Professor Yue, her movements as swift and precise as a sparrow, guided Kor deeper into the labyrinthine stacks of Ether’s Archive. The towering bookshelves loomed over them, their shadowed heights disappearing into the dim, flickering light cast by floating mana orbs. The air, thick with the scent of aged parchment and leather, hummed with an almost tangible energy. Deeper and deeper. Where are we actually headed?

  “How deep do these bookshelves go?” Kor asked, keeping pace with the diminutive professor.

  Yue glanced over her shoulder, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “The first two aren’t too far away. If we’re lucky, one of them will contain something suitable for you...”

  “And if not?”

  “Then we’ll have to delve deeper on another day.” Her voice held a note of caution.

  Kor had ventured into Ether’s depths before, but each journey felt as daunting as the first. “You mentioned it would be difficult travelling?”

  “Yes,” Yue confirmed, her gaze narrowing slightly. “The sheer amount of power and knowledge held within the Archive attracts, even forms, new life.”

  “How? Is there more than one entrance into Ether’s?”

  “There are other ways in,” she said cryptically, “but there is only one entrance.” With a gesture she changed course, navigating the maze of shelves with an uncanny alacrity that spoke of long familiarity.

  “So, do we have ranks or anything? And are you the head of the Wardens, Professor?”

  “Just call me Yue. And there are no ranks other than your standing with Ether. The only leader we have is Andrast, who rarely hangs around for long.”

  The towering stacks swallowed their footfalls, the air growing more charged with each step. Kor’s sense of orientation, never particularly strong, unravelled as they ventured deeper. Left, right, right, straight, left, right...no, wait...

  “So, are the Tome-Wardens a secret organisation then?”

  “Not exactly. We do not advertise our activities, since Ether alone selects our number. However, we are known by most organisations in Conflux. So don’t go volunteering the information.” She shot him a sideways glance as he nodded, absorbing this knowledge.

  Abruptly, Yue stopped. “Here.”

  The mana density was certainly high, but... With a surge of mana, she launched herself upward, soaring dozens of shelves high. With a deft movement, she plucked a tome from its place and landed gracefully beside Kor.

  She handed him the book. The Taming. A kaleidoscope of colours shimmered on the cover; its magical power only became truly clear when he held it. The weight of it was surprising, grounding.

  “That’s one. Now for the more dangerous title. Stick close, Kor.”

  He nodded as Yue took off again, her slight form a blur amongst the shelves. “How do you remember where everything is?” Kor marvelled, his eyes darting between the countless stacks, trying to discern some pattern.

  “I don’t. Ether’s been guiding our steps the whole way.”

  “Oh.” He focused, attempting to sense the Archive’s mana. Every time he’d been guided before, the trail had been as clear as day. There—a faint tugging sensation, subtle yet insistent, preceding every step Yue took. Was this it?

  “It’s not conscious on Ether’s part, but comes of our connection to him. Now that you are bound to the Tome-Wardens, you’ll be able to do the same, even if Ether is distracted. There’s something else you ought to know, as one of our junior members.”

  “The Voidlings are planning a full-scale invasion soon.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “We’ve got more intelligence than most, Kor. This information comes from the First Magus. Just like most everything I tell you, please keep it a secret.”

  “Okay, but how am I supposed to help?”

  “Ether has already informed us about your companion. When he fully awakens, the pair of you will prove a vital asset in the defence of Conflux, along with the others.”

  He reached out mentally, seeking the familiar connection with Lentus. He’d been so preoccupied with his own struggles that he hadn’t checked in since his post-expedition slumber. Lentus? Something was different, however. This wasn’t just a restful sleep; something fundamental was shifting between them. He prodded mentally, but received no response. It was as if his companion were in a coma. A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. He probed further, gaining a sense of Lentus himself.

  Was he growing stronger? Despite his dormancy, the sensation had become more potent. He’d mentioned being birthed before. Was this part of that process?

  “Lentus has been asleep ever since the expedition,” Kor said, his voice laced with worry.

  “With how powerful you’ve become, I wouldn’t be surprised if he materialised soon. Some of the other students have already undergone the process. Aeolian and Mira, I know of, perhaps even Darius.”

