The chime announcing the end of the holidays echoed through the halls, a sharp contrast to the dull growl emanating from Kor’s stomach. He’d spent the morning locked in a battle for mastery over the Hunger technique, and even now its insistent pangs resonated, a persistent thrum against his thoughts. The urge for sustenance warred with another, more pressing priority. He made his way to Marcus’s dorm room, a firm knock followed by a quick, “It’s Kor,” serving as his announcement.

  The door swung inward, revealing Marcus. He gestured Kor inside with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Impeccably dressed as always, Kor noted, but something was off. The vibrant aura Marcus usually carried, the inherent confidence of a born leader, seemed to have dimmed. He looked almost... muted. Bad news?

  Before he could voice the question, Marcus turned away, a fleeting shadow of his usual grin on his lips. “Have a seat, Kor,” he offered, his hand sweeping to encompass the room. They settled opposite each other at a large, sturdy oak table.

  “What, or might I ask, who, is that?” Marcus’s gaze settled on the new scarf adorning Kor’s neck.

  “Lentus, my companion.”

  Marcus raised a single, elegant eyebrow, a silent query.

  “It’s been a busy half-term,” Kor admitted, warmth rising in his cheeks.

  “So it appears,” Marcus’s voice was soft, his attention fixed on Lentus. “Wait—one of those companions? Not just a normal pet?”

  “Yes... Do you know much about them?”

  A sigh escaped Marcus. “I do. My father had hoped I would be chosen when I was younger. I’m easily one of the most magically gifted Lexicans. But with only one born each generation on our planet, it wasn’t to be. All I know about them is that they are discerning in their choices, drawn to those with potent mana or unusual specialisations. Also, that their arrival heralds the beginning of strife.” A wry smile touched his lips. “You were holding back when we first met, weren’t you?”

  Kor nodded, his gaze fixed on his shoes. I should have told him…

  A firm hand landed on his shoulder. “Don’t fret about it, Kor. A wise move, really.” Kor’s eyes widened as their gazes met.

  “Thanks, Marcus. I’m sorry—”

  Marcus dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “You needn’t apologise for being prudent, Kor. You weren’t the only one harbouring secrets, after all.”

  A grin tugged at Kor’s lips. “What about your condition, Marcus...?”

  The light in Marcus’s eyes dimmed, the spark extinguished. “It’s a bloody mystery, Kor. No one can decipher what ails me. I’ve had every expert my father could find examine me, offer their diagnosis. While they concur that I am diminished, none can ascertain the cause!” He slammed his fist against the table, the sound sharp and abrupt in the sudden quiet.

  “The cursed thing is, everything ceased worsening whilst I was home. Now that I’ve returned, so too has the drain.”

  “Does that suggest something here in Conflux is responsible?”

  “Or someone.” Marcus’s tone darkened.

  “Laylee was working with Darius and the Solarians, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.” Marcus scowled.

  “Is there no way to inform the professors?”

  “I already tried. But since the one who watched the fights claimed to see nothing untoward, and with no discernible trace of magic within me, there’s nothing to be done.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  A heavy silence descended between them.

  “Could we challenge them to a duel, wager something for the truth?”

  “Perhaps, Kor. But I doubt we have any leverage. They’ve already achieved their objective in sidelining me.”

  “It still strikes me as peculiar that they would go to such lengths to target you. There are plenty of other capable students this year…”

  “Like yourself, Kor.” A faint smile flickered across his friend’s face.

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Keep this to yourself, but my father’s trade contracts on Solaria have vanished of late. They were once one of our most significant partners, but something changed between us. We aren’t alone in this; they’re giving others the cold shoulder, too. Their king has started making increasingly hostile demands, imposing substantial trade tariffs on our goods.”

  “That’s... unsettling. What do you think it signifies?”

  “It’s likely the opening salvo of a trade war, given the tariffs are levied against Lexican goods.” Kor nodded, allowing the topic to fade.

  “I’ll delve into the archives, see if there’s anything regarding your condition. Can you describe it in more detail, so I have something to work with?”

  “The pain was acute,” Marcus began, his voice hushed, “it penetrated the student barrier as if it were non-existent. Even now, it feels as though tiny shards of ice are flowing through my body. It worsens daily, the chill seeping into my very magic, Kor. I’m still more than capable against ordinary students, but if this continues…”

  Lentus stirred, his languid gaze settling on Marcus. “Is there anything you can do about this?” Kor asked, voicing the question for Marcus’s benefit.

