mana that hovered obediently above their palms, while others wrestled with invisible forces he couldn’t perceive. A lone girl ran laps around the field - though whether this was for endurance or some obscure mana-channelling technique, Kor couldn’t tell.
The sight gave him pause. Exercise, magical or not, had never appealed to him. The very idea of running about made his chest tighten in distaste. Shaking his head, Kor retrieved the leather-bound book on Basic Mana Control he’d borrowed the night before. He hadn’t had time to read it yet, but hopefully it would provide some further insight he could use.
Settling under a tree, he flipped open the book. Its pages glowed faintly, and as he scanned the text, the instructions parroted much of what Terra had covered. Close your eyes, breathe, focus on your connection to the mana. Simple instructions that didn’t seem to offer any improvements. Despite the simplistic descriptions, he continued to read, flicking through the pages, hoping to find something useful before he got started again.
The book emphasised the uniqueness of each person’s mana, stressing the need to form a connection with it to make progress. Frustratingly, it offered no practical advice on how to establish this connection, instead moving straight to methods for gathering and sensing mana.
With a sigh, Kor set the book aside. It seemed there was nothing left to do but try again. He settled against the tree and stared up at the distant barrier overhead. Magic must control the weather here in Conflux. With two suns blazing down on him, all he felt was a pleasant warmth along with a light breeze.
He shut his eyes. The faint hum of mana filled his awareness as he repeated this morning’s practice. Drawing in a deep breath, he concentrated on the feeling of mana flowing through his body. Wasting no time, he began attempting to form a ball of mana as he upturned his palm to rest on his knee.
Once again, his mana seemed indifferent to his attempts. He envisioned the sphere in his mind, willing his mana to obey. Terra had mentioned different ways of controlling mana, and while he’d tried countless methods already, he had to be missing something. Even the book had said that a practitioner’s mana was deeply connected to them, often reflecting their essence in subtle ways.
‘Maths and food, then!’ he thought, briefly switching his mental image of the sphere to an apple, asking his mana to create that instead. A ripple of something stirred within him, tentative but present. His eyes snapped open, half-expecting to see an apple floating in his hand. Nothing.
He frowned, trying the apple again, but this time there was no response. His frustration deepened. Was he going to spend his life negotiating with invisible forces?
The frustration built, but Kor doubled down, tightening his focus. The mana would listen to him—one way or another. With all the metaphysical strength he could muster, Kor reached out to his mana, forcing it toward the shape of his imaginary sphere. His body trembled with exertion, the air around him thick with unspent energy.
Just as he sensed a flicker of movement, something struck the side of his head. The force sent Kor sprawling onto the crisp grass, his glasses flying off into the dirt. For a moment, he lay stunned, his thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust. Cool earth pressed against his cheek as he groaned and groped blindly for his glasses.
“What in the…?” Kor muttered, squinting at the offending object. A glowing ball of mana—vibrant and erratic—rested lightly against the ground before dissipating into nothingness.
Before he could make sense of it, a tall figure loomed over him, casting a long shadow in the midday sun. “Oh no! I’m so, so sorry!” a voice exclaimed, laden with earnest concern. The girl dropped to her knees beside him, her hands fluttering uncertainly before settling on his arms. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hit you!”
Kor blinked up at her, his vision still blurry. She was tall, her athletic build clear even beneath her fitted training clothes. Blonde hair, tied in a high ponytail, framed her amber eyes, which darted over him with palpable worry. She reached out, brushing dirt from his shoulder. “Does it hurt? Can you see alright? Here, let me get your glasses!”
“I… I’m fine,” Kor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. Her proximity and the warmth of her touch set his pulse racing. He struggled to process her words as she retrieved his glasses from the grass, scrutinising them before letting out a relieved sigh.
“They’re not broken!” she announced triumphantly, holding them out to him. “I’m really sorry about that. I lost control of my mana ball, and it just… went flying. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Kor nodded, slipping his glasses back on and adjusting them with a shaky hand. “I’m fine, really. Just… trying to practise my mana control.”