  Darius is a companion student. Ugh, another thing to worry about.

  “Yue... A while ago, Lentus showed me something worrying... a vision of sorts.”

  “Oh?” She tilted her head, her eyes sharp and inquisitive. The density of the mana was palpable now, a genuine sense of danger prickling his skin.

  “He showed me Voidlings fleeing across their realm, from a creature called the Nul’var.”

  “You witnessed it? That must have been painful.” He nodded.

  “Then you understand why the conflict between us is almost inevitable. They cannot afford to stay, and they’ve set their sights on Conflux.” He thought about the woman he’d spotted, but, still being tracked by Velleth’s magic, he had to be careful about how he worded this. “Is there no way to talk, to negotiate with them?”

  “Yes, there is, but—” Her head twitched, and she drew to an abrupt halt, her barrier flaring to life so subtly he wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for the heightened tension. A simple demonstration of mastery that would humble any first year.

  “Guard up, Kor.”

  He mirrored her, pulling on his fractal magic, a snowflake-shaped barrier springing into existence. A tinge of pain accompanied the cast, a reminder of his recent exertions.

  “What is it?”

  “Parek—dimensional mana entities. They’re normally harmless, if you can bind them.”

  Questions burned on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back, trusting Yue’s lead. They pressed on, Yue striding forward confidently, Kor lagging a step behind, his senses on high alert.

  They hadn’t travelled far when a strange, pulsing energy emanated from around the next corner. Its very essence seemed to ebb and flow, phasing in and out of existence. Turning the corner, he saw it: an amalgam of mana, pulsing with a spectrum of colours, pulling the surrounding energy towards it in a vortex.

  Yue’s hand snapped out, and ribbons of energy coalesced around the creature. They materialised, wrapping the entity tightly as it thrashed, a kaleidoscope of light and force. With each passing moment, more ribbons appeared, bright and red as if gift-wrapping a present. The pressure mounted, the air growing thick with magical energy as the Parek shrank under the relentless force.

  A violent shaking of the air preceded a burst of energy that imploded, causing the creature to vanish, leaving only empty space. Yue’s ribbons, now devoid of their target, fell to the floor, dissolving into motes of light.

  “Only a small one.”

  “Ribbons? What did you do to it?”

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  “I forced it to flee. They can shift between dimensions, and leaving Ether’s Archive is much, much easier than returning.”

  “I see...” His voice trailed off, a question hanging unspoken in the air.

  “You’re wondering why I didn’t kill it?”

  “Yes. Won’t it just return?”

  “Someday, perhaps. But for the most part, they aren’t destructive, just trying to feed. If we fight to kill them, we often inflict more damage than any problems they create.”

  “How am I meant to repel one of these? I don’t know any binding techniques.”

  Yue shot him an amused look. “You aren’t. Though, that might be a good challenge for you to work on in the future. For now, just avoid antagonising them. They should leave you alone.”

  They pressed onward through the labyrinth of towering shelves, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust. Yue’s barrier glimmered faintly in the dim light, casting faint ripples across the spines of countless tomes. Minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of unseen things. Two more Pareks emerged from the shadows, their forms flickering like half-formed thoughts, but Yue was ready. With a sharp motion, her bindings snapped into place, threads of energy weaving a cage around the creatures. A surge of power erupted as the Pareks writhed, then vanished in a burst of dissipating energy.

  “There,” Yue said, a flicker of triumph threading through her voice as she lowered her hands. “That should be the last of them for now.” She paused, her gaze scanning the shelves before plucking a weathered tome from its resting place. Without a word, she passed it to Kor, the weight of it heavy with secrets. “This one,” she said simply, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “It’s what we came for.”

  Kor hefted the grey, lumpy tome. The Manifold Charge. It felt as dull and unyielding as Professor Padan’s pronouncements on the history of magical theory. He followed Yue back through the towering stacks, the weight of the book a comforting counterpoint to the lingering anxiety of the Pareks. He hadn’t needed to raise his barrier, thankfully – the constant drain on his reserves was problematic, even when minimal.

