The next day was a rest day due to the expedition, which meant we got to skip classes.

  My resolve from last night hadn't changed. It was time to stop sitting around waiting for things to happen. Time to actually fix things before they were destroyed beyond repair.

  My first order of business was talking to Lina. And there was only one place where she'd be on a day off.

  The library was quieter than usual since most students were in class.

  I found Lina in one of the comfortable armchairs near the back, tucked into a corner by the window. She was reading what looked like a dense book on corruption theory, her brow furrowed in concentration. There was a small stack of similar books on the table beside her.

  I sat down in the chair across from her and waited.

  She noticed me immediately but didn't acknowledge my presence, her eyes continuing to scan the page in front of her. I could see her jaw tighten slightly.

  It took a few minutes before she breathed deeply, placed a bookmark carefully in her book, and lowered it to her lap.

  "Hey," I said, managing a half-smile that probably looked as nervous as I felt.

  "Hi, Kai." Her tone was carefully neutral.

  "I want to fix things. Came here to apologize and make things right."

  "Isn't it a bit late for that?" Her tone wasn't angry, just tired.

  "I hope not." I paused, trying to find the right words. "Though I'm not exactly sure how to go about it."

  She closed the book completely now, setting it aside on the stack. "Listen, I don't dislike you." She looked at me directly. "I just can't deal with the constant lying. If you want, we can just be colleagues. You don't even need to apologize."

  The words stung more than I expected. Colleagues. Like we were just two people who happened to attend the same classes.

  "No, I want to make things right." I leaned forward slightly. "I want to tell you the truth."

  She studied me for a long moment, those hazel eyes searching for something. Sincerity, maybe. Or just another lie.

  "As much as I want to know, how can I trust you?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I'd seen before. "I thought we were past the lying part, and then I discover that my entire academic performance was because of you."

  The hurt in her voice made me want to sink into the chair.

  "I wouldn't give myself that much credit," I said. "It was still your work. Your understanding, your questions, your effort. I just helped with the note-taking part."

  "Hard not to when I have perfect notes for every class without any need to pay attention." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I just... I don't feel like I can trust that what you tell me is even the whole truth. What if it's just another part of it? Another convenient piece while you keep hiding the rest?"

  That stung, but I couldn't blame her for thinking that way. I'd given her every reason to doubt me.

  "I promise I won't lie to you anymore," I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "As for secrets, I can't tell you about my past, or the reason for my ability. But I can tell you what it actually is. What I can actually do."

  She looked up at me, surprise flickering across her face. "After hiding it for so long, you'd just tell me like that?"

  "Your friendship is worth more than a secret, I guess." The words came out quieter than I intended.

  Something shifted in her expression. Not quite forgiveness, but maybe the beginning of it. A crack in the wall she'd put up.

  "Fine." She stood up, gathering her books. "But please don't lie to me again. And don't modify my things without asking first."

  "Deal."

  She paused, looking at me with something like curiosity now. "So where are we doing this? Not here, I assume. If your ability is what I think it is, we'll need somewhere more private."

  "I know a place."

  We made our way through the corridors in relative silence, Lina clutching her books like a shield. A few students passed us on their way to class, but no one paid us much attention. Just another pair of students going about their day.

  We reached one of the smaller courtyards, the same one where we'd first really talked. It was empty now, with classes in session. Just us, a few benches, and the sound of wind rustling through the trees.

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  It felt appropriate somehow, coming back to where things had started.

  I sat down on the bench, and Lina sat beside me, setting her books down carefully. She was nervous, I realized. Her hands kept fidgeting with the edge of her uniform.

  "Okay." I gathered the courage to actually say it out loud. "Here it is: I can create rules that reality will follow."

  She didn't respond immediately. Just sat there processing for what felt like forever but was probably only ten seconds.

  "That..." She finally spoke slowly, carefully, like she was working through a complex equation. "That doesn't sound possible. The mana required would be immense. Even if you were good at hiding it, someone would notice at some point. Professor Silvani would definitely notice."

  "It actually doesn't take any mana. At least not mine."

  Her head snapped toward me. "That's even more impossible."

  "I know it sounds crazy."

  "Crazy doesn't even begin to cover it." She was fully focused now, her earlier hurt replaced by scientific curiosity. "Show me."

  I made my mana visible, letting it flow around my hand in that familiar blue-white glow. Then I started writing in the air in front of me, using common script instead of ancient this time so she could read it.

  Lina has a cup of tea in her hands

  She looked at the writing with a puzzled expression, watching as the letters glowed and then faded. Then she looked down at her open palm.

