Kor’s breath hitched, his gaze trapped by the insidious words etched within the grimoire. They throbbed with a hunger that mirrored his own, a hunger that was fast becoming an unwelcome companion. Each day spent immersed in its pages felt like a week, each week a gruelling marathon towards some unknown finish line. Whispers, promising an eternity of insatiable need, slithered through his thoughts. This was no mere book; it was a ravenous beast attempting to burrow its way into his very soul. It offered him fragments of forever, but each one was hollow, leaving behind a chasm of emptiness.

  He wrestled with the grimoire’s dark allure once more, his third battle that day. Deep furrows creased his brow, carving lines of strain across his forehead. Every confrontation yielded fragments of understanding, each word aligning further with his own being, yet a gulf of disconnect widened with every bit of progress made. Is this truly the path to advancement? The grimoire’s power was unique, yet it was draining him, and he couldn’t recover his mana until he reached the section detailing its meditation technique.

  He’d fought his way through over half the grimoire’s pages, clinging to his identity like a lone vessel caught in a raging storm. The book beckoned, a siren’s call promising untold power, whispering that it could remake him into something extraordinary. He could surrender, let the darkness reshape him, transform him into something he no longer recognised. But who would I become?

  A shuddering breath escaped him as he wrenched himself away. The book snapped shut, its restless energy contained, for now. The sentinels stood around him, their impassive forms silent witnesses to his inner turmoil. Their stony stillness offered no solace, serving only as a chilling reminder of the high stakes at play.

  He forced himself to his feet, muscles protesting with a chorus of aches. His legs felt like lead weights, his head a swirling vortex of fatigue. The simple act of returning the grimoire to its place under the sentinels’ gaze left him utterly drained. The stone steps of the stairwell were rough beneath his bare feet as he ascended, each footfall a monumental effort. A voracious hunger, a bottomless pit, gnawed at him. It wasn’t merely a craving for power anymore; it was a primal urge to devour, to consume everything within his reach.

  His destination was his dormitory, but as he emerged from the bowels of the archive, his feet, as if guided by an unseen force, veered towards the dining hall. The scents of roast meats, spiced vegetables, and sweet pastries drifted through the air, a tantalising symphony that overwhelmed his senses. The call of food was a need he could no longer suppress.

  The hunger was a monster, and he was its ravenous slave. Plates piled high with steaming food were emptied in moments, only to be replaced by more. He tore into crusty loaves of bread, shovelled down mounds of mashed potatoes, and devoured whole roast chickens. The other students stared, their hushed whispers a dull murmur in his ears, but he was beyond caring, driven by a need that demanded to be sated.

  He returned to his dormitory, his stomach stretched to the point of bursting, yet an insatiable emptiness still gnawed at him. His hand instinctively drifted to his belly, fingers tracing the unwelcome bulge that had reformed. His previous size loomed as a constant threat, threatening to burgeon once again. Each day spent with the grimoire risked undoing months of careful effort.

  The door to his room creaked open, revealing a sight that stopped him in his tracks. A new tree stood in the centre of the room, a foreign presence in the familiar space. The Morthus! Despite having been buried deep in the earth the last time he’d seen it, it now stood tall and imposing.

  It was the most unusual tree he had ever laid eyes on. A thick, gnarled trunk, shaped like a dark violet ant rearing on its back legs, as if carved from amethyst. Limbs, as thick as his wrists and encased in a golden hue, reached out like supplicating arms. Six legs sprouted from the ant’s body, terminating in peculiar shapes that sent a jolt of recognition through him. Fractal leaves, more jagged and spiky than he remembered, almost fern-like, unfurled from their ends.

  “How’d you like our baby, Kor?”

  He spluttered, momentarily lost for words. “Has the thing taken my specialisation?”

  Talen’s laughter rang out, drawing Kor’s gaze upward. He blinked, his eyes widening. Talen’s hair was... different. Striking amber, completely golden, with a vibrant, almost unnatural glow that seemed to catch the light like liquid honey.