Her expression brightened at his words, her energy almost infectious. “Oh, is that what you were doing? I noticed the mana swirling around you while I was running laps. It was actually kind of distracting. That’s why I lost control of the ball.”
Kor raised an eyebrow, and she laughed, a warm, lilting sound. “Not your fault, though! Just my lack of focus.”
He glanced toward the field. “You were running laps? Is that part of your magic training?”
She grinned, her amber eyes sparkling with amusement. “Nope! Exercise is good for the body and the mind.” She flexed her arm playfully, her biceps taut beneath her sleeve. “Keeps me sharp in all kinds of ways.”
Kor managed a faint smile, still overwhelmed by her energy. He averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up his neck. “Well… thanks for checking on me.”
“Of course! Oh, I’m Viree, by the way,” she said, extending a hand to help him up.
“Kor,” he replied, taking her hand. Her grip was firm but gentle, grounding him as she pulled him to his feet. For a moment, he stood there awkwardly, unsure what to say next.
Viree didn’t seem to mind. She announced with a laugh, “Seems like we both need to work on our mana control.”
Kor chuckled in agreement.
“Perhaps I’m not the best one to give advice on control, given what just happened,” she added, flashing him a cheeky grin. “But I think you were trying way too hard to control your mana. The way it swirled all about you just seemed wrong, almost like you were holding on too tightly.”
Huh. The realisation dawned on Kor at her words. Perhaps she was right. Maybe he could try using less force.
“Just like a muscle,” Viree continued, her tone thoughtful yet light. “Sometimes you need to use a light touch. You wouldn’t even be able to move if you were tense all the time.”
Kor nodded, her words inspiring a different approach to his issue. He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, I’ll try that.”
Viree beamed at him. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Kor! I’ll try to avoid clobbering you again.” She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet before darting off toward the training field.
“Good luck!” she called out, her voice carrying a carefree lilt that lingered long after she disappeared from sight.
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Kor stood watching, the vibrant energy she left behind mingling with his own renewed determination. Adjusting his glasses, he turned back to his practice, Viree’s words reverberating in his thoughts.
Kor quickly settled back against the tree, closing his eyes as he reconnected with his mana.
‘A light touch, Kor,’ he reminded himself, tempering his usual impatience. This time, he wouldn’t dive headfirst into his efforts. Instead, he tentatively extended his senses, seeking to feel the flow of his mana without forcing it.
The gentler approach yielded what brute force never could. The sensation crashed through him like a wave breaking against shore – alien yet achingly familiar. His mana pulsed with reserved curiosity, a presence as distinct as a heartbeat. Alive! The word blazed through his mind, and he silently thanked Viree for showing him what countless forceful attempts had missed.
With his defences lowered, Kor allowed the connection to deepen. The energy within him stirred, and a fragile kinship began to form. For the first time, he didn’t feel as though he were bending his mana to his will, but engaging with it as an equal. A silent accord passed between them, and he could sense its latent potential, waiting for him to guide it.
Excitement bubbled up as he returned his focus to the exercise. Gently, ever so gently, he reached out to his mana, willing it to form into the sphere he imagined. His mana stirred, responding to his intent. Wisps of ethereal energy flowed from his body, coalescing above his upturned palm. The progress was halting, the faint orb wavering as he fought to maintain a steady grip on his mana while his heart raced.
He opened his eyes, catching the first glimmer of success. The mana seemed content to follow his guidance, forming a nascent sphere that resembled a cracked geode shimmering under the light of Conflux’s twin suns. His breath hitched, and he hastily closed his eyes again, forcing himself to concentrate. Stabilising the flow of mana took everything he had.
Slowly but surely, the sphere took shape. The energy flowed steadily now, each thread joining the orb in a delicate dance. The sounds of boisterous students faded into the background, blurring against the razor-sharp focus he maintained.