  Lentus glided through the space, a smooth, sinuous motion that barely disturbed the surrounding magic. He coiled himself around Marcus’s shoulders, his touch a faint brush against Kor’s senses.

  Marcus stared down at Lentus, the serpent’s eyes closed in deep concentration. A minute stretched, each second an age. Then Lentus’s eyes snapped open.

  “Ancient magic,” he declared, his voice a low hiss that seemed to vibrate directly within Kor’s mind. “I’ve not sensed its like from any student or professor here.”

  “Can you un-make it, like you do with the Hunger?”

  “Not as I am now... perhaps not even in the future. There is nothing within him that does not belong, yet there is a link to something else.”

  “What sort of link?”

  “A parasitic one. Something is siphoning the boy’s mana...”

  Marcus glanced between them, his rapid movements betraying his unease. “What’s he saying? Can he cure me?”

  Lentus unwound himself, returning to Kor. “No—”

  “His power is being drained. Either a monster, a rare spellcaster, or an artefact.”

  Kor relayed the information, watching as Marcus processed each word.

  “It was no monster that did this, but Laylee...” Marcus murmured, his gaze distant.

  “You don’t think she was feigning a specialisation in shadow daggers, do you?” Kor asked.

  “No. It’s probable this was an artefact. Though, one of such rarity would be costly and conspicuous. I saw professors confiscate items from students before the test began…”

  “How did she even—”

  “Darius,” Marcus sighed.

  “Do you think a professor was involved somehow?” Kor asked.

  “It seems plausible.” He turned to Lentus, bowing his head. “Thank you, Lentus. That was more than even my father’s healers could discern.”

  “It is not something to be cured. Locate the artefact and destroy it. The effect shouldn’t be lasting.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Kor repeated the words, a spark of hope rekindling in Marcus’s eyes.

  “It’s safe to infer this item is somewhere nearby,” Marcus mused.

  “You don’t think Laylee would keep it in her room, do you?”

  “It’s conceivable, but forcing entry into another student’s room... No, that would likely be a snare. If I were caught doing so, it would be grounds for expulsion.”

  “So, what do we do, Marcus?”

  His friend smiled, his bright blue eyes narrowing in thought. “Nothing rash, Kor. Now that we have a lead to work with… I’ve got a few connections to probe before resorting to anything drastic.”

  “When the time comes, Marcus, I’ll be ready to assist.”

  Their eyes met, and Marcus nodded solemnly. “I know you will, Kor. I couldn’t ask for a more steadfast ally, a truer friend.”

  Kor departed Marcus’s dorm, his stride imbued with a newfound lightness, a sense of purpose stemming from the lead they now possessed. Classes were set to resume on the morrow, and his battle against the Hunger technique had truly only just begun. First on his agenda was his artificing project. The complex honeycomb fractal design for the personal heater, coupled with its enchantment, was no simple undertaking. The sooner he began, the better.

  Padan’s workshop, a chaotic symphony of half-finished projects and discarded materials, hummed with a perpetual energy, seemingly never dormant. With a solid plan etched in his mind, Kor navigated the labyrinthine aisles. His research had suggested ceramics as an ideal material. Toughened with a minor durability enchantment and filled with a honeycomb structure, it would, he hoped, retain heat effectively. At its heart, a potent power core.

  Rummaging through Padan’s eclectic inventory, he unearthed a small, unadorned ceramic pot and a larger, uncharged power crystal. Perfect. Claiming a vacant workbench, he set to work, coaxing the power crystal to life. A thrill, a familiar joy, washed over him as he began the straightforward task, his mana flowing freely once more. Feels good to be using it again.

  The plan was simple enough: charge the crystal, enchant the pot for durability, then fill the pot with a honeycomb fractal designed to retain heat, all the while ensuring the core remained accessible for recharging or extraction. Mana flowed steadily into the crystal, one of the largest available to first-years. To achieve his ambition of a week-long charge, the honeycomb fractals within would need to be microscopically fine, a daunting task even for him.

  Such minute work required an intuitive sense of control, a reliance on his fractal affinity to perceive the intricate patterns. He grinned to himself, settling into a focused calm. Lentus, a comforting weight around his neck, was neither warm nor cool, a perfect embodiment of entropy’s equilibrium.