  “What did you feed that thing back home?” He eyed the Morthus with caution.

  “The usual, Kor. Though my dad helped me with a bonding ritual that sped up its growth.”

  “I can see that.” Kor shook his head, stepping closer to the peculiar plant. A resonant hum, a sense of kinship, pulsed from the tree, growing stronger with each step.

  “Definitely fractal in nature. Does this mean you can draw upon its magic, Talen?”

  “Yep!” His friend grinned, forming a golden vine. Even the once plant-like appendage Talen so often used now showed evidence of the fractal’s influence.

  “Your parents must have had some questions for you.”

  “You can say that again. Even by Verdania’s standards, this one is special. Father said something about its energy being indecipherable, even to him.”

  Kor merely nodded, his gaze fixed on the strange, ant-like tree.

  “Thanks for taking care of the others, Kor. The crystal palm, in particular, is singing your praises.”

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the palm.

  Talen grinned, then his expression became serious. “Is something wrong, Kor? You seem... a little preoccupied.”

  He sighed, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you the entire story at the end of the expedition...”

  The hours slipped away as Kor confided in Talen. He recounted everything: the full extent of injury, the discovery of the Tome-Wardens, the nameless grimoire, and the relentless, soul-deep hunger it had ignited within him.

  Talen listened, his amber eyes wide with concern. “That sounds... dangerous, Kor. A wizard level meditation technique, and no ordinary one at the sounds of it.”

  He nodded, the truth of his friend’s words a heavy weight on his chest.

  Talen hummed, a low, thoughtful sound. The Morthus and the Crystal Palm, illuminated by the soft glow of the dormitory lights, throbbed with vibrant energy. They seemed locked in a silent rivalry, each vying to capture Talen’s attention. The palm’s colourful lights danced across the Morthus’s golden limbs, creating a display that was both peculiar and strangely captivating.

  “Well, you’ve got three full days of study to catch up on before lessons start again. I can only imagine how strong you’re going to be if you master that technique, Kor. I don’t have any experience that would be helpful here. Wizard level techniques…”

  Talen shook his head, a teasing glint in his brown eyes. “You even joined an organisation before me! I thought for sure you wouldn’t, since the recruiters aren’t allowed to bother us on campus.”

  “They spoke to you back home?”

  “Yeah, that’s the usual routine. Or so my parents tell me.” Talen leaned back, his hands laced behind his head. “In theory, your home planets have first call on you, so I can’t imagine they’ll be too pleased to find out you’ve already been poached.”

  Kor’s brow furrowed, a worried crease appearing between his eyes. Talen waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you broke any rules.”

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  “Do they know about our progress here?”

  Talen laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that filled the room. “The government does, of course. Your test results, everything is shared with them.” He paused, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “Then why didn’t they attempt to recruit me sooner? I did score high on the testing.”

  “Good question, but I don’t have the answers. Though with you finishing in the top four, there are definitely going to be more eyes on you now.”

  “So, if I’d had the chance to go home, I would likely have received offers of some kind?”

  “Yeah, everything from weight loss to restoring your eyesight. I bet some organisations would even have offered you meditation techniques, magical items, or money.”

  Kor glanced down at his ring, the smooth metal a stark reminder of his current limitations. He hadn’t even asked about pay…

  If it wasn’t for Dean Velleth... A sudden, disturbing urge washed over him, a visceral desire to devour the man, to open his jaws wide and—

  “Kor?” Talen’s voice, sharp with concern, snapped him back to reality.

  “Sorry, the grimoire is still on my mind.” The words were inadequate to describe the darkness that had briefly taken root in his soul.

  “It’s fine.” Talen’s voice softened. “One other rumour I heard from my mother was that they are going to be shaking up classes for the over-achievers this year.”

  “Oak mentioned something about us being a danger to each other...”

  “That’s for sure,” Talen agreed, a hint of excitement in his voice. “We’ll have to see which one of us is more potent. Once you’ve recovered, of course.”