Eager to push further, Kor applied a touch more force, seeking to solidify the shape of the sphere. A thick pulse of mana surged into the flickering orb, causing him to open his eyes. His control faltered as the sphere bulged under the pressure before shattering with a faint crack.
Kor flinched, pulling his hand back as fragments of his mana dissolved into harmless wisps, dissipating into the surrounding air. He stared at the remnants, then let out a breathless laugh.
“Divide me sideways,” he muttered, a grin spreading across his face. He’d done it! For the first time, he’d shaped his mana into something tangible—however fleeting. The achievement was small, but it lit a fire within him. Compared to the effortless mastery of his peers from mana-rich worlds, this was laughable, but to Kor, it was the spark of hope he needed.
As he prepared to resume, a whisper echoed in his mind, the voice from his childhood, clear and familiar: “Congratulations Kor, keep at it and soon we’ll be together.”
Even as he felt the nascent connection with the voice form in his mind, Kor’s muscles tensed, his whole body going rigid as he instinctively slammed his control onto the flow of his mana.
The connection snapped as he realised what he’d done. His breath caught in his throat, and a jolt of shock coursed through him. The whisper had been so vivid, carrying an undeniable familiarity that stirred both wonder and unease. What had it meant about being together? He hadn’t meant to shut it out so violently, but he hadn’t been expecting it.
Kor’s hands trembled as he pressed them against his knees, forcing himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly, the initial panic ebbed, replaced by a cautious curiosity that refused to let the moment go unexamined. What had he just experienced? Was the voice just a figment of his imagination, or something magical?
Gingerly, he lowered his control once again, extending his senses outward, questing for the voice from his childhood. He reached blindly, attempting to reform the connection, but it had vanished entirely. He tried again, more carefully, yet the voice did not return. Each attempt left a deeper ache of frustration, mingled with the lingering edge of fear.
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. Well, just another reason to gain control, he thought, resolving to make this a stepping stone rather than a stumbling block. After several moments of deliberate breathing and calming his racing mind, Kor reassured himself that the voice was truly gone for now.
“Keep moving forward,” he muttered under his breath, steadying himself with the thought. He resumed his practice, determined to maintain the utmost care this time.
The morning stretched onward, marked by cycles of effort and recovery, as Kor poured his focus into mastering control over his mana. At first, he thought he was making progress. Each attempt seemed to bring a slight refinement, the elusive flickers of improvement spurring him onward. Yet, as the hours ticked by, a subtle fatigue crept in. His concentration wavered, and mistakes compounded. What had once felt manageable became slippery and unyielding, his control increasingly unequal to the task.
Though Kor had barely tapped into his mana pool, an inexplicable exhaustion weighed on him. It was as if some intangible reservoir within had been drained. Each attempt at control frayed under an odd lethargy, undoing his progress and forcing him to stop earlier than planned.
With a reluctant sigh, Kor finished his practice for the day. At least he’d have time for lunch before Basic Spellcraft began. Gathering his belongings, he made his way to the cafeteria, his stomach grumbling faintly in anticipation.
The midday meal was simple but comforting: sausages and mash, served with the academy’s signature colourful gravy. Its distinctively sweet flavour contrasted with the creamy potatoes, creating an unexpectedly pleasant combination that offered a welcome break from his morning’s frustrations.
As Kor ate, his gaze wandered, noticing details he had missed before. The cafeteria was alive with subtle displays of magical prowess. Some students shaped mana into globes of metal or streams of water that flowed like living creatures. Others surrounded themselves with shimmering barriers, each showcasing the varied ways their abilities could be applied.
Kor’s attention lingered on the barriers, recalling a brief mention in his recent studies. He’d need to master one soon as part of his basic training. Watching the ease with which others conjured them, he couldn’t help but wonder just how effective they truly were. However, something quickly interrupted his musings.
An argument broke out at a nearby table, drawing Kor’s attention. A trio of Mystrian girls clad in matching silver raiments were locked in a heated exchange with four Solarian girls, whose bright eyes blazed with anger.