  Even with his prodigious mana reserves, the fractal designs proved taxing. He concentrated on shapes so minuscule they were beyond the realm of sight, relying instead on his innate ability to sense their form. He lost himself in the work, a rhythmic cycle of practice, filling smaller and smaller objects with increasingly intricate designs. Only the gnawing hunger pangs, a stark reminder of his ongoing battle, pulled him away. He would eat, refuel, and then return to the comforting rhythm of his work.

  Lexday concluded with progress on all fronts. He rose with the sun, eager to attend the first lecture of the term: Fundamentals of Mana with Professor Terra. Her lecture delved into magical interactions, the intricate dance of clashing and synergistic spell specialisations. Throughout the lecture, her gaze kept returning to him, as sharp and intense as a falcon’s.

  As the class concluded, she beckoned him to remain behind. He relayed what he could of his recent experiences, careful to safeguard any sensitive information, though judging by the way she eyed his ring, it seemed likely she already knew much of it.

  “There’s a darkness about you, Kor,” she began, her brow furrowed in thought. “Perhaps not a darkness, but a void, a yearning?”

  He nodded. “The technique wasn’t quite right for me... I’m trying to adapt it to fit.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s a risky endeavour, Kor.” Her gaze darted to the corner of the room for a fleeting moment. “This level of technique, a normal student shouldn’t even be contemplating such alterations. Yet, something tells me that yours is abnormally potent, even for a wizard-grade technique.”

  “Yes, it’s not ideal, but once I started, things took on a life of their own.”

  Her gaze fell to Lentus, draped around his neck. “Some of the other professors will be able to sense that there is something different about you, Kor, and with your companion... Especially with the changes being announced, you’re going to have a large target painted on your back.”

  “What sort of changes?”

  “You’ll have to wait for the Dean’s announcement for that, though it shouldn’t be long now. It may even prove beneficial to you, to some extent.”

  “Do you have any advice for modifying a technique? The best I’ve received is to ‘make it my own’.”

  “Nothing specific, Kor. Just be aware that there is a price to pay, particularly with this much power. As you change the technique to suit you, so too will it change you.”

  “Thanks, Terra.”

  She shook her head, a worried frown etched on her face. “Just be careful, Kor. You may believe you have it under control, but don’t become complacent.”

  He nodded, the two of them leaving for her class on Meta-Casting.

  Professor Moss’s class hadn’t altered much, though the focus had shifted to the fundamentals of enchanting, a subject Kor wished he’d had a primer on much earlier. It was after class, as he and Talen headed back to their dorm, that the whispers began. Everywhere they walked, students eyed them, pointing and murmuring.

  “Is everyone making a fuss about this?” Kor muttered, absently stroking Lentus, who was draped around his neck.

  “What? Having a jet-black serpent draped around your neck, or finishing in the top four as a Lexican commoner?” Talen’s grin was infuriatingly cheerful.

  He shook his head, his attention caught by something above. Dark clouds had blotted out the suns, turning the day into an unnatural twilight. Kor glanced at the academy’s faintly shimmering barrier, then down as a figure plummeted towards them, robes billowing. It was the white-haired boy from the expedition, the one who’d stolen his Karex kill—Aeolian. Kor instantly erected a snowflake barrier.

  The boy plummeted in what appeared to be a freefall, only to curve gracefully at the last second, alighting on the ground beside them, drawing countless stares from passing students.

  “Kor! Hah, you birthed your companion at last, then! Even beat Serris to it.” A small cloud clung to the boy’s shoulder, a distinct presence, so familiar and yet different from Lentus, who stirred from his slumber. The two began conversing in a rapid-fire mental exchange that Kor couldn’t follow.

  “Won’t you get in trouble, flying around like that? I don’t even see the professors doing it often,” Kor asked, frowning.

  Talen laughed. “I don’t think there’s a rule against it…”

  Aeolian sported an amused look as Kor introduced them. His voice trailed off as a patrol of guardsmen, clad in distinctive purple robes, rushed to intercept them. Voidguard? Since term had resumed, their presence on campus had come as a surprise.

  “Halt!” The lead guardsman commanded, his voice laced with a hefty compulsion that washed harmlessly against Kor’s snowflake barrier. Aeolian and Talen, however, stood frozen, momentarily caught by the magic.