  “Do you know how they are going to change things?”

  “Not a clue. Even my mother, who’s been working here nearly her whole life, hasn’t heard of anything like this before.”

  Kor sank into the bed, the mattress yielding beneath his weight as if it, too, felt the strain.

  “Oh, there is some good news, though.” Talen’s tone was bright, hopeful.

  Kor leaned up, propping himself up on his elbows.

  “My mother said she will let us use some of the advanced puzzles when she gets sorted. Though they are designed for second and third years.”

  Kor chuckled, a dry, humourless sound. “Does that mean I finally get to meet her?”

  “Yeah,” Talen averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “You might have to if you can’t meditate properly.”

  “Too soon, Talen, too soon!” Kor feigned injury, clutching at his chest with a dramatic flourish.

  The strain was a relentless weight upon his shoulders. He spent the next day sequestered in the Archive’s basement, poring over the grimoire’s pages. The harmony between his magic and the book’s continued to intensify, a growing resonance that both enticed and terrified him. The gnawing emptiness within him had become a ravenous beast, a constant, burning need that threatened to consume him entirely. If he left the depths of the Archive, the lure of food would be irresistible, a siren’s call he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  He had to master this, to regain some semblance of control.

  Everything up to this point had been preparation, priming his body and magic, opening him up to receive the technique, making him a vessel capable of wielding its power. Now, the instructions began. Normal meditation focused on controlling the mind, a calming stillness. This hunger technique demanded an all-consuming focus on the concept of devouring, consuming, an unstoppable appetite. A dozen different words, all driving towards the same insatiable goal.

  He descended into the mindset, a willing sacrifice to the truth of hunger. It was everywhere, unstoppable, a fundamental force of the universe. The need to consume everything. To devour eternity itself.

  He didn’t just open himself to the flow of mana; he lunged, a predator seizing its prey. His personal energy, a metaphorical set of jaws, took a savage bite from the surrounding mana. Greedily, the captured energy flooded his body, a heady rush of relief that momentarily soothed the gnawing emptiness.

  Over a tenth of his mana, restored in a single cycle. Yet, the need pulsed within him, a persistent, throbbing ache that swelled with each passing moment. Again, he lunged outward, a gaping maw of pure need that utterly consumed the surrounding mana. A swirling vortex of absence formed, agitating the normally still mana of the hallway.

  His eyes flared, twin points of burning intensity, as he repeated the technique, each repetition faster, more desperate than the last. A fire ignited within him, a conflagration fuelled by the raw energy filling his body, overfilling him. His very essence felt fit to burst, yet the hunger remained, a bottomless pit that demanded more.

  Conscious thought gave way to animal need. His gaze snapping to the twin guardians, their bodies constructs of pure mana, dense and powerful beyond compare. So much energy... He moved, his eyes locked onto the guardians, who shifted under the intensity of his stare. He stalked closer, casually reaching out to consume the ambient mana, so thick and rich in these depths.

  A twinge of pain, sharp and insistent, coursed through his body as he drew closer. In frustration, he lashed out again, pulling yet more energy into his already overloaded frame. The pain intensified, a searing agony that threatened to cleave him in two.

  He pressed ahead, but unable to resist, lashed out, pulling yet more power into his flooded body. Too much!

  His legs seized, muscles locking, and he crumpled to his knees, his eyes still fixated on the guardians, who even now levelled their weapons, their silent threat unmistakable. Some distant part of him screamed that this was wrong, that he was losing himself, but the hunger roared, uncontested.

  Something cracked within his mind, a fissure in the dam holding back his sanity. What have I done? A moment of clarity washed over his thoughts. His body thrummed with energy, a living conduit of raw power. He’d gone beyond simply refilling his mana; he was a vessel filled to the bursting point, ready to explode. Power, so dense, so thick, it pressed against his skin, a tangible force. He couldn’t feel anything except for the raw, searing burn.

