Juniper sat on her bed, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Her head would occasionally bob, as if she were asleep, but Juniper didn’t notice. Her awareness was elsewhere.

In her mind, Juniper walked along the inside of her Soul. The location was not quite real, but not entirely a figment of her imagination, either.The human mind was not made to comprehend the true appearance of a Soul, so what Juniper saw was a form that made sense to her.

To Juniper, her Soul was an arboretum, enclosed in a large glass dome. She wasn’t sure how her mind had landed on that idea–she’d never had any affinity for trees. But still, she had to admit, it made for a pleasant view.

As she looked up, past the treetops, she could see stars on the other side of the glass. The constellations, if they were even real, were unrecognizable.

She walked through the lush forest, knowing each tree, bush and blade of grass for what it really was–a thought, or a memory, or an errant bit of knowledge. Together, they made up all that she knew–and all that she was.

Branches shuffled and waved, though there was no wind. At the edge of her vision, a whole copse would merge into a tree, which might then shed some of its branches to form a smaller copse around it. Her Soul was in a constant flux as information was organized and reorganized.

It was a matter of perception. As she grew closer to her target, she passed by a gargantuan tree she recognized as the sum of her knowledge on Dynamics–something that might have been her Path in a different life. Yet, as she thought of Dynamics’ constituent fields, the tree ceased to be a singular entity, instead becoming an entire grove.

Finally, Juniper reached the place she’d been seeking from the beginning, a wintry chill passing through her bones. Right now, she saw Gravitation as a disparate collection of ideas, but with an effort of Will, she forced it to congeal into a singular concept. Where before had been a vast field of brambles and tall grasses, now stood a proud tree, bare of any leaves.

Juniper sat down on the frosted ground under the tree and waited.

The seasons passed in fast forward. The soil thawed, the branches shedding their snowy cove. A minute later, a smattering of leaf buds appeared. Slowly, a rich crown of green formed above Juniper’s head–and then once again white took over as the tree bloomed.

A soft shower of petals followed–and now it was time for the tree to bear fruit.

A single red apple formed on the tree’s lowest branch. It grew, and grew, the branch tensing under the weight of the apple. And once it was as big as both of Juniper’s fists put together, the apple fell.

Juniper’s hand shot out, catching the apple before it could hit the ground. She rose, gave the tree a word of thanks, then continued on her way. Behind her, the apple tree withered and died, its energy spent.

Juniper held the apple to her chest. She had her seed. The first part was done. Now, to finish it.

Step by step by step, Juniper walked to the one place in her Soul where the trees were the densest–where her core memories laid, where her formative experiences had formed the deepest roots. There, the forest gave way, opening for a small clearing–just enough for a patch of fresh soil.

Juniper knelt in the dirt, digging a whole with her bare hands. She then pressed the apple to her lips, and buried it in the hole.

The sprout broke out of the earth, unfurling itself with awkward movements, like the first steps of a newborn fawn. Juniper closed her eyes, and breathed out.

She woke up in the real world with a gasp, and immediately collapsed in exhaustion.

She felt her muscles twitch, her heart beating erratically. Her throat was parched, and her mouth felt like cotton. Her mind was addled–every thought was as if peering through a haze.

For a moment she wondered if she’d done something wrong. Had she messed this up, too?

The memory of what had happened inside her Soul was already fading, like the last vestiges of a dream. With it, so did the discomfort and some of the confusion. Slowly, her heart calmed down, and her body relaxed. The tiredness went away, and Juniper realized her body felt limber, stronger–and weak, unbalanced at the same time, as if she was puppeting somebody else’s body.

Where the Soul goes, the body follows. So the saying went. It seemed like the body still needed some time to catch up, though.

Juniper shook her head, blinking away some of the haziness, and looked at the world with new eyes.

There was something around her, something she’d been blind to her whole life and had now become visible. Like a magical aura, except it was around everything, most of all from below–

Juniper’s head spun as she realized a whole new sense had opened up. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling–was it… mass? Something else?

It was disorienting, to say the least. Closing her eyes didn’t help–it was not her eyes doing the sensing, but something else.

Moments later, Juniper’s eyes fell on Evie, who was regarding her from the other side of the room with a bemused expression on her face. “Congrats,” Evie said, giving Juniper a slow clap. “Didn’t think you’d rush through so early, but you do you.”

Juniper couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, if only she knew.

“So,” Evie continued, “how’s it feel?”

“Weird,” came Juniper’s prompt response. “It’s like my brain is stuffed full of cotton.”

Evie snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right. The older students said pretty much the same thing when I asked them.”

Well, at least it wasn’t unusual. She still didn’t like it, though.

In retrospect, Juniper had been right not to push to Path Inscription the night before the mission. She’d probably have walked straight into the first ward.

“But June,” Evie said, face suddenly severe. “Is there any reason you decided to skip ahead of the schedule? You could have at least waited to meet the Path Advisor.”