“You ought to apologise for your disrespect toward Dean Velleth,” one of the Solarian girls snapped, her voice sharp as a blade.
The tallest of the Mystrians leaned forward, her tone dripping with disdain. “It is you who should apologise. Mystria has always been the oldest and wisest of the Seven Worlds.”
The Solarians laughed, their scorn evident. “Seven worlds? Can’t you count? There are eight now, thanks to Conflux itself. And let’s be honest, it’s Solaria that holds the power these days, not some planet of mystical old has-beens.”
Kor sighed inwardly. Old rivalries clearly died hard. The tension escalated as the two groups began pulling in mana. The currents within the room fluctuated wildly as the air grew thick, charged with impending conflict.
Before the first blow could land, an immense weight of mana slammed down on the quarrelling students. The force was instantaneous, driving them to their knees and pinning them against benches and the floor. They squirmed under the crushing pressure, their defiance reduced to futile struggles.
A voice rang out, sharp with barely restrained fury. “Enough!” Kor’s head snapped up, unsure who had spoken. A compact figure strode into the cafeteria, exuding iron authority that belied his stature. His dark brown buzz-cut hair and steel-grey eyes carried an intensity that silenced even the rowdiest students. At just five foot six, his presence filled the room, leaving no doubt about his command. The silver accents on his Mystrian robes glinted as his gaze locked on the troublemakers, particularly the trio from his homeworld.
Kor caught a hushed whisper nearby. “That’s Master Galen Terrak,” someone murmured, their voice tinged with respect. “He’s practically a legend on campus.”
“You haven’t even received your official robes,” he barked, his voice a whip-crack, “and already you’re bringing this academy into disrepute.”
Kor winced in sympathy, feeling the residual pressure of the spell from his distant seat. The students under Terrak’s spell squirmed as his gaze bore into them. “I expect better from every single one of you,” he growled. “You will report to my office first thing in the morning. Is that understood?”
The pinned students groaned weakly, their voices barely audible.
Terrak’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?” he thundered. The mana intensified, driving gasps from the subdued students. This time, they croaked out a trembling, “Yes, Professor.”
Only then did Terrak release the crushing spell. The students collapsed further, catching their breath and nursing their bruised pride. Terrak swept his gaze over the rest of the room, his steel-grey eyes a silent threat. “Let me make this clear,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “The cafeteria is no place for fighting. Out there—” he gestured toward the doors, “have at it if you must. But when we break bread, we set aside our differences.”
His words hung heavy in the air as he scanned the room one last time. For a moment, Kor thought he might add an “or else,” but Terrak simply turned on his heel and strode out of the cafeteria, his robes swishing behind him.
“I certainly don’t want to get on his bad side,” Kor muttered under his breath. As he rose to clear his dishes, he overheard two students whispering behind him.
“Did you hear? He does this every year,” one of them said in hushed tones. “Waits for the inevitable fight between the Solarians and Mystrians before laying down the law. One elder in my house said he’s been at it for decades.”
The other student raised an eyebrow. “Decades? That’s insane. What kind of magic was that, anyway?”
The first shrugged. “I heard it’s something to do with force or gravity, but I’m not sure.”
Kor moved away as the conversation continued, not wanting to linger on the thought of Terrak’s overwhelming presence any longer.
A flicker of sympathy stirred in his chest for whoever would face those exacting standards. He returned his plate to the kitchen staff, resolving to avoid any situations that might bring him under the professor’s scrutiny.
Outside the cafeteria, Kor unfolded the map from his introduction booklet. The sprawling layout of Conflux Academy stared back at him - learning the campus layout might take as long as mastering magic itself. His eyes found Professor Moss’s name on his timetable and lingered there. Did the name reflect their magical abilities, like Terra Firefall’s did? Now that he’d taken his first steps toward control, perhaps he could even take part without embracing himself.