  A cup of tea suddenly materialized there.

  She jumped up from the bench, some of the tea spilling onto the grass, but the cup remained firmly in her hand. She tried to release it, her fingers straining, but it was like the cup was glued to her palm.

  "What?!" She stared at it in disbelief, then at me, then back at the cup. "I can't even release it! It's like my hand forgot how to let go!" She looked at the cup like her entire understanding of the world had just shattered. "Please tell me you can undo it. I don't want an eternal tea cup attached to my hand."

  "Oh." I hadn't even considered that detail. "I didn't notice it would make it permanent. Or that it would force you to hold it."

  I quickly undid the rule with another one.

  Lina immediately released the cup, letting it fall onto the grass where it landed with a soft thud, now just a normal cup sitting there.

  "This..." She was breathing faster now, her mind clearly racing. She sat back down heavily on the bench. "It can even control my body. And I felt no mana at all." She ran her hand through her hair, a gesture of frustration I'd never seen from her before. "This is not possible. It violates at least five different laws of magic and about three universal principles."

  I didn't say anything. I hadn't even considered how my power interacted with established magic theory.

  "And you didn't even notice it would make me hold the cup." She stood up again, pacing now in front of the bench. "You don't even know what the exact results will be. The rule was 'Lina has a cup of tea in her hands' but it interpreted 'has' as permanent possession and 'in her hands' as physical constraint. The semantic ambiguity alone… It could cause a catastrophe depending on the rule!"

  She was going into what I was starting to recognize as her "academic overdrive" mode.

  "I don't think it would go that far..."

  "You don't think?" She spun to face me. "Kai, you could write 'the sky is green' and potentially collapse the sun! You could say 'gravity doesn't exist' and kill everyone in the academy! The potential for catastrophe isn't just possible, it's statistically probable given the lack of safety parameters!"

  I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it. She had a point, though I didn’t even know if my magic was that powerful.

  "We need to study this." She was already pulling out one of her notebooks, flipping to a blank page. "We need to document how it behaves, what exact phrasing works best, if it has any restrictions or limitations we can identify. We need to establish the scope of effect, the duration mechanics, the semantics..."

  She was writing as she talked, her handwriting quick and precise.

  "We'll need regular test sessions. Once per week should be sufficient to start gathering baseline data without risking overexposure." She looked up at me. "I can bring materials to test it on. We also need ground rules to avoid accidentally affecting too much, and contingency plans in case something goes wrong."

  I gave up on interrupting and just let her mind wander through the possibilities. It was actually kind of nice, seeing her this excited. Even if it was about how I could potentially destroy the world by accident.

  "We should document everything. Track patterns, measure consistency, see if there are linguistic requirements or if intent matters more than exact wording. We need to test the limits systematically." She was talking more to herself than to me at this point. "Variables to consider: word choice, sentence structure, specificity versus ambiguity, temporal markers, spatial constraints, conditional clauses..."

  I found myself looking around the courtyard while she talked. The morning sun was warm, and a few students were visible in the distance walking to class.

  "...and we should probably test it on inanimate objects first, work our way up to more complex systems, never test on living beings without extensive prior research, establish a clear ethical framework for experimentation..." She paused in her writing, tapping her pen against the page. "We'll also need a secure location. Somewhere with minimal risk if something goes wrong. Maybe one of the empty training grounds? Or we could request access to a warded research room..."

  "Lina," I finally managed to interject.

  "What?" She looked up, slightly dazed, like she'd forgotten I was there.

  "When did you want to start all this?"

  "Oh!" She checked the position of the sun, estimating the time. "I'll need time to prepare a proper research framework. Develop our testing protocols, gather materials, establish safety procedures..." She thought for a moment. "Monday. I'll see you Monday for our first proper session."

  "Alright!" I said with a smile.

  I wasn't entirely sure what I'd just agreed to, but I was confident I'd figure it out by then. And honestly, having Lina help me understand my power better wasn't a bad idea. Especially given how I'd almost permanently attached a tea cup to her hand.

  "Thank you," Lina said suddenly, her voice softer. "For trusting me with this. I know it's a risk, I can see now why you keep it a secret."

  She gathered her books and notebook, already muttering to herself about research methodologies and experimental design. As she headed back toward the library, she paused and turned back.

  Then she was gone, leaving me alone in the courtyard.

  One problem resolved, time to tackle the other one.

  Feeling way more hopeful than I had any right to be, I started looking for Aurora.

  This conversation was probably going to be significantly harder.