  His body trembled, the cracking growing louder, a chorus of impending doom. The overfilled energy funnelled inward, disappearing into some unseen void. This thing; it was siphoning his energy!

  The core hunger within him surged, angered, outraged. Who dared!

  Like a feral cat—cornered, starved, and desperate—his body reacted on instinct. His body reacted on instinct. The hunger technique surged, lashing out at the surrounding currents of energy, pulling greedily, voraciously. Yet, even as it fed, the other presence within him grew, its consumption speeding up, devouring everything it touched. Energy poured into his body in waves, only to vanish instantly, swallowed by the unseen thief that lurked inside him.

  Then, a sharp crack echoed, like the final toll of a great bell. The mental construct within his mind shattered, exploding outward. In its place, something alien yet familiar coalesced in the air before him. A presence both powerful and unsettling, as if it had been waiting all along to emerge.

  It took everything from him, all the energy he’d gathered, even down to the last dregs, as every fibre of his body surrendered to the sudden, aching lack. He fell to the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to focus on the shape forming above him.

  Cold clarity washed over him. The technique, so potent, so strong, resonated so deeply, yet it still did not fit.

  A serpent coalesced in the air, its form a shifting paradox of energy and void. At first, it writhed, a chaotic knot of pure, disparate energies, a burning beacon. Then a pulse of shimmering energy swirled into the creature. The colours wavered, pulsing through its form, before the very essence of magic itself dissolved. The colours faded, bleeding away into muted nothingness until all that remained was a creature of pure darkness. Its body was coiled, undulating, its lightless eyes, twin voids in the dimness, fixed on Kor.

  “Kor.” A sibilant voice resonated within his mind. Was this... Lentus?

  “You really aren’t a Tortoise?”

  “No.” The serpent’s lightless eyes, twin voids in the dimness, bored into his own. A deep yearning welled up within him, his body reacting without thought. The hunger took a swipe, attempting to steal the serpent’s mana for its own.

  Instantly, it was rebuffed. No... not rebuffed, but dissolved, unmade.

  “I’m sorry, Lentus. The technique has got away from me.” Even now, it refused to yield, gathering itself for another attempt.

  Amusement pulsed between them, a silent communication that flowed effortlessly. Lentus’s nonchalant regard fixed on the hunger within him. “This technique is not right for you, Kor. Though it is close...”

  The hunger technique snapped out again, and Lentus unmade its efforts with a casual flick of nothingness.

  “What are you, Lentus? That magic...”

  “Entropy.”

  “Oh! That explains... something, at least.”

  They communicated as if they shared a single mind, a seamless flow of thoughts and understanding. It differed completely from his communication with Ether, almost as if Lentus were a part of him now. The serpent’s aloof, almost supercilious regard was so different from how he’d imagined his spirit companion.

  “Now that I’m fully awake, I could practically eat a Tortoise.”

  The suggestion set his body off again; the hunger clawing out for mana, a desperate beggar’s plea. A single wave of Lentus’s entropy, however, dispelled each attempt. The serpentine gaze flashed, and another wave stole over Kor’s body, burying deep to wash away the hunger, a soothing balm upon a festering wound.

  Relief spread through him, a lightness he hadn’t felt in days. He was in control once more. “Did you... did you remove it for good?”

  “No, Kor. It will return until you’ve dealt with it for good.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Lentus moved with a languid grace that spoke of aeons, not moments, a slow, deliberate unfurling through the air. He coiled around Kor’s neck and shoulders, a living paradox. Though physically present, he felt weightless, a mere suggestion of existence, a faint vibration, a resonant hum of nothingness where they touched. He felt strangely content.

  “Now that it has taken root,” Lentus’s voice was a sibilant whisper within Kor’s mind, a sound like the slow, inevitable erosion of stone by wind and time, “the solution lies with you.”

  “The book?” He glanced about frantically, a sudden panic rising in his chest. “The book, it’s gone?” Last he’d held it was at the steps…

  A sense of amusement pulsed from Lentus, a silent ripple of mirth. “I think you ate it.”