  The lead guardsman, a stern-faced man with a crystal-topped staff, approached, his squad surrounding them.

  “I don’t think he meant any trouble, sirs,” Kor offered, stepping forward. “We’re just first-years.”

  The man glanced at him, shaking his head. “Official rules, nobody is permitted to fly about campus.”

  “Since when?” Talen asked, the temporary compulsion fading.

  “Since today, lad. Orders of the First Magus.”

  Aeolian raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll stay out of the air, for now.”

  His casual indifference seemed to provoke the guardsman, and Kor quickly interjected, “Are we expecting an attack? I haven’t seen you on campus before.”

  The senior Voidguard eyed Aeolian suspiciously as a junior guardswoman spoke up. “Possibly. We’re just here as an extra precaution for the time being. Though if you do see anything suspicious, please inform us at once.”

  “Suspicious how?” Talen asked. “Like an angry Solarian, or a stray Voidling?”

  The guardswoman’s lips thinned. “Yes, if you see a voidling, raise the alarm.” She shook her head. “Come on, Captain, we’ve warned them once. If we catch them at it later, the Dean will be more than happy to punish them.”

  The surly guardsmen filtered off, and the moment their backs were turned, Aeolian hopped into the air, levitating a few feet off the ground and settling into a recumbent position. The boy’s control was immaculate, as if his entire body were cradled in a protective cushion of mana. Lentus and the cloud continued their silent chatter.

  “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Aeolian,” Kor began, “even though you stole our kill on the expedition—” The boy gave a sheepish smile.

  “But what are you after?”

  “Oh. Nothing too significant. Aelis here wanted a chat.” He nodded to the cloud. “Said we needed to do something about saving the world.”

  His voice carried, their group having already caused enough of a scene to draw attention.

  Talen laughed again. “Yes, that’s not a big deal. We can probably get it sorted on the way back to our room.” He gestured, and they all headed off together, animated chatter breaking out from the nearby students as they walked.

  “What did you mean about saving the world?” Kor kept his voice low as they strolled along the stone path, low hedges brushing against his robe.

  “Weren’t you shown the Nul’var?”

  The word, spoken so casually, held a weight that transcended understanding. Talen gasping even at the utterance.

  “Yes, yes! But from what I gather, that’s a long way off...” Kor glanced around nervously, even as his friend shot him questioning looks. “What exactly do you expect us to do, though? We’re just students.”

  “Me? Nothing. But Aelis here insisted.”

  Kor ran a hand through his hair.

  “So, how are you two going to do that?” Talen asked.

  “Well, there’s seven of us in total, but I’m just the messenger. Seems like a bit too much effort, if you ask me, protecting everyone from an eldritch hunger.” Aeolian continued to glide through the air.

  Kor’s heart practically stuttered in his chest. Hunger? His mind flashed back to the brief vision Lentus had shown him before. It couldn’t be... The grimoire that even now resided within him wasn’t a part of that... thing. Was it? Was it safe to carry on cultivating this technique? He had more than a few questions for Ether!

  “Perhaps we could all watch a duel together sometime. You know, after you’ve saved the world.” Talen suggested.

  “Only if it’s one of the third years, or perhaps even the professors. Watching anything else is like seeing two children engaging in a pillow fight.”

  “That might be a bit harsh,” Talen said.

  “Nah. Have you seen them? Some haven’t even unlocked their specialisation yet, others still can’t form a barrier.” He quirked his head.

  “Both of you should really get to work on flight. Much easier than walking about everywhere,” he said earnestly.

  “I’ll get right on it, Aeolian,” Kor replied, deadpan.

  “Good. Well, that’s my part done. Thanks for being a good sport about the old Karex. As soon as I get my credits topped off, I can relax.” He drifted higher into the air.

  Kor shook his head. “Don’t worry about it... but about that whole end of the world thing...”

  Aeolian just shrugged. “I’m sure the First Magus will figure it out. See you both!”

  The white-haired boy zipped off into the sky, though, keeping lower to the ground than before.

  Talen’s amused chuckle drew his attention. “Seems like there are some things you’ve been neglecting to tell me, Kor.”

  Kor sighed. If he was going to reveal everything, now was the time. “Right, there might have been a few things...”