If Juniper hadn’t already lived–and died–through the month four times, that would have been a good point. After the break ended, the academy opened up a number of resources to aid students with their Path. There wasn’t really a plausible explanation for why Juniper might gimp herself by not waiting. “I just didn’t want to waste any more time,” Juniper said, shrugging. “I already knew what I wanted to do months ago, anyway.”

“Juniper…” Evie said, clasping her hands. “Look, I know how hard you work, but pushing yourself this hard can’t possibly be good for you.” She took a deep breath. “Just hear me out, alright?”

Wait… is this really happening? Again?

“I know someone really good, someone who can help you–”

Juniper just tuned her out at this point. I didn’t even do anything that weird this time! Does she just go around recommending therapy to everyone?

“Look,” Juniper said, interrupting Evie’s diatribe on the merits of good mental health. “I love you to bits, and you’re a good person, but I’m fine, alright?”

“It’s alright to admit weakness–”

“Oh, I have. I know you won’t believe me, but I recently went through a really harrowing experience that showed me how stupid I was. I know all about my faults and weaknesses.”

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She’d died, what, maybe two hours ago? The loop was really messing up with her perception of time.

“Wait, really?” Evie looked taken aback.

“Really,” Juniper said firmly. “And I appreciate you wanting to help, but I’ll need you to trust me that I’m fine.”

They locked eyes for a few moments, then Evie finally sighed and looked away. “If you say so. Still, the offer’s still open if you change your mind.”

Juniper bit her tongue before she could say, ‘I won’t’. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said instead, giving Evie a nod. “I’ll catch you later, alright?”

“Sure,” Evie said, giving Juniper a tight smile. “Oh, and can you take out the trash, too, if you’re going out?”

***

Juniper experimented with her new found senses as she returned from the library with the three books in tow. She’d stashed two in her backpack and was holding the third–she really didn’t want them to transform into Skystrall’s legacy in plain view of everyone.

She played around with the book, levitating it around her with much more ease and finer control than she could before. Telekinesis was the first ability any practitioner would unlock, and the only one they could use at range before reaching Path Inscription. It was rather weak–a beginner could at most lift about five kilos, but good luck moving them anywhere.

Juniper knew you could train it further, but she’d never seen the point. It was a neat little tool, but paled in front of Path-based abilities. It would take a bit of practice, but soon she’d be able to do the same thing with Gravitation, only better.

Actually, why don’t I give it a try right now?

There was a fine line delineating what kind of magic you could cast with a Path and what you could cast without or outside of your Path, but mostly it came down to the fact that you could only really influence things you could perceive. Making a lens by refracting light was relatively easy, since you only needed your eyes. Pure kinetic force, when anchored to yourself, was also pretty straightforward.

Juniper had never been able to affect an object’s gravity, and not for a lack of trying. She was simply missing a crucial ingredient–the one her Path now provided for her.

The book landed in Juniper’s outstretched hand, and focused on the way the book interacted with gravity. Imaginary lines appeared in her vision, supplementing the sense she got from her Path. Then, she Willed it to ignore the pull of the ground below, and instead obey a different pull, one of equal intensity but diametrically opposed.

The book shot up–or rather, fell upwards. “Fuck,” Juniper exclaimed, pulling back her Will.

The book continued to sail through the air, propelled by its own momentum. Juniper mentally smacked herself as she tried to follow the book’s arc–she’d recognized her mistake as soon as she made it. Making the book ignore the earth’s gravity would have been enough–as would applying a counterpull in the opposite direction.

Both at once? Impromptu book launch.

Juniper followed after the book, then waited for it to re-enter her range. She snatched it out of the air with a telekinetic pull as soon as she could, then cradled it to her chest with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, the little spectacle hadn’t gone unnoticed. Juniper went red like a beet when she saw the amused glances people were throwing her way. She hid her face behind the book.

Alright, this is going to need some practice.

***

“Are you going to give me anything good this time?” Juniper muttered under her breath as she yoinked the pillow off her bed.

She hadn’t heard anything from Ghost in a while. Juniper had been compulsively checking all the known note locations whenever their time was up, they’d all come up blank.

Was this one going to be the same, or would Ghost finally deign to speak to her?

She opened the note, and it turned out today was finally the day Ghost made contact.

You have the book, and the Path, and a whole expedition. Figure it out on your own.

Juniper scowled, though after a minute she supposed Ghost was right. She’d only gone through a quarter of the book, though in the day since she’d unlocked her Path, she’d found the speed with which she could parse the book had increased significantly.

She was pretty sure this was related to the Soul, somehow. Advancing would always improve the Soul, but the Will could only be sharpened through outside means–but having a stronger Soul meant she had more power with which to push her Will.

Juniper thought it was weird, but it worked, so she didn’t care about her reasoning. Matters of the Soul were always esoteric and somewhat circular. The important thing was to trust your instincts and go with the flow.