  “Don’t feel pressured to choose anything from these, Kor,” Yue said as they approached the reception area. Her voice, usually brisk and efficient, held a hint of concern. “If neither of them feels right, we can always search for something else.” She paused, her eyes fixed on the heavy oak door. “And obviously, you can’t take them out of the Archive.”

  Kor nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He followed Yue into the familiar back room, the air redolent with the fragrance of old parchment. She showed him how to use his new ring to open the warded safe, its intricate mechanism clicking satisfyingly as the heavy door swung open.

  “Keep them in here when you’re not studying,” she instructed, her tone firm. “Just a precaution, given their… potency. ”

  Alone at last, Kor examined his finds. The Taming and The Manifold Charge. Neither was large. Perhaps only a hundred pages each. He weighed them in his hands, the smooth leather of The Taming contrasting with the rough, almost reptilian texture of The Manifold Charge. Intrigued, he chose the latter, retreating to the corner chair.

  Hours later, his stomach rumbled a protest. The intricate diagrams and complex equations swam before his eyes. He rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the burgeoning headache. Control it, release it, control it, release it. The words echoed mockingly in his mind. He understood the basic premise – the flow of magical charge within the body, the way every movement generated and dissipated energy – but the finer points remained frustratingly elusive.

  He snapped the book shut, the sudden sound echoing in the silent room. With a sigh, he headed for the cafeteria. A good meal and a decent night’s sleep were definitely in order.

  Days blurred into a week, the stillness of the Archive broken only by the rustle of comings and goings over librarians. He’d devoured The Taming, finding its concepts surprisingly relatable. The idea of opening the body to the elements, attuning oneself to their rhythms, resonated with him. After all, even his own fractals drew upon the forms of fire, water, earth, and air. But something was still amiss. Closer… but still wrong.

  Two more trips into the depths of the Archive, each guided by a patient but increasingly concerned Yue, yielded nothing but frustration. Light and Shadow, Nature and Mysticism – the concepts were too alien, too far removed from his own understanding of magic. I can’t grasp these.

  With the other students due back shortly, panic gnawed at him. He turned to Ether, his voice tight with desperation. “These techniques just aren’t right, Ether. Even without—”

  “I’ve got an idea!” Ether’s voice, normally a playful whisper, crackled with unexpected energy. “Yue won’t like it, though.”

  “What is it—” He frowned. Ether had gone silent. Another trip into the stacks?

  The air turned gelid—a marrow-deep chill that frosted his exhales into spectral veils. Then the pressure came. Not merely weight, but a presence, ancient and ravenous, as if the walls themselves had begun breathing. Kor’s knees buckled; his vision swam with phantom shapes writhing at the edges of perception.

  Before he could bolt for the door, reality twisted. A swirling vortex of absolute darkness tore through the air, flinging furniture and papers aside with brutal force. Kor shielded his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs. As quickly as it appeared, the vortex collapsed, leaving behind a small, innocuous-looking object.

  A book.

  It landed on the floor with a soft thud, its cover as black as the void he’d just witnessed.

  “Bet you weren’t expecting this!” Ether’s voice was strained yet triumphant as it focused on the object.

  The room seemed to vibrate, a low hum resonating through the floor and walls. Moments later, the door burst open, revealing three librarians, their faces grim, shields shimmering with protective energy.

  Yue pushed through, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. “Good luck!” Ether’s presence vanished abruptly.

  Yue’s breath hitched, her composure momentarily shattered. “Keep everyone else out,” she ordered, her voice sharp.

  The librarians nodded, sealing the door behind them. Yue approached Kor, her gaze fixed on the book. It pulsed with a strange energy, drawing in the ambient mana like a whirlpool. The surrounding air shimmered and distorted.

  “I was afraid of this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Your new meditation book, Kor.” A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

  “That?!”

  “Yes. Ether’s been trying to find someone to learn it for far too long. I’m surprised he waited this long to give it to you.”

  “You don’t think he’s been sending us to find unsuitable books just to try this, do you?”

  “That’s exactly what I think.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “It can’t stay here,” Yue said finally. “Everyone in the Archive can feel its presence. Take it downstairs, Kor. That’s the only safe place for it.”