She still needed frequent breaks from the book, though, during which she’d occupied herself with Gravitation practice. Gravitation was like someone had sewed a new limb on top of her head, and now she had to get used to using it. It was difficult, and sometimes counterintuitive, but she was beginning to get the hang of it.

At the very least, she hadn’t launched anything else into the stratosphere.

The ceiling, on the other hand…

She hadn’t yet tried to cancel gravity on herself–she wasn’t sure how the magic would interact with her body, and didn’t want to risk cracking her skull open just yet. But once she was more sure of herself, she was going to try learning how to fly. There weren’t many disciplines that let you fly this early, but Gravitation was one of them.

The expedition, though–Juniper hadn’t really been planning on going again, at least not this iteration. Instead, she’d been planning on taking it slow, getting comfortable with her Path, and then going in for the kill the next time around.

But now that she thought about it, she could do both things at once, couldn’t she? She didn’t need to be locked up in her room to practice, and testing herself against monsters might do her some good. And if she could steal Leon’s key, who knew what she might find?

Not to mention Drae. She could try and avoid her, going straight to the snake eggs, but… Juniper was loath to admit it, but in the depths of her mind, she wanted payback.

Juniper bit her lip, nodding to herself. Yes, she thought. The trip’s the way to go.

***

Juniper had strategically run into Leon a few times in the academy halls, and as far as she could tell, the young man always wore his key-pendant around his neck.

Inconvenient, Juniper thought. He didn’t even take it off when he went for a swim in the lake the other night.

Juniper was no stranger to feats of sleight of hand, given her checkered past, but even she had to admit, stealing the necklace would be tricky. She’d need a distraction, and to run into him–and to make sure no one noticed, either.

Tricky. Very, very tricky.

She decided against trying, at least not while they were on school grounds. She still had things she wanted to achieve this iteration, and going on probation was the last thing she needed right now.

So, it was with no small amount of bitterness that Juniper stared at the back of Leon’s neck while they waited on the teleportation array’s platform.

“Damn, what did he do to you?” Faro asked, giving Juniper a curious look.

Juniper broke away her gaze, smiling sheepishly at Faro. “Nothing, nothing, I was just thinking.”

Faro looked at her like he didn’t quite believe it. “If that’s what you say.” He went quiet for a few moments before asking, his voice soft, “Are you angry with me or something?”

Juniper’s brows snapped together as she turned to Faro, “What? Of course not, why would you think that?’

“We were supposed to go to the tournament opening, but you never showed up,” he began, and Juniper felt a pinprick of guilt. “And I tried catching you after class or at the cafeteria, but you were never there. Honestly, I thought you were avoiding me.”

Juniper grimaced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come across that way,” she said. Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped thinking about other people–they were going to forget everything in a few weeks anyway, so what was the point? “I was… preoccupied.”

Faro’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you didn’t…” Juniper felt Faro’s Will wash over her. “You did! But why?”

Juniper bit her lip. “I’ll explain later. I think the Professor is coming.”

“Alright,” Faro said. “Just don’t disappear on me again, okay?”

Juniper nodded.

Professor Zaldia showed up a short while later. She called the roster one last time, and then they were off.

The teleportation was no less interesting the second time around, but this time Juniper got to experience it with her new senses–and what a world of a difference it made! Her gravitational sense did not agree at all with the trip, giving her a new slew of conflicting signals with each passing moment.

When they landed in the middle of the forest, Juniper dropped down to a squat, needing to compose herself for a moment. She perked up when she heard a familiar conversation.

“Wait, how are we going to go back?” a voice to her right asked.

Professor Zaldia chuckled. “Someone always asks that question. Well, kids, what do you think?” she asked. “What do you think will happen for the return trip?”

“We’ll leg it?” Gellig guessed, and people laughed. Then the laughter turned awkward as they considered Gellig might have it right.

After a beat, it was Professor Zaldia’s turn. “Fortunately for you, Mister Vigil here is wrong. Any other ideas?”

Juniper knew the answer–but was it a good idea to draw undue attention?

“No? Let’s spice this up a bit–if anyone can tell me how we’ll get back home, you’ll get a special prize,” Zaldia said.

“Sympathetic principle,” Juniper blurted out. “The teleporter can use that to bring us home.” A prize was a prize, attention be damned.

Zaldia’s brows shot up, evidently surprised. She was clearly not expecting anyone to know the answer. “Well, well, well,” she said, “that is correct. How did you know?”

“I read ahead,” Juniper hedged.

Zaldia nodded, accepting the answer easily. “My, if your workload was light enough that you had enough time to study ahead, then the Academy has truly done you a disfavor.” She gave Juniper a predatory smile. “Worry not, Miss Lorn. We’ll rectify that together. Come see me in an hour.”

Juniper involuntarily took a step back.

What had she gotten herself into this time?