  Kor rose, his heart hammering against his ribs. As he neared the book, he could feel its pull, a hungry, almost sentient presence. He’d never encountered anything like it, except perhaps the Voidshard in the Crux Arena.

  “Is it safe?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “No,” Yue admitted. “But consider this your first order. Learn what it contains, or convince Ether you can’t.”

  Kor nodded, his throat dry. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the obsidian cover.

  Nothing. No shock, no surge of energy. Just a smooth, cool surface. But the hunger remained, a palpable weight in the room.

  “Go on, Kor,” Yue urged.

  He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He grasped the book, half expecting it to resist. But it lifted easily, its weight surprisingly normal.

  Yue shooed him towards the secret door, her expression a mixture of relief and apprehension. His ring pulsed, granting him passage into the depths below.

  Kor made his way down the spiralling stone steps, the chill, dust-laden air a stark contrast to the contained vortex he cradled. Even with his current depleted mana, the book remained inert in his grasp, a detail somehow more disquieting than if it had been drawing from him.

  Where was he supposed to meditate in this place? Silent sentinels, animated suits of armour, stood guard before imposing doors of polished oak. Not a cushion in sight.

  His pulse quickened as he sank onto the bottom step, the cold stone biting through his thin robes. He glanced at the book in his lap, its cover an inky black that seemed to absorb the dim light of the hall. Nothing for it but to try…

  He eased the cover open, turning to the first page.

  One alone may reign, a single maw that feasts. No rival shall it endure, no shadow of sharing. No purpose guides it, save a craving eternal, a thirst that no wellspring may quench, though it drink the stars themselves to ash.

  The unsettling words echoed in the silent hall, a shiver tracing a path down his spine. This tome was unlike anything he had encountered. He read on; the words striking a chord deeper within him than any other technique he had studied. The book’s dark gospel continued to expound upon the eternal hunger, and his gaze remained fixed, glued to the page.

  The page turned, a tremor in his leg betraying his unease. Each word a stone laid upon a path leading into a familiar abyss. It felt like peering into a dark mirror; the reflection gazing back was warped yet undeniably him. A resonance thrummed within him, a vibration that seemed to align with his very being, yet with every sentence, a bone-deep weariness seeped into his limbs.

  His gaze locked onto the next line, the words seeming to writhe on the page, beckoning him forward. Another paragraph, and his thoughts frayed, unravelling like threads pulled from old cloth. He pressed on, driven by a force he couldn’t name, a hunger mirrored in the text itself. A physical compulsion gripped him, an invisible vice closing around his skull, muffling his thoughts. His pulse, once a steady rhythm, now hammered a frantic beat against his ribs.

  Even despite the grim passages, he couldn’t deny that something about it resonated with him, with his magic, in a way that was both appalling and captivating. The faint, silken pull of mana coiled around his thoughts, tugging him deeper into the pages, its whisper a siren’s call he could not silence. His breath hitched as the realisation struck: he was not the one in control.

  With a desperate surge of will, as if tearing himself free from iron shackles, he slammed the book shut. He shoved it away, the sudden silence deafening. He scrambled back, putting distance between himself and the volume, a cold sweat prickling his brow.

  He’d caught it just in time. If he were going to master this book, he would need to prepare himself. No more. The thought of another attempt today filled him with dread. He needed time to recover, to process what he had just absorbed.

  But where to store the book? The grand hallway held nothing save for the two sentinels and the imposing double doors.

  Perhaps they can guard it.

  Steeling himself, he retrieved the book, approaching the motionless guardians. As he drew closer, he could have sworn their weapons trembled, their helms pointedly ignoring him as he set the book down between them.

  “Sorry about this, but Yue said the book needs to stay here.” He sensed no reaction, but the way their pauldrons shifted minutely seemed to speak volumes.

  A pang of sympathy struck him. He moved the book further back, giving them a dozen paces of distance before calling out again, “This will have to do! But you need to guard it!”

  The guardians inclined their heads briefly, a silent acknowledgement. Kor retreated upstairs, his mind a turbulent sea of unease.

  What will I become if that is going to be my meditation technique…? The question spiralled in his mind, a dark omen of the path that lay ahead.